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ashleigghh · 4 months

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Day 31- midnight, jegulus... I went a bit overboard with this one... 2051 words. IN MY DEFENCE IT'S THE FINAL ONE AND IF YOU READ MY AO3 NOTE YOU'LL SEE WHY

Regulus wasn’t a very social person, he didn’t like interacting with others, he didn’t like the overwhelming chaos that came with trying to follow 15 people talking and he especially despises trying his hardest to fit in with the people around him and still feeling like a total outcast.

Despite this, he had foolishly allowed himself to be dragged to James Potter’s New Year's Eve party by his friends. This had been an awful, awful decision and he had regretted it the second he walked through the door.

The music was too loud, pounding around his head like it was beating his brain from the inside, the smell of alcohol was overwhelming and the crowds of people pushing on him from every side made him feel violently ill, he had wanted to turn around and walk right back out the front door, but Barty and Dorcas had taken an arm each and dragged him to a table overflowing with all sorts of drinks and handed him a concoction he wasn’t sure was safe to drink.

This was fine, okay, he could manage a couple hours here as long as his friends stuck by him, the dull numbness of the alcohol making it bearable to be in this room. He was promptly abandoned by said friends and he was trying desperately hard not to be mad at them about it.

Dorcas was across the room talking animatedly to her girlfriend and a few mutual friends that Regulus could’ve gone over to but didn’t want to intrude, he would’ve felt out of place and he didn’t want to ruin their night. Pandora was dancing peculiarly with her boyfriend in the middle of an open area that had been turned into a makeshift dancefloor and Evan and Barty were making out on a sofa so intimately that Regulus wished they would just find a room already.

Regulus stood on his own, nursing the cup of a disgusting amount of mixed drinks and trying his hardest not to scream and punch the next person who stumbled into him in the face.

He spoke to a few people here and there, catching up with someone he hadn’t seen in a while, exchanging pleasantries and laughing about something from their time at school, it had only been a year and a half since they left Hogwarts but it felt like a decade had passed already.

This hadn’t even been a possibility for the past hour? 3 hours? Regulus had lost track of time, everything seemed to be dragging out, torturing him. He was beginning to wonder if he had died and if this was his personal hell. Anyway, the point is he hadn’t even had anyone to talk to because everyone had become so intoxicated it was a slurring, mumbling mess that Regulus couldn’t even try to have a conversation with because they were so out of it.

He had finally managed to escape, hiding in an annexe in the spacious library of Potter Manor. The room was Regulus’ favourite, he had come in here for the first time when he was 16 years old and first ran away from home, trying to find a place where he wouldn’t be bothered by his brother or James.

The library had been his safe haven. Tall shelves lined the walls and created aisles across the room, what must have been thousands of books towering over his head. The ceiling was a mural, delicate drawings that must have taken months to paint, angels stretching out above him reaching for the stars. There were large windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, looking out over the extensive grounds, a fountain with a statue in its centre lining up in the middle of the gravel directly outside

Inside there were several annexes, like the one Regulus was holed up in now, hidden in the shelves, a comfortable curved seat and a string of warm lights creating a little space to curl up with a book and disappear for a while. Regulus had used it to hide then and used it to hide now.

He had, however, never been very good at hiding from James Potter. James had a unique knack of finding Regulus no matter where he went or how hidden he seemed to be, it didn’t matter if he was in the darkest, most remote corner of the world, James would be able to find him.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise to Regulus when he heard the heavy wooden doors to the library creak open and a set of footsteps start walking immediately to the annexe he was hidden in.

“Found you,” James whispered teasingly, ducking into the annexe, sitting on the other end of the deep green sofa, his body turned to face Regulus with his feet on the seat between them, knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting on top.

“I don’t think the host is supposed to disappear from the party,” Regulus looks up from his book momentarily, raising an eyebrow as he looks at James, trying to work out why he’s up here with him instead of down enjoying the night with people that are more fun. James shrugs and Regulus can see the cogs turning in his head as he tries to think of an excuse.

“It’s the host’s job to make sure everybody is having a good time,” Regulus closes his eyes at James’ response, ignoring the twinge in his chest as the words settle around his heart.

“I’m not your responsibility, go back to the party,” he doesn’t want to ruin this for James. Regulus doesn’t want to be a burden causing James to abandon his own party to come and sit with him in a quiet corner of the house when he hosted this party to enjoy himself.

“No, you’re not, but I prefer hanging out with you anyway,” James responds without a second thought, looking at Regulus with that stupid grin on his face.

“Yeah sure,” Regulus scoffs, turning the page on his book but trying to sneak a glance at James’ expression out of the corner of his eye. James frowns slightly, not liking the fact that Regulus doesn’t believe him and shuffles forward slightly.

“I do, why would I not?” James asks like it isn’t obvious, and it’s so oblivious and innocent that it makes Regulus laugh.

“You hosted this busy, loud party that I got dragged to and then ran away from to hide in your library and read a book, there’s a big difference in how we like to spend our time,”

“Well, yeah, the party’s fun and all and I like making it so people can have fun but I still prefer you over all of them,” James says like his words have no effect on those around him like he can say these things and people won’t be affected by the meaning behind his words.

“You don’t have to come up here and try to make me feel better, it only makes me feel worse.” Regulus really just wants James to go, he’s probably drunk and doesn’t really know what he’s saying and this is only going to hurt.

“Why won’t you believe me?” James exclaims, waving his arms out to the side in frustration and Regulus gulps harshly, he’s managed to piss James off already and it’s only been a few minutes. He doesn’t know why he’s like this, he can’t help it, there is just something fundamentally wrong with him that causes him to always say and do the wrong thing.

“Sorry,” James whispers into the now awkward silence between them, his arms tucked into his chest tightly as if he’s keeping them as far away as possible. “I’m not mad at you I just don’t understand,”

“It’s okay,” Regulus closes his book, feeling like the moment calls for it and places it on the side table. “I don’t understand either,”

“I want you to believe me, Reg, but I don’t know how to make that happen,” Regulus turns to face James, mirroring his position on the sofa, shrugging at James as he tries to find the words.

“I don’t think you can,” Regulus wonders if James can hear his heart shattering as he utters the words into the quiet, the noise seeming to echo in the open room, taunting him as it repeats back to him over and over.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” James smiles, trying to lighten the mood, but his smile isn’t as bright as it usually is and Regulus is hit with another wave of guilt.

“You don’t have to do that,” Regulus goes to protest more but James cuts him off,

“I want to, and I’ll keep telling you I want to until you believe me, and even then I’ll still repeat it to make sure you never doubt it,” And the worst part is, Regulus wants to believe him, he really does but theres something that makes it impossible,

“You don’t know me, If you did you wouldn’t be saying any of this,” James scoffs and shoots Regulus an incredulous look,

“Reg, I know you,”

“You don’t-” Regulus is cut off again and he would be offended if the words coming out of James’ mouth weren’t so eye-opening

“Yes, I do,” James starts rambling, looking Regulus right in the eye, barely even blinking to try and show Regulus that he’s telling the truth. “I know you Regulus. I know you always read the last page of a book before you start it, I know you secretly love it when your friends throw their arms over your shoulders, I know your favourite chocolates are the same as Dorcas' so you pretend not to like them, so, she has them. I know you let Pandora think she's gotten away with stealing your jumpers without you noticing, I know you secretly want people to call you baby black because it makes you feel closer to Sirius. I know you love it when your book group wants to gossip instead of talk about the book. I know you Regulus, from how you take your coffee in the morning to your biggest hopes for the future, and I love you”

James takes a deep breath, letting his words hang between them, giving Regulus the chance to process and really take in what he said. Regulus blinks back the tears in his eyes and tries to keep his voice steady as he responds.

“Okay,” He breaths out shakily, failing to hide his tears from James, who leans forward and wipes them away by brushing his thumb gently over Regulus’ cheek, “Okay, I believe you,”

James beams and it's back to the bright, blinding smile Regulus is used to, the one that lights up a room and really shows just how happy James is. Regulus can’t help but smile back softly despite the tears still escaping his eyes.

“You believe me?” James checks and he laughs in a way that feels like liquid joy pouring over the two of them when Regulus nods to confirm.

“You love me?” Regulus questions, wanting to clarify if James meant it the way Regulus took it, being prepared to smile through the agony of James saying he loves him the same way he loves everyone he’s close to,

“I do,” James answers like they’re getting married like he’s telling the world he wants Regulus to be his forever. To James, he is telling his world that he wants to be with him forever. “Do you believe me?”

“I do,” Regulus responds, trying to express the same emotion but unable to force the words out, they stick in his throat like sickening syrup, clogging his airway and choking him. He loves James, but he can’t tell him that, he doesn’t know how to.

“Can I kiss you?” James asks, his gaze darting from Regulus’ eyes to his lips, his gaze lingering as he watches Regulus’ mouth move to respond,

“Please,” James kisses him the second he’s sure of the confirmation that that's what Regulus wants too, crashing their lips together as the windows light up in an array of colourful explosions.

Regulus has never really liked the saying ‘new year, new me’ but as the clock hits midnight, and the fireworks explode in an array of sparkling light, James Potter kisses him, and he finally understands what they mean and how much a person can change in the span on one kiss.

#christmas #marauders era #christmas writing challenge #regulus black #jegulus #james x regulus #dorcas meadowes #marauders #james potter #james is a simp #regulus and james #new years #happy new year #new years eve #new year new me #regulus is me i am him

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steddieholidaydrabbles · 4 months

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December 30th and 31st

Today and tomorrow's prompt is New Year's Eve or resolutions 🪩

Please check the pinned post on the blog for rules/information!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #new year's eve #resolutions #writing challenge

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zmediaoutlet · 5 months

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6 astarion/durge tav for the ask game pls ❤️

Late afternoon and the camp is cool in the shade. Karlach has built the fire for the evening and Gale and Wyll are having a discussion that may soon become a polite argument about which of the supplies need to be cooked first so they won't spoil. Something about fish.

You will eat what is served because you must. Food is fuel to get to the next day and what horrid revelations may be found there. Although the dreadful night lies between the one and the other; perhaps you should ask Gale to add some sleeping draught to the meal so that you may rest without dreaming. Though, again, perhaps it is a fitting punishment from gods you barely recall to be riddled with those visions -- to be forced to emerge, soaked from a wine-dark sea, and only when you raise your dripping hand to see the color that is your responsibility, and your birthright.

"Who is your absolute favorite vampire spawn?"

You blink, sitting upright on your bedroll. Astarion holds out a half-bottle of wine and, when you take it, sits promptly beside you on the blanket, mischief curving his mouth. "Filched directly from behind the bickering ninnies," Astarion says. "Wyll was going to use it as cooking wine, can you believe it? That vintage? You'd think the son of a duke wouldn't behave as though he were raised in a barn."

A scoff. You look down at the label and don't recognize the carefully inked name, nor the variety. It's red, you can tell that through the glass. Your stomach curls, first hot and then uneasy. A common sequence, these days.

You're quiet and Astarion, surprisingly, doesn't fill the silence. A few beats pass and then Astarion pulls the bottle from your hands. "We'll share it later, hm?" Astarion says, warm and with the implication of what later might mean full in his voice, but not pushing. "Not the only drink I'd mind sharing with you, if you're willing."

A few days since the last time. You touch your throat, and watch Astarion's hands on the bottle, and remember -- do you? A tavern late at night, sitting in a corner in darkness away from the hearth, and your hands around the cup before you not red but also not the color of your real hands -- disguised, then, or shapeshifted, to walk unknown among the weak as-yet-unblooded sheep of the city -- and across the room leaning against the bar a slim and beautiful elf pushing elegant fingers through white curls, eyes gleaming through shadow, interest and invitation clear -- and what you thought then was how exquisite that pale skin would be, spread back over your Father's altar, and how when you split it the red would flow thick and dark as finest wine--

"Darling," Astarion says, lightly, and you blink and shudder and are again sitting on your shared bedroll in the forest clearing, with the sun dappled through the trees. Leaf-shadows shifting over Astarion's white hair and white skin as a breeze pushes through the wood, and Astarion's eyes steady on your face, knowing. How does he always know? His fingertips light on the back of your hand, where you have curled it around your belt-knife, and when you flinch his expression not pitying, nor afraid. He touches your throat, too, where your pulse races, heated at the memory but like a hunted rabbit's, too, and you hate that twinned sensation so much you wish, almost, to go back -- to be once again the priest of your Father's will -- to have that certainty, at least, instead of this horrifying and relentless urge that you must do everything in your power to stop. Which you must stop.

"Perhaps just the wine, tonight," Astarion says. "I'm rather full from that awful cutpurse earlier, anyway." His hand pulls yours down and laces your fingers together atop his knee. Cool, but not cold. Stronger and steadier than memory.

youtube

#to misapply a quote here: this was a challenging wank #but we are beholden to the numbers!#ty for letting me do my little vidya ships eve <333 #writing meme #astarion/durge #my writing

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evevoli · 1 year

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man ive had this little "the golden guards haunt belos and watch over hunter" au stashed away in my brain for MONTHS i cannot express how vindicated for the future made me feel LMAO

#it was like 60% fluff because im a sap but Still it existed. i want to work on it again h #caleb and the grimwalkers canonically haunting belos has done so much for me specifically #toh #the owl house #ev.post #toh spoilers #ev actually talk abt their writing to anyone challenge. impossible

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agonizedembrace · 11 months

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Let's talk about Evelynn and Love (and any other emotions that may bring).

Emotions and feelings are not things that come naturally, or easily, to Eve. They are often complicated and leave her unsettled for days at a time, because she is troubled from the issue until she completely understands what is happening. Because of who she is, she often approaches first with logic, rather than emotion.

But emotions; love, anger, happiness, sadness-- they are not concrete ideas that can be described so easily. That can be understood simply with logic. It is because of that, that Evelynn struggled the longest time with them. And even getting over the hurdle of knowing and understanding what they are, is just half the battle, for she has to accept that she has them too.

Yes, she feeds on pain. But that alone is more concrete to her -- it's as simple as one might consider tying their shoes. Second nature, something she never bats an eye to.

That is, until other emotions began to come into play. While it never affected her hunts, how she ate, it complicated everything else for her. It developed a fear, to have a liking -- or dare she say, an adoration for humans and places. Evelynn spent a long time in distress, unable to fully comprehend the whys.

There is an eventual acceptance, as begrudging as it is, to the emotion.

She does not spend her love carelessly.

Evelynn does not let many people get close to her. For often she doesn't care about humans, and that she still, even up to the KDA verse, views it often as a weakness. She loves few, enough to count on her fingers. It is because of how few she adores, that she is extremely protective and almost to the point of possessive of them.

It would not be seen healthy, more often than not, because she doesn't want to see harm their way. While the motions and actions she can take can be destructive, it is usually the only ways she knows how. Acts of violence, removal of threats, keeping them close and having an eye on them at most times -- all things she does because she cannot bear the thought of loved ones being harmed. Because she will lash out, painfully, if something happens to them.

Evelynn does not react well to losing loved ones.

Most of her affections are of familial aspects. And even then, it is difficult for Eve to properly display her feelings. She does not say "I love you" -- not to those she would consider like 'family'. She conveys her appreciation in other ways; gift giving, quality time and acts of service. Evelynn becomes very observant (as she's always been, after watching humans for several centuries) in learning what her loved ones like.

She does not like making these few upset. It is the only time she will apologize if she's in the wrong.

Evelynn and loving romantically can be dangerous.

She loves reverently. With her whole being, that one person becoming her world. It is a thin line, that could almost be observed as obsessive, if she is not careful. Eve would put all that she is on the line for that one person. She accepts this as her downfall -- as her one weakness.

Her love for a romantic partner runs deep. She is wholly devoted, she wants her lover to know while she could have anyone (magics aside), she only wants them. Because of this, they are viewed above everything else. When she is with her lover, she is at her happiest.

And with that said, if anything happens to them, she turns so violent. It is a terrifying sight, for she's hardly able to process and cope with the emotions -- with the fear of losing her lover. It is too often that she spends years alone, waiting to be reunited with them once more.

Evelynn does say "I love you" and "I'm in love with you" to her partners. She says it with every fiber of her being, it resonates so powerfully within her, as thought it's the only thing she knows. It took her such a long time to accept these emotions, that she doesn't want to shy away from letting her partner know. It is this, along the other acts she gives her familial loves, plus physical touch, that she conveys her so deeply rooted love.

Evelynn feared emotions, and perhaps still does, but cherishes the love she holds even more.

#» time to roll the dice ( ooc )#» MY LOVE CUTS TO THE QUICK. ( HEADCANON )#UH HI I KINDA GOT CARRIED AWAY HERE SORRY #i think it would be obvious who i was referring to in 'romantic lover' (han say akali challenge)#but left it ambigious just in case #i could write more but this is already kinda an essay UHHH #ofc this is more seen towards KDA but i think runeterra eve can still love too #maybe not as well or as HEALTHILY #but she could

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matsinko · 4 months

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title: bet on love pairing(s): iwaoi, minor matsuhana rating: t summary:

It starts with four friends, an article, and a bet and ends with far more than Oikawa ever anticipated.

written for the December Greatest Decoy Challenge as a gift for @maroonedpunk

>> read on ao3 <<

#my silly holiday fic is revealed so i can post now heh #iwaoi #matsuhana #seijoh 4 #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #christmas fic #new years eve fic #haikyuu!!#hq fic #iwaoi fic #my writing #holiday exchange #greatest decoy challenge

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frankenjoly · 1 year

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Feels like I am floating

spotify wrapped writing challenge: kunikidazai + 63

et (rain paris' cover)

Could you be the devil?

Could you be an angel?

Dazai Osamu was one of a kind, in quite the range of ways. He was gorgeous, and could kill that image by opening his mouth totally on purpose. He was the bane of Kunikida’s existence, and also stupidly alluring. He was nothing like his ideal spouse should be, and yet he had managed to sneak into his heart and was staying there of course without paying rent.

He was both a blessing and a nightmare, and despite everything… he was also sleeping right beside him, so peacefully that a candid soul who didn’t know him might think Dazai could even be innocent.

Not him, though. And the fact Kunikida had still fallen, the fact they were like that right then… was still something he struggled to grasp.

Besides, trying to make sense of it would only result in a headache, and there were things to do, so he motioned to get out of bed instead…

“Nooo.” … and was stopped by two bandaged arms latching onto him for dear life, as if he would be parting to war and not just the kitchen. “Aw, c’mon, it’s Sunday.”

“And breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Still, he didn’t move a muscle.

“Yeah, but there’s no rule about when to--” His stare must have been almost murderous, because Dazai himself retaliated, at least in order to indulge him. “Alright, but let’s have at least five more minutes.”

That could work.

#kunikidazai #knkdz #kunikida doppo #dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #ficlet #spotify wrapped writing challenge #there u go fluff on valentine's day eve (or the actual day depending on timezones)#my stuff #clau stuff

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sheepwithspecs · 7 months

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30 Day NSFW Challenge: Day 3

|| PLvsAA || Rated M || (1 /29)

Ao3 Link

A NSFW collection based off the 30 Days OTP NSFW Challenge prompt list on Tumblr: all Barnham/Darklaw. Different ratings, universes, etc. but it's all varying levels of NSFW content.

Day 3: First Time

“I can’t show you!”

“Why not?” Zacharias Barnham was a man who prided himself on patience. After all, it was practically the first tenant of knighthood. But his patience—or lack thereof—was his weak spot, and now it was being sorely tested by the one person on the island whose opinion truly mattered: his girlfriend.

Eve had summoned him at the last minute, all but demanding he make the lengthy journey across the island to her home. Never mind that he’d worked a full shift in the bakery that day, or that he’d spent the better part of the evening training with his squire. Never mind that he’d only just showered, and changed into his nightclothes, and collapsed onto the bed with an exhausted groan. No, he must come, and his many questions must go unanswered until the moment he arrived on her doorstep. But now that he was here, having gotten dressed, saddled his horse, and raced across the fields in the dusky twilight, she refused to see him.

Or, rather, she refused to let him see her.

“What am I meant to do?” he huffed, throwing up his hands as the last shreds of his patience began to fray at the seams. “Stand here until dawn?” The lady’s maid that had accompanied him upstairs shrugged her shoulders, the very picture of disinterest.

“Your guess is as good as mine, sir.” She leveled a brow at him, the corner of her mouth quirked in a half-smile. It was as though she dared him to try and take the reins from Eve’s hands, to regain some control of the chaos. But how could he possibly do that, when he had no idea what the problem even was?! “In any case, good luck.” Before he could say a word she was halfway down the hall, washing her hands of the whole situation with a toss of her braid.

“Ugh….” Stumped, he turned back to the locked door. “I’ve had a long day, Eve, and I’m tired. If you refuse to open the door, I’m returning to the bakery and—”

“No! Please, wait.” The lock clicked, but when he moved to open the door he found it braced from the other side. There was a muffled thump and a small sigh; he could only imagine Eve leaning against the door, her cheek to the solid wood as she held it shut. “I’m worried you might… laugh at me.”

“Trust me: I am not in a laughing mood.”

“See? You’re already upset. What if you get even angrier when I show you?”

“I—” He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, willing his temper to die down before he proved her point. “I am not going to be angry,” he promised, once he was sure he could speak without raising his voice. “Now let me in, or I’m going home.” The door finally opened just enough to show a single, beautiful eyeball gazing mournfully at him through the crack.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me.”

“I swear it.” The crack widened until it was just large enough for him to squeeze through. He hesitated only a moment, wondering why she saw fit to hide behind the door instead of greeting him with her usual enthusiasm. Normally she was wont to tackle him the moment he made his presence known, pawing and pouting until he obligingly bent low enough for a kiss. Had something changed? Was she already growing tired of their newly fledged relationship?

Of course not. With a firm shake of his head, he purged the fleeting doubts before they had time to take root. Eve cared for him and valued his good opinion; she would not be so worried about his laughter or his anger, were it not so. And, were she planning to end the relationship today, why would she bother waiting until so late in the evening? Why would she invite him into the comfort and privacy of her own home? She could have just as easily met him at the Courthouse, or the tavern, or the Square. No, she had not called him here for that; though rusty with disuse, his inquisitor’s sense told him something more was at play here.

“D-Don’t turn around just yet.” He obediently stopped in the center of the room, staring at the wide four poster bed on the opposite wall. A white cardboard box lay open at the foot of the bed, tissue paper and ribbons thrown in disarray across the neatly turned bedsheets. His brows creased as he added this new piece of information to the puzzle, newfound curiosity at war with his honor as a knight, a boyfriend, and a man of his word.

“Did you visit the tailor?”

“Well…” Eve shut the door behind him, the lock clicking back into place. “Sort of,” she muttered, creeping up to stand directly behind him. Loose curls tickled his arms as she pressed her forehead against his spine, embracing him from behind. Her forearms were bare, a rare sight for someone so cold-natured.

“May I see?” he asked gently, chaffing the back of her palm with his thumb. She tightened her grip, nails digging into the fabric of his polo shirt. “I did promise,” he reminded her, taking her hand and squeezing it in his own. “There is nothing you could wear that would make me think less of you—unless ‘tis some variation of that absurd outfit Foxy dares to call armor.” The remark earned him a watery chuckle.

“Alright.” She pulled away with a resigned sigh. “Turn around, if you must.”

He turned, fully expecting to see some outlandish, poofy, patterned abomination that would make anyone immediately burst into laughter at a glance. Something with a bustle and petticoats and yards upon yards of neon-colored lace, polka-dots and pinstripes: in short, everything that belonged beneath the wide stripes of a circus tent. In truth he nearly fell to his knees in shock at the sight before him, practically glowing with embarrassment beneath the chandelier. There was lace, to be clear, and it was patterned, but—

“Why—?” he choked, his voice failing him in his astonishment, “W-Why did you think I’d laugh?”

“Because I look ridiculous!” Eve crossed her arms, shaking her head so to better hide her humiliation behind a curtain of dark curls. “I’ve never bought anything like this before, and the lady at the shoppe assured me this was the newest style, but—” She averted her eyes, everything from the tip of her nose to her collarbone mottled with shame. “I look as though I’m wearing my great-grandmother’s lace curtains….”

“You look….” He faltered, uncertain of what he might say to help allay her fears. Stunning? Ethereal? He didn’t want to frighten her off with prose. Beautiful? Mind-blowing? No, she might mistake that for teasing. Gorgeous? Better off sticking to words he could easily spell…. “You look sexy.”

Blathering, brainless idiot! He winced, cursing his tactless tongue. Of all the words in all the dictionaries of the world, he had to go and choose the cheapest, most inefficient, the one that all but stated outright his—

“R-Really? You really think so?” Eve risked a shy glance, peering at him through her eyelashes. “It’s not… you don’t think it’s too much?”

“No, not at all!” he quickly agreed. “It’s… may I have a closer look?”

“I mean… why do you have to ask?” she mumbled, letting her arms fall away reluctantly. “It’s for you, isn’t it?”

“Eh? Is it?”

“Wh— Who else would it be for?!” She glared at him now, further embarrassment fueling her ire. “Aren’t girlfriends supposed to buy cute things to wear for their boyfriends?”

“Hmm? Are they?” he asked absently, his eyes roaming every spare inch of exposed skin and hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t trust himself to touch, at least not until he was acclimated to the sight of her.

Eve wore a lace robe that was clearly meant to be seen through, tied at her waist with a silk ribbon. The white lace formed elegant patterns on her bare skin, the scalloped hem brushing against the tops of her thighs. Beneath the robe she wore a matching black lingerie set, solid fabric edged with more lace. In truth, he was not thinking much about curtains at all. The only thing on his mind was the way the fabric pushed her breasts together, a soft pillow he’d be more than happy to bury his face in. And her thighs on full display, creamy against the pale lace… he cleared his throat, reminding himself to breathe.

“I’ve never bought anything like this before,” she repeated, venturing closer. He reached out, taking the edge of the ribbon and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. “But I used to think about it… before…. Buying something pretty and wearing it to the Courthouse, letting you see and pretending I didn’t notice.” Another step. “I used to wonder what you would think to know the High Inquisitor had a reason to wear lace… and was shameless enough to wear it to work. It would have been our little secret.”

“I never looked under your skirt,” he protested, tugging at the ribbon until the knot slid undone with a whisper of silk.

“Never?”

“Not… intentionally.” Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged him until they stood chest to chest, scant layers of cloth and lace separating their bodies. He gulped, praying that she wouldn’t realize just how hard he was beneath his trousers. From the way she pressed herself against him, lifting onto the balls of her feet to grind against his thigh, it definitely had not escaped her notice.

“Want to know another little secret?” Resting her chin on his sternum, she plucked teasingly at his belt. “Every time you caught a little glimpse, it was because I wanted you to see.”

“I… um… I figured as much,” he choked, a blush rising to his own cheeks. He had faced countless foes in the Witch’s Court without batting an eye, his iron will strong despite the challenges. And yet how quickly she could reduce him to a stammering mess, with nothing more than a smile and a flutter of her lashes. It was astounding, and he’d yet to find the magic spell that would stop him from melting into a puddle at her feet.

“Did it make you hard?” she whispered with wicked glee, practically climbing him where he stood. He caught her before she could fall, blushing even harder when she wrapped her bare legs around his waist.

“I-I don’t remember.” For a split second he feared her to be drunk. It wasn’t like her to be so forward with her questions, especially when they had never moved beyond the occasional heavy petting. But there were no empty bottles in sight, and her eyes were clear. If she was drunk on anything, it was on her own renewed confidence. Not that he was complaining….

“Are you hard now?” she purred, toying with his collar. As if she didn’t already know, the clear evidence trapped against her. “You know, I was going to send it back, but if you really like the outfit all that much—”

“Don’t send it back,” he interrupted, adjusting his grip on her thighs as he carried her to the bed. “I like it… but right now, all I can think about is how much I want it off.” It was her turn to be shocked, eyes widening at the blatant confession.

“Then get to work.” He shook his head, his brow creasing as he tried to work out how to lay her on the bed without letting her go flying.

“I know you haven’t forgotten our agreement. Six months of dating before we move to the bedroom.”

“You agreed to it,” she argued, prodding him in the chest with one finger. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind since then.”

“Is that the case?” She nodded. “Well, you may have changed your mind, but I have not. Besides, what’s another four weeks?”

“An eternity!” She was pouting again, refusing to let go even after he laid her gently on the center of the bed. “Will you at least hold me?”

“That, I will do gladly.” He collapsed to the mattress beside her, gathering her in his arms and burying his face in the join of her neck and shoulder. If he played his cards right, he could lull her to sleep with his body heat. What he wouldn’t give to spend the night in this featherdown heaven, fast asleep in the arms of his most beloved angel….

“And kiss me?” Eve was not to be deterred, tugging at his collar until he lifted his head. He kissed her slowly, trying to relax rather than arouse her, but his own body continued to betray him. Against his better judgement he ran his hand down the scratchy lace, finding the scalloped edge and sliding beneath it to better feel her smooth skin. Kissing was still new, and they had only made out twice in their few months of courtship—three times, if they were counting that one frenzied moment in the stairwell of the bell tower. But judging by the eager sounds she was making, and the way she buried her fingers in his hair, he wasn’t doing half bad for himself.

He found her silk-clad breast and squeezed, grinning when she squeaked in surprise. His trousers were tight to the point of pain, but he ignored the discomfort in favor of rolling his thumb over her nipple—something he found she’d rather enjoyed during their last exploration. Immediately she began to squirm, thighs clamped around his leg and nails scratching at his scalp.

“What if—” she gasped as he repeated the motion, grinding hard against his thigh. “What if I were to… to do something and… um… and you watch me?” Her teeth worried her lower lip, back arching as he bent to kiss the hollow of her throat. “Would that break the agreement?”

“Maybe that depends on what you want to do.” He lifted his eyes to hers, heart thudding painfully in his chest. “And to whom.”

“T-To myself.” She carefully pushed him to the side, crawling to the head of the bed and rummaging in the bottom drawer of the bedside table. She glanced over her shoulder at him, waiting for his nod before revealing a slender device. “Do you know what this is?”

“Tis a… erm… a vibrator.” To his credit, he’d taken the initiative to educate himself on the modern world of sex following their sixth month pact. If he planned to be intimate with Eve, he wanted to be as ready as possible for anything she might throw at him. Clearly, the research was to his benefit. He would never have recognized the toy otherwise, or been able to discern its particular use.

“Well?” she asked, when he made no further comment. “Is it cheating?”

“No.” The word left his mouth before he could really consider it. “I mean… what difference does it make? You would use it even if I weren’t here. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

“If that were the case, I don’t know that I’d last six whole—” She stopped, cheeks burning bright red. He watched silently as she fell against the pillows, rolling onto her back and propping up her knees. Despite the comfortable position her body was tensed, eyes swimming with nervous energy as she waited for—what, his signal? Taking pity on her, he pointed to the vibrator in her hand.

“How do you turn it on?”

“Oh, you just—” In the time it took her to flip the switch he was beside her on the bed, leaning with his elbow propped on the same pillow that held her up. She jumped, gazing up at him with a shaky smile that revealed her panic.

“Eve, you don’t have to—” She cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I want to… I do, I’m just… I really haven’t done anything like this before,” she rambled, chewing her kiss swollen lips. “I don’t know how to start.”

“From my understanding—limited though it may be—one simply….” He took her hand in his, the vibrator trapped beneath their laced fingers, trailing down the center of her body. He watched with interest as the hair raised on her arms, a full body shiver running through her as they reached the edge of her panties. His hand stayed above the fabric while hers slipped beneath, fingertips grazing the damp silk before sliding back up to caress her stomach.

“Zack….” He groaned a wordless answer, aching and almost desperate enough to grind against her mattress for some semblance of relief. “Keep watching,” she demanded, pleaded, lifting her hips from the mattress with a whine.

“I am,” he promised hoarsely, teeth at her throat and hand sliding up to tease her breasts again. She gasped, chest heaving as her legs fell apart, and he found himself speaking before he realized it. “Do you think about me? When you do this?”

“Who else would it be?” He hummed noncommittal under his breath, sliding his hand back down to press against hers. The vibration thrummed through his fingers, made stronger by the way she bucked against their combined touch.

“You don’t always have to think of any one person… sometimes you can simply think of nothing at all.”

“Don’t you think of me when—oh—when you’re—”

“Who else?” he parroted, releasing her hand just to see if she would keep the pressure going on her own. She squirmed, thrusting against the air, almost dangerously quiet. “Eve? Breathe!?” She obeyed with a gulp of air, only to hold it again as a fresh wave of sensation caught her by the throat.

“I thought about you even then, before,” he murmured, only half aware that he was even speaking aloud, content to let her chase her pleasure. His attention was solely on the minute changes in her expression, in the way her lashes fluttered and jaw clenched each time his fingers found a new, even more sensitive area to explore. “Every time you flashed me in that short skirt, I thought about you for days and hated myself for it.”

“Don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t hate yourself for it,” she scolded, the words all jumbled together. “I was worse. I did it in the office. At my desk.”

“While I was there?” He nipped at her lips, coaxing her into a deep kiss.

“Sometimes,” she admitted breathlessly, the moment she was able to answer. “I can be quiet.”

“Well… don’t be.” His hand found hers again, pushing hard enough that she lifted from the bed with a sob. “Show me what I’m missing.” She obliged beautifully, grinding against his hand as she unraveled with a cry. He kept his hand tight against hers, kissing every inch of her that he could reach until she twisted away from him, over sensitized. He fumbled with the soaking wet vibrator, finally managing to turn it off.

“…turn, Zack?”

“What?” She opened her arms, beckoning him to join her again with a sleepy, sated smile.

“I asked if you wanted a turn.” Her hand slipped down to the front of his trousers, eyebrows lifting as she squeezed the full length of him for the first time.

“Nice try.” He batted her hand away, kissing her palm even as his body ached for her touch. “But I can take care of myself.”

“Oh… can I watch?”

#30 day otp challenge #barnlaw #plvsaa #my writing #zacharias barnham #eve belduke

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redthreadoffate · 2 years

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magical. sparks. love.

write about a first kiss // creativepromptsforwriting 30 day writing challenge (may) - day 1

*as always, edited once

people say first kisses should be magical, filled with sparks and love. and she dreamed of that. she fantasized about giving her first kiss to someone she loved, to someone who loved her back.

unfortunately, her first kiss sucked. big time. and why? let me tell you.

she longed for love. she longed to be touched—not just sexually, but intimately as well. she longed for someone.

and she got someone. she got a random stranger whom she found through an online dating app. was it love at first sight? honestly, eww. but she did it anyway. she kissed him. it was most definitely not magical, it definitely did not have sparks. it was most definitely not love.

she regretted it. she regretted it big time. she should have waited. she should have been patient. but was she? obviously not.

so now she is paying the price of the horrible memory of giving her first kiss to someone she pretty much hated now. but she should not blame him. it was not his fault she was desperate.

if only she had waited. maybe her first kiss would have been magical, filled with sparks. filled with love.

#i’m too shy to tag so i’m just putting this out here #it would be nice if someone read it #if not well…that’s my fault #still counted because i was working so i couldn’t format it properly until now #was using the app but now on pc #type: eve writes #writing: cpfw 30 day challenge

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eriswrites · 10 days

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:) we're getting theeerrreeeee

#trying to teach myself discipline and consistency and write even if i feel like crap or i'm not motivated #which luckily i haven't felt in a while so :)#trying to really just challenge myself too. obviously quality > quantity but i wanna write a lot too #eve posting.

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sunnyhummingbee · 4 months

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Making a mood board is hard!! I’m going to moodboard in gifs I think. 😅 I’ve been trying to finish a NYE story for over a week! I’m going to try writing challenge #10 and do a mood board esque post for my current story… in gifs and pictures. (I also did this on my phone and since drafts and I don’t get along, I haven’t read anything on tumblr in DAYS. Time to catch up… did I miss anything?)

https://pin.it/1azN3F8aq

#writing challenge #365challenge #moodboard #new years eve #reader x omc

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arctichalo · 5 months

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#today was weird #i heard i did not get a promotion i applied for at work #but then got offered another job #in which i wouldn’t really change jobs but my tasks would be different #aaand now i gotta decide if i want to accept and i only have until tomorrow to decide #on the other hand the new work would probably be more challenging and a bit stressful #on the other hand i am not really vibing with my current job at the moment so a change of scenery might do some good?#this makes no sense i am sorry #had to dump my thoughts somewhere #eve writes

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motimatcha · 3 months

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the Forbidden fruit

NSFW: headcanons about your sex life. hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader That feeling when my drafts are almost halfway through the smut with Adam that I wanted to write, but at the last minute I stopped liking that text, so I switched to something else. Everything is (not) good. I wrote this text while listening to Landon Tewers - She Thinks of Me. the meaning of the song is not at all important and has nothing to do with the lyrics, I just liked the melody.

Adam has beautiful hands. Aesthetic. When he takes off his clothes and folds his arms across his chest, rests them on a surface, or carries heavy objects, his veins appear.

His fingers are thin and well-groomed, long, like those of a pianist, which Adam never was.

Just imagine the contrast it has on you during sex. His rough, sometimes wild, character and gentle movements of his hands that slide over your entire body while he whispers all sorts of dirty things in your ear. Imagine those hands touching your hips, squeezing your skin gently but noticeably to make you feel excited and excited, and then with a knee-baring grin, he leaves you unsatisfied.

Adam can and loves to tease. His hands pass dangerously close to your sensitive places, and his words are full of subtext and hints, which are sometimes not covered at all. And because many are accustomed to the character of Adam, who speaks complete nonsense, no one pays attention to the fact that Adam literally said that he would fuck you against that wall before entering heaven.

Adam sure has a sexy morning voice. He can lie on his back, finally finding a comfortable position without his wings getting in the way, one of his arms wedged under your body and resting on your side. He brushes the hair that is falling into his face back before turning his head in your direction. A smirk graces Adam’s face as he rolls onto his side and pulls you closer to him, allowing your two hot bodies to grind against each other. Adam wakes you up with a kiss behind your ear, slowly lowers himself to your neck and whispers some nonsense to you, but you don’t wake up or pretend to be asleep, he takes it as a challenge and the hand from your hip slowly slides down, straight into yours underpants.

Adam likes the cowgirl position when he's too tired but still wants you. This gives you both an imaginary sense of control: you control the speed of the process, Adam controls the movement of your hips.

He likes to look at your hips and butt, whether in tight pants/high-waisted shorts or skirts/dresses that contour your figure. Adam basically likes to look at you in tight clothes, style doesn't matter as long as you like it. Besides that, he likes to see his dick penetrate your body slowly or quickly (well, I mean, he likes to watch your pussy swallow his dick, let's be honest). He loves watching your breasts bounce rhythmically as you move. He loves the feeling of your fingers on his chest as you lean against him, finding a comfortable position.

If you don't mind having Adam's dick in you without having sex, then please allow him. He is overwhelmed by a feeling of unity that has not visited him since the time of Lilith and Eve.

Not against quick sex (or blowjob).

Speaking of fetishes, Adam loves creampies and he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s flattered by the idea of impregnating you. And the latter is not so much a fetish as his sacred duty, because he seemed to be created for this? First man, first man and all that. However, if you can't get pregnant (or it's your mutual desire not to have children due to your lifestyle), he still loves creampies.

Adam loves to leave his marks on you: hickeys and bites, especially on your neck, arms, collarbones, chest, hips... In general, wherever he can reach with his mouth and lips. Adam likes to do this not only because he finds it sexy, but because of his insecurity. He had two wives who went to a dwarf duck! Somewhere in the subcortex of consciousness, Adam wants every living and dead soul to see that you are already busy with him and minding your own business.

Adam will probably let you do anything (within reason and as long as he feels like he's in a dominant position) if you praise him during sex or tell him you wouldn't choose anyone else over him. This will upset him.

I'm not sure exactly what word is supposed to mean what I'm about to say next (at least I've seen it called "happy way", but I can't be sure), but Adam has a faint trail of hair from his belly button to the groin. And although he takes care of himself (if you ask, he doesn’t care until it starts to get in the way), but he will never remove this particular hair.

His cock is worth forgetting about toys. So are his fingers.

Adam doesn't have a favorite place to have sex, but he prefers you to be alone. Teasing in public is a whole different story!

If you want to quickly excite Adam, then touch his wings. But this should not be a light touch to the tips of his feathers, but a targeted stroking of the growth area of the wings and between the shoulder blades.

#hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

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