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hazzyking · 8 months

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Hey kids! So you know that part 2 I'm supposed to be working on? Yeah this isn't it. But you'll still enjoy it! Lmao I'm sorry I suck at everything.

POV: You and Buggy get into a heated fight. You say something you didn't mean about his nose, so he's sleeping below deck with the crew, and you're alone in the captains quarters, and you can't sleep.

Apologize

It was one of those nights at almost 3am when your mind was racing. All you wanted was the sweet relief of sleep but your brain was running to fast. You groaned and threw the sheets to the side as you reluctantly got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. You shivered as the wind of the seas prickled your skin, your hands smoothed over the bumps and you quickly ran into the kitchen, shutting the door behind you finally feeling warmth. you quietly opened the cabinets and got yourself a mug and started brewing your favorite hot beverage, sighing in relief that no one has woken up yet, you peered out of the galley window looking up at the twinkling stars shining in the clear navy blue sky. Your nose was tickled by the smell of your beverage and your lips curled into a smile as you hummed softly, but you were violently torn from your thoughts when you heard the creek of the wood floor in the kitchen and a Familiar voice mutter "fuck"

"Hey" you said casually, turning around to lean against the counter looking at the clown infront of you.

"H-hey. Sorry- I didn't mean to wake you" Buggy spoke nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. You giggle softly viewing his casual appearance infront of you, just a t-shirt and sweat pants. And smudged clown makeup.

"You know if you never take that paint off your gonna get acne" you mumbled fixing your drink.

"No one would notice with this big nose anyway" Buggy responded muttering as he opened the cabinets and pulled out a box of cereal.

"I still think you should take care of your skin" you look at him with gentle eyes.

"It seems like I don't really care what you think" Buggy responded, taking a handful of cereal from the box and stuffing his face with it.

"I could help you-" you said, setting your mug down and approaching him.

"If I said yes would you drop it?" Buggy asked.

"Yes. Captain" you said, biting down on your lip.

"Hm," Buggy hummed to himself pulling you close to him, with his hands around your waist.

"I thought you were still mad at me?" You asked in a gaspy tone.

"I can never stay mad at you" Buggy said, his groggy features turning into a smirk as he lifted you up and placed you on the counter with a plop. You giggled at his actions as his hand snaked between your legs as you spread them so he could slide in between you, he scooped you up under your ass pulling you close to him, you felt his cock rub against your thigh and you shivered. "I miss you" Buggy groaned in your ear as his lips placed butterfly kisses on the soft skin of your neck. You cooked your neck to the side giving him more ground to cover, he hummed as he continued to bite and suck on your neck, his hand moving up to grasp your brest and encourage your nipples over the thin fabric of your pajamas. Breathy moans escaped your mouth, he didn't even give you a chance to speak, his tounge and teeth roaming between your neck and coller bone, his thumb and index finger rolling your nipple while his other hand snaked under your pajamas and squeezed your ass. You gasped at his tight grip and he chuckled darkly, his hand let go of your nipple as he slid the straps off your shoulders, you shimmied your top half out of your shirt revealing your brests Buggy licked his lips hungerly as his mouth slowly made its way to your nipple, latching onto it and sucking and biting gently. You knocked your head back against the cabinet moaning at the sensation, your legs tightened around his waist as his mouth trailed lower and lower, until he was on his knees and pulling you over the counter so his tounge can meet your entrance.

"Oh god~" you gasped out, nestling on top of his face, he moaned as licked up your juices that were slowly forming from his actions, his mouth latched to your clit as he sucked desperately for a reaction, your hand quickly gripped his messy blue hair as he sucked your clit and his fingers slowly siccorsing your entrance, you whined trying so hard not to be too loud. Buggy's blue eyes looked up at your bright red face as you panted at his actions. He smirked against your skin placing soft kisses at your inner thigh, his fingers still urging you to come. As your moans got louder, Buggy had no choice but to detach one of hands and use it to cover your mouth. You yelp as the hand squeases your face. Your eyes roll in the back of your head as his fingers and tounge drive you closer and closer to the edge. You eventually meet your orgasm. You feel like your screaming as your hand pull at his hair and your legs tighten around his face. Buggy would gladly die in between your legs, he pulls away from you, his hand wiping his face as he stands up and kisses you passionately. Your ready for round two in your shared bedroom, but he kisses you on the forehead and mutters "goodnight" against your skin, taking the box of cereal with him as he walked back below deck to sleep.

#one piece live action fanfic #one piece live action buggy #one piece #buggy the clown headcanons #buggy x reader #captain buggy #smutty

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apoemaday · 6 months

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A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island

by Frank O'Hara

The Sun woke me this morning loud and clear, saying "Hey! I've been trying to wake you up for fifteen minutes. Don't be so rude, you are only the second poet I've ever chosen to speak to personally so why aren't you more attentive? If I could burn you through the window I would to wake you up. I can't hang around here all day." "Sorry, Sun, I stayed up late last night talking to Hal." "When I woke up Mayakovsky he was a lot more prompt" the Sun said petulantly. "Most people are up already waiting to see if I'm going to put in an appearance." I tried to apologize "I missed you yesterday." "That's better" he said. "I didn't know you'd come out." "You may be wondering why I've come so close?" "Yes" I said beginning to feel hot wondering if maybe he wasn't burning me anyway. "Frankly I wanted to tell you I like your poetry. I see a lot on my rounds and you're okay. You may not be the greatest thing on earth, but you're different. Now, I've heard some say you're crazy, they being excessively calm themselves to my mind, and other crazy poets think that you're a boring reactionary. Not me. Just keep on like I do and pay no attention. You'll find that people always will complain about the atmosphere, either too hot or too cold too bright or too dark, days too short or too long. If you don't appear at all one day they think you're lazy or dead. Just keep right on, I like it. And don't worry about your lineage poetic or natural. The Sun shines on the jungle, you know, on the tundra the sea, the ghetto. Wherever you were I knew it and saw you moving. I was waiting for you to get to work. And now that you are making your own days, so to speak, even if no one reads you but me you won't be depressed. Not everyone can look up, even at me. It hurts their eyes." "Oh Sun, I'm so grateful to you!" "Thanks and remember I'm watching. It's easier for me to speak to you out here. I don't have to slide down between buildings to get your ear. I know you love Manhattan, but you ought to look up more often. And always embrace things, people earth sky stars, as I do, freely and with the appropriate sense of space. That is your inclination, known in the heavens and you should follow it to hell, if necessary, which I doubt. Maybe we'll speak again in Africa, of which I too am specially fond. Go back to sleep now Frank, and I may leave a tiny poem in that brain of yours as my farewell." "Sun, don't go!" I was awake at last. "No, go I must, they're calling me." "Who are they?" Rising he said "Some day you'll know. They're calling to you too." Darkly he rose, and then I slept.

#poetry #frank o'hara #a true account of talking to the sun at fire island

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eddiemadmunson · 2 years

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Little mouse part 3

Paring: Aemond x reader Warning: this is pure smut, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) English is not my 1st language

Part 1, Part 2

You didn’t know what to do or say. It seemed like a nightmare. Your Prince caught you with your hand inside your undergarments, moaning his name like some cheap whore.

“Did I tell you to stop, little mouse?” he asked you darkly and you gulped loudly, your hands trembling with fear and something else. You were terrified that he would punish you for this but at the same time you were extremely aroused, when he was looking at you like this, like if he wanted to ravish you

You shook your head and your fingers started moving again. You were so nervous that you tried to look away, but he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

“Eyes on me, little mouse! I want to see you falling apart!” he commanded, his thumb slowly tracing your bottom lip.

“Go on, tease that tight pussy with your fingers. You do this every night, don’t you? Pleasuring yourself with your own fingers, thinking about me, wishing it was my fingers, don’t you?” he mocked you, his eye shining.

“Yes, my Prince,” you moaned desperately, trying to chase your orgasm, but your fingers weren’t able to satisfy you, not tonight when he was so close to you.

“Your fingers aren’t enough, am I right, little mouse?” he teased you, slowly licking his lips, while his eye devoured your body, falling on your pussy, where your fingers were failing to bring you pleasure.

“Do you know why?” he asked and you shook your head, frustrated tears already filling your eyes.

“Because you are too soft on yourself, too slow, you need to go deeper, reaching for that magical spot inside you, that will make you see stars,” his voice was almost hypnotizing.

“Let me show you, little mouse,” he swatted your own hand away, his long cold fingers made first contact with your hot pussy and you gasped.

“You are so warm, little mouse. So wet, is this all for me?” he asked as his skilled fingers traced over your aching center

“Yes my Prince, only for you!” you whined.

“Please,” you begged.

“What do you want, little mouse?” he lightly touched your clit, but it was like a feather touch.

“Please touch me,” you begged him.

“I am touching you,” he smirked and you let out a frustrated scoff.

“Say it out loud little mouse, what do you want me to do?” he provoked you, his fingers barely touching your wet folds, driving you absolutely crazy.

“Please, My Prince. I need...” you choked on your own words, embarresed to say those words aloud, your fingers desperately grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket.

“Please, I need... I need your fingers inside my p-p-pussy,” you finally stuttered and his smirk only widened.

"All you have to do is ask, Y/N,” he captured your lips in hungry, possesive kiss while his finger slipped inside your dripping pussy. You moaned loudly into his mouth. He added second finger, stretching your pussy deliciously and you gasped, he took the opportunity and slipped his tongue deeper into your mouth. The kiss was deep and passionate, ending with a not so gentle bite on your bottom lip.

“Let’s find out, if you really taste so sweet as I think, little mouse,” his sinful lips left yours, trailing the side of your neck, stopping at your breasts.

“Latter” he hummed and soon you felt his hot breath on your sex.

Don’t you dare to close your eyes, little mouse, I want your eyes on me the whole time,” he commanded and you happily obeyed, you didn’t want to miss a single second of this surprising night.

He curled his long fingers inside your dripping cunt hitting something deep inside you that made you moan loudly, he pushed your raising hips back down on the bed, and his thin cruel lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it harshly into his hot mouth.

“Gods, oh gods, my Prince, I think I am dying,” you moaned breathlessly, waves of pleasure running through your body.

“You are not dying, don’t worry. You are only experiencing how does it feel, to be eaten out by a hungry dragon. And I give you permision to call me Aemond, when you scream my name, little mouse,” he smirked and his fingers continued their asault on your soaked pussy and when he bit your clit gently with his teeth, you came, moaning his name loudly into the silence of the night.

“What a good little mouse, cumming for me like a good girl,” he praised you and you nearly came again from hearing those words.

“Open your mouth!” he ordered and you quickly obeyed, hoping to hear him call you “a good girl” again.

He put his wet fingers inside your mouth, his eye darkened with desire

“Suck, taste yourself on my fingers, little mouse,” you moaned at the taste, wrapping your tongue around his digits, sucking gently, your eyes never leaving his face.

“Listen to me, little mouse. From this night on, you are forbidden to touch yourself, I am the only one, who can touch you, lick you, taste you... fuck you. Trust me, I will know if you disobey me, and you won’t like to see me pissed,” he warned you and you nodded, feeling the rush of redness coming to your cheeks when he mentioned fucking you.

He slipped his fingers from your mouth and wrapped them around your neck

“Do you understand me??!” he asked you again.

“Yes, my prince Aemond," you whimpered, overhelmed by the fact, that you actually liked the feeling of his hand around your neck, squeezing you tightly

He noticed that and chuckled darkly

“Oh, my little mouse, you and I will have so much fun”.

You picked up all the courage you had inside you and asked him shakily and pointed at the obvious bulge in his tight pants “do you want me to touch you, my Prince?”

“As much as I would like to feel these lips wrapped around my cock, I think that you woke up half of the castle with your moans, little mouse, we will continue this another time”, he left as quietly and quickly as he came, if it wasn’t for that pleasant feeling in your core, you would think that this was all just a dream.

Part 4

Tag: @moonmaiden1996 @andreeasancheez @nomugglesallowed @powellssaturn @filmelunar @schniiipsel @itzwhatever123 @cl-0-vr @ipadkidsworld @kitkat-writes-stuff @cullenswife @scaraza

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #my writing

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springnote · 11 months

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JJBA part 3 Dio smut pretty pleaseeee? <3 ty ty

I hope you like it!

Dio x fem!reader smut

warnings: nsfw minors dni, edging, orgasm denial, piv sex, some exhibitionism, authority kink

Shameless. That’s what Dio was. He stood completely bare as he looked you over, a proud smirk on his face as you admired him as well. His pale skin shined from oils he’d had you massage into his muscles, and his freshly washed and combed hair looked like gold silk around his gorgeous face. He’d look angelic if he didn’t have a devious, fanged grin on his face, and a clawed hand running slowly over his massive cock.

“You serve me so well,” he hummed with a lick of his lips. “Do you think you deserve to come now?”

He’d been edging you all evening, in between massages, sloppy kisses, and his strangely gentle caresses. Your core ached from so many ruined orgasms, your slickness drooling down your legs from how desperate you were. Getting to see his impressive cock twitch with interest when you took a step forward definitely made you feel even needier.

“I…I think I deserve whatever you decide to give me,” you said, your eyes hooded as you added. “…Master Dio.”

You were much more to him than an underling or plaything he’d eat from, but the term “master” made him growl and scoop you up into a deep kiss, bruising your lips in the process. You barely noticed how he moved to the large window, gasping when the cold glass touched your breasts and you were met by the sight of the full moon and sky full of stars.

“I’ve decided you deserve to cum on my cock,” he chuckled darkly as he pressed into you. “It’s time I treat you for being such a good girl, and I think all of Egypt should know how good you are for my cock.”

“Master Dio!” You gasped, feeling slightly shy now. All of Egypt wouldn’t see you, but who knew which of his underlings might walk through the courtyard and look up, seeing you full of him as he thrust away. You couldn’t deny how good it felt, and the affectionate but rough kisses he trailed up your shoulder eased you into the idea.

“Come now dear,” he purred with a rough thrust into you. “let’s make a sight more beautiful than any star in the sky.”

#jjba smut #jjba x reader #dio brando x reader #dio brando smut #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #dio x reader #dio smut

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 1 year

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Blessed Heir of the Abyss (Abyssal Prince Childe x Reader) Part 2

Synopsis: After centuries of conflict, Teyvat and the Abyss are attempting to make peace with one another. To solidify new alliances and let go of past grudges, the Abyssal Prince Tartaglia will choose a spouse from the people above to rule over the Abyss with him.

That spouse happens to be you, an ordinary, Visionless citizen of Liyue.

Chapter One: Dreams and Twilight

Previous | Next

Warnings: Mentions of crying, Abyss Heralds and Lectors basically hating you, Childe not caring, you generally having a bad time, Zhongli almost cries, you’re on the verge of panicking, mentions of fear, SLOW BURN

~ * ~ “Be safe.” Those were the last words Zhongli said to you- anyone said to you, before you were torn away from the Harbor, your friends, your calm, ordinary life. It had been dizzying, the Abyss Lectors and Heralds surrounding you, the Prince directly in front, and you struggling to put one foot in front of the other, and through the haze of voices and fear Zhongli’s voice had rung out in your head, a simple “Be safe,” and nothing more. He had sounded frightened. It sent a chill down your spine, hearing such a normally unshakable man so worried and uncertain, anguished that the only advice he could give you was to survive. You weren’t allowed any belongings- no, “everything would be provided”, a Lector told you shortly, and you wouldn’t want to humiliate the Prince with your shabby commoner’s clothing, would you? Yes, something more… suitable is waiting for you in the palace. You hate the way they all look at you, like you’re something small and revolting under their gaze, only putting up with you to honor their agreement with Liyue. The Lector scoffs and turns away, clawed hands waving as if to bat away an irritating insect, and you shiver inadvertently, keeping your eyes steadily on the ground. Your nails dig into your arms as you hug yourself, the small pricks of pain keeping your consciousness from giving out into darkness, putting all your effort into moving one foot in front of the other, step by step. The people of Liyue stare at the monstrous procession, moving away, running inside, shutting doors and windows yet still watching, unable to tear their eyes away. A few of them look at you, curling in on yourself, and shake their heads sympathetically. But no one offers to help, too fearful of the Abyssal influence slowly seeping into the city and taking hold, and the little hope you have left disappears like smoke. And the Prince, the heir to the throne- your new husband- doesn’t even bother glancing at you, not even as you cross the bridge between the Harbor and the outskirts of Liyue, unwillingly leaving your home behind. A Pyro Lector waves his hand once civilization is out of sight, a flash of stellar magic sending the birds flying, cries shrill with indignation as a portal suddenly manifests before you. The tear in the universe glimmers darkly, hushed wind raising goosebumps on your neck before you’re violently shoved from behind and tumble in with a sharp scream. Tendrils of glittering mist engulf you, stars filling your senses as the dizzying transportation pulls you under the earth, falling head over heels through a seemingly endless sky until you slam into a lightless ocean. You let out a groan, bones aching and bruised, the elegant floor beneath you silently laughing at your pain. It’s much too cold, shining like ice, but your cheeks burn with embarrassment when you look up and see Prince Tartaglia and his entourage watching you, fingers tapping his leg with boredom. Hastily you climb to your feet, ignoring the awful, aching sparks going through your bones, and dust off your clothes. “Foolish sunchild.” You snap your head up, but they’re just the same as before, waiting and looking at you with thinly veiled disgust, and your chest tightens with shame. “Take them to their room.” The Prince’s voice echoes in the vast hall, the entirety of the Abyss seeming to bow as he speaks. “You’re not coming?” You blurt, the first thing you’ve said in hours, and Tartaglia pauses, then turns to you, deadened eyes appearing near-black in the gloom of the palace. “I have important matters to attend to,” he replies, tone flat and unmoved as you take a fearful step back, and with a flick of his grand cloak the Prince vanishes down the corridor, copper hair a stark contrast in the dark. Dread pools in your stomach as you watch his retreating figure until you’re pulled in the opposite direction, a Herald and a Lector leading the way. You don’t matter. You’re just a little toy to be claimed and chewed up and thrown away, after all. The long halls of the palace almost glitter, despite the lack of light, every wall and ceiling faceted like it was crafted from one single enormous crystal, pillars wrapped with swirling wave-like structures and windows that span the length of entire rooms, looking outside into the night. It’s pitch-black outside, and your skin crawls. Your room turns out to be a small, unassuming door in the corner, the Herald practically throwing it open before marching off in the opposite direction, muttering words you can’t quite catch. But the Lector waits until you glance back at him, giving you a small, almost polite bow before taking his leave, following the same path as the Herald. Suddenly you’re alone, a mortal in the vast chasm of Teyvat. The room is small but surprisingly comfortable-looking, furnished with everything you might need, and carefully you perch yourself on the bed, gaze flitting from your hands to the ceiling and back again. Everything in the room, while plain, is finely made- even the mattress feels like it’s full of feathers and clouds, clearly not designed for your commoner’s touch. You grimace, and scoot to the center of the bed so you’re not touching anything but the floor and the covers- everything is too fancy, too delicate, and your heart sinks with loneliness. It’s so cold, too cold- you hadn’t noticed how chilly it was- and so, so quiet. Slowly you bring your knees up to your chest and encircle them with your arms, shoulders tense and rigid, shoes on the floor so you don’t sully the blankets. The silence weighs heavily on you, your ears twisting and warping the quiet fog until you swear you can hear the stars themselves twinkling. You don’t bother opening the curtains over the window in your room- why should you? It’s just going to be dark outside, something your pitiful eyes can’t see, so used to the sun are they. You’re in the Abyss, after all. It’s a lonesome place, the kingdom underground, and your heart squeezes like it’s cracking and breaking at the seams. With your head buried in your knees, finally away from prying, judgemental eyes, you cry, and the Abyss swallows you whole. It’s warm here. Cozy, even- sunset-colored clouds cushioning your feet as you walk along a starlit path, admiring the evening dusk. There’s a simple table in the distance, chairs carved out of stone and inset with glittering stones; gold, amber, pale green. It’s set for three, cups filled, and when you hesitantly sit down you find the one nearest to you carries the scent of your favorite drink. You take a small sip, feeling your muscles unclench and relax, the seat comfortable despite the material it’s crafted from, and you lean back and shut your eyes. Soft, heavy footsteps climb the stairs, and you rise from your chair and turn to greet Zhongli, the beaming smile on his face matching your own. “It worked…” His voice is hushed, amazed, and you flow into his open embrace with a wobbly laugh, his arms steadying your shaky steps as you sob in relief, clinging to his ornate tailcoat. “Of course it worked.” You whip around to see a small girl with white hair sitting on one of the chairs, daintily sipping tea like she had always been there. “Dreams are the flowering buds of one’s subconscious, you need only find a path to connect your mind and another.” Zhongli simply chuckles, giving the girl a bow. “Thank you for your assistance, Lesser Lord Kusanali.” “Lesser Lord Kusanali?” Your eyes widen as you hastily scramble out of Zhongli’s hug and scrub your cheeks to bow deeply to the Dendro Archon, as you were taught to do when worshiping Rex Lapis, but she simply waves a hand. “Please, Nahida is fine. When I heard of Zhongli’s wish to know of your wellbeing, I couldn’t help but offer a hand to him!” She giggles slightly, hiding her mouth behind a hand. But then her expression turns serious, a frown spreading across her face. “It was more difficult to find your dreams, though. You were buried under an ocean of silence and regret.” You perch yourself on a chair, drinking slowly, the taste filling you with a calming warmth. You can smell the tea filling Zhongli’s- osmanthus- the sight of his square cup making you bite your tongue to keep from laughing. But he doesn’t drink, merely watching you, worry flooding his amber eyes. “Are you well? How are your living conditions? The treatment? Have you been hurt in any way?” Questions slip out, one by one, and you choke on your drink, overwhelmed. “You’re fretting again,” Nahida says, giving Zhongli a stern look, “They’re already stressed and most likely tired. At the very least, you know they’re alive.” She tilts her head towards you, elf-like ears flicking up. “Don’t give up hope yet, my friend. As Sumeru’s Archon I heard a little of Liyue’s agreement with the Abyss, but this…” she sighs, shaking her head. “If they’ve hurt you, they’ll pay.” Zhongli’s voice is a near growl, his hands clenching his cup so tightly you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter in his grip, and instinctively your shoulders tense at his furious tone. You stare into your own cup, the liquid’s reflection displaying your disheveled appearance, sleeves frayed from worrying the fabric so much. Zhongli exhales deeply, a heavy hand coming to rest gently on your arm as he forces a smile, like he’s trying his best not to give in to rage or tears. “Everyone will be glad to hear you’re alright,” he whispers, thumb swiping underneath your eyes. “Hu Tao has been worrying herself sick since you left… although, I cannot say I have not been doing the same.” “Tell… tell her I’m okay. Really, I am.” You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Hu Tao… it’s strange to imagine such a plucky and cheerful girl fretting over anything until you see it with your own eyes. Zhongli softens further, ruffling your hair as Nahida watches with a knowing smile. Then a harrowing shriek pierces the peace and everything around you shatters like glass. You lurch awake, panting and looking wildly around the room in terror, the seemingly peaceful gloom taunting your fright. It’s freezing, your skin like ice and head heavy from exhaustion, but you haul yourself to your feet and stumble towards the door, opening it just a crack to peer outside. Shadows dance along the pearlescent walls, spiny shapes and dust made of stars. For a moment you lean towards the sight, enraptured by the pinpricks of darkness and light, almost reaching out a hand to catch them. But something slams against the floor, a horrible metallic screech raising the hairs on the back of your neck and you slam the door shut, heart frantically pounding in your chest as you dive back onto your bed and wrap the covers over your head. Childish mortal. You listen, frozen in terror, as heavy, scraping footsteps plod down the hall, louder and louder, closer and closer. They stop, so close you can almost see them, and your body goes cold when you hear what can only be described as a terrible, low growl. I’m going to die. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears leaking out from the corners as you whimper. I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die- But miraculously the footsteps resume, trailing away from your room until they’re nothing more than steady taps in the distance. Your breath comes out raggedly, almost wheezing as you lay on your bed, listening to faint, awful screams. With a chokingly difficult inhale you curl into a ball, holding the blanket in a vice grip as you attempt to forget you saw anything, forget you were ever here in the first place. Silly child of Teyvat, how could you last in the kingdom of ice and stars? When you awaken again, the events of the previous night are lost in the haze of your memories, only the vague scent of osmanthus flowers remaining.

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unspeakable3 · 5 months

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heyy! sorry for asking, but i’m really in love with your “stars shine more darkly” fanfiction. it is really the best fanfiction i’ve ever read and i cannot really wait for part 3. when will you update it? of course take your time. just wondering when part 3 will come. sorry my english

hello! thank you so much that's so kind of you to say!! 💛💛

pt.3 is currently in the very early draft stages, but realistically it's probably not going to be until late 2024 when i'm ready to start posting it.

tbh i actually haven't written a single word of fiction since september - house move + job change + a bunch of family things have taken up all my free time recently. but i'm hoping to get back into it over the winter break and do some ~fun~ writing before tackling what is going to be a v sad stars pt.3!

#stars shine darkly

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starrierknight · 9 months

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reece ┊ 𝐗𝐈𝐗 ┊ satoru's heart, suguru's mind, choso's soul

⋆ ˚｡⋆┊𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒┊⋆ ｡˚⋆

♱ — 𝐧𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲!

♱ — 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐬: open! (14)

♱ — ooooo? what's this? /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

⋆ ˚｡⋆┊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒┊⋆ ｡˚⋆

♱ — 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: M.LIST ┊ NEW! ┊ AO3 ♱ — 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨: BYF ┊ FAQ ┊ TAGS ┊ MUTUALS

⋆ ˚｡★ all works belong to 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

#best viewed in dark mode :)#꒰ ✰ ꒱ — my stars shine darkly #@/divinespit for pearl drop hearts #@/bangssefi for cross & roses #@/cafekitsune for thin stars #@/hitobaby for star mdni banner #@/plutism for lace

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her-penetrating-soul · 29 days

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━━━━━━⚘ᥫ᭡᭄∘˚დ━━━━━━

🤍 ‿⚘Crafted into the shimmering moonlight, I'll forevermore rest my head upon you. I'll uplift you when you need my shoulders, my darkly prince of the darkness. I'll always give you words of affiliation. I'll pick up those shattered pieces of your whirling soul. I'll extend my arms out to you. You'll never be alone as long as I have breaths to breathe. I'll smile for both of us. I'll cherish you for you. I'll show you there is hope out there. I'll show you that you're beautiful even when you think you're not. You'll be my autumn. My crispness in the air as the leaves fell to the floor waltzing upon the pavement. I'll be that twilight delight for you. In me, you'll find that lost child that left long ago. You won't feel abandoned anymore. For your my shimmering moonlight. That even though we're miles apart. Our souls are underneath the same twinkling stars. Gaze into the skies. I am right there with you. Smiling down upon you, my darkly prince of the night. You were crafted into the constallions as I was. You're my mirrored one. Those reflections you see in the mirror. I am the there wutg you. Painted in you. I am a murmur away. Not too far away, solely close your eyes, and I am there with you. Side by side, hand and hand, I smile, you smile. I cry, you cry, never above or below. You are beautiful. I see nothing but beauty before me in your frail stillness. Feel what I am feeling. You'll see I'm not wrong. You're absolutely divine. Crafted as one sonnet of symphonies. A melody arising through the mist of time itself. You are my black keys to the piano. I the white ones. Play the hymns. You shall see I am in the music you listen to. I am always with you. It's never too far apart. Close those beautiful eyes of yours I am there with you draped upon you. Engraved into your abyss. Forevermore, your twilight delight. My glimmering moonlight shines solely for you. Only for you!⚘⁀🤍

Written: April 1st, 2024

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#her penetrating soul #dark beauty #darkness #couple #couple closeness #couple in love #true love #true devotion #photography #poet #poetry #my writing #spilled ink #soulful #soulful love #soulful beauty #soulful expressions #soulful sentiments #soulful moments

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delirious-donna · 2 years

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Shikamaru’s cock is massive. Like I’m talking a monster cock here. And he knows.

But he is a little self conscious about it! He knows bigger is not always better, especially when he is so thick around his base that he has to focus extra intently on getting that last inch and a half in, carefully, so as to not destroy her.

I’m imagining him treating a new partner very delicately, like a daffodil, doing his best to get her as sopping as possible so when he can finally, FINALLY, thrust in, she feels nothing but electrifying pleasure. 🕷

🕷 oh my dear... you really do know how to feed me well. This was such a treat to read and yes, I concur, Shika is very well endowed. Makes me so sad to think that he is self-conscious about it but I can certainly imagine him being that way. He would treat a new partner like a fucking queen, and anyone can fight me if they disagree!

Let's have a peek, huh?

"Shika... please. Just fuck me already!"

The answering chuckle was dark... knowing... enough for your toes to curl into the sheets.

Shikamaru raised his inky irises, that annoying cock to his eyebrow as lips and chin shining with arousal came into sight. He flashed a lopsided smirk before his teeth nipped at the crease of your thigh. His fingers continued their assault on your sopping pussy, scissoring and twisting.

The past hour had been a blur of pleasure, every little action serving the higher purpose of preparing you. You knew how big he was, remembered the first time he had let you see the monster that lurked below his waistline.

What a difference it was from simply feeling it through the layers of his clothes and seeing it naked before your eyes. The gasp has fled your lips before you think to stop it. Shika had groaned, averting his eyes whilst a rose hue coated the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

It was big and that was with a capital B.

However, what stood out most was the sheer girth. Your little hands could wrap around it, but the closer you came to the base, the harder it became to keep within your fist.

Shika was so very sensitive, especially the darkly blushing tip that flared down into a prominent mushroom before his shaft curved ever so slightly to the right.

You had spent an age learning every vein that beat against his flesh, each little area that made him hiss through clenched teeth and exactly how much pressure he liked. Yet, when it came to the time of finally taking that last step and asking him so sweetly, so desperately for him to fuck you - he hesitated.

He had warned you. A drawl of a lecture that he wouldn't give you the dick you craved until he was satisfied you could take it. It was said with a smirk but you could peer past the veil to see his sincere concern and it tugged your heart.

The man named the lazy genius was certainly not lazy this night. He had spent an age simply kissing you, fondling your aching body, narrating exactly what he was going to do and you were a puddle for him.

"So wet already, princess. You that desperate f'me?"

You were, you really were. He had worshipped your skin; hands feeling the weight of your breasts, thumbs that flicked at your nipples that stiffened under his intense scrutiny.

Shika left a wealth of possessive marks, it was a treasure trail as he journeyed lower until he was ready to feast on your pussy. You were more than wet, you were drenched and each time he refused your advances to 'get to it', your blood simmered ever hotter.

When he finally - finally - gave in, you were already seeing stars from the pressure of his weeping cock head prodding at your entrance alone.

The slow sink was blissful agony, your walls forced apart and your hips wantonly attempting to rock up to help him slide in further. Shika halted you with a groan, sweat beaded on his brow.

"Gotta - shit - princess, gotta stay still... please."

That last inch is a bother. The burn is tight against your cunt, the muscles stretched to capacity as his girth settles at your entrance. A lazy thumb grinds against your puffy clit, sending sparks to ignite in your veins as a final groan flares to life.

Shika smiles brightly, an unusual sight on his stoic face but you accept it. His lips bruise with intensity, kissing the air from your lungs whilst he shifts back to thrust back in instantly.

Oh fuck... the prep was worth it. The wait is more than worth it for how he is going to ruin you, but without a hint of pain.

#delirious answers #🕷 anon #shikamaru thirst #shikamaru nara #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru smut

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thesistersarcheron · 1 year

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Pairing: Feysand Rating: E Word Count: ~3.7k Summary: Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him. He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him. ———Check out Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, and Chapter 4 on tumblr, go to my masterlist for more, or read this fic on AO3 here.

“Pick one.”

The hand around Feyre’s waist tightened, and her mate’s lips grazed her temple.

Feyre shook her head, struck speechless, and tore her eyes—wide and awed—from the wall of crowns in front of her to glance, uncertain, at Rhys.

“I can’t just—take one.”

Her voice was breathless. Awed.

And she had been rendered so by the radiant, endless trove of jewels stretching out around her on all sides.

After a week in a palace made of moonstone atop the tallest of the southern mountains, Feyre thought little would have the ability to do that anymore. Jewels rarely impressed, anyway, and after experiencing the mating frenzy…

It had consumed her and Rhysand both, and they had surrendered to the seemingly endless pleasure it wrung from them gladly. The memory of the long, endless nights taking her fill of him left her weak in the knees and wanting.

And although Rhys’s scales and claws had receded back into the deep well of power within him after that first night, he had not bothered to replace the damper on his power. She spent the full week at the heart of it with him, bathed in the night-dark tendrils rippling off him like smoke—dreams and nightmares and lullabies given form. They reached for her, drawing her deeper and and deeper into their embrace, and each new caress of Rhys’s magic against her skin was more silken and decadent than the last.

Those ribbons of dreams were dotted with stars that coalesced into shining diamond cuffs around her wrists. During one of the lulls, Rhys had smiled to see the way they shone against her skin and, with a snap of his fingers, replaced them with the real thing, drawn out of some pocket dimension with half a thought. That brief moment of clarity had faded again into burning, animal desire when he saw them on her.

They ate simple meals while lounging in bed together—roast chicken and greens, creamy soups, richly spiced stews—and swam in a bathing pool cut into the cliffside and climbed to the peak of the mountaintop palace to gaze up at the stars at night from cushions of eiderdown, until the ever-present need roared back to life and Feyre found herself sprawled over the table or perched on the lip of a balcony.

They talked, and Feyre learned more about her High Lord than she’d ever dared to imagine—the models of the stars he built in rare moments of leisure, the artist’s quarter he couldn’t wait to show her in a city called Velaris, what coming up as a half-Illyrian in a war camp had been like, the family he lost and the Inner Circle he would protect to his final breath.

She barely had the presence of mind to have Rhys jot down a note for her sisters to let them know where she was and why she never returned from the Fire Night festivities. Rhys had groaned at the reminder that the world spun on without them, but wrote a second note to that Inner Circle.

“So they don’t get any ideas about interrupting,” he’d murmured darkly, slicing the line through a T with calm, murderous grace that made Feyre’s blood heat again. “For at least a week.”

They barely pulled themselves together when a pair of them finally came knocking the morning after Rhys’s deadline. The roguish, long-haired male and the gorgeous blonde female, Rhys’s cousin Morrigan, who had accompanied him into the cave during the Rite winnowed into the dining room in the middle of the first breakfast they managed to eat without interruptions.

Feyre had to give it to them. Their timing was incredible.

But as Rhys set down the knife he was using to butter his toast, he shot a look like cold death into one of the writhing shadows in the corner of the room, and Feyre realized for the first time that tendril of darkness was not one of his. The shadowsinger’s then. The male Rhys considered a brother.

And in the dining room, Rhys’s second brother took one long look at Feyre, and drawled, “Well, she certainly beats a crate of jewels, Rhysie.”

A snarl ripped out of Rhys, so furious and savage that Feyre dug her fingers into his arm, as if she might have to hold him back.

“Cassian.”

“I’ve never had an oread before,” Cassian went on, tying back his dark hair. His wings flexed, spreading wide.

Rhys fisted his hands on the table and rose so, so slowly from his chair.

Cassian paid him no mind, waggling his brows at Feyre instead.

Gently, Rhys pried her hand off of him. One glance at his face revealed feral, predatory fury.

The wrath of a newly mated male.

Feyre had to avert her eyes to avoid the temptation to drag him out of the room and show him what she thought of the beastly snarl on his lips.

Morrigan, who had been half-hidden behind the hulking Illyrian, peered around the edge of one wing and gasped at the sight of her. She nudged Cassian with a sharp elbow.

“Hurry it up,” she hissed out of the side of her mouth.

Cassian chuckled, rolling his shoulders. “Is it true that her pu—”

Rhys exploded.

Fists flew, teeth snapped, growls cut the air, and Feyre cringed as blood sprayed a pile of silk cushions piled on the floor after Rhys slammed a particularly vicious punch into the side of Cassian’s face. The general gave as good as he got, though, ducking the next blow and kicking Rhys back, gaining a moment’s reprieve to regain his footing before Rhys winnowed behind him and trapped him in a headlock.

“Welcome to the family,” Morrigan said, her songbird voice dry as ash, as she breezed past Rhys and Cassian with so little care that Feyre surmised that their dirty, ferocious brawling was a regular occurrence. She took Feyre’s hand, pulling her out of her own chair and spinning her into a twirl so insistently that Feyre couldn’t refuse. “And, oh, just look at you! Amren’s going to have a heart attack.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped. “Amren?”

The name brought to mind claws so sharp they tore through the very fabric of the world, glowing eyes that peered through the tears to hunt their master’s prey—

“Mor!” Rhys barked. The hold he had on his brother slipped as Cassian dropped to his knees, dragging Rhys down with him. “Fuck, Feyre, don’t—“

Cassian sank his teeth into Rhys’s arm, and Feyre’s horror melted into uneasy concern as Rhys swore filthily.

She took a step toward the brawling males. “Should we…?”

Mor caught her by the arm.

“Oh, don’t worry about those two. Or Amren. Rhys needs to get it out of his system sooner or later, and even if he’s been terribly selfish keeping you all to himself up here, Amren wouldn’t dare take a chunk out of the newest member of our little circle for her collection.” She winked at Feyre, who did her best to forget decades of chilling bedtime stories. “We have things to do, anyway.”

Feyre eyed the wrestling males. “What, like give each other concussions?”

Mor barked a laugh, but Feyre couldn’t look too long; just the sight of Rhys’s shirt riding up and the muscles flexing beneath it as he bared his teeth stoked the fire between her legs—

Her mate stilled, his dark eyes cutting to her.

Mor and Cassian seemed to sense it, too. Cassian took advantage and rolled, pinning Rhys beneath him, and Mor, still snickering under her breath, took Feyre by the elbow.

“You’ll fit in nicely.” She squeezed Feyre’s arm. “Come, let’s polish you up and see if we can’t get Nuala and Cerridwen to scrounge up something for you to wear. They were beside themselves when they heard the news, you know. One of their own on the throne after a Great Rite mating ceremony. It’s like something from a storybook.”

Tearing her attention away from Rhys, away from the sobering reminder of her new place amongst the Night Court’s ruling family, Feyre asked, “Nuala and Cerridwen?”

“The wraiths who deliver the offerings to your people on Fire Night. They’ve been here all week, making sure you two didn’t starve to death while—” Mor cut herself off, and a knowing smirk curled the corner of her red-painted lips. She glanced at Feyre. “Hm. I supposed you wouldn’t have seen them. They’re quite discreet.”

Feyre cast her mind back to all of the meals that appeared like clockwork wherever she and Rhys found themselves at mealtimes—their bedside, the bathing pool cut into the mountain, the wide balconies overlooking the snow-kissed mountain range beyond, and, once, against a wall in one of the wide, endless hallways—and blanched. “No, I suppose I haven’t.”

“Well they have excellent taste. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

And she didn’t. The twin wraiths stepped out of the shadows in the stairwell that led to the High Lord’s suite, falling into step on either side of them.

As they approached the door, Mor made a choked noise. The room was restored to immaculate order, the bed made so neatly Feyre could bounce a copper off of the plush comforter, but even the open windows did nothing to clear the scent of herself and Rhysand, embedded as it was on every surface in the room, from the air.

“Perhaps you might wish to stay here while we dress her, Lady,” one of the wraiths murmured, quiet laughter in that voice. Mor nodded, wrinkling her nose, and Feyre…

Feyre bit her lip to suppress her own grin at Mor’s relieved nod.

She couldn’t find it in herself to be ashamed of thoroughly loving her mate. Already, the bond ached keenly, and all of those years of longing in the mines paled in comparison to the razor-sharp yearning strumming down that line.

“Yes,” Mor said. She was still smiling, though, so happy for her cousin that Feyre couldn’t help but adore her. “Perhaps I might.”

And Nuala and Cerridwen were discreet, just like Mor promised, dressing Feyre in a gauzy replica of the gown she wore for the Rite without a single sly look or snide word. That gown had been reduced to dust by Rhys, as had many of the clothes she’d worn recently, and one of them—Nuala, maybe, but telling them apart was near impossible even after they introduced themselves—only winked when she asked how they possibly could have remembered what she was wearing that night. The dress was a perfect copy; the only difference was the band of diamonds belted at her waist to hold the two panels together and the diamond cuffs they sighed dreamily upon seeing on the vanity and fastened around her wrists.

They didn’t linger, either. One twin brushed her hair into a smooth sheet of gold and the other buffed a cloth over her skin until she sparkled with practiced efficiency, and they handed her back to Mor within minutes.

The fight was over when they reached the dining room. Rhys must have won the fight and healed most of his injuries—the hole Cassian had bit through his sleeve had disappeared completely. His skin glimmered faintly with the residue of his magic under the light, and his wings, drawn out of that secret place where he kept them hidden, were spread wide. So arrogantly wide that Cassian, shuffling about somewhere behind him, was obscured from view.

“You’re a vision, Feyre darling,” Rhys said, at her side in a heartbeat. His eyes flashed, and the heat in them was a white-hot brand against her skin. They should have known better than to put you in that dress today.

She reached out, ignoring the way she was suddenly aware of the weight of her breasts beneath the taunting silk, to graze a sickeningly dark bruise on his jaw that he’d missed. “I wish I could say the s—“

Cassian groaned under his breath. “Oh, blease, fucking sbare be.”

At her side, Mor snorted. “Ego a bit sore, Cass?”

Feyre craned her neck, peering around Rhys’s wings.

Please don’t look at him, the thought that slid into her mind was strained, apologetic, and…

Feyre bit her lip. Those impressive wings weren’t spread out of simple dominance, but as a screen to block Cassian from view. Her view, if the way Mor grabbed a napkin from the table and swanned around them was any indication.

And Feyre couldn’t resist poking the bruise, just a bit. Perhaps it was cruel to test Rhys’s limits while the instincts of the mating frenzy still raged, but she wanted—needed—to know. So she lifted herself onto her toes, peeking over her mate’s shoulder and through his wings…

And found Cassian nursing a crooked nose that seeped blood onto the floor.

“Noses are off libits when we’re sbarring,” he was grumbling, spitting a mouthful of blood into the napkin Mor handed him with a grin. “An’ always hab been.”

Mor lifted a brow. “And biting isn’t?”

Feyre couldn’t help herself. Mor’s poorly concealed amusement was contagious, and she laughed. “Poor Illyrian baby.”

Rhys stiffened, his lips a thin line, and held out an arm to Feyre. “We need to go. Now, please.”

“Such manners,” Mor trilled. She met Feyre’s eye over her cousin’s shoulder, wicked amusement in her warm eyes. “Do try to get yourselves under control before you come back. It would be such a shame to see the Court of Nightmares reduced to bloody rubble.”

Feyre started. “The Court of Nightmares?”

“They’ll love you.” The next look Rhys cast at her promised to devour her, but his eyes snagged on the arm she threaded through his, the facets of her skin glittering faintly in the watery morning light stretching in through the wall of windows to their left. “Though a little bloody rubble might help convince them of it.”

His tone was so flatly serious that Feyre didn’t have anything to say to that.

So she cleared her throat. “What does she mean, ‘before you come back?’”

If he were put off by the abrupt change of subject, Rhys didn’t show it. No, he only shot her a devious grin and said, “Before we come back.”

Magic tugged and wind whipped and Feyre shrieked as the ground fell out from beneath her as Rhys winnowed them into the sky. His wings were already extended, beating hard, and she clung to him as they soared to a balcony twenty feet below.

The shock of falling and landing and throwing a shoe at her mate’s head (“Some warning next time, you prick!”) bled together; it wasn’t until Rhys apologized, brushing a chuckling kiss over her lips, that she relented and allowed him to lead her into another mountaintop palace, this one made of red stone.

Down and down and down, they descended into the dark heart of the mountain as he explained his plans for the afternoon. He spoke until they came to a door sealed by a web of wards and spells that, smiling softly at her, Rhys disabled with a wave of his hand.

The door slid open, and he gestured her forward.

Into a trove bursting with treasure.

She gasped. The collection stretched from wall to wall on either side of them, caskets and busts and mountains of riches fading back into shadow as far as Feyre could see, all of it brilliantly lit with a gentle turquoise light that shimmered off of the ceiling like…

Glowworms. Just like glowworms.

Feyre looked closer, and she could see that the trove was lit by glowworms, the floor formed of glassy obsidian tile that stretched as far as the eyes could see, reflecting the glittering jewels and metals and silks like a night-sky blanket of constellations over still water.

“It’s… Gods, it’s just like the altar.”

Feyre took a step into the room, breathless at the sight of a trunk full of gems the size of her fist. She startled when the floor beneath her shimmered and shifted, skittering backward as if she might sink into it like she might have fallen into the lake under the mines. But when she glanced down, she found only herself, her sparkling, polished skin incandescent, as if she were lit from within by that gentle light from above.

“One of my ancestors must have taken some inspiration from the Rite,” Rhys said, brushing a soothing hand down her arm. Together, they watched the light shatter and refract against his own golden skin until Rhys took a deep breath, cooling the warmth kindling on the bond between their souls.

“Come,” he said, lacing their fingers together.

He drew her to the back of the trove, past countless millennia worth of treasure collected by High Lords who, Cauldron save her, must have magpie blood somewhere in their line. Just one of the many trunks they passed put the small collection of gems Rhys had amassed over the years, Feyre’s favorites, to shame.

But she couldn’t spot any of her jewels in the collection. No, with every step, the heady need thrummed back to life once more, burning hotter and harder than before.

Rhys groaned low in his throat. The sound shattered Feyre’s fragile resolve, but when she turned toward him, he was gone.

“Run, Feyre,” a dark voice rasped into her ear.

A clawed hand traced the edge of her gown from the pulse pounding in the hollow of her throat to the jeweled belt at her hips, rough calluses scraping the skin exposed by the low neckline. He barely stopped to graze her breasts, didn’t so much as weigh them in his palm, and Feyre whimpered with need as his hand stopped by her navel. A long, long tongue licked a hot line up her throat. He gripped her belt, pulling until she felt the hard length of him against her ass.

“I want to chase my pretty little gemstone again.” She was shaking with anticipation by the time his hand fell away and he growled, “Run.”

So Feyre ran, adrenaline pumping fire and ice through every inch of her body. She darted across rivers of sapphire and through forests of emeralds. Rhys nearly caught her beside a small sea of diamonds—a shining glass display laden with bracelets and lavaliers and rings—and she ducked away, laughing breathlessly as she climbed across mounds of intricate, hand-knotted rugs straight from Cesere. A swath of shadow swiped out of the shadows at her; Feyre shrieked, whirling away, but he caught her around the middle, dragging her down to the plush silk beneath her feet.

Their joining was hard and fast. Rhys laid her out on the rugs, dragging her skirt to the side with one hand and freeing his cock with another. Then his mouth was on her, feasting once again, and then he was in her, around her, and the bond became all she knew. All sounds were muted, all colors faded, and all that existed was the feeling of him, falling into eternity beside her. Everywhere she looked she saw him, all scales and claws and rolling muscle, surrounded by twinkling constellations of fragmented light, and he held her, moving in her, carrying her through it, as she shattered for him again and again until he joined her.

They didn’t speak when it ended; no words were necessary. Rhys simply held her, cradling her with infinite tenderness, as if she were the most precious treasure to be found in the trove.

Long moments passed before a cooling wave of magic restored her to perfect order, hair neat and skin shining. The wrinkles fell out of her dress as they stood, his scales melting away, and he cupped her jaw in his hand.

He studied her for a moment. Whatever he was looking for and whatever he found made him smile.

He brushed a kiss over her lips. “My Feyre.”

Feyre brushed back a strand of raven-black hair, watching his eyes flutter shut. The lines of his face softened, and her chest seemed too small to contain the urgent, depthless affection beating against her breast with bruising force.

“Rhys…”

His hand caught hers, and he laid another kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I know.”

Then he guided through the aisles of finery once more to a wall of crowns set into glowing niches. Each was studded with gems so fine that Feyre had never seen their like in all her years in the mines, each different from the last and so brilliant in its own right that they must all be priceless…

And he wanted her to choose one.

He pulled her impossibly closer, murmuring against her temple once more, “Go on, Feyre darling. Whichever one you like.”

“I can’t,” she said again. Still, she reached out a hand to test the platinum point of one diadem crafted to look like a band of stars.

“It will be hard to find one that doesn’t pale in comparison to you,” her mate crooned, nipping at her ear. “None of it compares to you. None of it ever could.”

A delicious shiver raked its fingers up Feyre’s body.

“Choose one, High Lady,” he whispered against her skin.

Fear followed those words—fear and anxiety and dread. What business did she have on the throne?

But a thrum across the bond grounded her, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she found Rhys looking back, solemn and understanding. Another pull at the bond, this time full of promise—to help her, to guide her, and to show her how to rule at his side as his equal.

The Night Court chose you. The midnight voice in her mind was a gentle thing. Fragile. But it is a sacrifice, to accept the magic’s decision. I understand if you don’t—

“No,” Feyre said, reaching deep within herself. Deeper than the connection between their minds, deeper than the bond between their souls, down, down, down to the endless abyss of starlight that had chosen her, revealed itself and opened to her, atop the altar. It was life and death and endless, shimmering bliss, and its lights danced and shone under her attention. “I do.”

Rhys loosed a shuddering breath of relief.

Feyre gripped his hand and reached for the diadem of stars.

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses fic #my fics #bejeweled #feyrhys #feyre x rhys #rhys x feyre #acotar #smut #acotar fic #it is what it is and it is finished which is all that matters to me rn #did someone say secret court of nightmares bonus chapter? maybe! but not rn

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sixminutestoriesblog · 5 months

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Frau Perchta

Etymologically, her name means 'bright one'. Or, perhaps, instead it means 'hidden or covered'. Both suit her, this winter figure of myth and folklore, haunting the shadows and stories in the twelve days between Christmas and Epiphany.

Recently, there's been an upsurge in interest about beings like Krampus and the Mari Lwyd, figures that had, until recently for many of us, disappeared into Santa's shadow over the generations. So, given the time of year we're in, I thought I'd shine a bit of light on some of these older stories of yesteryear.

Perchta, or Berchta, is a female figure that haunted the Alpine regions of Europe. She has been likened to Frigg or Holda, possibly stemming from the same Ur archetype and, like them, has mutated and grown cloudy from her origins over time as Christianity and changing cultures adapted her. Perchta, according to, yes that Jacob Grimm, was both the guardian of animals and the overseer of domestic spinning.

Yeah, I don't equate the two either, which is what I meant by 'things get cloudy' the further away from whatever her original, unknown idea might have been.

Anyway, Perchta was a winter creature of myth and so, like so many of them, had a dual nature. She could take the form of a beautiful woman, tall, elegantly robed and as white as the snow - or she could take the form of a doubled over, withered hag, with darkly twinkling eyes, dressed in rags, sometimes even going so far as to have an iron nose. And, like her two forms, Perchta could either be generous or viscous, depending on what she found when she visited houses during the traditional time between Christ's birth and the visit of the Magi. Her day was the Feast of Epiphany, hence the shining or brightness associated with both her name and the star of Bethlehem that guided the Magi.

Perchta was, in some forms, a goddess of the household, a visiting deity checking to make sure the people were living up to societal standards. If, when she visited in the night, Perchta found a clean house and all the season's flax or wool already spun into thread and ready for the loom that would go up Epiphany day, she would leave silver behind, in shoes or buckets, as a reward for hard work. If however she found the women of the household with still unspun thread or a messy house, she would earn her nickname 'the Belly-Slitter' by taking her long knife, slicing the offenders' stomachs open and removing all their organs, replacing them with straw, garbage and rocks.

Remember, kids, don't leave dirty dishes in the sink between Christmas and January 6th.

Speaking of kids, like Krampus, Perchta could tell when children had been bad and seemed to have a particular penchant for lying ones. They too would end up stuffed with farmyard detritus.

In the duality of her nature however, Perchta was also said to be the guardian of the souls of children that had died before they'd been baptized, keeping them close to her and comforted.

She also, apparently, took them with her when she led the Wild Hunt, another pastime she was known to have. The crashing sounds of thunder in the mountains and the wild storms heard late at night, especially if they occurred on the Berchtl or Knocking nights, the three Thursdays between Christmas and Epiphany? That was Perchta and her followers, known as the Perchten, riding wild across the sky.

In hag or maiden form, there was one way to spot Perchta for sure. One of her feet was wide-spread and flat, either because it was the foot of a swan (or goose) signifying her ability to shapeshift as well as her role as animal guardian or else because it was a treadle foot, grown so large and flat thanks to all her time spent at the spinning wheel.

If you wanted to appease Perchta, beyond finishing your spinning in a timely manner and keeping your house, and children, clean, you left out a bowl of porridge made with fish, on the Twelfth Night for her and her followers. If she liked your cooking, you had an upcoming year of prosperity ahead of you.

In fact, in certain towns in Austria, you can find Perchta masks in use during winter festivities today. These masks, often made of wood, come in two varieties. The Schönperchten, the 'beautiful Perchten' masks are supposed to call in financial prosperity and the Schiachperchten, the 'ugly Perchten' masks, are to drive away evil spirits.

Santa, and Krampus, may have Christmas day, but the twelve that come after it belong to Perchta.

On a possibly unrelated but still very interesting to me note, there's apparently a video game called Hunt: Showdown that features a Frau Perchta. tw: for video game blood and violence

youtube

#perchta #frau perchta #wild hunt #hunt: showdown #krampus #christmas #epiphany #folklore #superstition #cottagecore #twelve days of christmas #mari lwyd #christmas story #you better watch out #weaving #spinning #Youtube

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whumble-beeee · 8 months

Text

Whumptember 2023, Day 16

“Can I go home now?”

Young whumpee | Captive | Chains around the wrists

The Bee’s Whumptember Masterlist

~940 words

CW: CREEPY WHUMPER, kidnapping, noncon touch, implied future noncon? (it's kinda vague but jic)

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“Please, please, I– I don’t know what’s going on–... What– what are you gonna do wi– with me?...”

Whumper looked down into the bright shining eyes of their platoon’s latest catch, their breath hitching so pretty as they trembled against the wall, holding their shackled arms protectively crossed over their ribcage. Like a dead man walking. How fitting.

Whumper slowly inched closer to their captive prey. They were so young too. Must have been the type to enroll as soon as they turned eighteen. “Calm down, sweet thing, we just want some information. This’ll all go easier if you just let go, it’s gonna happen one way or the other…”

Whumpee did the opposite of that. They pressed themself further into the wall, eyes darting around wildly looking for any, any escape, sinking into themself and curling into the tightest ball they could manage, chain clinking as it fell across their legs and winded around to an eyelet in the floor. They were literally chained to the floor. They squeezed their eyes shut as they buried their head in their knees, crying incoherently. “Please, please, stay away, don’t touch me, please I do-on’t wanna die PLE-E-E-EAS-SE!”

Whumper crouched down in front of Whumpee, examining them with shining eyes. Sure, they were only supposed to get some information out of them; where the troops were headed, what weapons they had, that sort of thing. But Whumper couldn’t resist an opportunity like this.

Whumpee flinched when they ran their fingers through Whumpee’s hair, scratching at their scalp in a way that might have been soothing in another context.

“Oh, sweet thing… you’re not really helping your case right now, are you?” Whumper cooed, lilting their head understandingly. “But I suppose you can’t be helped. You’re so small, just a baby…”

“I– I-I’m no-o-ot,” Whumpee hitched. They tried to duck away from Whumper’s tender hand, only to let out a yelp when Whumper grasped their hair and slammed their head back into the wall.

“You are, though.”

Whumper drove Whumpee’s head back again. Whumpee could practically see stars dancing across the darkness at the sides of their vision. “Maybe if you were bigger, you could have prevented this, hm? Maybe you could have stopped us from slaughtering all your friends… Hell, maybe you could have won! Bigger, tougher, stronger, what if, what if…” Whumper tapped Whumpee’s head with a single finger.

“But seeing as you’re not, you’ll do as I say. So get up. ”

They didn’t move. The world fuzzed around them, everything a dark grey smudge. They sure felt small.

“Get up.”

Get away get away getawaygetawaygetawaygetawaygetawaygetaway.

“GET UP!” Whumper raised their fist and slammed it down on Whumpee’s head. Whumpee cried out, their entire vision turning red and static-y.

“You gonna get the fuck up now?”

Whumpee shot up stock straight, so fast that they stood over Whumper for a moment as they too stood up to their full height. Any small sense of victory that held was shattered as Whumper towered over them once more. Whumpee was small compared to them, huh? No, no, Whumpee was average, Whumper was the one that was the fucking freak.

Nonetheless, Whumpee stared right up into Whumper’s patronizing eyes. “Th-there, is that what you wanted?” they spat, almost managing to control their shaking voice. “Can I– Can I go home now-w?”

The request was meant to be sarcastic. Rude. Defiant. But just the thought of them being able to go home? Away from this hell hole and the psychos that captured them, the ones who only seemed to care about tormenting and hurting them instead of interrogating them? It made Whumpee’s jaw tremble.

Whumper chuckled darkly, and Whumpee had to fight the urge to shrink into a little ball again. Whumper slammed them back into the wall and pinned them with their forearm, face so close that Whumpee could taste their disgusting breath.

“Oh, you really are adorable, sweetheart… Shame I’ll probably have to kill you, no?” Whumper drawled, holding their gaze with a wicked smile. Whumpee made sure to shoot back every ounce of hatred they could muster. Whumper brought their other hand up and ran their fingers gently down the line of Whumpee’s jaw. “But hey, I’ve got you here now. Lets have some fun, yeah?”

Whumpee kicked Whumper in the shin as hard as they could and shoved them away almost on reflex. Whumper stumbled back with an angry shriek, and Whumpee ran. There was no fucking way they’d ever let that–

The chain binding their hands went taut and yanked Whumpee backward, sweeping them in such a way that they landed prostrated right at Whumper’s feet. Whumper stomped on the chain linking their hands together, and on two of their fingers in the process, tweaking their hand painfully between the binding manacles. Whumpee cried out, in equal parts from frustration, grief, and pain. They curled in around themself again, tears spotting the filthy floor underneath them.

“You need to be taught some manners when you’re around your superiors.” Whumper tutted, anger edging the very corners of their voice like Whumpee was a dog that just scratched them. They twisted the heel back and forth, grinding Whumpee’s hand into what felt like a fine paste under the chain. Whumpee could barely do more than gasp and choke on their own throat in an effort not to scream.

“Luckily, we have all the time in the world.” Whumper clutched a handful of Whumpee’s hair again and pulled up, making Whumpee’s back arch painfully as they forced their desperate captive to look straight into their twisted smile.

”Where I can do whatever I want with you.”

@whumptember

#whumptember2023 #whumptember day 16 #day sixteen: can i go home now #day sixteen: young whumpee #day sixteen: captive #day sixteen: chains around the wrists #whump #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #writeblr #military whump #ehehehe #this one was fun to write

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immacaria · 1 year

Text

Fluffbruary: February 4 - Snow

Tags: Hob’s POV; they play in the snow; Rose Walker; Jed Walker; Fluff; Matthew gets hit by a snowball and pretends he is dead;

For all the times Dream bragged about being the unconscious of every living being in the entire universe, Hob thought he might know snow. Or what kids usually did when it snowed. He was clearly wrong.

"Oh, no," Rose said, hands coming up to cover her mouth as Dream pointedly looked at the white spot of snow into his chest. "I am sorry, Uncle." She added, though it sounded more like a question than an apology.

She and Jed had been playing around in the snow, throwing snowballs at each other while he and Hob stood to the side, talking quietly. Matthew flew above their heads, going from one tree to another and sometimes coming down to pull on Jed's hair weakly or whisper something in Rose's ear.

Hob was pretty damn sure it was his idea to throw the snowball at Dream.

"Rose Walker, what is --" Dream started before another snowball hid him on the chest.

"Jed!" Rose said, turning to him while Matthew settled on her hair.

"What? Aren't he going to play too?" The boy said and pointed to where Dream was staring at the snow slowly melting against his black t-shirt.

His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he was partially offended and partially confused by the snow in his chest. Snow fell around them, snowflakes settling down at his hair and making it look like it was full of stars. It would be hot if he wasn't pulling the shirt away from his chest with a confused look on his face.

A laugh escaped Hob's mouth as Dream turned his head to the side and he bit the inside of his cheeks to hold it in. Rose and Jed's heads turned to him, eyes shining and mouths twisting in laughter. If he could, Hob was sure Matthew would be smirking at him.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he crouched down, never breaking eye contact, and gathered a bunch of snow. The kids' delighted giggles filled the air as they rushed to make more snowballs and Hob winked at Dream. He motioned for the kids once before getting up.

"Hob Gadling--'' There was a mischievous and dangerous look on his eyes, but Hob was never known for running away from danger. At the same time Rose threw a snowball at Dream, Hob threw one at her, another one hitting Jed in the head and making him miss.

Rose turned to him, betrayal clear on her face as Hob smiled triumphantly at her. Jed was looking around, searching who threw the snowball at him and caressing his own head. With a smile, Morpheus stepped aside, slightly hiding behind Hob.

"It's war, then," Rose said and squinted her eyes at him. "No powers, Uncle Dream," she added before screaming: "Get them, Jed!"

In a blink, snowballs were being made and thrown, Dream and Rose attacking each other while Hob and Jed gathered the snow. At some point, Matthew was taken down, a stray ball hitting him square on the chest as he flew around Dream’s head. That made the four of them stop, turning to look at the knocked-out bird.

Matthew was leaning back, feet in the air, head buried in the snow and wings wide open in a dramatic stance. Dream turned to look at him, one eyebrow carefully lifted in an unimpressed expression while Rose started to laugh, falling back and clutching to her stomach.Hob and Jed got closer to him, eyes full of fear and worry as they kneeled next to the dead bird.

“He can’t die, Hob Gadling,” Dream said as he nudged the bird’s belly with a finger. “That’s just drama.”

“Boss! How could you say that?” Matthew screamed, getting up and shaking the snow away from his wings. “I am your raven! You should worry about me!”

“You are dramatic, that’s what you are,” he huffed, turning his back to him and twisting his nose.

“Bleh!” Matthew said before flying away to a nearby branch and starting preening his feathers. He was darkly muttering something to do with ‘arrogant gods’ and ‘stupid assholes’ and ‘idiotic bosses’. Rose was still laughing as Hob turned to Dream with an eyebrow lifted and Jed looked between him and the bird.

Dream’s hair was wetted down from the melted snow and so were his clothes. His cheeks were red with both the exertion and the cold, his coat hanging open on his shoulders and his eyes turned to the side to not stare at Matthew. Rose and Jed weren’t any better and Hob knew he wasn’t too, so he got up and motioned to Rose, lifting Jed up with one arm and making him laugh.

“C’mon, love, c’mon, we are all wet around and starting to swell,” he said, helping Rose up with the other arm. “I can make hot cocoa, some marshmallows and maybe even cookies.”

“Cookies?” Jed said from his place under Hob’s arms. “I want cookies.”

“I want cookies too,” Rose jumped onto his back, waving to Matthew.

“See, Dream, cookies,” he smiled and winked at him. “The kids want cookies.” A smile appeared on Dream’s face as he got up, all the wetness in him gone in a blink of an eye and he nodded, saying:

“Then cookies they shall have.”

@the-cloudy-dreamer This is for you for making me write fluff again.

#my writing #fanfic #macca writes #dreamling #the sandman #dreamling nation #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dream x hob #jed walker #rose walker #fluffbruary 2023 #fluffbruary

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