#rarely does he wear low waisted trousers

[ultrabooob]

people giggle about bojan’s clothing and outfits but at least he’s learnt to dress for his proportions

#rarely does he wear low waisted trousers #praise be #this is something alex turner didn’t sort until 2016 LOL #a lot of his jackets are cropped Or go further than his waist #perhaps you can just put this down to fashions changing but the other members are less consistent w it #and he tucks in his shirt #sometimes fully sometimes partially but it creates a nicer waistline #and the few times it’s been untucked lately the shirts sit nicely on him or it’s for a more casual look like the kaj pa ester premier #or he’s wearing his short shorts #i mean nace rarely (if ever) tucks in his shirts #i pay a lot of attention to what my fav little 174cm men are wearing bc i am their height #he does seem to put care into splitting his outfits into thirds rather than half’s #not at all projecting here LOL #halves* #bojan cvjetićanin #nace jordan #joker out

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Appearances for the GG rivals au character.

I am no artist, so these will simply be written descriptions with a few images thrown in here and there. These are all subject to change at any time, as well, since this is still in its early planning stages.

For Gem, I imagine she looks a lot like in this gorgeous fanart, except her dress has slits up the side to allow for easier movement and her hair is a low bun with a braid wrapping around the front of her head, like this.

Scott and Impulse wear armour similar to how applestruda draws it in her au, with their cloths in shades of teal and yellow. Scott, I like to imagine, has long, back length hair, that he wears down and covering one eye. Impulse has shortly cropped hair and two little nubby horns that are tipped in black, as well as sharp clawed hands. Scott's teeth are sharp; no one quite knows why.

Grian's eyes are entirely black like a barn owl's and his hands end in sharp talons rather than nails. He doesn't have wings, not anymore at least. He wears a high collared red tunic and brown trousers, but both are rarely seen past the heavy, ankle length, black cloak he hides himself under, which is held closed by a silver brooch in the shape of an eye. The cloak has a hood but he never wears it. He always seems to be sliming, whether that smile is devious or genuine is up for debate. The brooch looks something like this, minus the blue center and the circlular details

Scar wears a similar black cloak, held closed by the same brooch, though he wears his with the hood up, and it has red flower detailing on the hem (so, similiar to his secret life look but its a full cloak). His eyes are still green, though, and he has a single grey streak in his brown hair. His tunic and trousers under the cloak are both black and he wears his shirt just a little bit too open at the top. He also always wears a smile, but pretty much everyone can agree it is deceptively kind.

Mumbo and Etho wear matching outfits, claiming it is professional since they share a job, but it is something they choose to do not something that is required of them (they are just silly, really). I imagine they are simple outfits consisting of white tunics with black trousers and thick, leather aprons on top (mumbo's is red and etho's is green). They both wear goggles and thick gloves, as well as chunky boots, all for safety since they work with explosives. Etho wears a black bandana on his lower his face. His goggles replace his headband in this look, being what keeps his hair out of his face. His scared eye is missing entirely; he does not have a false eye, it is just an empty socket. Mumbo wears his goggles around his neck when they are not on his face.

Bdubs dresses similarly, minus the apron and goggles, since he works out in the garder. His shirt is white, and he has brown trousers. Over that he wears a thick cloak that is almost always covered in some manner of flora and/or mud. He completes the look with a wide brimmed hat to protect him from the sun.

Cleo is also dresses similarly to Etho and Mumbo but her apron is a plain brown that is stained with soot. Her tunic sleeves are always rolled up to show off her strong arms and she doesn't wear her safety gloves nearly as much as she should, and she forgoes eye protection entirely. One of her eyes is missing (surprisingly not related to the lack of protective wear), replaced with a glass eye of a slightly different shade of green than her organic eye. Her hair is pulled into a much messier bun than Gem's, with frizzy stray hairs going every direction.

Ren and Martyn look like how they are typically drawn in third life fanart. Ren's eyes are red, as well as blood shot, and he almost always appears angry.

Pearl wears a white tunic with flared sleeves tucked into a pair of high waisted black trousers. Over this she has a deep, red cloak that stops at her waist. She has a crescent moon shaped birth mark on the left side of her face. She carries a sword around her waist. Her hair is always down and messy under her hood.

Bigb just looks like a baker, I am not sure how to describe it. But he always seems to have flour stains on his clothes no matter how hard he tries to wipe it off. Big strong arms for him as well.

Skizz wears the same armour as Scott and impulse, and his underclothes are black. The sleeves of his tunic are ripped off and he does not wear his gauntlets. He refuses to elaborate on why. He is a dove avian.

Tango wears a short sleeved red tunic and black trousers with big chunky boots. His hands are clawed, and his ears are pointed; both are tipped in a red to black gradient. His eyes are entirely red. He has a long tail that ends in a tuff of fire that doesn't seem to have any real heat.

Jimmy wears a blue tunic with a brown vest over it. Brown trousers and chunky boots. His sleeves are always rolled up and he is always covered in some manner of dirt, both because of the work he does on the farm, and from being very clumsy. He has bull horns, one of which is chipped. He also has a tail.

I still don't have set roles for joel and lizzie just yet so they do not have designs in mind either, unfortunately.

#GG rivals au #geminitay #grian #hermitcraft #life series

[eunoiaastralwings]

Hello! Your blog is awesome! The writing so creative and always a joy to read! Can I please request something smut for Celegorm with established relationship reader? Female or gender neutral, please? Maybe he came back from a hunt and is super pent up? Or reader has been teasing him and he decides to punish his s/o (not bad just like teasing lol) Also the pet name little mouse or kitten? He just SO HOT! 🥵 Of course only if your comfortable!

characters celegorm x reader

fandom tolkien- the silmarillion

a/n oh hun- am so happy you like it here and enjoying yourself— here’s part 1, I combined this with another request

warnings smut 18+, little breath play, wrists tied, fingering, oral — m and f receiving, dirty talk, forest sex, unedited— too embarrassed to read over it.

Celegorm watched you pick flowers— his eyes trailing you even as he made his arrow.

He had suggested whenever you come out in hunts with him— you should wear trousers and now he seriously couldn’t look away from your rear end- or the clothes hugged your figure perfectly— you chose to wear low necked top too.

You had to know what you were doing— right?

Bending like that— turning like that or moving your hair to one end and exposing a whole side of your neck, whenever it got too hot.

Oh— he just wanted to grab you and latch his teeth onto the skin of your neck and ravish you until you were shaking underneath him.

He narrowed his eyes when you suddenly stretched— the side of your lips turned up right— oh. . . so his little kitten was doing this on purpose.

Celegorm had longed to touch you in the moment of he first kissed you— on the night of his mother’s ball.

Years since then— he strictly held onto your shoulders or waist— sometimes your rear end or cupping your perfect little breasts through your clothes when things between you grew steamy like that kiss.

But he never went beyond that— but now seeing you practically put on a show for him, he knew you were ready to take it up.

He noticed the way you would— smile at him whenever he returned from hunts and throw your arms around him, happy to see him.

You were sweet, innocent and shy— while he was harsh, cruel and bitter.

Over the years— you had even grown accustomed to him sudden affections— sneaking up on you with kisses even if you were talking with someone— suddenly slapping or grabbing your rear end from behind — or when he sometimes grabbed you by the neck and crashed his lips on your lips.

Not only that— you had practically taken on the role of a wife— bringing him meals after every hunt or sometimes joining him on hunts.

If he ever get hurt— which is rare or sometimes he does it on purpose— he loves when you fuss over him tend to his wound— he adores the innocent little kisses you leave there too.

Getting hurt was an excuse for him to pull you to his lap— and leave you shower affection on him.

He watched you come out of the little shell you wrapped around yourself— he watched you bloom around him and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

In all honesty— you were a cute little thing to him.

Sometimes when teaching you how to use an arrow or sword— he would lean into more than necessary from behind— have his hot breath fan over your ears— he guessed that’s what frustrated you enough to pull this game on him.

When your top suddenly fell loose— one of the ties caught on a plant and pulled it open— and exposed your right shoulder to him the animal inside him broke free.

Immediately, he tossed away his arrow in progress and stalked towards you— he was like predator pouncing on his prey.

He suddenly grabbed your arm and pushed you against the nearest tree— his hands were almost shaking with the speed they flew at you.

With one hand he trapped both your writs above his head— the other of your ripping apart your top— while his lips crashed you lips— kissing them with a brutal force.

“Kitten— don’t you know two can play the game?”

He teased you— he was delighted in the way your exposed stomach trembled underneath his touch.

You were left only in that tiny clothing that covered your breasts and trousers.

Your hands were pulling— needing to tug and pull his hair or wrap him around his shoulder.

His legs pulled apart your thighs.

“Celegorm. . .” You whimpered.

“Fuck it!” 

He said— he kissed you deep.

From the moment he started kissing you— your whole body started to tingle. The prince’s kisses were domineering and hungry— you let him take as much of you as he wanted. 

Your lips, your mouth and the tip of your tongue—all of it was his to do with as he pleased— even the rest of your body.

Celegorm wasn’t leaving this forest— not until he was sure he had wedded you.

You had unleashed something in him with your little teasing— something powerful which had lain dormant for far too long for his liking— but something called courting had to happen first.

You could feel his impatience in the way his strong hand roamed your entire body— giving every spot he liked a tight squeeze— then he moved to explore the dips and curves of your ass, then your back and your neck. 

He wrapped his hand carefully around your neck— and let go off your wrist and you instantly wrapped them around his shoulders— but when his hand gave your neck a little squeeze you dropped them to your sides.

“Do you know what you’re asking, my little mouse?”

His eyes were dark and he looked almost menacing.

“Yes.”

You answered as seductively as you could— and by the way Celegorm snapped his eyes shut and his hold on your neck increased a little— you know you hit that note right.

He immediately pulled you by the neck to kiss you again.

“Hands up. . .”

He grunted lowly.

You listened and he quickly the thick vines around your wrist— then dipped his lips lower.

He ripped off the clothing that covered your breasts— you gasped as the cold air of the forest touched your sensitive nipples.

But your silver haired prince quickly latched his mouth on one— and the other was rolled in between his finger.

You moaned, writhed under him and it only made his trousers tighter.

You had desperately tried to close your thighs— Celegorm kept them well apart.

After he had done delivered the same attention to both your aching nipples— his lips kissed down your stomach— leaving love bites at his wake.

His finger stroked your pussy through your trousers and he growled at the wetness that was ready to soak through.

“Already so wet for me, my little kitten. . .Then I must have a little taste. . .”

First he pushed his hand inside your trousers— growling at the wetness that pooled in your panties.

Within the next second— Celegorm pulled your legs free from your trousers and panties.

His fingers teased at your entrance— strokes and circles that send you shivers through you.

You were already trembling for him— begging for more.

When his thumb pressed against your clit hard— you let of strangled moan and drove Celegorm wild and instantly he pushed a finger inside you without mercy.

He didn’t even wait for you adjust— just kept pushing in and out of until you writhing and biting your lips and trying to rub your knees together.

His teeth latched onto the skin of your neck again— leaving more love bites where everyone could see— marked and bruised as his.

His ministrations to your tight pussy never stopped— it pumped in and out faster— drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

He did— and you came all over his hand— but he never stopped— he kept pushing his finger in and out—adding another to stretch you.

When you let out a whimper with a moan— he let out a growl and bit your skin harder.

He picked up the pace and you came again— the sight of your legs shaking made Celegorm think he was going to explode in his trousers any minute now.

Then— he placed his forehead on your forehead and brought his fingers to his mouth— he moaned at the taste and a little growl at the end.

You thought you were going to cum again at the sight.

Celegorm only smirked— then pushed his fingers into your mouth.

“You taste like honey on my tongue, kitten. . . sweet honey. . .”

You licked his hand clean— doing whatever to please him.

With wasting another second Celegorm dropped to his knees— he brought your legs over his shoulders.

Your pussy in line perfectly with his face— the scent was enough to send him to oblivion— and he quickly latched his mouth to your clit— licking and biting you without mercy.

His tongue danced — licking every inch of you and pushing into your sweet pussy.

Your prince didn’t leave anything untouched  by his tongue— even sending a long lick the whole way.

Your moans getting louder and your squirming— only prompted him on the further. 

His tongue didn’t stop penetrating you— not until you squirted and came all over his face— you came with a loud moan— extremely thankful you were in the forest and no one could hear you.

Celegorm growled and licked up all of you.

He didn’t let any of that sweet nectar go to waste— this was his reward.

Afterwards— Celegorm carefully placed your shaking tired legs on the ground— he did place a soft kiss on your inside thighs, however.

“My good girl. . .”

He praised you and untied your wrists from the vines.

Your body almost fell onto him— Celegorm slowly lead you to the nearby fallen tree— he sat on it immediately pulled you over his lap and lavishing kisses on your body.

“You’re my good girl— you’re so good for me, kitten. . .”

His kissed every bit of skin he marked— then kissed your lips again— stroking you hair.

You hair dangled over the both of you like curtain.

He held your body tightly against him— kissing you softly.

“On your knees, kitten. . .”

He whispered.

“Tyelko, I don't think — I can go again. . .”

You were practically panting— and shaking in front of him.

“Shh. . . Don't worry about that— let me have those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

He said — he had discarded his robes and shirt — leaving his upper body bare to you.

Even though you were tired — his words perked you up and with his help you pulled yourself off his lap and kneeled in front of him.

Celegorm opened his trousers— letting out a sigh, when he wasn't restrained anymore.

When you touched him — he let out a hiss and you quickly withdrew your hand.

“Am sorry . . .”

You quickly apologized.

“What for?”

He frowned.

“Didn't I hurt you?”

"Not at all kitten — rather I, crave your touch. . .”

He said and wrapped your hands around him — more confidently.

Celegorm let out a grunt — and you started pumping your fist up and down his cock like he told you to do.

When your tongue gave his cock a testing lick — he let out a string of curses and stood up to push himself past your lips.

“Nmph!”

“Do not get to tease me anymore, kitten — now bop that head up and down my cock like the pretty good girl you are.”

You put as much as him as you could into you mouth — then started bopping you head up and down on his cock like he told you to do —using your tongue to lick his underside.

Celegorm’s hands came around and he wrapped and tangled a all of your hair  — he wanted to control he pace.

You placed your hands on his legs.

He pulled your hair and you let out a moan — it vibrated through his cock and Celegorm groaned loudly.

The color rushed to your cheeks realizing how loud he was —you were grateful this was happening inside the forest than anywhere else — because someone was sure to hear the both of you otherwise.

He was trying not to lose control on you — and completely thrust into your mouth without care or mercy — you were just so perfect. . . on your knees, naked, some tears streaming your face, mouth stuffed with his cock — oh you looked beautiful to him!

You tried to keep up with any pace he gave you though— you wanted to satisfy him to the fullest.

He was close— you could feel it in the way he twitched inside of your mouth— and thrusted into your month a little faster.

“That’s my girl—. . . good girl!” 

He let out strained grunts and groans— getting sloppier the closer he got to his end.

When he suddenly deep throated you to kick in your gag reflex— he let out another string of curses and pulled out— only to push back in to finish in your month.

Celegorm immediately grabbed you by the chin and pulled you up— he looking menacing as he watched you.

“Swallow it.”

It was command and it made your legs shake.

You obediently did as he told you— not that were planning on anything else.

“That’s my good little kitten. . .”

He cooed and chuckled.

Then— he kissed you again— deeply, stealing what little breath was left in your lungs.

He also delivered a firm slap to your ass— laughing when you let out that pretty little yelp.

“Now. . . I shall wed you, my dearest. . .”

He whispered— and pushed you gently on the vibrant green grass— next to the flowers you were picked a few minutes ago— but for you it felt like hours ago.

“Tyelko. . . I don’t think I can go again. . .”

You whimpered— you were exhausted after coming 3 times for him and then deep throating him— your body was an exhausted mess underneath him.

“Hush, pet. . .you can give me one more, kitten— I know you can. . .”

He said.

Celegorm softly kissed each of the love bites he left behind— paying particaular attention to the ones he left on your neck and the underneath of your breasts.

You whined in his arms— having no energy for him.

So you laid there— bare for him to do as he pleases.

You were throbbing— but at the same time you were exhausting— Celegorm reduced you into a mess.

It was only when something started sliding into you— penetrating your tight walls did you jolt up.

But your silver-haired prince, gently pushed you back down.

“It’s alright, my love. . .”

When he wiped away some tears— you only realized then you were crying from the massive length pushed into you.

“Shh . . . you are doing well—. . . you’re doing so well for me, love. . .”

He cooed— gently and lovingly this time.

As much as Celegorm wanted thrust inside you and ruin you as his completely— he slowed down for you to get used to him and the stretch— even if it killed him inside.

He was hot and heavy inside you— it felt like he was breaking you open.

But when he fully slide himself fully in— the both of you moaned in unison.

He filled you to the fullest— then kissed your lips.

“That’s my girl . . . taking me all in, my good girl.”

“Tyelko. . .”

You moaned again— then wrapped your arms around his shoulder and back.

Celegorm’s breath caught in his throat— when he was nestled deep inside of you— he stayed there for a while— not moving, reveling in the feel of him so deep inside you.

He wrapped his strong arms around your back, to clutch you tightly to his chest— then kissed your forehead.

The hunter prince wanted to make this as special as possible for you.

For a moment— he couldn’t believe it — he was wedding you — wedding the shy little girl that picked the flowers outside his forest.

So pure and innocent— he just wanted to have you— and even though there were many obstacles—like that measly little lord that he stripped his title of— everything finally feel in place. . . — and that was enough to make him pull out and push back into you.

He gripped you tightly— then  grabbed your hips to hold you in place. 

You grabbed fistfuls of his hair when he kept thrusting into you— making you moan and scream underneath. 

He was breathing hot and heavy— with his head buried in the crook between your neck and your shoulder— inhaling that intoxicating smell of natural scent, mixed with sex and that forest breeze.

“Tyelko! Oh— yes!”

You moaned— when he started to pound into you with an animalistic growl.

Celegorm suddenly pulled his face away from your neck— then placed his head against your forehead.

“Good girl. . . oh you, good girl. . .”

He kept chanting— there was a slight smirk on his lips and a devilish glint in his eyes.

You were breathless at the sight of him.

Some strong and powerful started to blaze inside you— inside your chest.

It was a deepened heat— something caressed and fluttered you as you laid underneath him and consumed by each of his thrusts. Whatever was inside your chest started to grow.

“Our Feas. . .”

You whispered— breathlessly to him.

“Yes, veri. . .” (wife).

He confirmed.

“Vero. . .” (husband).

You said and kissed his lips— when your toes curl and your end starting to rise.

With the energy you gained from the bonding of your Feas— you rolled your hips, trying to keep up with your husband.

He growled into your mouth.

“That’s it— come for me, kitten.”

You did, hard and loud— crying out his name when you broke from the kiss.

He let out a loud cry too— feeling you pulse around him.

You collapsed on the grass as the rode to his finish— he did bringing a long finger under your chin to tilt your head back and place a chaste kiss on your lips.

Your head felt heavy as you panted in your husband’s arms.

But before your heavy eyelids closed— you whispered:

“Vero, tye-melinyel . . .” (husband, I love you/thee).

“Le meluvan úne ar alye lúmessen tenna nurucilie, veri.” (I will love you for better or for worse till death do us part, wife).

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

tara’s taglist: @mslizziesblog @spidergirla5

#celegorm #celegorm x reader #celegorm x reader smut #turkafinwe #tyelkormo #tyelko #tarawrites #the silmarillion #the silmarillion x reader #the silm smut #silm smut #silmarillion #the silm fandom #the silm #tolkien elves #tolkien #jrr tolkien #answered

[ddwardiswriting]

Chapter 10: A Long Walk

As I walked towards the front gate, Manfred caught up with me.

“Lady, a letter from Duke Delmar arrived by messenger.” He handed me an envelope and a paper knife. I cut the envelope open and returned the envelope and the paper knife to Manfred.

“Thank you Manfred. I appreciate you getting this to me before I left.”

Manfred caught himself mid-eyebrow raise, and switched to a smile. “You are most welcome Lady.”

As Manfred departed, I opened the letter and read.

“Dear Lady Ren. I am writing as I could not find an appropriate time yesterday to discuss this with you alone. We share a common cause: your cousin Lynn. I care for her. We have never known each other well. But we could not avoid seeing each other at social functions growing up. I have harbored something of a school boy crush on Lynn for the past four years. And I understand that she may return my affection. But my own affection compels me to oppose her choice to wed Prince Wulfric. I can see that you feel as I do, and are willing to go to great lengths to protect your cousin. Consider me your ally. My title does restrict what I can do without causing an incident. But there are things which I can do within the Duchy, which no one else can do. If you need my help, please ask. Your Co-conspirator- Duke Leon Delmar.”

I folded the letter and slid it into my bodice. Then I stepped out from the castle keep. 

I made my way through the courtyard to the barbican leading out beyond the castle walls. The castle had a medieval gothic style. The city of Octavo had developed around the castle, and was one of the oldest cities on Ys. The courtyard smelled of leather, oil, and horse manure. The clopping of hooves on stone dominated the soundscape.

Fiona stood waiting at the gate of Castle Octavian when I exited. She had dressed in sturdy black trousers and a matching long coat. She wore a crimson sash across her waist, bound by a silver cylindrical clasp. The clasp looked like the one she had worn yesterday. She also wore a white linen button up shirt with a detachable imperial high collar. She wore the shirt with the top four buttons open, exposing more than a little cleavage. I bit my lip. That fashion choice couldn’t be accidental. Did she want me looking at her? She must want that, mustn’t she? I thought back to her previous outfit. Were low cut necklines her style? Mother had thought that Fiona was straight, but I knew better from Lynn's playthroughs.

I waved at Fiona as I approached. She waved in response.

“Good morning Lady Ren,” She smiled. “Did you not think trousers would be more practical? In the event that things turn violent, your skirt is lovely but dangerous.”

I looked down at my kelly green pleated maxi dress. The dress was high waisted and reached down to my ankles. But it did provide more range of motion than most dresses.

“Don’t I look good in my dress?” I asked, I spun to flare the dress and the mantle.

When I stopped my spin, I noticed Fiona was blushing.

She coughed, “You look splendid. I did not mean to imply otherwise. I rarely imply anything. My concern was your safety.”

“Thank you. You look amazing too. I love your shirt,” I paused, “I’m not staring at your chest, I promise.”

Fiona grinned, “I did not wear this shirt by coincidence. But I do worry about your safety. Can you protect yourself in that dress?”

Wait, did she say that she didn’t wear the shirt open by coincidence? Had I heard that right? I shook my head, “I can’t, but I couldn’t anyway. I’m not a combatant. That’s your department. You handle the fighting, and I’ll handle the screaming and cowering and flailing of arms.”

“You have had no combat training?” Fiona asked. She shifted her weight. I dragged my eyes back up to her face, ignoring her exposed collarbone and cleavage. 

I didn’t know if the rival had received any combat training. She never used it in any path through Moonlight Hearts. But I knew that I didn’t have any combat training. So I shook my head.

“That seems like an oversight. Anyone who might lead a house one day must be able to defend themselves. Worse, if war with Hyperborea does arrive, your lack of training will expose you to danger. At least you will not find yourself on the front lines.”

“It sounds like you would though? Shouldn’t you be in a command position far from the front lines? You’re a countess, after all.”

“I am also one of the best on the ground commanders Ys has at her disposal. In the event of a war. I will be leading troops, but leading from the front rather than from the rear. But you need not worry about this or your lack of combat training. Today I will protect you. But still, training would be good, should you ever find yourself a baroness.”

“You’re the second person to mention that. There’s little danger of me leading the House. I’m fifth in line to be baron, or rather baroness. My cousin Carolynn, my father, and both my siblings are ahead of me in the line of succession. I’m ahead of my mother and my aunt because they married into the family. But otherwise I’m pretty low on the scale of importance. That’s why Carolynn has suitors and I don’t.”

“You may still find yourself married to a title lord or lady, and thus a target for kidnapping and ransom. And indeed, I wanted to speak with you about that as well. Carolynn is first in line for the Barony, which would be a noticeable increase in status for myself. She also has a reputation for being a good person. And so I decided to present myself as a suitor for her hand. But that ship seems to have sailed. Would you agree?”

“It definitely has, assuming our task here does what Lynn hopes it will.”

“You hope for failure?”

“I’m afraid for her safety if she marries Wulfric.”

“And yet you are helping her achieve her goal,” Fiona noted. “Why do so?”

“She asked me to do it. I wouldn’t have volunteered. But she asked me.”

“And this brings me back to my point,” Fiona said. “You are loyal. And that is an attractive trait. Lady Carolynn will likely marry Prince Wulfric. And if she does not, then I expect she will accept Leon’s inevitable proposal.”

“You noticed that too?” I asked.

“She kissed him. She did not kiss either of the two other suitors present. And so Vincent and I find ourselves without much purpose.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “At least you didn’t have to cross the ocean to get rejected.”

“Indeed. But I do not plan to leave rejected, at least not if I can help it,” Fiona said.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“I met another lady at the party. This one is a more equal match to myself. And I find her more attractive than Lady Carolynn on many levels. And bold. I like bold." She paused, and then added, "I also like blondes.”

“Oh,” I whispered, “You’re talking about me.”

“Indeed. I am terrible at being subtle. But I prefer directness in any case. You showed great bravery when you confronted Wulfric. And you showed great loyalty to Lady Carolynn even when she was not loyal to herself. You are beautiful. And looking at you makes my heart beat faster.”

I felt my face grow hot. I knew my skin had grown as red as her sash. How did compliments about a body I had received by chance still land like a falling anvil. I tried to speak, and managed a squeak instead.

“Are you alright?” Fiona asked.

“I’m fine,” I managed to squeak. Then I took a few slow breaths, “I’m not used to romance. I’m not good at it.”

“But you have quite the reputation as a man-eater and a heartbreaker. I do not understand.”

Of course, the rival. That was her reputation in the game. What to say? What to say? Fiona waited as I mulled things over. Finally I settled on an answer.

“I do have that reputation,” I started, “But those were men. I don’t like men. I have no romantic interest in them at all. So it doesn't hit the same. Also, flirting with a man is simple, they aren’t complicated creatures. And House Octavian expects me to produce an heir. And so I’ve played the role. I’ve done what they expect of me, and hated it the whole time.”

“You do not like men at all? That must have made things unpleasant. My preference is for ladies, but I enjoy the company of men. But we are drifting off topic. I wish to court you. Would you be agreeable to that?”

“You’re okay with the leftovers?” I asked.

“You are not leftovers. Lynn was the strategic choice. You are my choice of preference.”

Thoughts of Amy leaped to the front of my mind. She had said marrying Fiona would be wise. But I suspected she wasn’t happy at the prospect, especially so soon after we had begun our relationship. It was such a simple question, and yet I didn’t know how to answer. Amy had said that we could deal with how a courtship would affect our relationship when it happened. Well now it was happening. I had expected that nothing would happen until I said something. And yet here I was, being pursued. I had to admit that being pursued felt nice. Of course, it was only a courtship. I could still turn her down later. That was the point of a courtship.

I nodded.

“Countess Fiona, I would be honored to have you court me.”

“Thank you. Although that response took longer than I expected.”

I slumped a little, “Nothing related to me is simple. I hope you don’t mind unnecessary complications.”

“I will manage. Now we should complete this unpleasant task.”

I felt a mood-whiplash from her sudden shift in focus. But I nodded and we set out for the Hyperborean embassy. The Embassy was on the border of Octavo and Myrddhin City. The two cities had expanded over the centuries until they now touched. Octavo occupied the strategic high ground necessary for a castle. Myrddhin City occupied the coastline of the calmest bay on Ys. The Embassy was a massive Great House with a single open room. The wooden structure somehow looked ancient compared to the stone buildings around it. The building was three stories tall, despite there being no rooms beyond the great room. The upper two floors stood empty in concession to the steep angled roof, and its many flourishes. The craftsmen had carved animal figures into the roofing shingles. They had also carved knotwork on many of the logs used for walls. I had the sense of the embassy as an ancient being, waiting for its prey.  

As we approached the building, Fiona stopped and put her hand out to stop me. I stopped, but her hand brushed my breast and I shivered. Fiona drew her hand back.

"I am sorry. I should have asked this earlier. Do you have a mystic gift?"

I had forgotten about the mystic gifts. The mechanic felt tacked on in the game. It was only used for a handful of puzzles. But I did remember that the rival had a mystic gift. The rival had the mystic gift of precognition. The designers used her mystic gift to explain how she knew where the player would be. If I had the gift, I hadn't experienced it yet.

"I have the gift of Precognition," I said. "So don't hold out much hope of it being useful. Activating it on purpose is difficult."

"Understood. I too have a mystic gift. I can see auras."

"Then couldn't you see that I had a mystic gift?" I asked.

"No, I could only sense that you held the potential to have a gift."

"Is it always on?"

She shook her head, "No. but activating it simple. It feels similar to focusing one's eye by conscious effort."

"So your gift will be more useful inside than mine. Because unless I get a spontaneous vision, I won't be using my gift there at all."

"You have no combat training." Fiona said, and I winced. "You have no gift you can use in the upcoming confrontation. You have nothing to gain and much to lose from this confrontation. And yet, you walk into the wolf's den. And you do so without flinching."

"Oh, I'm flinching." I said, and tried to smile.

"You have everything to lose and nothing to gain from this. " Fiona continued, "You do this only because you hold yourself to a code of honor. You are magnificent."

I cringed at the praise, but blushed all the same, "I'm a hot mess, you mean. But I'm flattered by your compliments."

"They are not compliments. They are observations. Now, let us get inside."

We approached the gate. Two guards in serpent scale armor guarded the entrance. They had the Pillar Tree of Hyperborea embossed on the guards of their sabers. They wore fur lined cloaks on their shoulders and spangenhelms on their heads. As we approached, their smell struck me. They radiated the smell of rancid oil.

The guards stopped us with crossed spears blocking the door. "State your business with Hyperborea."

"I am Lady Karen Octavian. And I am here to deliver a message to his royal highness Prince Wulfric from the Lady Carolynn Octavian."

"The Prince is not here," The guard said.

"We know," I said, "Nobody will admit to knowing where he is. But we trust that the ambassador will be able to deliver the message."

The guard was silent. I looked at the other guard standing without a word. Finally the first guard spoke again.

"Wait here. I will return."

Five minutes later the guard was back. He saluted us. "Ladies, follow me please."

We entered the great house, and the smell of unwashed men hit like rotten vegetables flung in my face. The interior was hot. The temperature had risen as too many people engaged in raucous drinking and games in the great room. I opened my mantle to ease the effect of the heat. The guard power walked us to a mouse of a man with prominent teeth who sat in a chair near the front door. He dressed in the garb of a servant. So I assumed that he was a doorman. He nodded to us.

“Weapons please ladies.” He pointed at a weapons rack behind him.

I shrugged, “I’m unarmed.”

The doorman shook his head, “My request includes your bodice dagger, Lady.”

I shook my head, and grasped the neckline of my blouse and pulled forward, “I have no bodice dagger. I have no derringer. I have nothing. I couldn’t use it anyway. Would you like to check?”

I glared at him. The mouse man shrank back in his chair.

Fiona stepped forward, “She does not need a weapon. I am here.”

She reached into her jacket, and rustled about for a moment. Then she produced a cavalry saber. The door man nodded. Fiona reached back into her jacket. After a moment she produced a rondel dagger, a skinning knife, and a stiletto. The doorman raised his eyebrows, but took the blades. Fiona reached back into her jacket and this continued. Fiona produced a bandoleer of six throwing daggers. Then she produced two flintlock pistols and one pepperbox derringer pistol. Next she handed over a pair of brass knuckles. Then she surrendered an iron wrapped garrote wire. By the end, the doorman looked terrified. He cringed when Fiona handed him something. And he flinched when she reached back into her jacket.  

She handed him the garrote wire, and announced, “That is all.”

The doorman sighed, “Wonderful, now go on in.”

I noticed that Fiona still wore her sash clasp. I said nothing.

We walked through the open hall towards a throne at the back. Tables and chairs sat without pattern or reason in the open space of the hall. People sat on benches together. Most of them were eating. All of them carried weapons. If this turned ugly, they outnumbered us ten to one or worse. 

A lean man with long black hair and hungry eyes watched us from the throne. He wore a gray frock coat with a gray waistcoat. Beside the throne, a woman in servant’s attire knelt with her arms spread. Her shirt lay unlaced, her back exposed. I saw crisscrossing wounds on the exposed back. Somebody had tied her arms to a pair of posts anchored in the dirt, and the ropes trapped her in position. A heavy set man with a shaved head wearing leather armor struck the woman across the back with a leather cat of nine tails. The woman gasped, but did not cry out. I had a sense that the punishment would have been worse if she had, and that she knew this. The man on the throne did not look at the servant girl. 

The guard stopped us five feet from the throne.

"His grace, Duke Olaf Sigurdson- ambassador to The Kingdom of Ys. Your grace, I present Lady Karen Octavian and her attendant."

I curtsied and Fiona gave an awkward bow. Duke Sigurdson lounged on the throne. He looked at us like he was sizing us up for the stew pot.

"I am told that you have a message for my Prince. And that you wish to give it to me."

"Yes, your grace. To be precise, I have two messages for his royal highness. I have one message from Lady Carolynn Octavian. And I have one message from myself."

He sighed, "Very well, deliver your messages."

I nodded, "From my cousin: Lady Carolynn Octavian. She says that she accepts his royal highness's offer of marriage. And she will be his wife if he will still have her."

Duke Sigurdson raised his eyebrows, then nodded.

"From myself. I apologize for my behavior at the recent party and I beg forgiveness from his royal highness. I am sorry for the insult I caused him and wish to resolve any harsh feelings that exist between us. These are my messages. I am finished."

"Are you?" Duke Sigurdson said with a smile that curled his lip to a sneer. "Very well. I will attempt to have this message delivered. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed."

As we walked back to the front, I heard the duke speak to the man with the shaved head. 

“Has she learned her lesson yet?”

“Not sure Your Grace, but any more and she’ll pass out.”

“We don’t want that. Then she can’t appreciate her punishment. Let her rest then. You may continue once you are certain she can withstand more punishment. Next time she will not drop my serving bowl.”

I ground my teeth, but kept walking. There was nothing I could do in this situation. 

The doorman piled Fiona’s weapons into her arms and we left with her carrying them. Outside, Fiona wrapped the bandoleer around the other items and slung them under her left arm.

I looked at Fiona, "Did that feel as though it went too smoothly to you?"

"It did," Fiona answered, “I suspect the other shoe has yet to drop.”

- - -

By DD Ward and Margaret Lovelace

ddwardiswriting.blogspot.com

#romance #fantasy #horror #isekai #chapter #book #novel #DD Ward #Margaret Lovelace #Moonlight Hearts

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT SAINT LOUIS

warnings: smut, 18+

-

Harry was doing his same script, he’s been starting every show but addressing the circular stage.

“Sometimes you’ll get m’face and sometimes you’ll get m’ass. Please, let me know if y’have a preference,” He gives the crowd a cocky grin, it widens when the audience goes insane with whistles and screams.

YN is standing off to the side, where she always stands with Harry’s friends and family who come and go - visiting them.

Harry’s eyes dart to his wife, when he sees her rolls her eyes at him, he points at her, speaking right into the microphone, “And you’ll be gettin’ the ass baby!”

The arena is near deafening with the fans who are fawning and cooing at the couples interactions, they all look back to YN.

She blows him a kiss and he dramatically snatches, smacking it right on his backside with a cheeky wink and purse of his lips.

He goes on with the show in his stunning red outfit that fit for Saint Louis perfectly - YN was matching him in a dark satin orange slinky dress that was undeniably sexy. It had Harry feeling her up backstage before he went on. ***

The fans loved that the couple matched at every concert.

YN loved watching her husband perform and after that comment about her getting his ass…well, it gave her some ideas for later.

The way the shirt he was wearing wasn’t buttoned enough so she could see the glisten on his chest, how the trousers hugged his perky backside like a sin.

It may be wrong, but everybody in this arena wanted him.

They want to hug him, kiss him, blow him, fuck him - but the only one who got that was her and she basked in it.

As Harry finishes with Kiwi, losing his absolute shit, YN and everyone else starts to head backstage. YN waves to a few fans and stops for a selfie or two before disappearing.

When Harry runs back to join, after dashing from center stage, he automatically finds his wife and wraps her up into a tight hug.

“Ew, bun. You’re extra sweaty, you definitely need to go shower,” YN crinkles her nose, pushing him off as he does stink a bit and is just sticky from sweat.

Usually, Harry would coerce his wife into joining him but they had quite a few friends who came to see the concert and YN was expected to entertain them.

“I’ll be thinkin’ about you, flower,” He teases, nipping her ear before chatting with their friends for a moment before he’s trailing off to shower and change.

-

YN waits a few minutes, enough time to guarantee he was already in the shower - soaping up.

She punches in the code to his locked dressing room, a soft smirk on her face as she steps over where he’s strewn the orange ensemble to purposefully piss off Harry Lambert - like always.

When she opens the bathroom door, she makes sure to be as quiet as possible - same as when she shuts and locks it behind her.

It a modern, standard shower stall and Harry is standing facing away from his wife - scrubbing his hair roughly to get the styling gel and grime out.

Harry’s shoulders are so broad.

His back is just…beautiful.

It’s so muscular, defined, and strong as he flexes his arms forward. Then her eyes trail down to his backside.

His bum was small, she loved to tease him and pinch it but it was muscular as well from those squats and wall sits he does in the gym.

After she quickly undresses, she steps in behind him into shower - pressing her chest up against his wet back and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Harry startles, nearly jumping out of his own skin before huffing out a laugh and leaning back into his wife, relaxing - well more like melting as he puts his weight on her.

“Thought y’were some crazy fan,” He jokes, hand coming down to cup the hers on his waist but frowning when she pulls back.

“Against the wall,” YN murmurs firmly, pushing him gently until his chest is against the tile and the shower head is pounding on his back and shoulders.

Harry shuffles forward, willingly albeit confused about what was going on and his wife’s demeanor as the cold of the wall hardens his nipples.

“Baby? Y’alright-“

“Did you wash yourself up already?” YN asks directly, hands rubbing softly at his sides, squeezing where his mini love handles are.

“M’body? Yeah, why-“

She cuts him off again, lips on his shoulder blade, “You told the crowd and me that I was getting your ass. I’m just holding you to your word.”

And when Harry realizes what’s about to go down, he lets out a low, explicit moan that echos throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” He babbles excitedly, it wasn’t like this was something rare for them. They normally incorporated ass play into their sex life.

It was something about catching him off guard, when he���s vulnerable, and the post-show adrenaline has already worn off - making him malleable and pliant for his wife.

“You want to be all cocky, arrogant on stage, right? But look at you now, whining for your wife to touch you,” YN teases sharply, hand drifting down to squeeze his cheek hard enough to make him squeak.

“Baby. I’m yours, I’m yours,” He gasps, voice turning into a raspy yet high begging tone.

It was a tone of his voice that nobody in that crowd had or would ever hear. No, it was saved for her when she had him like this, like nobody else ever will.

“You don’t think I know that, Harry?” His wife laughs, fingers moving to sneak between his cheeks, pressing tightly against where he’s aching for her.

She continues, “God, I think everyone knows your mine. You can’t keep your eyes off me during the concert, parade around your wedding band, make sure my tattoo is always visible.”

“It’s ‘cause you- oh fuck, s’cause y’my soulmate,” Harry moans, pushing back on her fingers - wanting more but she wasn’t willing, “Need more, darlin’, m’close.”

She really wasn’t even doing much beside pressing at him, pushing in just the tiniest amount but he was grinding his hips against the wall a bit and her tits felt so good on his back.

Sometimes when he came off stage, he had absolutely no stamina.

Normally he could last but when he was adrenaline high and had basically edge himself in front of tens of thousands of people, it wasn’t going to be a long event.

“That’s really sad, H. Reminding me of when we were teenagers and you couldn’t last,” YN ends her rude statement with a bite to his shoulder before dragging her teeth down a bit.

It was just fun to get Harry worked up, he still acted the same from when they were younger - he’d get bratty and demanding, whiney, his chest and neck bloom into a soft pink color, and his eyes are a bit wet.

“Still just as much of a fool f’you, tha’s why,” Harry puffs out, hands continuously clenching and releasing over and over against the wall - like he wants to just make Harry wife touch him, tortured by her teasing.

“Fine, fine,” YN simpers, as if he was being a pain but she slips down onto her knees - hands dragging down his back and then his lean, solid thighs.

But in typical Harry behavior, he turns back and looks over his shoulder, “Sunflower, y’knees? We can move out of the shower.”

“Shush up,” She accentuates her words with a heavy handed smack to his right cheek and she chuckles when he gasps out a quiet, “Fuck.”

YN cups his cheeks, spreading them and leaning forward.

As soon as her tongue hits where he’s hot and tight, his legs twitch, and he puts his hands on the wall to brace himself.

“Darling, baby, baby,” Harry mewls, pushing back for more and hissing when she licks into him - his ring-bare hand leaning back to thread into her hair.

YN was planning to draw this out but she only gets a few directed laps before he’s moaning obsencenly, loud enough to hear through the god damn arena.

And then he’s gripping his cock, giving one firm tug, and he’s coming with pants and unfiltered, inconsiderate shouts of pleasure.

“S’good, m’good wife. S’no one better than you. Y’the only one who makes me feel like this. Crave y’like a drug, flower,” He praises endlessly, he turns around and helps her up - kissing her harshly.

When his hand comes to sneak between her thighs, she shakes her head and murmurs, “We don’t have time, H. Everyone is waiting on us.”

He pouts with his swollen pink lips, “I’ll take care of y’are the hotel, promise.”

“Mm,” She agrees, scrubbing the leftover shampoo bubbles from his hair as he tucks his face into her neck and tries make himself smaller.

Harry always gets a little sheepish after she does anything that makes him feel vulnerable, needs reassurance from her.

“Only with you, m’yours. Y’own my heart, ‘ave since we were fifteen,” Harry murmurs into her neck.

-

When they get themselves together, dressed, and exit the bathroom into the dressing room.

Harry Lambert is irritated as he is picking Harry’s clothing off the floor and putting it back on the hanger.

The stylist gives them a look, a knowing look, as he hangs the trousers on the rack.

“Fuck off,” The singer huffs, tugging his wife by the hand out of the room and to the car waiting for them.

#harry styles #hslot #harry styles love on tour #hslot!harry #hslotrry #hslot Harry #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #erodsafishtacos masterlist #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #husband!harry #harry styles husband #Instagram

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry V

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, chase, unwanted touching, confusing Bucky is confusing, handjob, fingering.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You set out for the capital.

Note: I didn’t expect to get this done so soon but here ya go! Last day of work for the week.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

🏰 🏰 🏰

The night was interminable. Lord Barnes slept against you, his heat like flames across your flesh. Every time you pulled away, he latched onto you and brought you back to him. You stopped after the first hour, you succumbed to his hold and stared at the canopy with his arm stretched across your middle and his snores rumbling against your cheek.

When he woke, you had barely closed your eyes for more than ten minutes at a time. His hand slid down your body beneath the blanket and you held your breath as he pushed his fingers between your legs. You tensed and he drew away with a huff. He sat up and relieved himself in the chamber pot.

He called for a servant and soon his first meal was brought. He shared it with you, filling your plate with rashers and boiled egg. You ate only to appease him as your stomach twisted at the smell of food. When you finished, the dishes were cleared away and you were unused to being on the other side of the service.

Two servants came shortly after and carried a gown of teal brocade and a stack of accoutrements. You frowned as Barnes directed you up to your feet and ordered the pair of women to aid you in dressing. Your face questioned him but your words never came. He watched, still in his nightshirt, as you stared daunted at the garments.

You pulled on the shift before the women laced up the corset tight and you stepped into the heavy skirts. The sleeves attached to the bodice and your missing cap was replaced by a hood tailed with satin. You felt entirely out of place. When they finished and you were stiff as a board in the attire, Barnes dismissed them and began to dress.

“You are confused,” he said as he strapped on his arm, “a servant cannot openly travel with lords so if you are to ride in the carriage, you need to look the part.” He waved you over to help him into a pair of undershorts, “and…” he watched you as he stepped into his underclothes, “you look fine indeed.”

“Thank you, my lord, but I would not be unwant to travel with the servants--”

“I would,” he said tersely as you helped him into his tunic, “I want you with me as often as you can be, as close as you can be.”

You carried on and pulled up his breeches as he straightened the cuff around his artificial arm. He shrugged and groaned, “this damned thing,” he swore under his breath then looked at you again, “you don’t look at me the way they do… the arm… people can’t see it but they stare, they know. They expect it to just slip off and clatter to the floor like I’m some fool.”

“My lord,” you said gently.

“I’m not ashamed. It happened, it’s gone.” He said, “it’s just that others are and that makes me angry.”

“My lord,” you repeated again as you guided the heavy overcoat up his arms.

“I’m not ashamed of you either,” he touched the fabric of your skirt as you reached for the chain he’d wear around his neck, “but I do want you to look to others as I see you.”

“Yes, my lord,” you straightened the chain so the single sapphire hung in the centre of his chest.

“I never saw you as only a servant,” he turned and took his comb and brushed through his thick locks, “I tried, told myself it was… untoward but… here we are.”

You were quiet. He placed his comb back on the square table and turned to you. His eyes roved up and down your figure and he squared his shoulders.

“We will attend to our host as the servants ready the luggage. It should not be more than an hour before we are gone,” he declared, “and the journey will be strenuous.”

“My lord,” you breathed as he took your arm.

🏰

You'd never rode in a carriage before. The cushioned benches would be the envy of any servants afoot or crammed into the cart of luggage. You'd never worn a proper gown either and it wasn't as accommodating as the carriage. The corset pinched your waist and the brocade was stiff and scratchy.

As you set out, it was just you in the vehicle. You had a long cape around your shoulders as the closed windows hardly kept out the frosty morning. You were almost relieved to be alone, a breath from Barnes. You heard the horses' hooves in the dirt and the voices both familiar and not as the riders chattered. Soon, the carriage felt like a cage.

Just an hour after the sun reached its peak, the procession stopped. You listened through the carriage walls and pressed yourself to the seat as the door unclasped. Lord Barnes climbed in and offered you some dried meat and berries as he sat beside you. You took it and stared at the other bench, why couldn't he sit there?

The carriage jolted back into motion as you ate, the meat spicy and dry. He offered you a skin of water wordlessly as you finished and you kept your eyes through the window, the trees thinning out to pale fields. He sidled closer and you winced. You wanted badly to throw open the door and jump out, even if it ended in you being trampled or worse.

"You are quiet," he said.

"My lord," you murmured and stared at the cold horizon. 

"Suppose we never spoke very much," he picked at your sleeve and rubbed the fabric between his fingers, "but I want you to make a habit now. You can speak to me."

And say what? You wondered. Did he think dressing you like a lady would truly make you one? You blinked and tried to ignore his lingering, if not pestering, touch.

"You are troubled. Tell me why?" He prodded. You kept quiet and he covered your hand with his,  "please, tell me."

His tone brooked no defiance. You exhaled weakly and clenched your fist under his long fingers.

"My lord, with respect, do you believe those in the capital would be… accepting of a maid in lady's clothes? Do you think they'd be convinced by it?"

"Those in the capital are not my concern. They've not been for years and that will not suddenly change," he sighed, "if it was my decision, I would not attend but the king sent his invitation direct and is not within my prerogative to deny him."

"But must…" you began then clamped your lips shut at your error, "my lord."

"Must I bring you? That is what you thought to ask," he said, "I admit my actions have been sudden and I did not wish to frighten you so but… they were as much driven by the expediency of my departure as the intensity of my yearning."

You were still as he pried your hand open and forced his palm against yours.

"I am still only a servant even if you dress me up," you whispered and flicked your eyes with your fingers as tears threatened.

"To me, you are more," he vowed.

"No, you still… treat me as one," you tried to pull your hand from his grasp, "even if you think you do not and I can only ever be--"

"Enough," he snapped, "you grow bold and it does irk me. I have forgiven your missteps and you treat me as a beast."

You squirmed, your body still sore from his lashing. How quickly he forgot.

"My lord," you appeased and bent your head.

He sat back heavily and played with your hand. His breaths were heavy and angry as he thought. His grip tightened on you and he pulled your hand into his lap. You let him even as you went rigid and he turned your hand and rested it over his crotch. He pushed it firmly to his bulge.

"That is for you, servant or no," he groaned as you felt him twitch, "and that is your duty now."

You swallowed and batted your lashes. You were ashamed and appalled. You were to be his whore, you had no presumptions, but to hear him say it so overtly made it sink into your core like iron. You trembled as he moved your hand against his breeches. He led up and down his length as it throbbed desperately beneath the fabric.

"Look at me," he demanded.

You turned to him and hesitated before you could bring your eyes to his face. As a servant, you rarely were permitted to look at him straight. His face was limned in dark desire and tense with withheld lust. He slid your hand up and pushed your fingers beneath his breeches and the linen of his undershorts.

You tried to yank away from him but he forced you further down his pants. He urged your fingers around his cock and carried his former motion, up and down, up and down. He shuddered and squeezed your hand, an unspoken order. He drew his hand back and hooked his arm over your shoulders, his weight tugging on the tails of your hood.

He leaned his forehead against your temple as he moaned and you focused on your hand and the absurd activity of your own hand. He began to pant as he held you closer and you felt his muscles lock as he planted his boot firmly on the floor. The rock of the carriage and noise of horse hooves disguised his moans, your name floating around you.

"Quicker," he begged, "quicker, please."

You could do nothing more than what he bid. His lips tickled your cheek and he kissed your throat as he hunched down. He nibbled your skin and his hand tugged at your sleeve as you closed your eyes and just kept your hand moving. You began to shake too, afraid but more stunned. It was like every nerve in your body was alight.

He purred long and low as he sat back suddenly and pushed his hips out. He spasmed and you felt a warmth spill down your fingers. He reached down urgently and stopped younas he quaked and sputtered, "oh, oh, enough, please."

He pulled your hand from his trousers and you stared at his cum as it cooled between your knuckles. You tried to hide your disgust as he puffed and looked at the front of his pants. He swore as he felt the fabric, his mess seeping through both layers. He reached into his jacket and pulled a cloth free. He held it out to you.

"Clean yourself," he ordered, "try not to mess your gown."

You shakily wiped your hand with the cloth and he took it back to clean himself as best he could. "You did well," he rasped and folded the dirty side of the kerchief in and shoved it aside, "very well,  sweeting."

His hand grazed the front of your gown and he slid off the bench. He bunched a handful of your skirt and slowly edged the hem up until you felt the cool air on your legs. You reached to stop him and he pressed his elbow against your side. A warning. His touched crawled beneath your skirts, gathered between his arm and your front, and under your shift, along the top of your stockings.

You held your breath and braced yourself against the seat as he cupped your cunt and you felt warmth gather in his palm. He pushed two fingers to you and slipped them along your folds. There was a peculiar slickness beneath them and you squeaked as he grazed a most sensitive spot. He rolled your bud beneath his fingertips and you grabbed his arm without thinking.

He kept you pinned with his arm against your torso, his hand nestled between your legs as he stretched his fingers along your cunt. He moved them up and down, lingering along that special spot and swirling, only to circle your entrance longingly but never going further.

He sped up as his fingers danced around your bud and your thighs clenched around his hand as you arched your back. You squeezed his arm and turned your face away as the fire spread through your body and ravaged your wits. You'd never felt this way and it was so new and so overwhelming that your voice erupted from you like a kettle boiling over.

The sudden snap inside of you had you writhing and whining. His fingers worked you fervently and the tendrils wrapped you up until you were breathless and broken, falling limp against the seat as you shook and he slowed his fingers in an agonizing descent. 

He withdrew his hand, leaving a trail of your wetness along your thigh. Your skirts fell back to your feet and you hugged yourself as he moved his arm away from your body. You turned as he hummed and watched him dumbly as he sucked on his fingers. You gasped as he dropped his hand and smiled.

"Didn't that feel nice, sweeting?" He asked as he wiped his fingers on the tailnof his tunic and covered it again beneath his overcoat.

Your lashes fluttered and you hung your head. You didn't know what he'd just done but the rush of pleasure soured to a deluge of shame. The carriage smelled of your sweat and sin.

"My lord," you surrendered and he pulled you against him once more. His heart was steady but your own wouldn't stop hammering.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #hue and cry #series #fic #medieval #medieval!au #medieval au #au #marvel #mcu #captain america #winter soldier #dark fic #dark!fic

[starlight--writings]

Protective

Bucky Barnes X Para-rescue! Female!Reader

Summary: Clingy!Bucky is the best.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t used to having things, things that were completely his. So when the opportunity came around for him to have a life filled with things that were completely his, he was very protective of them.

He always used the same mug that says ’Don’t touch my f❤️cking mug’, he always sat in the same chair during meals, meetings and movie nights. He wouldn’t let anyone anywhere near his notebooks, he rarely shared his clothes

Another one of those things that he was protective of, was Y/N.

He had met her in the Avengers compound when her had come to meet her best friend and old para-rescue buddy, Sam. Y/N had come back from a tour in Vietnam and needed a place to crash while they were doing renovations on her apartment building. Bucky had walked into the room as the pair were laughing. He never knew how special she would be to him.

As Y/N spent more time at the tower she grew closer and closer to Bucky. Slowly, but surely, he began to open up. He would let her wear his hoodies and sit in his chair. He would sometimes let her read certain pieces of what he’d written down. Y/N was many things to Bucky, but special was probably the best way to describe her. His special girl, his best girl, his angel, Y/N.

Sam had cracked one of his rubbish jokes that had sent the pair into fits of laughter as Bucky rounded the corner into the kitchen. Sam was laughing his head off with a girl standing next to him. It was the girl in the photo on Sam’s desk. Bucky knew that he recognised her from somewhere the second he saw her and that was where he’d seen her before.

She had her arms folded on the counter with was leaning on them her Y/H/C hair was in a messy braid that was over her left shoulder. Her weight was on her left leg and her right leg was crossed behind her left. She was wearing blue camo combat trousers, a grey t-shirt and sandy brown combat boots.

“You.” he said. “You’re the girl in the picture.”

“Hay metal arm, I want you to meet a very good friend of mine.” Sam’s voice pulled Bucky out of his thoughts. “This is Y/N L/N. I’m sure I’ve told you about her.”

Bucky shook his head. Sam never really spoke about Y/N and Bucky never asked, assuming that Sam would tell him in his own time.

“She saved my life back when we served together. Before I became I left we were on a tour together and long story short a bomb went off and fire was spreading fast. A beam fell from the ceiling of the room and she pushed me out of the way. She was trapped in the room. When we got her out she was bearly alive, suffering from smoke inhalation and bad injuries.” Sam rambled.

“That’s the short story?” Bucky asked making Y/N chuckle.

The girl moved from where she was standing to get closer to Bucky and stuck out her hand. However, the hand she put out ment that he had to use his metal arm.

“Hay I’m Y/N L/N, Sergent Y/N L/N for that matter.” the girl said.

The girls face held a big smile as she looked at the man in front of her. She was unfazed by his metal arm. It was very strange to him that she didn’t ask questions or shake in fear because of who he was.

“But circling back to what you said earlier; yes, I am the girl from the photo.” she said.

“We were better looking back then.” Sam stated.

“Speak for yourself Sam. While your looks may have deteriorated, I have aged like fine wine.”

Bucky could tell that he would get on well with Y/N.

It had been nearly three years since that day and about two years since Bucky had asked Y/N to be his girlfriend. Or ’Best Girl’, as Bucky had put it, when he had called her that Y/N thought that her heart was going to explode. Y/N was sat at the kitchen island with Bucky sat next to her while Tony as he was making himself breakfast.

Bucky’s seat was so close to hers that they were practically sitting on top of each other, their fingers were laced together underneath the table. Holding hands had become a habit of the pair long before they had started dating; Y/N had a habit of always trying to hold his metal hand. Bucky liked to be close to Y/N, he felt happy, loved and safe. Three things that he deserved to feel - Y/N had told him that multiple times.

Tony caught a glimpse of the pair and how close they were. He had noticed the pair getting closer together. He couldn’t help but think it was a little bit odd. If you could see Y/N, Bucky was never far away. And when they weren’t sitting together Bucky followed Y/N around like a lost puppy. He’d been seeing it alot and he had held back in saying anything. Until today that is.

“Does it bother you?” he asked Y/N.

Y/N looked up from the magazine on the counter with a mouth full of her breakfast. She swallowed what was in her mouth before answering the Tony.

“Does what bother me?”

“How clingy Barnes is. He’s always sitting or standing next to you. He’s always in touching distance from you when you’re here. When you come back from wherever your job has shipped you off to he’s the first person that you see. Does it not bother you?”

Y/N was taken aback by Tony’s question because none of what he just said fazed her. Beside her, however, she could fell Bucky tense up. She could have killed Tony in that moment, could he not have waited until Bucky wasn’t in the room? But what he’d said was true he was always sitting next to her at meal times or on the couch. He watched over her training, and would ask her to watch over his. When nothing was really going on he followed her around like a lost puppy.

“No.” she replied calmly. “It really doesn’t bother me. I’m used to it to be honest, my two younger sisters used to stick to me like glue when my parents were on the late shifts and I’d have to play mum. Picking them up from school, making dinner, baths, bed time and bed time stories. Besides, I’d chose clingy over low key any day.”

Y/N grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him from the room to the elevator. They went up the floors until they got to the one with Bucky’s room. The ride up in the elevator was silent as Y/N was griping the cold metal of Bucky’s hand, trying not to explode with rage.

Once inside the room Y/N laid down on the bed and motioned for Bucky to lay with her. He climbed onto the bed, placed his head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her waist as the girl played with his hair. Every so often she would place a kiss to the top of his head. Her other arm was wrapped around Bucky’s back.

“I don’t mean to be clingy.” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “It’s just force of habit. I’m used to having things that belong to me taken away from me. I just feel like someone will snatch you away from me. I know that it’s stupid but I can’t help it. But you can push me off if you’ve had enough.”

“I would never ever push you off baby. I love you more than life itself and I love that you love to cuddle with me. It gives me a sense of purpose. I’m not going to let anyone snatch me away from you.”

At that Bucky pulled her closer to him, if that was possible. He had found an angel and he was never going to let her go.

“Thank you dollface, for everything.” he whispered.

“It’s okay Bucky.”

Bucky let out a hum of appreciation.

“My best girl.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier

[tenskittens]

Not Enough - Part III.

Part 3

Warnings: Smut, threesome, john x ten x y/n, ass play, john x ten sex, fingering, dominance, cum (everywhere, ew), angst.

Words: 2.8k.

Read part 1 & part 2 first!

It’s been a week since you contemplated changing things in your relationship. As of now, nothing has changed. In fact, things have been sort of chaotic in the NCIT house this past week - you’ve been mostly hanging out with Jaehyun working on a coding assignment you were set over the summer. Ten went away for a couple of days - he said he just wanted to spend more time with his other close friends in the WayV house, who you were all pretty close with, but you suspect he also needed a bit of time away from you and Johnny. And Johnny - well, he’d been pretty distant too, and that hurt the most. You usually spend your rare moments of free time hanging out with him, snuggling on the sofa snacking on popcorn and crisps, having a low-key smoke and binging FRIENDS or comedy movies. This week, though, he hasn’t been here as much for you - in fact, you’ve probably spent more time with Jae, even Doyoung and possibly even Jaemin and the other freshers, than you have with Johnny or Ten.

“Ah, shit, watch it! Fucking arsehole” you yell as you walk directly into your boyfriend and drop your freshly-popped corn all over the floor. “The fuck, y/n, it was an accident. Chill.”

Johnny looks at you with genuine hurt, and you’re sort of embarrassed by the way you snapped. You didn’t want him to know that you weren’t feeling great about the whole ‘being abandoned for the whole week to stress about your work with Jae whilst your boyfriend and best friend fuck of and have fun’ situation.

You are pissed off. But you remember what you’re wearing - the little pair of shorts that perfectly hug your arse, and your hair tied back just how Johnny loves it. So you bend down to scramble and pick up the popcorn from the floor, ignoring Johnny but moving yourself in such a way that you’d gain his attention. Johnny watches you from his distance, and your plan begins to work - he feels himself getting hard at the sight of you bent over on the kitchen floor. Your silence was only turning him on more - he had no idea what to say, and felt at your mercy in that very moment - an unusual feeling for someone who was the dominant one in most scenarios. You stand back up after scraping together most of the popcorn. You stand slowly, looking Johnny up and down as you do, pausing to focus on how the veins in his arms have started to show - a tell-tale sign that he must be horny for you, despite not talking to you all week.

“So?” you ask him, a stubborn and demanding tone in your voice. You’re still pissed off - he literally hasn’t spoken to you about anything, leaving you in the dark about what the plan was and forcing you to seek comfort in Jae because he wasn’t there to hang out while you’d been stressed. Anyway, fuck all of that, you think to yourself. You firmly place the popcorn tub onto the countertop next to you and cock your head slightly, looking at Johnny’s face this time, but avoiding eye contact.

“So, are you going to like… tell me what’s going on?” you ask, frustrated now, trying to hide your emotional vulnerability by holding yourself in a powerful stance, sitting into your hip and casually leaning back into the countertop. You know you look fit, and Johnny knows it, too.

He sighs, now too turned on to even play his little game of piss y/n enough to get her to start the conversation first. He practically launches himself on you, keeping you pressed against the counter top and using his knee to hold your torso firmly in place. He locks his hand into yours and holds it firmly, too. You’re suddenly well and truly held down by John Suh, at his complete mercy and most-definitely not able to escape from his grasp.

“Y/n, Ten’s in my room literally right now. We’ve been waiting for you to break the silence because we thought you were the one mad with us. We thought you didn’t want to talk to us, so, we just sort of left you some space... for a bit...”. His voice is low, frustrated and tense.

Why was he being like this? He sounds genuinely annoyed, yet he’s acting like he wants to fuck me right here? And why’s he being so touchy?

“John, I’m literally pissed that you’ve been ignoring me. How are we never on the same page?”

Johnny doesn’t even reply, and you don’t really care. Stood over you, he’s one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid eyes on - you never fail to forget this. His hair is falling slightly over his eyes, textured and dark, complimenting the deep brown colour of his irises. His muscle tee reveals his broad shoulders, dressed in a bold, dark tattoo on one side. Nothing about Johnny Suh screams “innocence”. He is dark, intense, experienced, and always ready to show you a good time.

“What I mean, y/n, is that Ten’s waiting for me in my room”.

Oh.

“No problem, Johnny, I’ll be alright down here” you tell him, your voice tight, wondering whether this was an invitation to follow him, or a request for him to leave.

“No, y/n. Come on”. Johnny’s eyes are dark and serious, as they so often are when he’s turned on. You’re suddenly hyper aware that you’re in

a communal space - Jae could easily be slumped in the corner of the room, listening to the tension between you two as he so-often was - but you still don’t want to make nice with Johnny, so you shake him off you and somewhat stomp your way to his room, the man following you closely and quickly.

You barge open his door, pushing your weight onto it, and sitting in a leather armchair, leaning out of the window, is Ten. Shirtless. Oh shit, he’s hot.

“Oh, y/n, sorry fuck- hi” Ten sputters, reaching for something to cover himself up and eventually just wrapping his arms around his torso.

“Baby, you still up for trying this?” Johnny asks. Both you and Ten respond quietly and quickly with a tentative “yes”. .

“Hah, I was talking to Ten, but sure y/n I know you’re okay with it”, responds Johnny sassily, walking past you towards Ten. “Hot”, he assesses, looking at Ten just as he’d looked at you earlier.

Knowing that Johnny was checking him out like that turned Ten on, his cock growing harder under his lazy cargo pants. He hadn’t long been at the gym with Jae and Haechan, and the post work-out effect had left him slightly tired but, visually, incredibly attractive. His abs were tight and defined, even as he was leant over the window frame.

“Heard Ten was really good at fingering when he was dating that girl in first year. Not to make this weird or anything”.

Neither you nor Ten replies to this. So like, does Ten actually want this? I don’t get it, you think to yourself. And, honestly, you don’t know that Ten is only really doing this for Johnny. In the moment, he seems pretty damn into you. He stands tall, despite being the same height as you, shirtless with his hair slightly wet from just having showered, carrying the scent of sandalwood and sweet floral undertones. He moves towards you, and your heart pounds, your hands trembling slightly as you become hot and wet for him... Confidently, the man sits on the edge of the bed, a slightly playful and teasing smile spreading across his lips, and he pulls you by your arm so you end up falling next to him. You’re surprised by the sudden action, causing your heart to race faster.

“Mm, he’s right, you know, I’m pretty fucking good in bed” Ten teases you. You and Ten locked eyes as he placed his hand around your waist and pulled you close to him. He wasn’t sure about this, but he felt a compelling urge to kiss you. Ten feels Johnny place his hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, and it gives him the confidence he needs to lean in, chasing for your sweet, tender lips.

As Ten’s lips meet yours, you feel your heart murmuring, beating like it never has before. You take his kiss deep - although it feels sexual and intense, as opposed to passionate and loving. His tongue is greedy, chasing for yours and playing with your lips with gentle nips every so often. Johnny stands behind Ten, softly playing with his long hair, almost reassuring him. You feel Ten move his hands from your waist down to your thigh.

“Well, aren’t you two both such needy and horny, little things” Johnny teases, his voice dark and dominant. “Ten, honey, you know you don’t have to fuck her tonight, but she seems to want more than just a sweet kiss from you”.

Disappointing. Of course you didn’t expect that Ten would actually go all the way with you - although he has been with many girls in the past, you guess he just doesn’t actually enjoy that. But you can feel his fingers dancing up your thigh, altering their pressure as they skip across your crotch, brushing with gentle pressure over the crotch of your trousers and making their way to your opposite thigh. He is so careful and coordinated with his touch, different to Johnny - more thought-out, almost. Johnny bends down closer to Ten and kisses the back of his neck, whispering to him with a firm tone; “Ten, you need to be rough with her, she’s a dirty slut. You need to rip her panties off and fill her with your fingers and -”. You stop listening to Johnny’s instructions, becoming distracted by your growing wetness, pulsating as you feel the blood rush through your body. All you can feel is how Ten pushes you down onto your back, moving on top of you so he has full access to your delicate, glistening folds. As he does so, Johnny follows, teasing Ten’s upper thighs but not yet removing his cargo pants. “Ten, pleaasee” you beg, slightly moaning when you feel his slightly cold hands work at the button of your trousers, pulling them down awkwardly. You arch your back at the cold, slightly ticklish sensation. The arching is enough to grab Johnny’s attention - “damn, babygirl you’re sensitive tonight, does our slut need more attention?”. You whine in frustration, arching your back again to allow ten to remove your trousers all the way. As Ten does so, Johnny leans over him from behind and grabs his pants and pulls them down - he’s commando, so Johnny immediately grabs his hard, throbbing cock, releasing a moan from the man who is largely preoccupied with you, teasing your clit at a constant, steady pace. Johnny slowly pumps up and down Ten’s cock. “Listen, sweet baby, I want you to make y/n come all over us. I’m going to do to you what I want you to do to her - follow my lead, and you’ll make her come”. You heard that part - fuck, i just want to come, you think to yourself.

Johnny cocks his head. “Sound okay, babies?” he asks you both, receiving two half-confident moans in response. He’s definitely in charge of you both.

Johnny tightens his grip on Ten, prompting him to slip two fingers immediately inside of you, taking you deep without a second thought. It was intense, but so necessary. You respond with a sharp intake of breath, once again arching your back. When Johnny speeds up his movements around Ten’s pulsating member, Ten quickens his pace with you. He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a rushed pace, desperate to bring you to orgasm. Ten was genuinely horny, enjoying playing with you and chasing your upcoming orgasm, and although he had some limits, this wasn’t beyond his boundaries. He was so incredibly attracted to you. Your little, desperate breaths quicken, becoming deeper and longer as Johnny tightens his grip further, slowing down on Ten’s cock, and Ten responds in the same manner. He begins to slowly, but deeply, insert his fingers inside of you, pushing deep and steadily against your G spot.

“She’s actually so beautiful” Ten mutters quietly and breathlessly. Johnny responds, once again quickening his pace on Ten’s cock, planting kisses along his shoulders. This encourages Ten to quicken his pace, using the “come here” motion to hit your g-spot successfully with every repetition he makes. “And she’s such a slut” Ten adds, as you now whine quietly, high-pitched moans leaving you every time he hits your g-spot. He places his lips on yours, swallowing your moans with his deep, warm kiss. His lips are sweet and slightly swollen, making them gentle and exciting enough to continue kissing him, despite how close you were to your oblivion, and how distracting Ten’s fingers were. Johnny finally releases Ten after edging him for way too long - but doesn’t let Ten come just yet. Ten takes this as his cue to focus purely on you, tipping you over the edge. You’re moaning deliriously as Ten slips in a third finger and, with his other hand, wraps around your ass, playing with your sensitive skin around the entrance. Ten’s very good at this - he presses a thumb against your ass, gently but with enough pressure to change the sensation deep inside of you. You feel your pussy tightening, grabbing onto Ten’s slender fingers as he continues desperately chasing your orgasm, waiting patiently for his own. But Johnny is becoming fed up of waiting, so he drops his own pants and presents his cock in front of your mouth. “Work for your orgasm. Be my cumslut” Johnny demands strictly. You take his cock as deep as you can, feeling your pussy tighten as Ten drives you closer to orgasm. You suck Johnny deep and hard, using your tongue how you know he likes it. The sight of Johnny’s cock, dripping and filling your mouth, drives Ten insane. He isn’t even being pleasured, but he, too, feels so close to his orgasm, dripping presum from his tip. You’re still panting and moaning into Johnny’s cock when you finally reach your orgasm. Ten reaches one hand from your ass to Johnny’s, again pressing his finger into Johnny enough to send him over the edge. He explodes into your mouth, causing you to gag and splutter as you immediately come over Ten’s fingers. Your eyes stream with tears as the intensity of your orgasm sweeps through your body, weakening you head-to-toe.

“Y/n, you’re not finished, baby” says Johnny, standing. “Y/n, suck Ten’s cock while I fuck him good”, he tells you. And you do exactly what he says. Johnny is so gentle with Ten - so tender and loving. You can see now, despite your mouth being stuffed with Ten’s dripping, pulsating cock, that the love between these two is different. It’s intense, it’s passionate, it’s inherently sexual but yet so nurturing and tender. What you have with Johnny is fun - but you know you were friends first, friends now, and will always be friends. But you also know that this might be the last time you fuck John Suh as your boyfriend, and you didn’t even actually end up fucking him. The thought saddens you, but it passes quickly as you continue to pleasure Ten whilst sat on your knees. It doesn’t take long before you release him, and he lets his come spill out over your swollen breasts. Just a few moments later, Johnny follows, adding his cum to the sticky mess dripping on you. Johnny leans over you to kiss Ten - and in this kiss, there is so much love. You realise that he has chosen Ten in his moment of vulnerability, not you. But lying there, barely awake and covered in their come, you don’t mind. Ten flashes you a sexy smile as he kisses your belly, covered in Johnny’s come. Johnny pleasures your nipples, cleaning them up with his swollen lips before leaning down to kiss you, and moving back to kiss Ten, forcing him to taste his own mess. “Okok”, you say quickly. “I’m going to wash up in the bathroom”.

Your back is aching, you’re covered in come, and your whole body is weak and trembling from the intensity of working so hard for these two men. And Johnny was right - Ten was very good in bed. But you expected nothing less of the man who is good at everything.

Within 15 minutes, the three of you were asleep in the bed together. And within a few hours, you woke up, noticed how Ten wrapped his leg over Johnny’s, and how Johnny held his arm out for you to lean into. Feeling disgusting and tired, your heart sort of aching, you decided to slip back into your own room. You know you have to leave.

Thanks for reading! I’m sorry I didn’t go into full angst detail about the end of the *situation*. There will be a short follow-up sequel, mostly just angst, that will deal with the end of the relationship, just so this story doesn’t end up with no proper resolution. I hope you enjoyed how the situation unfolded, but more importantly - I hope you enjoyed the smut. I’ll be releasing follow-ups set in the NCIT frat house in the future, so please follow and interact!

~tenskittens~

#nct 127 #nct smut #wayv smut #johnny smut #ten smut #johnten #nct reader insert #nct frat #x reader #nct 127 angst #nct

[cursestothemoon]

His Bunny

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

warnings: smut, degrading, also praising, slapping, spanking, spitting, strong language, use of nicknames like bunny and puppy, subspace, daddy kink

Post Azkaban! Sirius with a younger reader

SHE IS OVER 18, IN HER MID TWENTIES AND EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL.

17+ only

if i have tagged you and you are UNDER 17 please let me know for future reference 

Sirius Black is a complicated man. You knew this well from the three months you two had been dating. 

Tonk’s is like a sister to you and her boyfriend Remus is a good friend, so when they said they had someone for you to meet, an old, school friend of Remus’ you were expecting someone just like him. Someone timid, quiet, and unbelievably sweet was what you expected. Instead Sirius Black swaggered into your life with his stormy eyes and deliciously wavy hair. He oozed sex appeal and confidence with his each and every step. 

Upon first meeting you, Sirius was sure he didn’t have the will power to stop himself from bending you over the arm of the couch then and there. With your doe eyes and girlish giggle he couldn’t help but picture your in less than appropriate scenarios. And when you had started dating he was sure it was too good to be true, Azkaban escapee with a young little minx like yourself? It was almost too good to be true, and Sirius tended to dwell on it.

“Sirius? What’re you doing sitting by yourself?” You asked walking into the sitting room.

He was sitting in a large velour chair positioned diagonally in front of the large fireplace which had a small fire crackling. Sirius waved you over with a single lift of his finger without looking in your direction just yet. 

You tiptoed your way over to him, his crisp black dress shirt hanging off your right shoulder and brushing against the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Siri...” You cooed climbing into his lap, his hands gripping your waist to help steady you. 

You gripped his face in your hands forcing him to look into your eyes, “Want tell me what’s bothering you?”

Sirius smiled, grabbing your wrist, “Nothing, love.”

You knew him well enough to know that he was lying, and you knew him well enough to know what was bothering him. The best way to get him out of his head was to show him just how much you wanted him.

You placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, moving to his cheek, then trailing down his jaw and the side of his neck. Your hips started to slowly grind on his, the rigidness of his trousers against your barely covered cunt made your breath quicken.

Sirius felt your soft puffs of air against his skin as you dropped your head into the crook of his neck. He smirked at the feeling of you dry humping him like a horny teenager. 

“Keep going and you’re going to get yourself in trouble, bunny.” He warned.

A breathy sigh left your lips as you raised your head from his neck to meet his gaze with a mischievous smirk, “What if I wanna get in trouble?”

That had done it. 

Sirius pulled you down to meet his lips in a harsh kiss before shoving you off his lap and onto the floor with a thud. 

“Strip. Now.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for questioning. 

Your fingers came up to unbutton the shirt you were wearing. An annoyed huff left your lips as your fingers kept slipping off the ridiculously small plastic circles. Sirius let out a laugh at how you were struggling, it was a teasing, degrading chuckle that made the walls of your pussy clench. 

“Dumb bunny, you need daddy to do it for you, don’t you?”

The quick nod you gave him was pathetic, and part of your mind was screaming for you to get a grip and not slip into such a fuzzy, submissive state so soon. 

You hurried over to him, knowing if you took too long a spanking would be in order. 

Sirius wasted no time in tearing the shirt open, buttons scattering to the floor making you let out a whimper. Your thin underwear was disposed of in the same fashion, the material pulling apart like tissue paper. 

“Sirius...” You whined against your better judgement.

Before you realized you had done something bad, Sirius gave you smack on your cheek. 

“S’not my name, and you know better than to whine. Over my lap.” He moved to sit down in the chair again, waiting for you. 

Meekly you walked over to him and draped your body across his lap, suddenly very aware that he was still fully clothed. His large palm fell onto the skin of your ass, rubbing the supple flesh gently before his fingers dipped down to your cunt. The feeling of his fingers gathering your wetness made you whimper and push yourself closer to his hand. 

He pulled his hand away completely making you shudder before his palm rested on the globe of your ass, “I want to hear you counting, nothing else.”

“Yes, daddy.”

With that you felt Sirius’ hand give a harsh smack onto your backside.

“One.”

He landed one after the other, making the skin sting and tears well in your eyes. Sirius gave one last spank, the hardest of them all, before smoothing over the red, stinging skin. 

“What’dya say, bunny?” Sirius quipped. 

“Thank you, daddy.” 

You were moved off his lap again, this time gentler than the first, and set onto your knees in front of him. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running across your jaw as he looked into your eyes, his stare almost too intense.

“You need your daddy, don’t you? Just a dumb little bunny, need me, need your daddy to take care of you.”

You hummed in agreement, nodding enthusiastically, “Just a dumb little bunny, I need daddy.”

Sirius smiled at the honesty dripping from each and every word, you were his good little bunny. 

An idea popped into your mind, your hands moving quick to carry it out. You unbuckled his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, reveling in the presence of his hard cock. Sirius rarely wore underwear.

Your hand grasped his shaft, jerking him off slowly, letting your thumb swipe over his sensitive head and smearing the glistening droplets of precum all along his impressive length. Having waited long enough to taste him, you leaned down to place a kiss onto his glistening head making him shudder. 

“Don’t tease.” He warned from above you, his hand pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail before giving it a hard tug forcing your head back.

Having been in the position before you knew what he wanted and your jaw went slack and fell open instantly letting him spit into your awaiting mouth.

“Thank you, daddy.” 

Sirius smirked, “Such a good girl.”

Wanting to further prove you were a good girl, you quickly put your mouth on his painfully hard length. Hollowing your cheeks, you took as much of him as you could, spit dribbling out from the corners of your mouth acting as lubrication for the hand you had wrapped around what couldn’t fit. You bobbed your head up and down, ignoring the aching that blossomed in your jaw. 

Sirius, who was wanting more, pulled you off of him so he could stand in front of your kneeling form before gripping your hair again and thrusting his cock deep into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Your gags and whimpers only spurred him on, making him speed up his thrusts. 

Tears fell down your cheeks as he fucked your face and you felt yourself get impossibly wet with how vocal was being.

“Fuck, bunny, your mouth feels so good ‘round my cock. Y’like when daddy fucks into your mouth?” He asked, voice shaky with the nearing of his orgasm. 

You hummed in response to his question, eyes watching as the vibrations from the sound made his eyes flutter closed and head fall back. His hand gave a few harsh smacks to your cheek before pulling out of your mouth completely. 

“My good girl,” He cooed, “Get to the counter.” 

Your eyes widened in excitement, it was rare that you and Sirius would find an area of Grimmauld Place that he hadn't made you cum on, but this was new. 

Practically bouncing over to the counter you bent over it, or at least you tried to. Being short, your hips were too low meaning it would be quite difficult trying to enter you from behind like Sirius was planning. 

“Look at you. Pathetic little girl, you cant even get yourself up on the counter.” He laughed, slowly walking over to where you were with no hurry at all.

Sirius gripped your hips and lifted you on to the counter, leaving your feet to hang just far enough from the floor to make him chuckle again. 

His knee nudged your legs apart opening up your dripping core to him, making an almost animalistic growl emit from his lips. You felt his palm rest on your lower back whilst the other travelled between your legs and swiped through your slick folds. 

He ran his fingers up and down your spine, “A dripping mess just from making daddy feel good.”

You whimpered, unable to form a coherent sentence as his middle finger seemed to find your clit and started to circle it slowly at first but gaining speed quickly. 

“What was that bunny?” He asked, tone snarky.

Again, all you could do was moan as his pace quickened vigorously. 

Sirius hummed, “Thought my dumb little girl said something like that.’

His fingers left your clit, only to slowly enter your sopping cunt. The action made a vulgar squelching noise from how turned on you were from hearing Sirius’ moans and grunts just minutes before. 

He added a second finger, thrusting them in and out of you with long, deep strokes pulling each and every whimper and moan out of your mouth. His thumb went to your clit and the palm on your lower back held down your hips that kept trying to move against your own accord. Within seconds he found the spongey spot in your aching pussy and used his two fingers to massage the sensitive area with no respite. 

Your sounds were loud now, physically unable to hold them back, you mewled and cried as your orgasm approached. 

“C-cum, daddy wanna cum-” You tried your best to string together enough words to make sense, your forehead falling to rest on the cool counter.

Sirius tutted, hand swatting at your already sore backside, “Ask properly, don’t be a little brat.”

“Can I cum, daddy, p-please?” 

You felt him place a kiss in-between your shoulder blades before responding, “Go on then, cum for daddy.”

His hand carded through your hair, starting from the base of your neck, and pulled making your back arch. That was all it took for your orgasm to rip through you, a pornographic moan leaving your lips as Sirius pumped his fingers slowly, letting you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible. 

You shuddered as his fingers gave your swollen clit a pinch before pulling his hand away from your core.

“Wanna taste bunny, or y’want daddy to clean it up?” He asked bringing his glistening fingers near your mouth. 

You sniffled, “Wanna share with daddy.”

Sirius crouched down so his face was level with yours. You moved to grab his hand, pulling his index finger to your mouth and sucking off your juices while you kept your eyes locked with his. When you were done you let his finger go with a pop and Sirius brought his hand to his mouth, taking in both his index and ring finger.

He groaned at the taste of you, sweet on his tongue now mingling with your spit from the digit you were so happily sucking on. The sight made your pussy clench involuntarily, already wet and ready for Sirius again. 

“Beg for it.” Sirius said lowly, knowing what you wanted just by your blown out pupils and grabby hands.

Your breath hitched at his demand, but you were too far gone to care about the desperation in your voice.

“Fuck me daddy, want your cock so bad. Please fuck your dumb little bunny, I need it. Wanna feel your cum inside me, please.” You cried desperately, tears staining your cheeks as you wriggled around on the counter. 

He brought his hand to your mouth again, “Get ‘em nice and wet for me.”

You did as you were told, sucking and drooling over his thick digits until he pulled them out and wrapped his hand around his girth moving up and down to lubricate his length with your spit. He moved to stand behind you, moving his head between your folds to collect your juices before thrusting into you harshly, giving you no time to adjust. 

His hand went back to your hair and pulled again so your back was arching, his thrusts had pushed your body forward and the counter and the way he had you arched made your clit grind against the edge of the counter. The feeling of how deep Sirius was inside of you and the mix of pain and pleasure on your clit had you nearly screaming as your vision started to go blurry. 

“Can feel your little cunt milking my prick. Who’s tight little cunt is this?”

You sputtered as the tip of his dick seemed to be hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars, “Yours daddy! No one’s but yours!” 

“And who makes puppy feel this good?”

You let out a choked sob, “Daddy does!”

“Daddy’s little girl doesn’t even reach the floor. Y’like it when daddy ruins his pussy, make it all achy and swollen?”

You nodded, the only word able to come out of your mouth being daddy followed by whimpers, moans, and choked cries.

Sirius’ hand on your hip moves to grab your breast harshly before delivering a harsh slap making you yelp and sending burning feeling straight to your core making your walls tighten. 

“Poor thing, gonna cum again? Cum on daddy’s cock, let me feel you.”

With that you felt your second orgasm crash onto you, thighs shaking next to Sirius’ own legs. Soon after you felt yourself come undone Sirius spilled into you, his warm load coating your pulsing walls. 

Sirius let himself slouch over your trembling body, his warm chest coming into contact with your balmy back. He pressed kisses onto your shoulder blades and around your neck as you came down from your high. His cock, slowly softening, was still buried deep in your cunt keeping you stretched around him. 

You let out a sound of annoyance as you felt Sirius move to slide out of you making him let out a soft chuckle.

“Come on, love, gotta get you cleaned up.” He tried to coax you.

You whined again, “No, want daddy to stay.”

“S’not daddy anymore, pretty girl. It’s Siri.” He said slowly pulling out of your pussy. 

The emptiness made tears gather in your eyes, the fuzzy mind space Sirius had fucked you into making you impossibly clingy and eager to please. He set you down from the counter, catching you as your legs trembled under your weight. Taking you up to your shared bedroom and bathroom, and cleaned you up as best he could without getting you in the shower- it was evident that in your sleepy, hazy state it would be difficult to keep you upright. You were slowly coming back, calling him ‘Siri’ instead of daddy and helping him by lifting up your hips as he slid on your underwear. 

“Y’wanna wear my shirt or one of yours?” He asked turning to look at yo from the dresser.

“Yours.” You answered immediately, lifting your arms as he came back to the bed you were sitting on to pull the shirt over your head. 

After making sure you were tucked into bed and comfortable, Sirius went to his wardrobe to grab a pair of black boxers and slide them on. He walked over to the bed and climbed in next to you, his arms coming out to pull you into his side. You rested your head on his chest as you got comfortable in the new position. 

Sirius felt goosebumps blossom on his skin as your fingers traced over the dark tattoos on his chest. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. 

“I love you, Sirius.” You mumbled, sleepiness present in your tone.

He gave a fake laugh, “You won’t leave me for some young guy right?”

You could tell his laugh was masking his insecurities.

You shuffled around so you were looking at him, hand cupping his cheek.

“Sirius, I love you. You are the only one I want, the only one I need. You Sirius Black, are the love of my life.” 

He smiled, the faintest blush coming across his cheeks as you snuggled back into his side. 

“I am in love with you too, my good little bunny.” 

Sirius kissed your nose before resting his head on his pillow, eyes focusing on the ceiling as he fell into thought. He thought about you, and he thought about his younger self and how desperately eighteen year old Sirius needed someone like you to keep his head above water. 

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

#Sirius Black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black blurb #post azkaban! sirius black

[dancingwiththeplanets]

An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter two

Boba Fett x fem!reader

     chapter 1 / masterlist

Summary:  A few days after the incident in the throne room, Boba hovers around you like a shadow worried you’ll leave him. You try to reassure him through small, intimate moments with him that there’s no place you’d rather be.

A/N:  Really trying to expand on the idea that a gorgeous palace lays hidden underground/ behind the throne room! Also, I think we can all start calling this Boba’s Palace now, jabba is gone. Sorry for the low quality edit it’s my first one haha

Warnings: dancing!boba, protective!boba, suggestive content, plain old day at the palace, soft!boba, not a lot of content tbh but cute moments and we get to know our OC Mandos Raul and Enzo, I didn’t plan this out, im sorry

Word Count: 4.5k+

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The ballroom, though practically useless in its existence and never actually having served its purpose, has recently become one of your favorite rooms in the palace. Initially, you didn’t know what to do with the space. It’s not like Boba seized at the idea of throwing a ball and inviting a group of strangers into the palace, providing anyone the opportunity to discover the secrets hidden behind the throne room. Let alone risk letting an adversary sneak their way in and stirring up trouble.

Nonetheless, you’ve taken it upon yourself to spruce the place up. It is, after all, one of the grander rooms in the castle, with paintings coating the ceiling and the walls bordered with columns.

It’s actually extremely beautiful, you’ve decided, wiping your forehead against your light-blue sleeve, frowning when it comes back brown from the dust that’s stuck to your face. It seemed like a sensible thing to wear this morning. A loose fitting blue blouse with flowy pants to match, secured in the middle by a slightly darker sash. Your pant legs were tucked into your boots so as not to get in the way. It was one of the more cozy and plain things you owned, though not poor in quality by any standards. The fabric was refined, flowy and soft against your skin. Quite honestly, even in your working clothes, you looked nicer than you felt you deserved to. But far be it for Boba to allow his princess to wander around in anything but the best.

The week you’d moved in was a busy one, filled with surprises and adjustments that were quite honestly overwhelming. You arrived at Boba’s palace with a literal sack over your shoulder, enough to stash your small wardrobe of two garments and a few trinkets of personal value. Tatooine was a simple place, you only owned what you absolutely needed. And you, being a young and simple waitress at the local cantina, could barely make enough to cover your cost of living. You were never awarded the luxury of having needless objects.

The first few days of your arrival, Boba had stuck to your side like glue, making sure you got around okay and had everything you needed. Initially, he’d even had a seperate room made up for you to stay in. It was absolutely beautiful, by far the lightest room in the entire palace, though lacking in a window. It was one of the biggest, not as impressive as his own chambers, but still spacious. He decorated the room with paintings and furniture and accented the space with hues of blue and gold. Unfortunately, the pretty room barely got any good use out of it.

Boba escorted you to your quarters on your first night, cradling your chin and kissing your forehead at the door, bidding you goodnight. He reminded you where you could find something to sleep in, having delighted himself in surprising you with an entirely new wardrobe.

You pulled on a satin, lavender slip, admiring the foreign material for a long while as it weighed so delicately on your form. You took your time readying yourself for bed before crawling in and feeling engulfed by pillows. Once you settled, left alone to your anxious thoughts and feelings, you suddenly felt overwhelmed by the exquisite room embracing you. A flutter of giddiness and exhilaration filled you, your mind and body enraptured by the day's events. You felt absolutely spoiled.

Feeling bold on an entirely unnatural level, you slipped away from the warm, velvety comforter and tiptoed to the door. With a rush of courage, your hand met the handle and you stepped out, bare feet cold against the tile floor. You peeked around before quickly darting down the hall, forever grateful that not a soul was around to see your practically naked form running by, before ascending the stairs that led to Boba’s door.

You lifted your hand, your knuckle knocking gently three times against the rough surface.

You heard Boba shifting on the other side of the door, tugging down on your nightgown that just barely cleared your thighs. The hinges of the door creaked as they turned, opening slowly to reveal a very smug looking Boba in just his underclothes.

He hummed, eyes tracing over your form with a shake of his head. “Wandering the halls looking like that.” He chided, gently grabbing you by the waist and pulling you through the door, “That’ll get you into trouble, little one.”

-----------------------------

You smile as you recall the memory. Suffice to say, you didn’t end up sleeping in your own quarters that night, or any night after that, for that matter. Though Boba’s honorable gesture in providing you with your own space was not lost on you.

Continuing on with your endeavors, you move to stand from your crouch on the ground, simultaneously trying to tighten the blue sash wrapped around your middle. You gasp as you run into a hard surface, exhaling in relief as Boba braces you in front of him.

Mumbling an apology, you watch as his helmeted face looks you up and down, steady hands holding you out from him.

“What?” You ask, a smile making its way to your cheeks.

“Your outfit, it...looks like something I wore as I boy.” He says adoringly, now fondling the blue sash at your hips.

You glance down again at your form, a matching blue blouse and trousers tucked into simple black boots. “I...look like you as a young boy?” You counter, earning a deep chuckle from your lover.

“Well I looked rather plain in it,” He says, “I don’t think I looked half as radiant as you do.”

“So you do like it?” You ask.

“Of course I like it,” He grins, “I bought it.”

You shake your head as you carry on with your tasks, allowing Boba to shadow your movements for a while before leaving you again to carry on with his own agenda.

You spend the next few hours actively scrubbing away at the room, feeling especially motivated to complete it, not like all the other half-finished rooms scattered about the palace, which is partly your fault. But the ballroom felt different, once you dusted away all the grime and filth and replaced the lighting in the ceilings to give the room more life, it really started to come together. Unfortunately, your previously clean clothes and skin were paying the price for the hard work being done, you definitely looked a little worse for wear. Wisps of hair beginning to tickle your cheeks from where they’d fallen loose from your braid.

Currently, you were taking extra care to polish a beautiful mosaic decorating the inside of an archway. Thousands of small, colorful shards lined neatly together to form the image of a bold Tatooine sunset. One of the few grand beauties your home planet was known for. A surprisingly lovely work of art left behind, albeit not properly cared for, by the previous inhabitants of the palace.

You admire the artwork for a while after polishing it to near perfection, letting your bum fall to the floor and legs splay out comfortably in front of you. Your wrists support your upper body, arms holding you up as you lean back onto them, head tilting lazily to one side.

You find yourself distracted from your glossed over gaze by Boba, who seems to have wandered his way in here for the third time today. Enzo tails him a few paces behind, but stops to stand guard idly by the door. You can’t imagine he or Raul feel as though they serve any real purpose wandering these empty halls, probably much preferring when they get to patrol the throne room or secure the perimeter.  

Boba approaches you, pausing over your fatigued form and huffing out a laugh when you don’t move to stand, instead opting to gaze up at him with tired, doe eyes. He holds a hand out to you and you groan, placing your palm in his as he hoists you up.

“The room looks lovely.” He says, voice raspy through the modulator as he looks around.

The praise makes you smile. “Come see what I found,” You say, leading him by the hand. You open a large dresser to the right, stuffed full of old vinyls and a polished record player sitting proudly atop. You carefully choose a record, placing it beneath the needle and starting the track, allowing it to play soothingly in the background as you guide him around the rest of the room.

He follows you around, listening to you babble about the lovely art on the ceiling and how nice the light looks coming through the one, boxy window at the top. He watches the childlike sparkle and admiration in your eyes as you point out different things you’ve noticed, the excitement trickling out in your tone.

His mind contemplates how different this life is from the one you used to have. You went from a one room, compact home, just barely big enough for your small bed, to a palace filled with grand staircases, hallways and countless bedrooms, a blissful dream in your eyes. Nevermind the fact that you were still stuck on Tatooine. In fact, you seemed happy to stay, oddly attached to the sandy planet, something Boba found amusing.

A couple trips around the room later, and a few songs having gone by, the two of you now stand in the center of the empty room. Him, groaning in protest, and you, placing his hand on your waist yet again. You’ve spent the last few minutes trying to teach him a basic waltz, something your father had taught you when you were little. A rare memory you shared with him before he...well-  

“Boba,” You scold with a giggle, “Try again.” Your request earns you another frustrated grumble from your partner. At some point you were able to coerce him into dancing with you, having pleaded desperately when your favorite classic came on. “C’mon, you nearly had it that time!”

He sighs loudly, tilting his helmet in an exasperated fashion. “Last time,” He says with finality, his finger raised in your direction.

You nod your head, an amused grin spread wide on your face.

He holds tight to your waist and reaches for your other hand, a final effort to humor you.

“And...1, 2, 3...1, 2, 3..” You begin moving again to the music, trying to swallow the snicker working its way up at the image of your armored partner staring at your feet for guidance. Visor following your every move, looking unsure and sloppy and quite honestly graceless.

You jump at the voice of a forgotten presence in the room.

“No! No, no, no, boss.” Enzo finally pipes up, his silent and judgemental self unable to be contained any longer. He moves forward with a swagger in his step as he struts towards you from his previous position against the wall, “You’ve gotta lead her by the waist,” He says pointedly, reaching for you “Observe-”

Boba’s arm shoots out, blocking Enzo by the pauldron, “You touch her, you're a dead man.” He growls, deflecting his attempt to take you by the waist.

You jerk slightly at the interaction, rolling your eyes and waiting for the show of dominance to subside.

Enzo’s hands raise in surrender, bowing away respectfully before returning to his earlier stance, no doubt a grin slapped on beneath his visor.

Boba’s hand returns to your waist with a shake of his head, noting your half-suppressed chuckle, evidently amused by the encounter.  

“Alright,” He grunts, “once more.”

You start counting aloud, moving at a pace Boba can keep up with. You step out on the final eight count and slowly twirl back into his arms, your back now braced against his front. He tugs at your hips, holding you closer, “Mm,” He hums in your ear as you sway in your position, “Well I do like this.”

The sound of his accented voice filtering through the modulator sends a shiver down your spine, and you breathe out a light exhale as he releases you a moment later, turning you to face him.

“See,” You sigh, “You can dance.”

He hums in response, turning around to retrieve his weapon.

You move to face your hired gun, again leaning casually against the entryway.

“Do you actually know how to dance, Enzo?” You ask, reflecting on his earlier attempt at an intervention.

“-Wouldn’t matter if he did.” Boba interjects loudly over his shoulder, dismissing any ideas before they transpired.

You hear a light chuckle emitting through Enzo’s modulator, turning back to see his stance remaining motionless aside from the slight jerk in his shoulders.

Boba returns to your side, tapping his forehead against yours in an obvious farewell.

Your head falls heavily to one side as you tenderly hold one of his gloved hands, fingers tracing the rough fabric of his own. “Is that all the time you’ve allotted for me today, my king?” You say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid.” He replies, “But perhaps I’ll come find you in a bit, see what further progress you’ve made.”

You nod, a slight frown tugging on your lips. You hesitate raising the concern suddenly weighing in your mind.

Ever since the incident with Crane occurred, Boba’s been...watchful. It’s not that he wasn’t protective of you before, it’s just that in the past few days he’s been protective of you in an entirely different way. He’s been hovering and checking in on you almost compulsively. Whereas before he seemed to want to keep you away during the busy hours of his day, now he seemed to want you near enough to reach in a moment's notice. Almost as if he’s worried you’ll abandon him when he’s not looking.

You wonder how he can still feel so worried after sharing such a fun and intimate moment with you.

So, you’ve given him some extra leeway, allowing him to hover to his heart's content until he seems secure in knowing that you’re not going anywhere.

That being said, you really didn’t mind Boba’s loitering close by to wherever you happened to be, you only wish you knew he wasn’t doing it because of the events that conspired earlier in the week.

“Boba,” You say lightly, catching his arm as he turns. “You don’t need to keep checking up on me, I’m not...you know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

He pauses at your words, hands stilling in their endeavor to tighten up loosened pieces of clothing and armor. You hope you haven't upset him in calling out his unusual conduct.

He averts his gaze to the side, pausing a moment before turning back to you. “I know.” He says nodding, a slight hint of defeat in his tone.

You hope perhaps some flattery will comfort him, stepping closer and lifting your gaze to meet his own. “My king,” you say in admiration, “You are a very busy man. You have a planet to rule. And an underworld to dominate. There are many things that I know put strain and worry in your mind, but whether or not your partner will still be here when you go looking for her should not be one of them.”

He doesn’t make any movements, and the face of his visor does little to allow you access to his thoughts.

“What I mean to say is,” You continue, “Go rule your empire. Your princess is safely stashed away in the palace you’ve encompassed her in.”

He breathes out a chuckle, and you smile, “I am happier here with you than I ever thought I’d be. I don’t want to be anywhere you won't be too, Boba Fett.” You reiterate your words from your conversation a few days ago. One that both started and ended with the two of you in tears. A rare moment between the two of you indeed. An exceedingly painful incident for him, having showcased the true depth of his love for you in such an unexpected and vulnerable way. And for you, to have seen the strongest and most fearless man you have ever known brought down to his knees, in tears, was absolutely gut-wrenching, especially in knowing that his own insecurities about your love had driven him to feel such fear.

You squeeze his arm and kiss the cheek of his helmet in valediction. His unmoving visor lingering on your face for an extended moment.  

Boba’s hand makes its way to the back of your head, pulling you forward slightly before gently meeting you in the middle with his own helmet. Your foreheads pressed together in an intimate and tender kiss.

He pulls away silently, giving you a nod, a gesture you return with a small smile before watching him exit the room, Enzo in tow.

---------------------------------

You make your way to the kitchens, stomach growling unhappily at having been neglected all afternoon. 

You pause under the doorway.

“I’ve seen you far too much today,” You sigh, feigning exasperation at the sight of Enzo shifting through the pantry for a meal to take to his room.

He stops his digging, turning to face you standing under the doorway before spinning back around.

“Vod’ika,” He greets, “Soup?” He holds a can up over his shoulder while reaching for a pot below the stove.

“No, thanks.” You say, approaching his station.

You pick up the canister of tomato soup, looking it over. “I doubt this tiny thing is even enough for just you.”

He glances down at the can in your hand. “I’ll do two then.”

You roll your eyes, what is it with these massive Mandalorians and not understanding proper nourishment?

“No, no.” You chide, “At least attempt to incorporate a healthy balance into your diet. Something with protein, maybe? Make a grilled porg-and-cheese melt to go with the soup. You can dip it in the broth, it’s delicious.”

His teal visor meets your face, shifting in uncertainty. “Can you do it?”

You sigh, “Fine.”

You get out the sandwich makings, opting to make one for yourself as well. You smear the bantha butter along four pieces of bread and grill them on a pan, layering sliced porg and cheese slices afterward.

You hear footsteps approaching the kitchen just as you’re pulling the finished sandwiches off the stove.

“Raul!” You greet with a smile, Enzo’s head whips in your direction. “We’re making sandwiches, want one?”

“You never sound that excited to see me.” Enzo declares.

You giggle at the accusation, sliding his sandwich onto a plate and handing it to him.

“Can I make you one, Raul?” You repeat.

He sighs, “No kid, thank you.” He steps forward and pulls Enzo’s plate from his hands, placing it away from him on the counter.

“Aye!” Enzo protests, wanting to transport his hot meal to his room so he could eat.

“We work for her,” Raul says, articulating the ‘we’ with an exaggerated hand gesture between the two of them. “You should be making her sandwich, not the other way around.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” You groan, looking between the pair of Mandalorians.

“Yeah, Raul,” Enzo mocks, a slightly more threatening air to his tone. He retrieves the stolen soup and sandwich, “Don’t be a di’kut.”

Raul’s helmet tilts slightly at Enzo’s words. Not knowing exactly what the word means, but starting to get an unsettling feeling in your stomach, you attempt to intervene, “Guys-”

Just a moment too late.

Raul clamps a hand on Enzo’s arm, jolting him back from trying to pass him. His hand smacks the plate out of Enzo’s hand, the glass shattering before it even reaches the floor, and the soup and sandwich splattering everywhere.

“I made that-” You frown.

Now with two free hands, Enzo grips Raul’s shoulders and shoves him back against the brick ovens, a rough grunt escaping Raul when his helmet meets the open face of a hanging pan.

“Please stop-” You yelp, wincing as Enzo’s fist uppercuts into the weak spot under Raul’s helmet.

For being half a head shorter and not as obviously built as his opponent, the Mandalorian in black and teal armor could sure hold his own.

Raul spits something out in mando’a, his words seething as he grabs onto the cuff of the smaller Mandalorians neck covering and throws him with little exertion to the floor. You hear the crunching of glass beneath Raul’s boots as he growls with a foot on pressing to Enzo’s chest in an effort to force him into submission.

“-I wish you guys wouldn’t always do this.” You sigh, not bothering to shout anymore over the sound of beskar scraping against beskar.

You slide from your seat, taking your sandwich with you as you circle around the room to avoid becoming collateral damage in the red Mandalorian’s show of dominance.

“I have never witnessed two people fight over something so stupid in my life!” You call out behind you, tearing a piece of your sandwich off and popping it into your mouth. Leaving the sound of metal crashing against stone behind you.

---------------------------------

You sigh when you finally reach your room, ascending the steps inside your chambers to reach the bedroom. You’re about to sit down on the bed when you catch sight of your reflection, covered in dust patches and knee stains from when you scrubbed against the floor.  You opt to take a quick shower instead, washing out all the grime gathered in your hair and skin.

It takes a couple minutes of harsh scrubbing for the water to stop running off your body brown. You take extra care to wash behind your ears and around your hairline, where dirt likes to plant itself firmly.

You turn the water off when the last few soap suds slide off your hair, wrapping yourself in a warm towel.

Taking a glance out the window, you note that the suns are already setting low on the horizon, and resign yourself to just staying in for the rest of the night.

You pull on a slip dress and wrap yourself in Boba’s robe, inhaling his comforting, musky scent. You reach for your book on the nightstand before lighting a couple of candles around the space, creating a warm and cozy environment.  

Satisfied with the aesthetic you set around you, you plop down on your bed and hope to get a few chapters into your novel before Boba gets home. Admittedly getting distracted a couple times by the stunning, shaded view out your window, exposing you to the last few moments of the captivating sunset.  

Boba comes home a little over an hour later, the glow in your chambers now reduced to only a few lamps and the candlelight spread about your room, but enough to alert Boba of your presence.

You hear his heavy armored footsteps trudging up towards the bedroom. You turn your head expectantly when he reaches the top. Helmet in hand, he pauses for a moment upon seeing you, admiring the image of your figure wrapped up in his robe and curled up with a book, before stepping forward and greeting you with a kiss.

He pulls back, gaze immediately flickering to the window, probably having noticed it immediately upon entering the room but choosing to greet you before acknowledging it.

You groan internally, knowing what's coming.

“Mesh’la,” He hums, frowning at the open curtains exposing you to the darkness of the Tatooine night. A few dim lights from Mos Eisley shining in the distance. He steps forward to slide the curtains closed, you don’t complain, only having wanted them open for sunset. “What have I told you, little one? It's not safe to have these open.”

“I only just opened them, Boba.” You fib a little, hoping to reassure him.

He nods, unconvinced, before beginning to strip himself of his armor. You observe him unlatch the beskar piece-by-piece, placing the armor neatly in its designated chest.

He groans loudly when he sinks down beside you, arms raising behind his head.

You giggle at his tired show of soreness, eyes still glued to the pages of your book. “Old man,” You mutter.

“Watch it.” He growls lowly. You glance a peek at him, eyes closed heavily against his cheeks.

You ponder your bravery for a moment, sticking your nose back in your book before impulsively whispering, “Relic.” You shriek, bursting into a fit of laughter as he suddenly reaches over and wrestles the book out of your hands, using it to plant a harsh smack on your behind.

“Boba Fett!” You squeal, hands moving to shield your bum as the vibrations from his deep laugh shake the bed.

Still holding the book up in a threatening manner, a childlike gleam in his eyes, he challenges you, “Apologize.”

You consider tossing another remark out, eyes darting to the book in his hand, before deciding against it tonight.

Instead, you hoist yourself up onto your knees, allowing his robe to slowly slide down your form and meet the duvet, revealing the thin slip below. His closed-lip smile increases a little, eyes tracing down your form, book lowering slightly in the space above where he lay.

You crawl forward until your chest hovers above him, noses nearly touching, “My apologies, my king.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He deepens the kiss with a groan, your hand reaching back to grip your novel, which he allows you to slip from his fingers.

You let him attack you lips for another moment before you pull away. Having gotten what you wanted, you shift back to your side of the bed, turning to the page you left off at.

A deep chuckle rumbles out from Boba’s chest. “Alright, little one.” He says, “I'll let you play your game.”

He turns the light out on his side of the bed, pulling the blankets out and over the two of you before moving to embrace your form, leaning close to whisper in your ear, “-this time.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you try to resist the smile tugging at your lips, though you feel his own brushing against your ear in satisfaction.

“Tomorrow,” He says, shifting a little above you, “I’m heading into Mos Eisley with Fennec.

“What for?” You ask, finally marking your page and setting it aside.

“Nothing,” He grumbles, “I need to put on a little show of...authority, for a few people.”

You hum, “No big deal?” You question.

“Just a local inconvenience.” He gripes.

You nod slightly, not requiring any elaboration. You suppose you’ll have to entertain yourself tomorrow. “Well then, maybe I’ll have Raul teach me how to wield a dagger,” You quip, a grin back on your face.

Boba huffs out an amused puff of air, “I’d much prefer you with a blaster.” He says, apparently taking the idea seriously, “You don’t need to be up close to use it.”

“We’ll see then,” You say, standing to turn out the rest of the lights.

A single lit candle from your bedside table casts a warm glow over Boba’s face, eyes closed and head still leaning back against your bed-frame pillow.

“Get back on your side,” You chuckle, nudging him as you crawl back into your space.

“M’fine here.” He mumbles, leaning further over onto your pillow.

You smile, his body encasing yours and his nose presses into your neck.

“I’ll be fine here too you know.” You mutter, referencing the day you’ll be spending without his guard. 

“You finally gonna stop worrying about me?” You tease, having received no response.

He shakes his head, snuggling deeper into your neck, “Never.”

---------------------------------

A/N pt.2:  So I wrote this and I thought it was great then I read it back a few times and realized literally nothing happened haha im so sorry 😅😅😅

Literally spent too many hours on this not to upload though so I suppose here’s a filler chapter my bad lots of love 🥰

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #boba!palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader #boba's palace

[vaguely-concerned]

TF x Graves, 2500 words, complete and utter fluff

Stifling another yawn against the back of my hand I glance over at the window, which shows only the flat dark of a moonless night outside, before turning my eyes back to the line of T.F.’s naked back.

I’m already undressed and perched on the side of the bed, watching as T.F. is still in the middle of his nightly ritual of hanging or folding his fine clothes up all properly and neatly, lest they, I don’t know, unduly crease somewhere they ain’t meant to or somethin’. Listen, I keep my clothes in a pile on the floor by the side of the bed, right next to the shotgun, both within easy reach in the case of a middle-of-the-night emergency skipping of town. Our priorities in these matters don’t really intersect much, but to each his own and so on.

I don’t know why I’m waiting for him to come to bed to lie down myself, exactly — my eyes are already making a spirited attempt at staying shut on me whenever I blink, I’m pretty sure I’d be out and snoring in about three seconds once I got settled — but my skin has that thin restless thrum all through it that I know from experience won’t be satisfied until he’s settled into place against me and besides, the view is nothin’ to sneeze at in the meantime. He stands there shirtless, belt unbuckled and hanging loose around his narrow hips, though the fastenings of his trousers are still done up. In the light of the oil lamp across the room he’s in a rare state of relaxed unselfconscious disarray, his hair grown out long enough again that it spills over his shoulders and down his back while he fastidiously fastens the cufflinks back into place on the empty shirt so they’ll be easy to find in the morning. As he finishes up with the cufflinks he sings to himself under his breath, a good-natured jaunty little tune I vaguely remember the Brick would sometimes break out once you got a couple of drinks in him.

The hum under my skin grows higher and keener.

Stretching an arm out I hook my fingers into one of his belt loops and gently pull him in by it towards the side of the bed, until he’s standing between my legs. It prompts a half-bemused noise from him, but he goes along easily — when I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my forehead against his belly he seems to catch on, though, a sound of amusement vibrating through his chest.

He slides his hand to the back of my neck, twining his fingers into the short hair there, thumb trailing back and forth along the hairline.

T.F.’s too damned scrawny to have much in the way of padding anywhere, but there’s the warm body softness to him here nevertheless, the sweet yield and shift of a living thing whose pliancy belies the supple strength beneath. I rest my cheek against the flat of his stomach and sigh, moving my hand at the small of his back in slow caressing circles.

“Come to bed already,” I murmur, too sleep-softened along the edges to worry overmuch about makin’ sense.

He chuckles, fingers stroking through my hair. “Well, I was on my way, but then I was waylaid by some deplorable fellow in the process. Hell of a thing.”

I grin and turn my face up to him, so that my chin is resting against his belly and my lips brush his skin when I talk. “Huh. Sounds like a real shady character. You want a trustworthy sorta guy to escort you safely the rest of the way?”

“With such dangerous reprobates skulking around in the area, that’s probably for the best,” T.F. nods somberly, fond amusement deepening his voice. He runs his thumb down the bridge of my nose. “Could I afford to hire the services of a strapping upstanding gentleman like yourself, though?”

I make a nonchalant sound in my nose, squeezing him closer against me for a moment. “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it, this one’s on the house.”

His thumb drifts down to rest at the upturned corner of my mouth as he grins back at me. “Hey, looks like it’s my lucky day.”

I kiss his stomach and lean back enough so I can start in on the fastenings of his trousers — not with any sort of heat behind it, there’s no hint of sex in the air, but in a weird way this is equally satisfying, the everyday-textured contentment of being close without any particular purpose, being the one to slowly render him naked in front of me for no other reason than that he lets me, his hands still smoothing patiently through my hair while I work.

Once I’ve got all the buttons sorted I run my thumb along the sharp edge of his hip bone until I can tuck it into the waist of his trousers and use it to tug them down. We get them about half-way down his thighs like that before we have to pause for him to shimmy out of them the rest of the way on his own, his hand resting on my shoulder for balance as he does the traditional one-legged hop to extricate his foot. Serves him right for only ever wearing pants that might as well have been painted onto him. I mean, not that I’m complainin’, mind.

“Whoa!” he says, laughing as he almost overbalances at the last hurdle, but my hand shoots out to steady him by the hip before too much disaster can be wrought. “Well, not the smoothest strip tease I’ve ever pulled off, sorry about the inconvenience.”

I nose at the newly revealed crease of his hip over the edge of his underwear. “Eh, that’s okay, if I actually wanted a proper show I’d just suggest a round of strip poker again and sit back and watch while you lose.”

“Oh, that’s a strange yet beautiful dream world you’ve made up for yourself there, Malcolm. It’s touching, really, the things the mind will do to protect itself from the truth. Positively — aah!”

T.F. jumps as I draw some of the skin of his hip between my lips and use them to nip sharply at it. His startled yelp turns into a snigger as I let go, possibly ruining the castigating effects somewhat when I brush my lips soothingly over that spot right after.

“Let that be a lesson to ya,” I say sternly.

“A lesson on what, that your mom was apparently half turtle?”

I grunt, still trailing soft kisses over his skin. “That judge in Piltover was right back then, you are an incorrigible menace to all decent and right-thinking people everywhere.”

“First of all, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Malcolm, thank you. Two, including yourself among the ‘decent and right-thinking’ feels like the invention of some fresh new form of fraud by way of imposture unfolding before my eyes, and it’s an honour. And third, that seems to me to be some very selective memory you have there, considering His Honour Judge Highton had some even more colourful words for you after you blew up the entire north wall of the court building breakin’ me out.”

“He might’ve been given to wearing a damn silly mop on his head, but you couldn’t fault him on his vocabulary,” I concede. Before that whole incident I’d honestly thought the wigs were some sort of practical joke the Pilties would play on gullible outsiders, but as it turns out no, if you get sent to jail in the twin cities they add the indignity of makin’ someone wearing a dead badger on their head break the bad news to you. It’s a strange ol’ world out there, alright. In Bilgewater, where people are much more sensible, the justice system basically boils down to the bounty board, or — if you’ve really managed to make a nuisance of yourself — a bunch of captains may call a temporary ceasefire with each other and go get your ass together. I’ve found that the risk of getting on the bad end of an unfair trial is about the same in both places, though of course the Bilgewater one tends to be harder to come back from if carried out to its fullest. I consider myself a bit of an expert in these things.

T.F. makes a thoughtful sound. “To be fair I don’t think anyone had ever given him cause or inspiration for profanity like you did.”

“Aw. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head before he straightens for long enough to work his second foot free as well, standing there in just the sleek silky underpants he somehow seems to have an endless fresh supply of wherever we go. (My money’s on some sinister underground ring of lingerie-oriented tailors across south-eastern Valoran, for the record; when it comes to secret societies the Noxians just can’t help themselves.)

“I do my best. Hang on just one moment, I’ll be right back,” he says and ruffles my hair before he turns around, which I would complain about except that the view is, as previously mentioned, impeccable, and I’m sleepy enough to be magnanimous.

After meticulously folding his trousers and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, T.F. moves over to the table across the room and extinguishes the oil lamp, then whistles under his breath as he produces a card from somewhere — he does this, seemingly from thin air and no matter how little he’s wearing; I prefer not to speculate too much about how, exactly — and lets a little magic into it so it gives off a low glow, only enough to light his way the short walk back across the room, ‘cause in T.F.’s world the stubbing of toes and smacking of shins against unexpected furniture in the dark is somethin’ that happens to other people. That probably says some things about him I’m not ready to go puzzlin’ out at this time of night, and that he wouldn’t want to have anyone go puzzlin’ about too hard in the first place anyway.

When I hold out my hand for him in the dark he smiles and takes it, twining our fingers together, and I use the hold to tug him in and deposit him, in a neat controlled wrestler’s roll held close against me as I lay down, to his side of the bed. He laughs again at that, a surprised delighted sound that edges dangerously close to a giggle but hey, I ain’t no snitch, so who’s gonna testify against him, huh?

The card ends up on the far side of his pillow after the tumble, still giving off a glow, enough to illuminate the bed and lend the shadows around it some warmth. It makes the bed seem a small cozy island, the rest of the world rendered a not-unfriendly ocean of darkness around it.

T.F. looks at me like the world’s most contented castaway, bourgeoning crow’s feet punctuating his smile on either side and fingers still linked with mine. His hair is mussed from the meandering fall onto the bed. If I were only fractionally less about five seconds away from fallin’ asleep, my body might start to get ideas about it. Well, tomorrow is always another day.

With the back of my free hand I brush some of his hair away from his brow, and he cranes into it like a well-pleased cat. Even with the blankets tangled around our feet and the not-quite-right positions we’ve ended up in, having tumbled into place rather than settled ourselves with purpose, everything feels warm and loose and comfortable, like I could fall asleep like this even with the decidedly odd angle my arm is at.

As if sensing that the drowsiness is about to claim me for real, T.F. brings our linked hands up to his face so he can press his lips to my scarred knuckles before he lets go, then reaches to pull the covers over us, taking a moment to tuck the blanket around my shoulder properly before snuggling under it himself, hooking his leg over my thigh as he settles into place. I shift until we fit together, the familiarity of how to rest against each other just right comfortable like an old and well-loved piece of clothing. On a sigh he rests our foreheads together, craning forward the tiny amount needed to brush our mouths together and humming contentedly when I meet him there. It’s a slow kiss, but it lingers, a dry sweet press of lips like one last spark sending the day off down into the gently drifting murk of sleep that’s about to claim me for a few hours.

When it ends — I don’t think either of us was really the first to pull back, at some point the kiss simply, in the way of snowflakes on tongues, melted into something different and less defined with the warmth — there’s a moment when my eyes can still fight against slipping shut. It’s weird, the way you can look at someone every day for years and still not feel like you’ve had your fill. T.F.’s sharp narrow face, his high pointy little cheekbones and mouth still curved with a smile as he watches me back — there’s something to knowing I’m gonna see all that again tomorrow morning that all the damn money on Runeterra couldn’t get you. And take it from me, from what I’ve seen of the world there ain’t a lot of things in this life enough money won’t buy. Stumbling across one of them long before we even knew what we had, by a stroke of little more’n dumb fucking luck… sometimes it feels like the biggest heist we ever pulled.

“Hey, Tobias?” I say, brushing the tip of my nose against his as my eyelids finally give up both the battle and the war and slide closed.

“Hmmm?” he says, cheerfully drowsy as well.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur, because I can’t think of any damn happier thing in the world to say to him.

He wraps his arms around me, his hand stroking meanderingly up and down the scar-crossed span of my back, fingers trailing over my skin with the perfect amount of firmness because he’s taken the time to learn exactly how much pressure it takes to make it comforting. As sleep starts pulling me under to calmer depths I tuck my head under his chin, so my face is pressed to the line of his throat and to his chest. He smells so nice, all warmly real and well-known like my own breathing.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees on a yawn, nuzzling at the top of my head and tightening his arms around me, just for a moment.

I've been trying to write stuff -- literally just anything, no matter how meandering and nonsensical -- to try to break out of a writer's block; it's not really working so far but at least I've got SOMETHING tangible to show for it at the end of the day, so, you know, uh... partial success I guess?? haha

The idea of T.F. having a judge somewhere out there who considers him the One True Nemesis of his career, J. Jonah Jameson style, even though T.F. barely even remembers his name, came from a wonderful conversation with @inversway, and the idea makes me laugh so hard every time I think about it.

ETA: Also put this on AO3, so I have somewhere to put these ficlets that isn't just tumblr! I'm grimly clinging on to this blue hellsite like a obstinate barnacle to the hull of the Titanic, but I do realize it's not the best place to archive uh anything lol

#tf x graves #twistedgraves #league of legends #my writing #been trying to live the philosophy 'it doesn't have to be good; it just has to be SOMETHING' #and from that I have at least learned that I don't necessarily think perfectionism was the main problem anyway lol #every little insight helps I suppose

[chibimyumi]

Earl Phantomhive’s outfit translated to 2020 fashion!

Dear everyone, as promised in this post, what about O!Ciel’s fashion, and in particular his pants?

I have “translated” O!Ciel’s fashion into what it would have looked like to his contemporaries.

Now, let us break down why O!Ciel’s amazing fashion would translate to this m0nsTo$iTY from top to bottom.

The Hair

This one is arguably the simplest. In the Victorian Era, no respectable individual was supposed to have any hair dangling before their faces. Frances is right...

Although O!Ciel’s design looks very cute to us, to his contemporaries his hair would have looked like a dead spider and seaweed decided to fuse together, and reside on his head...

Do we all now understand why Frances always brings a comb with her when she has an appointment with her nephew and his butler?

The Top

That the young lord’s clothes are historically inaccurate is perhaps very widely known within this fandom, but just how historically inaccurate are they?

Needless to say, 1880s men’s fashion was not as intricately designed as O!Ciel’s. The attires O!Ciel wears for special occasions and illustrations are in fact women’s walking suits (day time wear). One only needs to google ‘19th century walking dress’, and many images of authentic pieces will show up that would have been quite familiar in the Earl’s wardrobe.

Not only are the decorations extremely feminine, so is the silhouette. Our boii’s jackets often have this peplum that were very popular among Victorian women, for they both exaggerated the hips as well as optically shrunk the waist.

What should O!Ciel be wearing then?

Well... Victorian men’s fashion was not very exciting, so I am in fact rather happy Yana threw “gender fashion accuracy” out of the window, because my eyes like candy.

Victorian men’s wear are primarily divided into three categories: frock coats, morning suits, and lounge suits, in order of formal to informal.

Some of our young Earl’s clothes in the regular manga appearances resemble the frock and the morning suit in design, so they are SOMEWHAT accurate, albeit way too elaborately decorated for ‘proper’ men’s wear.

Like I said before in the announcement post, would O!Ciel have to dress entirely historically accurately, he’d have to be dressed exactly like Tanaka.

The Bustle...

As explained in this post and this post, the bustle is an absolute MUST and STAR in any late Victorian dress.

Indeed, the bustle is on many if not most of O!Ciel’s costumes in illustrations, but also something only women would ever wear... besides, the bustle alone would also only be half of the full skirt.

Hence, for this ‘translation’ I gave O!Ciel a half-assed denim skirt. Why denim? Well, there is not ONE type of skirt that is in fashion in 2020, but this look is decidedly very modern, so denim it is!

The Trousers

Now, probably the part you all have been waiting for! What's up with the young master’s staple shorts?

In the English upper class there has been this longstanding tradition that boys who had not yet undergone the ritual of ‘breeching’ would wear shorts from the age 2 to 8. After reaching the proper age, boys would then be awarded their long-awaited full-trousers as a sign of having survived early childhood.

That is the reason you also never see young boys of British royalty in full trousers nowadays still.

In fact, wearing full trousers before a boy had been ‘breeched’ was considered plebeian, because lower class boys had to help out with work, and could not afford to have their legs exposed.

So essentially, O!Ciel almost always being put in shorts is the 1880s equivalent of him wearing baby trousers adorned with some nice Minions™ or dinosaurs prints. It really does take away any and all weight from O!Ciel’s proclamations that he is no child, does it not? (≽艸≼)

The Shoes

Obviously men’s shoes would not have high heels, we all know that, so I will not waste any time on explaining the obvious. The heels however, are probably not even the worst culprit in making O!Ciel’s shoes historically inaccurate.

First of all, by the late 19th century, the main type of footwear for men were ankle boots for everyday wear, and (opera) pumps for evening wear. The low-cut shoes O!Ciel is usually seen wearing are actually more similar to what men used to wear one- to two hundred years ago.

Then secondly, the oh-so-beloved long boots. The boots worn by O!Ciel are actually exactly 1889 accurate, except of course that they would be ladies’ boots. Surely most Victorians would see the young Earl’s boots and wonder whether he stole his mother’s shoes.

What about men’s boots? From the mid Victorian Era on, half-boots and long boots were already very rare, and if worn at all, then only for sport-like purposes, such as hunting and horse riding.

For this ‘translation’ I considered giving him UGGs with cute bows or other ultra feminine lolita boots. However, as ‘long boots’ on men are essentially sport wear, in the end I settled with high heeled Not!All-Stars™ with the contract sign for logo, cuz WHY NOT.

Well, that was that! I hope you enjoyed this post as much as I enjoyed making it! I just LOVE redesigning and historical fashion 💗

MASTERPOST My Art  

MASTERPOST Furukawa Era Kuromyu

MASTERPOST Gender in Kuroshitsuji

MASTERPOST Analyses & Info

#O!Ciel #Ciel Phantomhive #costume #clothes #fashion #historic accuracy #historical fashion #Historic fashion accuracy #fashion translation #my art #fan art #fanart #fan-art

[jungshook69]

Love is a myth :: 03

DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t represent the members’ actions or the army’s actions in any manner it’s pure fiction. This is an original work, do not copy. The taglist is open if you want. Taglist is now closed.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K words

MAIN PAIRING:  musician! Yoongi X waitress! female reader

SIDE PAIRING/S: Jungkook X female reader ; Taehyung X female reader

GENRE: FWB! au ; Strangers to lovers! au

WARNINGS: Implied smut (Forgive me cuz I suck at writing it, no puns intended) ; Mentions of alcohol and smoking (I do not condone smoking) ; Profanity ; Mentions of infidelity ; Heavy angst ; Self loathing (Namjoon’s about to wack me in the head with his slipper) ; I apologize in advance if there’s any spelling errors.

SUMMARY: "You covered your bare form with the silk sheets beneath you, as you watched him walk out your door without a word." // "Love is a myth. All that existed between you two was pure lust." // "The last rule was if anyone of the two of you caught feelings for the other, the deal would be off."

SERIES MASTERLIST: Trailer » Meet the cast » Chapter #1 » Chapter #2 » Chapter #3 » Chapter #4

STATUS: Complete

It was a pleasant morning, and you thought it couldn’t go any better. At least that’s what you thought, before your luck was inevitably snatched away from you.

 You heard a gruff voice clear their throat, in close proximity to you, before they spoke up, “Y-Y/N?”

 You looked up through your round lenses, and your jaw dropped open at the sight. Your eyes roamed the man’s face, unwilling to blink. It took you a nice long 10 seconds, to find your voice, which still came out small and slightly wavered, “J-Jungkook?”

“Hi…” his soothing voice managed to mutter, his shocked expression mirroring your own.

 “Long time no see…” you say with a heavy breath.

 You observed his figure. His beautiful doe eyes were shining with the same sparkle as they did back when you both were lovers. His face had gone from being a bit boyish, or babyish as you liked to call it, to a bit more structured. His jaw had sharpened, although there were no visible wrinkles lining his face, except for some adorable smile lines beside his crescent eyes. His hair was far different from what is was back then. You used to call him coconut head, in owe to his soft brown hair that lay across his forehead. But now his hair was much longer, and a dark shade of black, lengthy enough to be easily pulled back into a man bun. His shoulders were broader and his body looked much more buff, and his arms were fairly big as compared to a few years ago. He was adorned in black trousers and a white button down, with the top 2 buttons undone, giving you a slight peak at the tattoo you had grown to love, on his right collarbone.

 “Do you mind if I take a seat beside you?” his melodious voice asked softly, contrary to his rough exterior.

 “Y-yeah sure…” you said, shutting your journal close and making room for him on the small park bench.

 You lay your hands across your lap, unsure of what to say next. But he saved you the pain and spoke up first, “How have you been?”

 “Good… you?”

 “Great…” he said his gaze fixed on the playground.

 “Still married?” you ask. You want to mentally slap yourself for letting such a question slip, before he interrupts your thoughts.

 “Yes… you see her?” he says pointing to the playground. Your eyes search for a female, perhaps the same height as Jungkook, but your eyes widen at what he says next, “You see that small girl with pigtails on the swing?”

 “Y-Yeah…” you manage to speak.

 “Her name is Hana, she’s my daughter.” He says letting out a deep breath.

 “O-Oh…” you didn’t know why you were surprised. He was married. It had been 6 years. Of course he had a child. You watched as the small girl giggled, as a woman with straight platinum blonde hair, a smile on her lips, stood behind the swing and pushed the little girl back and forth.

 “And that’s my wife… Sana.”

 “Wow… you got a whole family… nice…” you cringe at the words that left your mouth. You felt a twinge of envy. How did everyone around you have their life so put together? Were you the only one who would never settle down with a special someone? Were you only made to work and never love?

 “Not the family I envisioned, but none the less, a happy family.” He whispered to himself. “So… you seeing someone?” he asks.

 “Not at the moment no…” you speak, ashamed of your toxic lust-induced lifestyle.

 You share a moment of silence, both of you keeping your eyes fixed on the playground. “Y-You still where that?” Jungkook spoke up.

 “Huh?” you looked up to see him pointing at your fingers which were unconsciously playing with the band of your silver ring. “O-Oh yeah… umm… just— yeah I wear it… it looks cool…” you cringe in disgust at your word vomit, knowing he wouldn’t buy it.

 But he knew better, and didn’t question it further. You laid motionless as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You were mad at him. Infuriated even. He left you in the dust. But at the same time, you loved him dearly. He was the only one you could trust in this cruel world. He was the only real thing that happened to your young naïve 16 year old self.

 You immediately froze in your spot when you felt a warm touch of skin on the back of your hand. You looked down to see Jungkook’s tattooed right hand laying over your hand, which was on your lap.

 “I’m sorry Y/N, I’m sorry for doing what I did and hurting you.”

 Your eyes were glossy, tears threatening to overflow, as you fixed your gaze on the woman and the small girl in her arms, as they walked into the neighboring convenience store.

 “We weren’t meant to be…” was all you could muster out.

 “We were meant to be… I was a coward.” He says, his hand not leaving yours.

 “Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault, I pushed it too far, by planning to run away.” You try sounding cold and stern, but it comes out as a whimper.

 “The people were right…” he says, his finger absent-mindedly playing with the ring on your finger. “…the timing was wrong.”

 You control your rapid heartbeat as you feel a tear slip out from your right eye, staining your cheek, as the drop slid down the length of your face. You hear the loud piercing sound of his ringtone, before he picks up the call and puts the phone up to his ear, his hand never leaving yours. You hear the loud voice on the other end.

 “Baby, I got the diapers, I didn’t see you anywhere. Will you come to our car in the parking lot?”

 “Yeah, I’ll be there in 2 minutes.”

 “Okay bye baby!”

 “Bye.”

 You here the beep of the phone call hanging up as you feel his figure shift next to you. You gasp as his hand tightens his grip on yours. You swear your heart stops when you feel his other hand turns your shoulder to face him. This is the first time you’ve looked straight into his eyes, in the last 6 years. He looks at you with the same warmth and guilt, as his large hands clasp your tiny ones.

 “I missed you.” He huffs out.

 “I missed you too. But you have a family to get back to.” You sigh sadly.

 “I hope we meet again Y/N.”

 “I don’t.” you mutter out too low for him to hear. It was too painful even thinking about seeing him again.

 He stands up, his figure looming over yours, before you decide to do the same. He then leans in and wraps his arms around your waist, in an all-too-familiar manner, which breaks the last wall you’ve been holding up. You feel his breath skim the skin on your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. You feel his warm cheeks brush against your collarbones. You try to hold yourself back from surrendering and dropping yourself in his strong arms right then and there. He slowly backs away from you before you could do so, “Bye Y/N…” he says giving you a sad smile.

 You’re unable to form words, as your hands feel cold, needy to feel his warmth again. You watch his retreating figure, until he disappears behind the rows and rows of cars. You slam your journal into your sling and run back home as fast as your feet can carry you. You promised yourself, you would never let another man get to you. You’d never let another man, make you cry for him again. But you never expected the same man from your past, to break you a second time.

 //

 The first 10 minutes after you reached home, you just blankly started at the white wall in front of you. The next 20 minutes were spent with you cleaning up the mess after you broke a glass plate in anger. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You’d never been so devastated in the last 6 years. You’d learnt to control your emotions, and to not take love seriously. But when a certain someone had walked into your life for a mere 20 minutes, all of that had gone down the drain. You felt helpless. You felt powerless. How could a man have such an effect on you?

 You were on the ground sweeping a few remnant glass shards, when you heard a soft knock on the door. You opened the door to reveal a smiling Yoongi, a rare sight you would’ve teased him for, if it weren’t for the horrible morning you’d had. His smile immediately dropped on seeing your red eyes, concern washing over his features, “You okay?”

 “Yeah” you mutter out uninterested, walking back into your apartment. You watched him drop his phone and keys onto your shoe stand, as he took off his beanie placing it down, ruffling his soft hair.

 “I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to get an early dinner together, some friends from my college are meeting up. What would you like? Maybe ramen, ooo how about gimb—”

 “You can go without me, I’m not feeling too well…” you say trying to stop your voice from cracking.

 “You sure?” he asks again.

 “Yeah…” you say louder than you intended to speak.

 “O-Oh… ummm okay…” Yoongi says before you here the jingle of his car keys and the click of your front door. Yoongi wasn’t one to pressure people into doing things. He liked giving people space. As soon as he left, you let your tears flow. They were unstoppable. You were still wailing, as your form dropped to the ground, even though there weren’t enough tears to flow out.

 //

 It was 9 PM. Your eyes were puffy and your sinuses hurt from crying for the past 2 hours. Your head was throbbing and your empty bedroom was filled with the sounds of your sniffles. That was before there was a loud knock on your door.

 You slipped out of your bed, still dressed in your pajamas, as you made your way to the door. You peeped through the hole and saw Yoongi’s form leaning against the door frame. You opened the door and made sure to turn around immediately in a feeble attempt to hide your mess of a face.

 “Hey sorry to disturb I left my beanie here.” He said picking it up. His eyes narrowed as you walked back towards your bedroom. “You can close the door on the way out.” You say, failing to contain a crack in your voice.

 Yoongi notices and closes the door, with him still inside. “Y/N, seriously what’s wrong?” he asks.

 “Nothing, I just have a cold…” you sigh, your back facing him.

 You hear his consequent footsteps getting closer as his hand lands on your shoulder, whipping you around. His eyes widen, as he sees your puffy red eyes, and distraught face stained with dried tears.

 “A cold huh?” he says his eyebrows furrowed.

 “Yeah…” you say softly, sniffling.

 “What’s going on Y/N?” he says, his tone serious.

 “Why do you care? You’re my fuck buddy, not my counselor!”

 “I’m your friend, before any of that.” He says sternly, before he grabs your petite withering form in his strong arms for a tight hug. Your face collides with his firm chest and before you can overthink it, you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face closer into his warm neck. His hand threads through your hair as he whispers, “It’s okay I’m here…”

 //

 You woke up to the sound of a phone ringing off the hook. You were quick to realize that it wasn’t your ringtone. Your eyes fluttered open as you realized the position you had slept in. Your arm remained draped over Yoongi’s chest, and you were snuggled into the crook of his arm. You were leaning into him, while he had slept partially upright on your couch. Your legs were covered by a blanket, while Yoongi’s feet were propped up on the coffee table.

 It all came back to you. How you had cried onto his shoulder for the umpteenth time that night. How he had cuddled your shivering form and insisted to stay with you, afraid of leaving you alone. You carefully let go of his sleeping form, trying very hard not to wake him up. You reached over to see a phone call from an unknown number, and put his phone on silent. You checked to make sure he hadn’t woken up. You got up and pushed your hair into a neat ponytail. You blinked hard to get the remnant sleep out of your pupils, as you tried to decipher everything that happened yesterday. Yoongi had stayed over with you… why? It went against the rule you’d made in your agreement. You weren’t complaining though because you needed someone last night. And you were more than glad that it was Yoongi. You just didn’t take him to be the type to break the ‘cuddling’ rule.

 You cleared your mind of all these thoughts, brushed your teeth and took a much-needed shower. By the time you were out of the shower, in your work clothes, you found Yoongi awake, sitting upright on the couch, his head hung low, hands cupping the back of his neck. You slowly walked towards the back of the couch and laid your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs extending to press into the back of his neck. He visibly flinched, not expecting your presence, but soon relaxed under your touch.

 “I’m sorry, your neck must be hurting because of the uncomfortable position you slept in last night…” you say, with a guilt-ridden voice.

 “No it’s okay…” he hummed out.

 You make your way around the couch and sit next to him. Confrontation. It was the solution to every problem. “Seriously, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forced you to stay last nigh—”

 “I stayed… because I wanted to stay.” He says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the time?”

 “O-Oh… it’s 10 am.”

 “Don’t you have to leave for work in 10 minutes?”

 “We have to leave for work.” You say chuckling.

 “O-Oh… I was actually thinking of not coming in today… ya know… my back hurts and stuff…”

 You were suspicious of his stuttering but decided that you tortured him enough, and just let it slide. “Well I have to leave, you can take a shower if you want, you already know where it is, and please close the door when you leave, okay?” you say grabbing your purse and your coat.

 “Yeah sure… hey Y/N?” he says.

 You stop in front of the door.

 “Are you okay?” he says sincerely.

 “Yeah I am, thank you Yoongi…” you smile and leave for work.

 //

  While you were in your own little bubble, occupied at work, Yoongi, having showered and carefully locked up your apartment, was headed to a certain someone’s humble abode, on his day off. He stood before the wooden door, as he knocked, waiting for his doom residing on the other side of the door. The door opened to reveal a familiar female, long pink hair pulled into space buns, her lips chewing on a pencil.

 “Yoongi… didn’t expect to see you back here after a month… come in…”

 //

 “Actually I’m gonna make it quick” Yoongi says rubbing his palms together. “Where is Maria?”

 “Oh she actually had to turn up at work, they were understaffed today…” her pink-haired roommate said.

 “Oh okay thanks for your help.” He says leaving the doorstep, headed back to the restaurant. He walked in, and his eyes immediately searched for you. You were nowhere to be seen so he assumed that you were probably back in the kitchen. Then his eyes searched for a female with a short black bob, in uniform and spotted her at a table, close to the washroom. He walked up to her and tapped her shoulder.

 “Oh Yoongi, hey…” Maria said, surprised to see him.

 “Yeah hey, can we talk?”

 She smirked at his question, assuming that wanting to “talk” was code for a hook up. She latched onto his collar and pulled him discretely towards the washroom. Before Yoongi could protest she slammed him against the empty washroom walls.

 Yoongi never got to say, what he wanted to, what he had gone all the way to her apartment for. His mouth was clasped shut when Maria’s heavily-glossed lips landed on his own. He struggled to push her off, but before he could pry her off of him, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and a washroom stall door creaking open. He finally pushed Maria away and met your eyes, widened in shock.

 You stood there, horrified, as you watched Maria smirking at you, an eyebrow raised in a challenging manner. You looked over to see Yoongi panting, against the wall, his lips swollen and smeared with Maria’s red lipstick. You held your whimpers in, and merely walked, no more like rushed out of the humiliating scene.

 You walked out the back kitchen door and took in a deep breath. You calmed yourself down and did not allow any tears to flow. He was kissing her. So what? You were no one to decide who he kisses, much less sleeps with! You both had mutually decided upon staying anonymous about your personal affairs. Then why did it hurt? Why did it hurt to watch another woman lunge herself at that man? Why?

 Your thoughts were interrupted by Maya’s voice, “Hey ummm… the customers are starting to line up, we need your help.”

 “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You respond facing away from her.

 “Okay…”

 //

 Back in the washroom Yoongi watched you leave, his mind in utter chaos. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi asks in frustration, turning to Maria.

 “You were the one who wanted to ‘talk’.” She says scoffing.

 “Yeah I wanted to ‘talk’, literally talk.”

 “Don’t lie to yourself Yoongi. We’re both hot and we both obviously have a lot of sexual tension between us. What would it take for you to let go off her puny ass for once and give us another try?”

 “I already told you! When I slept with you a month ago, it was a mistake! We were both shit drunk!”

 “What does she have that I don’t?”

 “She has some god damn respect and dignity. She doesn’t just throw herself at me, when I say no. No means no. At least she respects my decision.”

 “Jeez what happened to you Yoongles? You were never like this… like a lost puppy following around that bitch Y/N.”

 “Don’t you dare call me Yoongles.” He says, his tone dead serious. “And look in the mirror when you call Y/N that.”

 “You’re just as fucked up as she is.” She says scoffing.

 “Just stay away from me. I’m never gonna come back to you and sleep with you. Give up already and find someone else to latch onto.” With that Yoongi leaves the washroom and exits the restaurant, feeling an unhealthy amount of guilt in his heart.

 //

 When you got absorbed into work, you couldn’t care less about Yoongi’s absence. But your eyes did drift over to the young gentlemen who was playing in Yoongi’s place today, and everytime you looked over, your eyes would drop down in disappointment of the person that met your eyes. Maria pretended like nothing happened and you went along with it. Confronting her would lead nowhere sensible.

 Soon it was night time, well more like early morning time, and you were walking down the dark midnight streets, Jackie and Mark by your side. You had all decided to walk to a bar down the street and have a few drinks before turning in for the night. You needed to drown your misery in shots, and were more than happy to receive an invitation to accompany your friends.

 “Y/N?” Jackie spoke up.

 “Yeah?”

 “Please don’t be mad…”

 “Oh no, what did you do?”

 “I observed that you sorta looked sad today. And I wanted to cheer you up…”

 “Oh no…”

 “I’m afraid to say it, but yes… I kinda reached out to a good friend of Mark’s and set you up on a blind date for tomorrow night.” She finishes.

 “What?!” you exclaim.

 “I’m sorry okay, but I thought you needed to brighten up a bit…”

 “First of all what were you thinking, setting me up on a work night? It’s Tuesday tomorrow for Christ’s sake!”

 “It’s the only time he was free! He has a busy schedule okay?” Mark defends, looking up from his phone screen.

 “Ohh Mr. businessman is busy. I hate boring people, I’ll pass.” You say rolling your eyes.

 “He’s a model… wait for it… for Gucci.” Jackie says, eyes shining.

 “Keep talking…” you said, suddenly interested.

 “His name is Taehyung. Age 24, same as yours. Aspiring to become an actor. Currently a model for Gucci. Also… he’s a god damn work of art.” Jackie says.

 “I should be jealous, but I can’t lie, he’s too pretty to be human.” Mark says pitching in.

 “Hmm…” you quietly think to yourself.

 “Please, just try it out once? Get out there, have some fun!” Jackie pleads.

 “Why the fuck not? YOLO right?” you say chuckling, heading to the bar, to drown all your obsessive thoughts.

 //

 Unlike waking up to your neighbor’s baby screaming loud enough to summon Satan like always, you wake up to a throbbing in your forehead. Your eyes scan your surroundings and finally focus on the clock on your wall. 11 am! You had to be at work in 15 minutes. You ran around your apartment, your brush in your mouth, one hand through the sleeve of your white button down, the other searching your dresser for your hairbrush.

 You were at work. Even though you were 15 minutes late, and looked as though you had just survived a hurricane, you were still present, and that’s what mattered. Luckily, Mark had taken care of inventory for you, so that left you with enough time to polish yourself in the restaurant washroom before the doors opened for business. The washroom brought back unwanted memories from a day ago, but you ignored those, and focused on fixing yourself up, trying to make yourself presentable enough to match the class of the restaurant.

 //

 You were in your pajamas, happier than ever, watching a really good kdrama, ‘Its okay not to be okay’, definitely recommend 10 outta 10. Your work shift had ended early. You all had gotten a call from the owner and manager Kim Seokjin, that there was gonna be an extermination. You couldn’t be happier as you relaxed into the comfort of your couch. It hadn’t been 3 minutes into the new episode, when someone knocked on your door. You groaned in irritation.

 “Just as it was about to get good.” You huffed out and approached the door.

 You opened the door to a rather dim looking Yoongi. “Oh hi… ummm… wassup? Were the only words you could form.

 “Can we talk?” Yoongi asks rubbing the back of his neck.

 “Sure come in…” you say stepping back and closing the door behind him.

 “I’ll get straight to the point…” Yoongi sighs. “What you saw, it wasn’t what you think happened.”

 “What’re you talking about?” you asked chuckling nervously.

 “You know exactly what I’m talking about Y/N.”

 “Oh that… yeah right…”

 “Listen, I just want to clarify that yes I did sleep with Maria a month ago, back when we never used to talk, when we used to ignore each other 24/7. But I haven’t slept with her since. What you witnessed today was me telling her to back off, but she kissed me without my consent, and you happened to walk in at a bad time.”

 You let out a huge sigh and folded your arms. “And why’re you telling me this?”

 Yoongi’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. To that, you poke again, “I don’t control who you sleep with or who you choose to date Yoongi. We had a deal. We don’t get involved in each other’s personal lives.”

 “Well I’m sorry if I seemed to be ‘involved in your personal life’ after we told each other something that I thought was personal to both of us.” He speaks out, in irritation.

 You looked down at your ring and remember how you had told him about your past. You remembered how you both had shared a moment, sitting at the piano, which reminded you of the fact that he had also shared his past with you. But you were scared, terrified even. You were scared to let someone close to your heart again, afraid of being left alone again. You were frightened that someone would finally get through the tough walls you’d put up around yourself, and steal your fragile heart, only to break it into a million pieces again. The pain was too much.

 “Well maybe we shouldn’t have shared that with each other!” you yell out without thinking twice.

 You heard nothing but silence on Yoongi’s end. It took a minute before he spoke up, “So you regret it huh?” his voice alarmingly calm.

 “I-I- I don’t know…” you say, unsure guilt settling in your heart.

 “Well that just about explains every fucking doubt I’ve been having about this relationship.”

 “That’s not wha—” you protest.

 “Save it.” He said sternly. “I made a mistake. I tried to get us to be friends. We should go back to our old ways. Just text each other when we’re needy, and ignore each other at all other times. Got it. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” He storms out of the apartment, slamming the door with a loud bang on the way out.

 You felt a tremendous guilt envelope your heart. You didn’t want things to go the way they did just now. He was never the issue. It was you. You were the coward who had commitment issues. And you didn’t want him to waste his time trying to get you to open up. This was the only way. You were never suited for love. It was always lust.

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[aadmelioraa]

eye to eye

aethelflaed x aldhelm, 1.6k, post s4, rated m

(inspired by this text post)

“We may yet settle the matter of the fyrd,” he says, taking the tone of a diplomat.

She raises an eyebrow, pulling him closer by his belt until they are pressed together again. “It is settled until I change my mind, Aldhelm.”

He takes the fistful of skirts she’s gathered and raises the hem of her dress to her waist. “You have not heard my full argument.”

“And what is your full argument, Aldhelm?” she asks, raising her chin.

He kisses her more harshly than before, his fingers digging into her naked hips, then presses his lips beside her ear. “I shall elaborate if you can promise to hear me out.”

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“We will reconvene later.” Aethelflaed rises from her seat. “Until we have received word from Winchester it does no good to waste our breath in debate. Ludeca, you will dispatch more scouts.”

The ealdorman bows his grey head. “Yes, my lady. I will bring you the news as soon as we have it.”

“Very well.” Aethelflaed surveys the rest of the Witan. The men who surround her each wear an expression of distaste, though the degree varies. “I know we have not yet reached a consensus, but I have confidence we will soon.”

And with a gesture, she dismisses the room.

Aldhelm remains, of course. His expression is more cleverly veiled than the others, but she knows his displeasure is greater.

“Aldhelm, I would speak with you.”

He nods. “Of course, my lady.” He keeps pace beside her as she walks towards her chambers.

“Will you maintain your silence now that we’re alone, or were you merely wary to voice your opinion to the Witan?”

“The discussion grew heated,” he replies. “I did not feel my voice was necessary.”

Aethelflaed frowns. “I admit, there is more dissent than I would like.”

“You do not need the approval of the Witan, Lady, but it is noble that you seek it.”

“Their approval has political utility. What I seek is your approval, Aldhelm, or at least a reason as to why you cannot grant it.”

She spares him a look as they continue on their way. His face remains as impassive as it had in the hall.

“I had hoped my support for your position would be evident,” he replies, forcing a smile.

“In public, yes.” She places a hand on her hip. “But we are now in private.”

“Not quite,” he replies, opening the door to her rooms.

Aethelflaed sweeps inside and immediately turns on her heel towards him. “You believe that I am wrong to delay.”

“I believe that it is uncharacteristically reckless of you,” Aldhelm replies calmly, closing the door behind them.

“Reckless? To refuse to ask more of Mercia than she can give?” she continues, taking a step nearer.

“The fyrd will gather, Lady, should you ask.” His posture is stiffer than she is used to seeing when they’re alone, and though his tone is steady, it lacks warmth.

“I will not ask, Aldhelm. It is not necessary. Not yet.”

“And when will it be necessary?” he asks, his eyes narrowed. “When there are enemies at the gates?”

“You have so little faith in our defenses?” she asks incredulously.

“It is not a matter of faith but of preparedness.”

“You doubt my ability to protect our people, then?”

This appears to rattle him. The muscle in his jaw jumps as he clenches his teeth. “You know that is not true.”

She crosses to her desk and leans back against it. “I don’t know how I’m to think otherwise, Aldhelm.”

He shakes his head as he follows, determined to maintain a low tone of voice. “The record speaks to your abilities, my lady.”

“But you do not trust in the record.”

“I trust in you,” he argues. “In the woman I have come to know as a capable leader.”

“Yet this knowledge does not reassure you that a delay is warranted.”

He does not reply, but clasps his hands before him and looks past her.

“We need more information, Aldhelm.”

“The fyrd can be sent home if we do not find a use for them.”

“I cannot ask that of them.”

One of his brows quirks up. “You cannot ask they be prepared to fight?”

“I will not abuse them in this way. When they are needed, we will summon them.”

Aldhelm clears his throat, continuing to avoid her gaze. “And what of you? The guard is divided between here and Tamworth, your position is vulnerable.”

“I don’t require additional protection, Aldhelm.”

His eyes flick over her. The mask has slipped and the narrow distance between them is suddenly charged with heat. Her pulse quickens, and she knows his pulse must be racing as well.

“I have you.” She lays a hand on his chest. “What other protection could I require?”

He inhales a sharp breath and looks away. “Flattery which we both know is unfounded will not serve to assuage my concerns,” he replies sternly.

“The fact that it has not assuaged them before does not mean it never will,” she teases.

One brow quirks up, but the intensity in his eyes does not dissipate.

“You are angry.” Aethelflaed realizes it as she speaks, her tone awed.

“I have been angry before,” he replies, laying a hand over her own as if to reassure her he is composed of the same flesh and blood she knows.

“Yes, but rarely at me, if ever.” She wrinkles the fabric of his tunic between her fingers.

He drops his hand. “My position is firm, as is yours. My feelings are irrelevant.”

“But you will support my decision,” she says, ghosting her thumb along his cheekbone.

He dips his head. “Of course.”

That, of all things, is the most irritating. She turns away, crossing her arms over her chest.

“My loyalty displeases you?” It is his turn to tease.

She shoots a glance back towards him. “Today it does.”

“You are unsettled,” he says. “It is tiresome, this waiting, and you are on edge. We are both on edge.”

She draws her lower lip between her teeth and turns to face him fully.

He accepts her wordless invitation and takes her by the waist, backing her against the desk. She cocks her head as she looks up at him, watching the spark of hunger in his eyes grow.

“Perhaps we can bide our time in a more pleasant way,” he says in a gravelly tone.

“More pleasant than arguing?” she asks, her tone a mockery of his.

He huffs a laugh as he presses a kiss to the underside of her jaw, and for a time no further words are necessary. His touch is heavy as his arms tighten around her back, a welcome reminder that his hands will always be at her disposal.

She turns to lean over her desk, feeling him pressed against her, aching for the tension between them to mount before it’s released. But as she raises her skirts, he pulls away, leaving cold space at her back. She turns to face him, mouth open in disbelief.

“We may yet settle the matter of the fyrd,” he says, taking the tone of a diplomat now.

She raises an eyebrow, pulling him closer by his belt until they are pressed together again. “It is settled until I change my mind, Aldhelm.”

He takes the fistful of skirts she’s gathered and raises the hem of her dress to her waist. “You have not heard my full argument.”

“And what is your full argument, Aldhelm?” she asks, raising her chin.

He kisses her more harshly than before, his fingers digging into her naked hips, then presses his lips beside her ear. “I shall elaborate if you can promise to hear me out.”

She loosens the waist of his trousers. “I give you my word.”

He wastes no time in steering her towards the bed and she falls backward with a laugh. This level of passion—is it passion?—is not a consistent hallmark of their lovemaking.

His expression remains focused as he hovers over her, his length pressed against her thigh. She takes him in hand, watching with pleasure as he loses control of his expression briefly. Then he begins to tease her with his fingers, and she is the one to grow distracted.

“I agree with you that the fyrd should not be called unless necessary.” He presses a kiss to her collarbone, then trails his mouth up her neck. “But we can only delay so long. Our enemies may be here before our allies, and it will take time to gather the men.”

“A reasonable objection,” she murmurs, roving her hands down his back and arching her own as he continues to circle her bundle of nerves with his fingers. “What do you propose?”

“A compromise,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, entering her and beginning to gently thrust. “You will allow me to summon the men if we have not received word by this evening.”

Aethelflaed smiles, syncing her breath with his and angling her hips to deepen the reach of his movements. “I believe that is a compromise I can support. How will the Witan respond?”

Aldhelm tilts her face upward to kiss her. “The plan will have their support as well.”

“You are very confident in your assessment,” Aethelflaed gasps, wrapping her leg around his waist.

“In this case, it is convincing the Lady of Mercia that demands the bulk of my attention,” Aldhelm replies, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

Aethelflaed’s breathless laugh comes just before she does. Aldhelm withdraws and spills into his hand, then falls beside her. He brushes the hair from his forehead, the sheen of sweat having just begun to form on his brow, then turns on his side towards her.

She turns towards him too, breathing deeply. “You have convinced me, Lord.”

He rests his hand on her hip, her nakedness still exposed. “You will send for the fyrd this evening unless we receive good news?”

She nods and edges closer.

He closes his eyes. “You would have done that regardless, would you not?”

She bites back a laugh. “I wasn’t sure until I heard your full argument.”

“A level of caution I can appreciate.” He draws her to his chest and noses her hair.

“And what of your anger?” she murmurs.

“Strangely, I find it has dissipated.”

She presses a kiss to his clavicle. “How odd.”

#the last kingdom #aethelflaed x aldhelm #aethelflaed #aldhelm #tlk fic #aldlflaed #kat writes

[the-fae-folk]

After eating they were led to a room with stone pools filled with steaming water warmed from some natural spring. The pools were decorated with tiles that formed images of trees and flowers and wandering deer. Noticing Sam’s slightly red face, Ardri smiled and turned away to give him privacy. Humans were very odd with their concepts of modesty. Once the dust had been washed away they found that new clothing had been set out for them and that their other clothing had been taken away, possibly to be washed. Or burned, Ardri thought to himself. He hoped the Autumn Court wouldn’t go that far, the human clothing had been comfortable. But some Faeries simply refused to have anything to do with any humans or their things. Instead Ardri donned the loose fitting grey trousers and the slate blue tunic that was incredibly soft. At his waist he was given a leather belt with a brass buckle that was ornately designed to be in the shape of an inward spiral. They had also left him a cloak of some black material. When he lifted it he gasped softly. It was woven entirely of shadows, a rare gift. It would allow him to walk in darkness and shade where the eyes of most could not catch sight of him if he didn’t wish them to. He would assume it was a gift and not a trade, because he had nothing such as this to offer in exchange, though he would have to find some token to give to their host in thanks. Vaguely he wondered if the fae of the Autumn Court had seen the cloak he’d worn before and decided that he must be given one to replace its loss. When Sam coughed slightly to indicate that he was finished dressing, Ardri turned around. Sam was wearing a tunic as well. Soft reds and golds were mixed in with various shades of brown and the occasional hint of green as patterns followed the hem and sleeves of the tunic. The belt round his waist boasted of a brass oak leaf, and his trousers were a soft earthy brown. He looked, good. Handsome even. Like a prince of the Folk. A smile on his lips and his hands spread out in a “what do you think?” gesture. Ardri turned towards the door to hide the blush that had begun creeping up his cheeks while admiring Sam. “You look well. We should hurry. The Lord of Autumn is waiting and we do not wish to be rude.” Sam fell into step beside him, and it astounded Ardri how easily he seemed to adapt to Faerie. How comfortably he seemed to fit in to Ardri’s life, as if they had always traveled this way. “Why does everyone do that?” Sam asked curiously. “Call them by the titles. Don’t they have names?” Ardri shook his head. “The rulers of the four seasons don’t have names. Nobody can remember why, but my mothers always thought it must be because of how powerful they are. As for everyone else, names are dangerous to give out. Not as dangerous for us, but still important. I give my name freely, but that’s because I was given gifts of magic by a creature in a well to ensure it can’t be used against me. I didn’t give your name to Nod or our host because then they would have power over you, it’s best if you think of a suitable name to go by while you’re among other Folk here. Some, like Nod, are under the protection of powerful people and don’t mind if we know their names. It’s... a very complicated part of our culture.” Their host promised to have places for them to sleep upon their return, and Ardri thought again about what token he might give to this Elf. Nod had come again to lead them on. Past the city to where the forest closed in on the high ornately carved stone walls decorated with their repeated image of seven entwined blossoms, for the Empire that had fallen. Sam stopped short once, his mouth agape at the sight of the enormous turtle which bore the city of the Autumn Court on its back. But he ducked his head in embarrassment and hurried after when Nod made a noise of impatience. Ardri gave him a smile, and thought to himself that they ought to wander and see the sights once the others had joined them, so that the humans could safely see some of Faerie’s loveliest sights. It wasn’t to the turtle which Nod was leading them, but down a path, and not a great road either. A half overgrown and forgotten pathway that had once wound about the woods was where he took them. The Empire had been known for its roadways, connecting all of its great cities and richest towns. But this trail must have been older, long forgotten once easier ways were made. Ducking beneath a branch that hung out over the path, Ardri spotted a low stone building hidden between the trees. Another shrine. It was overgrown and had probably been abandoned by whatever Fae had once made it, or claimed it as their own. But there was someone there. Someone kneeling upon their right knee at the little shrine. As Ardri held the branch aside for Sam, he got a better glimpse of the human, for it was a human. A middle aged man wearing a black cassock and a little white cotton band that showed at the front but was mainly tucked beneath his collar. The shrine itself had been filled with candles, all flickering softly in the growing twilight. And the man appeared to be speaking softly to himself as he fingered a kind of chain with little knots and wooden beads. A brief snatch of what he was murmuring made its way to them as they were approaching. “Hail, holy Queen, mother of mercy, Hail our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To you we cry, poor banished children of Eve; to you we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.” Was it a cry for help? Who was he asking? This man wasn’t dressed at all like any of the humans Ardri had met in his brief time to the human world, and he certainly didn’t seem to be suffering in any way that they could see. And where was the queen he was speaking to? Ardri looked to Sam, hoping for some kind of clue as to what to do. Sam was looking surprised. “That’s a priest,” he whispered to Ardri, clearly not wanting to interrupt. The priest’s voice lowered, obviously having noted their presence, and Ardri could no longer hear his words. A priest, that made sense. This must be a prayer of some kind or a ritual for this man’s deity. He had called the Queen an advocate as well as holy, so some figure who petitioned their deity? From the stories he’d always heard, humans had all manner of strange customs concerning their gods, rites and rituals, prayers and sacrifices. Some even tried to worship the Folk, though that never lasted. After a moment the man appeared to have finished praying because he stood up and turned to face them. It was then that Ardri saw the item he held very gently in his other hand. It was the Crown of Autumn. Silver entwined with hawthorn twigs, leaves of aspen and blackthorn, and rubies as deep and red as blood. “They told me you would be coming,” said the man with a calm smile. “I’m glad you arrived safely.”

#fae #faerie #ardri #sam #shrine #crown of autumn #the lord of autumn #priest #rosary #prayer #the deep woods #empire of the seven blossoms

[queenxxxsupreme]

#11 from the fluff list with Geralt please???

Prompt-”Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

A/N: I’m not too sure about this but I’m pretty positive I love writing happy/soft Geralt :)

***

“By gods, look at you.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.” You muttered, tugging the material of your dress up. It was rather low cut and the corset you wore underneath it was impossibly tight. 

There was a ball you, Jaskier, and Geralt had been invited to. Together, you had rid the kingdom of a curse placed on its people by a sorcerer. The curse made one person each night go mad and slaughter dozens and dozens of people. Whoever was nearest to the cursed would be sure to die.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning.” Jaskier’s blue eyes flickered from your toes to your head. “Doesn’t she, Geralt?”

The witcher had been watching you with hooded golden eyes. 

He hummed in reply, looking away so that he didn’t make you uncomfortable. Your eyes found him and you took in his appearance. His outfit consisted of dark gray trousers and a matching jacket. Beneath that jacket was a lighter gray tunic top that wasn’t completely laced up at the top.

“Look at you.” You couldn’t help but grin a little as you admired his physique. “The gray compliments you well, Geralt.”

He rolled his eyes at you but you saw the way the corner of his lips turned up just a little.

“This corset is squeezing the absolute shit out of me.” You grumbled, messing once again with the bust. 

“Well, you look lovely. You aren’t so intimidating dressed like a normal woman.” Jaskier began to walk on one side of you while Geralt was on the opposite side of you.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, Jaskier.” You sighed out.

“I didn’t mean it like that, love! Just that-Just-You-,”

“That I look normal now and usually I don’t?”

“Don’t take any offense to him.” Geralt said, a sly grin coming to his lips. “Everything intimidates him.”

You chuckled, briefly looking to the witcher out of the corner of your eyes.

Jaskier scoffed.

“Everything does not intimidate me!”

“How long do we have to stay at this shitty thing?” You asked Geralt.

“If it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be going.”

“Then why the hell are we going?”

“Because I want to.” Jaskier looked over at the both of you.

Your eyes widened as you met the bard’s gaze.

“Because you want to go? Why can’t we leave you to go by yourself? You’re a grown man.”

“The last time we tried that, he started a riot and nearly burnt down a castle.” Geralt sighed out, pushing the doors open. 

You stepped into the ballroom and immediately felt your stomach twist up. It was crowded with people in ridiculously expensive and colorful outfits. 

“I wouldn’t mind him burning this one down.” You muttered, turning your head to look at Geralt. He met your gaze and you could tell he agreed with you.

“It will be fun!” Jaskier pushed his way between you two, throwing his arm around Geralt’s shoulder and his other arm around your waist. Geralt shrugged Jaskier’s arm off of him with a disagreeing grunt. Jaskier let you go and turned to face you two. “Please, guys? Just try to enjoy yourselves.” He clasped his hands together like he was praying.

“We’ll try.” You sighed, giving in to his pretty blue eyes. “But I can’t promise we’ll enjoy it.”

“That’s all I ask, you gorgeous woman.” Overcome with excitement, Jaskier clasped your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. Then he moved like he was going to do the same to Geralt but gave it a second thought when the witcher made a noise that sounded like a growl. “Right. I’m going to go mingle with the crowd.”

You sighed as you watched the bard leave. 

“Twenty minutes.” Geralt looked away from Jaskier and began to lead the way around the outside of the room. 

“What?” You furrowed your brows, following him close.

“That’s how long it will take for him to get into trouble.”

“Geralt of Rivia!” Someone called the witcher’s name, taking his attention. 

***

You found yourself sitting next to Geralt  at a table full of men. Apparently Geralt knew one or two of the men so that was where the two of you settled. You’d been fending off drunks, either glaring at them until they looked away or pretending not to speak the language they spoke. 

Geralt noticed and found it amusing when a man would walk up to you, thinking he had the courage to make a move on you. The second he’d spit out some shitty flirtation, you would threaten him.

After the sixth man moved away from you like a cowering dog, Geralt turned his attention away from the dull conversation he’d unwillingly been a part of.

“I’ve never seen so many men flock to you.” He brought his mug of ale up to his lips. “Usually they’re fleeing.”

“There’s a reason I don’t wear dresses.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your knees. “Because men are pigs.”

Geralt nodded his head, silently agreeing with you.

Your eyes flickered around the room out of boredom. You spotted a group of ladies sitting a few tables away from you. They were staring at Geralt and whispering to each other.

“How would you react if all the women in this room gawking at you threw themselves at you the same way the men came at me?” You asked out of curiosity, turning your head to look at the witcher. He met your gaze, an amused smile faintly crossing his lips.

“I’ve never had women throw themselves at me.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that.” You chuckled, taking a sip of your ale. 

Geralt turned a little more towards you and tilted his head to the side. 

“And why not?”

“Because you…. You have that look.” You shrugged your shoulders, tearing your eyes away from him. “You’re handsome but in a dangerous way. Most women have never known a life outside of their villages. It’s boring and tiring. They see a man like you, rugged and…. brutish and they think he can add some spice to their life.”

“Rugged and brutish.” Geralt repeated, looking down at his mug. It was nearly empty. He fell silent for a moment, thinking about what he should say next. “Are you flirting with me?”

Your cheeks instantly flushed as he met your gaze. You could see the twinkle in his eye that was as rare as a golden dragon. He was enjoying the conversation you two were having.

“You finally noticed?” You teased, deciding to play along to his game. 

He chuckled and placed his mug on the table. The sound was deep and quiet but it still made your heart soar. 

“I meant that in a handsome way.” You added, smiling just a little when you saw the corner of his lips turn up. Any trace of a smile was quick to disappear. 

“Are you included in most women?” His question was spoken without a playful tone. He was genuinely curious. 

You held his gaze, unable to look away from the stunning pools of amber. 

“I-I suppose I am.” You admitted. “When you came along, you saved me from a slow death.” 

You first met the White Wolf three years ago in a village just outside of Ard Carraigh. He was passing through with Jaskier and they stopped to stay at the inn your father ran. When the inn was overrun by a mob of villagers who didn’t like the idea of a witcher staying in their town, you were quick to defend Geralt, putting yourself between the pitchforks, axes, and torches of the mob and Geralt and his sword. 

Geralt said nothing to what you’d told him. Instead, he chose to watch you for a while. You looked away from him and brushed your fingers over your mug. 

“Living in that village was boring as hell. I’d surely die from lack of entertainment.” You joked. 

“Y/N.” He said your name with such a tenderness that your heart raced. You turned your head to look at him just in time for his lips to meet yours. 

You were shocked at first but quickly returned the kiss, bringing your hand up to hold his jaw. His lips were soft but firm against your own. His nose brushed against yours as he pulled away, lingering close to you as if he didn’t want to pull away entirely. 

You found yourself staring into his honey eyes. You smiled at him as you shifted in your seat, leaning back into your chair. 

Geralt did the same, his eyes flickering around to see who all had witnessed the kiss. A few looked in your direction while others whispered. He could hear his name fall from a handful of mouths. It was expected though. Many people spoke of him, whether it be with good or bad intentions. 

You bit your bottom lip, feeling antsy. You wanted to feel him against your lips once more. 

You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes, hoping to steal a glance at him. Little did you know he was doing the same. He smirked just slightly, only enough so that you’d be able to tell.

“What did I miss?” Jaskier asked as he sat down across from you two. 

You shook your head, unsure that your voice would even work. Geralt also chose to remain silent. 

“What?” Jaskier’s smile grew. He could see that something had happened between you both. Your cheeks were flushed, which was not something that usually happened. “What did you do? Which one of you did it?”

“Jaskier.” You gushed, hoping he wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. 

“Geralt, you beauty!” Jaskier clapped his hands against the table as he stood up. “You finally kissed her, didn’t you?”

“Jaskier.” Geralt spoke the bard’s name through his teeth.

“And to think that you two wanted to ditch this.” Jaskier shook his head. “Thankfully, I talked you into staying-,”

“And you’re about to talk us into leaving if you don’t keep your voice down.” You cut him off. You didn’t want everyone in the entire room to know what had happened. It would just spark gossip. 

“Okay.” Jaskier put his hands up in surrender. “I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.”

“As long as you let me make this into a ballad.”

“Jaskier!”

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#geralt of rivia #geralt #the witcher #geralt x reader #ask #oneshot #henry cavill #requests #queenxxxsupreme