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xi-chan · 9 days

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sunday brainrot will not leave me ALONE just thinking abt his little "triple faced gods blah blah tell the truth" AURRRGGHH need to be interrogated by him SO BAD

omg yes

I imagine a scenario where you were his little insight spy without your knowledge and he‘ll use the Harmony to coax the information out of you. But this time- he was jealous of someone he didn't know.

i‘m completely normal about this man I swear

Clematis

pairings: Yan!Sunday x reader warnings: Yandere, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Reader referred to as „Angel“, god complex Sunday (?)

it was supposed to be a simple meeting with your loving boyfriend.

when he requested your presence, you initially thought he was stressed because of work again and that he needed rest- that he needed you, as usual.

after bidding farewell to the shopkeeper you were currently with, you made your way towards the Reverie Hotel. Some Family members on the way recognized you and gave you a small smile or a simple bow- mostly due to the fact that you were Sunday‘s lover. You reciprocated the kind gesture and gave a quick smile as well, even after having the strange feeling of being watched.

once you were on the plaza in front of the Reverie, you noticed one of Sunday‘s crows on one of the fences, watching you closely. They have always been around the city and Sunday told you to simply ignore them, so you did. But today, they seemed restless; when you left Dewlight Pavillion, when you walked around Golden Hour, when you bought some snacks from a Pepeshi Person- at least one crow was watching you.

opening the doors to Dewlight Pavillion, you were expecting to see Brina behind the reception counter greeting you, but instead, you were met with utter silence- as no one was in the room. A hint of uneasiness washed over your body as you continued to traverse through the Pavillion. Even in the halls, where there were usually some guards, there was silence.

you were filled with worry before rushing towards Sunday‘s office, flinging the door open- only to see him stand leisurely in front of the bookcase.

after hearing you entering, your lover turned around and gave you his charming smile.

„Good, you‘re here, my dear.“ he said, one hand behind his back and the other directing towards an armchair. „Please, sit.“ you slowly shook your head as you turned to the door again, stuttering over your words. „The… e-entire Pavillion- there‘s.. no one.. i-is everything okay?“ as you turned back to Sunday, he gave you a reassuring smile. „yes, everything is fine, Angel. Please, calm down and sit.“ you shrugged before listening to your lover, sitting down. The uneasy feeling in your stomach did not falter one second, but you were telling yourself that you were safe as long as Sunday was there.

„Dear, you seem more stressed than I was a few moments ago. Shall I ease your worries first before I tell you mine?“ you let out a long exhale as you nodded your head. Usually, you were the one calming Sunday down after a long day; stroking his hair, cleaning his wings, kissing his temple- he always said he appreciated these small gestures and you loved to do them.

sunday did the same to you right now. He brushed a few hairs out of your face, held your cheek in his palm and kissed you lightly on the forehead, his wings engulfing your head softly. your body and mind had calmed down by the time he retracted his face and when he smiled again you mirrored it. However, when you looked closer, his smile wasn‘t genuine and behind, there were his crows- their eyes focused on you.

„Have you calmed down? May I now share my troubles with you, Angel?“ he asked like usually and without hesitation, you nodded. „Of course.“

„Perfect. Now, there have been some… ‚issues‘ inside the Family‘s network. The Bloodhound Family has been trying to apprehend a stowaway, and please, don‘t take this the wrong way when I say this,“ the feeling in your stomach only increased and you didn‘t like it.

„you meet a lot of people everyday, and the stowaway was one of them, we believe. You wouldn‘t mind telling me about that, would you?“ Sunday had his hand on your cheek and stroked it softly with his thumb, the fabric of his gloves smooth on you skin, but your breath hitched as his hand traveled to you chin, holding it.

"I'm afraid I don't know a-anything." you tried to sound normal, but the small stutter gave you away, yet Sunday only chuckled. "I don't need any of your lies today, love. My patience has been running thin these past few days." his charming smile was replaced with a small frown and your body was betraying you. You tried to compose yourself, but it was futile.

"I only need truths." Sunday said and his whole demeanor changed.

"Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, please sear their tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that they will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows."

your whole mind was shooting blanks as you felt an unfamiliar dizziness wash over you. The whole room was becoming too colorful, and your lover's face became distorted as he made you look at him again.

"I apologize for the circumstances, but you gave me no choice. Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed." his words were echoing in your ears and you finally realized the situation you were in.

The crows, the empty pavilion, the Harmony: he was watching you.

"Who were the people you met two days ago on the Dream's Edge?" he asked and multiple memories flooded your mind. At this very moment, you were scared. Scared at your Lover. You didn't want to answer but a terrible headache took your mind off the idea.

"...not many, I remember... Chadwick, Colleen, those small birds... and that one... man?" the headache eased once you answered but the Harmony's influence was still present.

"What man? What was his name? What did his appearance look like? What did the two of you talk about?" you wanted to get up from your seat and run away, return to reality- but you knew that your legs had no ounce of strength.

"I don't remember his name, but it was something with A... Adan, I believe...and he had blonde hair, I think... with brown eyes." the room was getting more and more blurry with each second you didn't answer, but the loss of equilibrium made even your memories hazy. "We talked about the view of the Dreamscape... yes, that's it.." Sunday hummed unsatisfied as he heard your answer, clicking his tongue.

"What else? What else did you talk about?"

"I don't remember...! My head hurts..." Sunday held your face in his hands and made you look at him. His hands were soft to the touch and a worried smile was plastered on his lips. "I really didn't want to do this, Angel." he cooed, his face close to yours. "You know I only want the best for you, don't you?" those sweet words made your heart melt as you remembered the times where he took the blame if you accidentally ruined some of the Family's documents or when you broke something in Dewlight Pavilion.

"Angel, I gave you everything, and I can give you even more- I can give you everything that exists in the world, just tell me what I want to know." your breath hitched before he placed a soft kiss on your lips and you think you lost your mind after everything was hazy. Your memory, your view, the voices- everything became duller and duller by the second. Sunday asked something and you answered, but you can't comprehend what you said. You only felt his hand graze your temple before darkness engulfed you and you blacked out.

the soft humming, a calming scent, and a damp towel on your forehead welcomed you when you regained consciousness. as you slowly opened your eyes, a feather before your eyes greeted you and the humming stopped.

"You're awake. I was afraid you wouldn't wake up today." Sunday said softly, his hand on yours, stroking it gently. "...what?" you groaned as you fully regained consciousness, the headache returning tenfold. The damp towel was replaced by a hand, and you heard some whispering from Sunday.

"...oh, Triple-Faced Soul, may their fatigue vanish completely and let the harmony heal their mind."

you sighed as your body and mind calmed down, your worries from before disappearing. "Sunday...? what happened?" you asked when you saw his face full of worry.

"Nothing that needs your concern, Angel. Please, rest up and let me take care of you. Will you allow me?" you nodded at his gentle words and he hummed contently. His hand grazed over your arms as you felt more at ease before slowly falling asleep again. Sunday continued humming, even as he turned his face to his crows.

"Inform someone from the Bloodhound Family of this individual, and let them apprehend this... "stowaway." the crows disappeared in a blinks eye before he faced you again. The frown turned into a small smile again as he bent down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"No one is allowed to 'flirt' with what is mine."

A/N: hehahehafuu I'm going feral because of this man

#sunday #honkaistarrail #honkaistarrail drabbles #hsr #sundayhonkaistarrail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail Sunday x reader #Sunday hsr x reader #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n

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starrierknight · 5 months

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𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞

For you to like him, he doesn't need to be perfect—but he's pretty damn close to it.

MASTERLIST | AO3

wc— 3k

pairing— gn!reader x gojo satoru

cws/tags— acquaintances/flatmates to lovers, fluff, suggestive themes, satoru being obnoxious, ft. satoru’s happy trail, is it still counted as “body worship” if this is sfw

The silent hold of the wee hours left you with far too much to think about, if you do say so yourself. In this nocturnal solitude, you found yourself compelled to confront not only your thoughts, but the echoes of loneliness that reverberated through your cavernous chest, leaving your heart to tremble in the corner. The unrelenting grip of weariness rendered you captive in the cocoon of your bedsheets, their tendrils entwined with the threads of your restless musings.

Despite being a steadfast denizen of these late-night hours, tonight was different—an occasion when the relentless routine of surrendering to the purgatory of your bedroom had worn away at your resolve. The solace offered by the quietude was undeniable, and the shroud of darkness, a gentle balm for tired eyes—though not for weary heartstrings.

As you rose, the floor beneath your feet felt cool, sending a shiver through your body, and the door swung open soundlessly. The corridor awaited, a narrow passageway obscured by conspiring shadows so that you had to place a hand on the wall, trailing your fingertips over the plaster to find your way. The darkness here was thicker, pressing against the walls, and the only companion was the soft exhale of your breath.

A faint light spilt from the slightly ajar door, a beacon that prompted you to squint as you approached. It became evident that Satoru must have left the lights on, a small yet comforting revelation. Upon opening the door, the kitchen burst into luminosity, momentarily dazzling you as your eyes adjusted.

Satoru had his back turned to you, doing the washing up, shirtless. His back was broad, as if carved out of marble, and toned to perfection. Though his face was obscured, he carried himself with a distinct air of confidence that only those of a certain beautiful visage have—all movements were deliberate, executed as gracefully as could be. He didn’t respond to your presence, nor did he turn around, continuing to wash the dishes as the gentle slosh of water and clatter of plates filled the room.

Your gaze swept across the kitchen, a subtle amusement dancing in your eyes as you took in the scattered evidence of Satoru's attempts to corral the week's accumulation of clutter. The peculiar surge of productivity in the late hours hinted at a shared restlessness, a tacit acknowledgement that sleep eluded him just as it did you.

Returning your attention to Satoru, a quiet fascination seized you as you observed the rhythmic dance of his shoulders. They gently sloped, guiding your eyes down to the graceful curvature that traced the arc of his spine. The muscles, flexing and contracting in harmony with his movements, held a hypnotic allure that further captivated your already-addled mind.

The subtle rasp of your cleared throat echoed in the kitchen, a deliberate attempt to compose yourself and redirect your attention. The sound elicited a flinch from Satoru, his head tilting in acknowledgement without turning around. Your gaze wandered, initially fixating on his hands immersed in soapy washing-up water, then traversing the sinuous lines of his arms, the broad expanse of his shoulders, and back again to the rhythmic play of muscles along his spine. A fleeting imagination tempted you, picturing the sensation of placing your palm between his shoulder blades, curious about the palpable strength concealed beneath his skin.

Shaking your head to dispel the reverie, you took tentative steps forward, crossing the quiet expanse of the kitchen. Leaning against the cool granite countertop, your elbows found a resting place, and you propped your chin up on your fist. Your eyes remained fixed on Satoru, lingering on the meticulous yet effortless movements of his hands. A small, tentative smile graced your lips as you observed his actions, wondering if he could sense the unspoken sentiment in your expression.

Breaking the lingering silence, you mustered a simple "Hi," but it was met with a stony quietude.

You wondered if speaking up was the wrong choice, but delirium and the ache to be close to another person had brought you this far. Satoru glanced over his shoulder, his gaze meeting yours with a slow blink. A subtle raise of his brow conveyed a hint of amusement, seemingly deriving pleasure from your visible unease.

His response finally fractured the silence, a sly smirk accompanying his words, "Enjoying the view, are you?"

The low, husky timbre of his voice carried a weariness, likely a residue of a day spent teaching. It forced a certain softness to his tone, you thought.

You shrugged off his inquiry. "Sue me."

Satoru's response wasn't a hearty chuckle or a deep guffaw, but a light, breathy laugh that filled the quiet kitchen. There was a quiet amusement in the sound, and a trace of a smirk lingered on his face as he looked you over. Your heart responded with a subtle clench beneath your ribs, particularly at the sight of a faint shadow of a dimple on his cheek, carved there just to taunt. The moment, though fleeting, etched itself into the quietude of the night as he returned his attention to the dishes.

"What d'you rate it? A ten out of ten?"

Your response, offered with a playful quirk of your eyebrow, "You want me to rate you?"

Satoru's smirk morphed into a pleased expression as your gaze trailed over him. The contours of his skin, smooth and unblemished, seemed to glow like moonlight in the spill of light from the windows. Intrigued and sufficiently drawn into the distraction your company provided, he turned to face you, leaning against the kitchen cupboard. As he dried his hands on a towel, his arms folded across his broad, rippling chest, the subtle flexing of his pecs synchronised with each breath drew your attention.

"Come on, give me a score anyway. Out of ten."

After a moment's consideration, you offered a teasing response, "A nine."

Satoru's amused countenance swiftly transformed into a scowl the moment your rating escaped your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, and he spoke with feigned indignation, "Only nine?"

The palpable teasing in his voice was accompanied by a puffing out of his chest, a subtle rise onto his toes, and a slight shift in his weight—an adjustment that added a touch of theatricality to his stance. His gaze fixed on you with an impatient yet expectant intensity, resembling a playful, albeit puzzled, puppy.

Your chuckle, a note of satisfaction in provoking a reaction, accompanied a dismissive wave of your hand. "Ah, I don't know. You're missing a certain je ne sais quoi."

The scowl on Satoru's face evolved into a lopsided frown, confusion and amusement vying for dominance on his expressive features.

"Je ne sais quoi?" he echoed, his head tilting in curiosity, a teasing glint in his eye. The amused twinkle hinted at his attempt, albeit futile, to resist giving you attention.

"Well... You're just a little too perfect, aren't you? Like a sculpture."

Satoru's lips curled into a cocky grin at your explanation. "And what's wrong with being a sculpture? People look at sculptures all day, right?" His smirk widened as he leaned in ever so slightly, a challenge lingering in the air. "Maybe you should do that, then."

Suppressing a grin, you bit the inside of your cheek, allowing your eyes to trail along the line of his left shoulder, up the side of his neck, and to his jawline. "I might," you mused.

The rhythmic rise and fall of Satoru's chest betrayed the subtle restlessness within him, his breaths a steady cadence of inhales and exhales. The heat radiating from his body made the glistening sweat on his skin all the more apparent. His lips, licked in a moment of contemplation, added an unintentional allure as his eyes momentarily darted away from yours. Every inch of him exuded an undeniable appeal, and your gaze couldn't help but be drawn repeatedly to the contours of his chiselled body, a clear testament to where your attention lingered.

As he shifted his weight onto his right foot, a cock of his hip added an extra layer of invitation. "I might let you," he declared.

"Who says it's a question of 'letting' me?"

"I do," Satoru shot back, his eyes taking on a steely glint as he jutted his chin in a clear challenge. The air crackled with tension as he asserted, "I'm not a pushover, and I don't take orders from anyone. If you think you're gonna boss me around, you're sorely mistaken."

The shift in his expression, from cocky to cold and steely, echoed through the space. Your heart quickened its pace as his gaze, those vivid blue eyes glinting like precious stones, locked onto yours. The challenge hung in the air, a silent dare.

Satoru's face transformed, breaking into a wide grin, and a warm laugh escaped him, lighting up the atmosphere once again. It was evident he had been playfully messing with you, and the realisation prompted a quiet laugh of relief from you, your cheeks flushing warm.

"You got me.”

"You know me. I wouldn't say no if you were offering."

His words, delivered in a hushed whisper, lingered in the air, barely audible above the rhythmic cadence of your breathing. Your gaze involuntarily drifted to Satoru's lips as his grin faded into a more contemplative expression. There was a subtle hint of shyness in his features, his cheeks now adorned with a magnificent shade of red as he shifted his weight to the other leg.

“Offering?” you queried.

Satoru's laugh, more relaxed this time, accompanied his response.

"I'm not completely clueless, you know." His gaze finally returned to yours. "You were eyeing me up, weren't you? I didn't mind, though," he drawled, glancing down at his own body. "Well, I don't blame you." With a wink, he added a touch of assurance.

Suppressing a snort, you reciprocated with a wink of your own, much to his bemusement. Satoru's gaze descended from your face, lingering on your body for a moment that felt like an eternity before swiftly returning to meet your eyes.

"The attraction's definitely mutual, so maybe you should just c’mere and kiss me," he suggested, his words teasing, yet there was a genuine note beneath the surface.

"Who says I want to?" you countered.

"My ego, mostly—I'm the prettiest guy you've ever seen. Why wouldn't you wanna kiss me?"

The familiar arrogant half-grin adorned his face as he tilted his head to the side, shifting his weight onto one leg and cocking his hip once again. When your reaction amounted to little more than a gawp, he theatrically fluttered his long, white eyelashes at you.

"C'mon, you know you want to..."

A stunningly triumphant expression illuminated Satoru's face as you walked around to his side of the kitchen island, leaning against it as you beckoned him closer. For a moment, he observed you, searching for any sign that your actions were merely a tease. Upon finding none, a cheeky grin spread across his features, and he took a step toward you.

Closing the distance, he stood in front of you, leaning in until your bodies were almost touching. "What are you waiting for? Kiss me already.”

Rather than yielding to the demand, you countered with a smirk, meeting his gaze through your lashes. Simultaneously, your hands rested on his bare, narrow waist, and your thumbs brushed against his skin. From such proximity, you could discern the faint marbling of bluish veins beneath his pale skin.

Tracing the pad of your thumb along one of these delicate lines, just underneath his ribcage, you elicited a sharp intake of breath from Satoru. His chest rose and fell, hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could almost hear his heartbeat quicken—although, your own heart rebelled against your ribs to try and tunnel its way out of your chest and to him.

Undeterred, Satoru met your gaze without a hint of hesitation or shyness, a defiant smirk still playing on his lips. His eyes, those endless blues, were sharp as they studied your face—though his judgement was tentative. The heat from his skin warmed your palms, and you could see goose bumps forming on his flesh as it reacted to your touch.

"Is this okay?" you murmured in a sweeter voice.

Satoru, still captivated by the proximity, was brought back to the moment by the sound of your voice. Slowly, he opened his hands, relaxing a little. "It's more than okay..." he admitted, a smitten look adorning his features.

The exchange continued as he let out a quiet laugh, shifting his weight and allowing his free hand to caress your cheek, tracing along the line of your jaw. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead against yours, his gaze soft, and his touch gentle. Wisps of Satoru’s downy, white hair tickled your temples, tempting your fingers to comb through its softness.

"You're adorable," he complimented, a genuine smile gracing his lips, before leaning his head back slightly to get another look at your face.

Your fingertips, gently brushing against the white trail of hair just below his navel, drew a soft gasp from Satoru. His abs tensed at the touch, his cheeks blushing a deeper shade as a slight shiver coursed through him. In the ensuing silence, the only audible sound was the subtle intake of breath, a shared moment suspended in the quiet kitchen.

Satoru glanced down at your fingers, his body language a blend of tension and receptivity. Swallowing thickly, his eyes flicked downward momentarily before meeting your gaze again.

"What gives?"

"I take it back. You're a ten," you admitted, a playful twist to your tone.

Satoru laughed, his breath hitching before he composed himself. His response was light-hearted and teasing, "Why the change of heart?"

His cocky grin returned as his gaze dipped down to your hands once more.

The soft brush of your fingers against the hair of his happy trail prompted a soft groan to escape Satoru's lips. His eyes shut, exhaling slowly, and his jaw flexed in response to the sensation.

"I found the one you needed," you declared smugly.

Satoru couldn't contain another soft groan at your touch. He licked his lips, swallowing, his gaze shifting between you and your hands as you continued to explore. His weight shifting onto his other foot, he adopted his best flirtatious expression. Leaning down toward you, his smile widened as he lowered himself to your eye level.

"You're lucky the feeling's mutual, then. So, about that kiss?"

His right hand cupped your cheek, and you instinctively leaned into his touch. The warmth of his palm, surprisingly soft, conveyed a sense of comfort, even as the faint scent of dish soap lingered. Time seemed to slow as your faces inched closer. Something citrussy, you noted vaguely.

“What about it?” you whispered.

"I'm sick of waiting for it..."

The kiss ignited a cascade of sensations, a marvel that transcended the mere meeting of lips. His hands, so gentle, cupped your cheeks, their journey extending down to cradle the vulnerable expanse of your neck. Fingertips, like feathers, grazed the back of your hairline, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake.

Soft, syrupy lips, vessels of unspoken words, melded seamlessly with your own. As the kiss deepened, your hand remained a steadfast companion on his waist. The caress, a silent declaration, pulled him incrementally closer, drawing him into your orbit. His hands, still cradling your face, mirrored the tenderness. Satoru, in response, leaned in, his lips maintaining their pillowy softness against yours, his entire body communicating a tranquil surrender to the moment—to you, if only briefly.

Your fingers, entwined in his whispery, silver hair, brushed away the few locks that always seemed to fall just right. As you both pulled away, the affection shared in that fleeting gaze lingered, plain for all to see on Satoru's face.

"And what would you rate that?" Satoru said breathlessly.

You hummed and wrinkled your nose, making a show of thinking it over. "A nine."

“Not a ten?" his voice was low and intimate. He brought his hands down to your waist to hold you, and you could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

"Well, I'm kind of banking on you to keep kissing me until I give you a ten," you murmured.

He huffed out a laugh as he shook his head, followed by a soft, ironic, “Of course.”

A mischievous grin adorned Satoru's face as he leaned in for another kiss, this time more intense, more hungry. Tilting his head, he skillfully avoided a direct alignment of his lips with yours, adding a delicious edge to the kiss. His tongue ventured, a slow exploration that gradually deepened, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

Your fingers dug slightly into his waist, a feeble attempt to keep your mind tethered before you lost it to him completely. Satoru's tongue pressed deep into your mouth, his grip on the back of your neck tightening slightly, intensifying the kiss. The softness of your lips pressed against his body allowed you to feel every sculpted muscle. The passion of the kiss remained gentle, not rough, yet the sensation left you craving more.

As you both eventually pulled away, a quiet panting filled the space. Your nose brushed against his jawline, a content smile playing on your lips.

"Still a nine?" he inquired, a teasing note in his voice, his voice quiet but carrying an undeniable edge of confidence.

Satoru shifted his hands to your shoulder, fingers lingering for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest. His warm breath caressed your face as he looked down at you. Pressing his forehead lightly against yours, he closed his eyes, savouring the touch.

“Still a nine.”

"Just you wait," he added, a promise whispered. "I won't stop until it's a perfect ten."

a/n: alternative title, “Gojo Satoru is so pretty he makes me stupid” haha. I wrote this to get out of my writing slump lolol. and ooooo first sfw fic on this blog!! how exciting :3 -> based on this ask!

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

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cultrise · 4 days

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ REVERIE. BLACK SWAN

‧₊˚ ┊ SYNOPSIS seems the memory keeper has a burning lust for the new companion she saved in the dreamscape.

‧₊˚ ┊CONTENTS wlw, trailblazer!reader ig?, NSFW, strap riding, clit rubbing, hair pulling, wet dreaming, pillow riding, there’s a plot to this trust (´•︵•`) ᵎᵎ wc 1.1k

black swan feels her blood rushing to her cheeks, throat going completely dry. she gasps for air, seeking to replenish the lost air in her lungs, but without use.

something shatters behind her as her lower back pushes against the small table. some stupid vase from the hotel, perhaps. there is little concern in her mind at that moment. she’ll clean it up later. once she’s done with crashing her lips against yours, anyway.

there are some distant voices down the hallway, most likely people checking into their respective rooms. but she’s too engrossed with the sound of breathy moans and the rustle of clothes being taken off to take notice of any of them.

once she’s laid bare in front of you, her clothes scattered into a pile somewhere at the foot of the bed she pushes you onto the mattress, lips finding yours with urgency. the soft touches and messy kisses continue as she giggles, finally exposing your body.

black swan takes the view in as you hurry to open the side table drawer, grabbing and securing the strap to yourself. her fingers slide around your throat, drawing you into yet another tender kiss as her hungry gaze follows yours.

her skin tingles when your digits caress her hips, gently guiding her over the rubber tip. the pounding in her chest reaches her ears, so loud she worries you might hear the excitement and nervousness bubbling inside of her.

not that you'd notice, anyway. not over the sounds of your own restlessness.

black swan yelps, a high-pitched scream as you press her hips down on your crotch. her thighs shake, mouth agape as she adjusts to the size of the strap now fully inside her.

it takes some effort, pivoting her knees into the mattress and pushing upwards. you watch her start to move up and down, the strap already coated in slick.

she grips onto everything she can get, finally finding stability by intertwining your fingers. her pace quickens alongside her breathing, bouncing faster and faster on your length from tip to bottom and repeating.

the pleasure overtakes her and, desperate to reach her high, she starts circling her hips, looking down at you with lust-coated pupils. you stare up in awe, feeling wetness coat your plushy thighs as you admire the goddess resting in your lap.

you ponder whether it should be forbidden to look at her. from her mesmerising face and body to the fragile ends of her hair, she looks as if she were sculpted, painted into the fabric of the universe.

she can see it in your eyes: the want, the need, the despair. the way you react to her every sound and touch. she gets high on the gentle stares of your eyes, the affections spilt from your lips in the form of love bites and the warmth your palms exude on her skin.

she doesn’t protest when you flip her on her stomach, climbing on top of her to continue your ministrations without her purple orbs following yours.

her moans harmonise with your breaths, the slow kisses to her nape making her knees grow weaker and weaker. she doesn’t falter, however, holding her entire body weight on her limbs as your hand latches itself to her love handle, using it to draw her in.

she had never experienced such love from someone. never before has someone treated her body with such care. never has someone been so rough and yet so aware of her needs. she feels cherished even when your fingers get tangled in her soft hair and tug it back, making her back arch.

her eyelids start to droop and she swears she’s seeing white spots as you fill her up. her vision is blurred, her scalp hurts from the way you’re pulling her hair but it’s nothing compared to the way she aches for a release.

“aeons! right there— oh!” she whines into the sheets, gripping them tightly. she wonders where her sudden self-restraint comes from the moment your lips tenderly touch her spine. her back arches even more and her hand travels between her legs, rubbing her swollen clit with vigour.

she can feel your hot breath against her ear and she hopes your touch bruises up her skin so tonight's memory is forever engraved on her body. she wishes you’d never pull out. all she can think of is how desperate she is to touch you, to see you unravel thanks to her hands only.

“al..almost there—“ tears build up in her eyes, a broken half-moan emerging from her throat. she’s sure she can see through the ceiling and into the night sky with the way stars seem to cloud her view. her eyes close harshly, the tears trickle down her cheeks and her legs shake.

she opens them again. her chest is heaving, her bangs are stuck to her forehead and her body feels hot enough to explode. “what.. what just?—“

she stands up halfway, checking her pulse as her heart bangs against her chest. the clock shows 4:32 am.

in one sitting, she gulps down the glass of water on her nightstand. she sits upright, staring at the wall in front of her. her legs shift under the covers and the tiniest friction between her legs sends electric signals all the way throughout her spine.

a gutted whine escapes her lips and, removing the covers, she takes notice of the soaked fabric of her shorts. “what the hell—“

in a confused hurry, she takes them off, only to see the mess between her legs. her breathing is stuttered and she brushes her fair locs of hair. broken images of her fantasy flood her mind and her hand goes to her lips, in horror.

the realisation hits her harder than any attack she had sustained before. had she fantasised the entire thing? had she been so oblivious to her own lust that it took a pitiful dream to have her ruin her shorts?

aeons, she’s disgusting. how is she supposed to look you in the eyes now? how is she supposed to retort one of those warm smiles you give her back? is that really what a famed memory keeper such as herself should be preoccupied with?

she bites down on her lip, the image of you in front of her slithering into her brain.

your gentle smile, your pensive eyes.. it sends heat straight to her core, making her throw her shorts to the other end of the room, in frustration.

it seems nothing will be able to save her from this torturous circumstance, quite the opposite. she’s aware she’ll be unable to go back to bed unless she does something to satisfy her cravings.

and so, she bites back her shame, places a pillow between her legs and a palm to her lips, closing her eyes.

you ponder whether the muffled moans of your name late in the night are the sounds of your own fantasies or something — maybe someone — else.

#𐙚 — pages.#𐙚 — dreamscape.#honkai star rail #hsr #black swan #black swan hsr #black swan honkai star rail #black swan x reader #black swan x fem!reader #black swan x fem!reader smut #black swan x reader smut #hsr black swan x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

ㅤㅤ Do you want me tonight?

∴pairing: Osferth x Fem!reader

∴warning: smut, english is not my first language.

Since your union with Osferth some time ago, you two didn’t shared a fruitful marital night. Even though your husband was kind and attentive, the act itself was uncomfortable, although short. It didn't help that he spent a few nights out with Uhtred and his band. You two weren't exactly uninhibited and relaxed, especially in bed, but a few days ago a restlessness in your femininity kept you unrested and irritable. Unfortunately your husband was away for a considerable time and with no expected return, which worsened your condition, as you didn't know if he was fine or if he would come back alive, fueling your anxiety even more. In all, only three nights were spent in carnal intimacy, where Osferth and you were shy and almost reluctant.

Even though he was your husband and you were his wife, it still felt wrong to indulge in such indulgence, almost a holy sin, especially when it felt so good to him. He felt guilty for the feeling and even more guilty when he saw the discomfort on your face. It was horrible to bring his sweet wife pain, so he decided not to warn you that he was on his way and to surprise you with beautiful yellow flowers. Osferth arrived at night, heading towards the bedroom to find you at the window in your bedclothes, oblivious to his presence. You wore the same delicate white dress as the other times you slept together.

“My lady… it's very good to see you,” he said, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your breath almost hitched at the sight of him, walking quickly into a hug. Your sudden strength surprised him, but he returned the intensity and heat. "I missed you husband, I didn't know you would arrive today." Taking a deep breath on his clothes to inhale the scent, you realized he had bathed earlier.

“I wanted to surprise you. Do you like it?” he asked with a shy smile, pulling away slowly and holding up the flowers expectantly.

“They are beautiful. Yes, I love them my love”, you said while looking at him intensely, gently picking up the flowers and enjoying them for a while. Whenever he returned from a journey he knew he would have questions to answer, but not now, not today. Now, you don't want to know what happened, you want to know what happens next.

He continued to smile fondly, preparing to say, "They suit-", but was interrupted by firm, almost impetuous lips on his.

“Don't say anything,” you said as you backed away, placing the bouquet on the headboard to return to him and encompass his beautiful, lovely face. "I want you. I want you tonight, husband. Do you want me?"

Oh Lord. He felt his skin heat up under your hands, breathing deeper than before. Osferth wasn't a liar, he wouldn't make up any excuses to get out of the situation, but a tightness in his chest made him reluctant. He didn't want to cause you pain, but he didn't want to continue to cultivate the feeling that the love you were making was wrong. The love between two people will never be a sin.

“My love… are you sure?”, he inquired.

"Yes. And you?

"Yes."

You pulled him into a passionate, fierce kiss, more intense than anyone had ever shared before. He held your waist gently, contrasting with the grip you held over his face and neck. The restlessness between your legs, which never quite went away, gradually increased during the contact of your lips. Another time you would have allowed yourself to melt into the sweetness of your husband, he was such a good and patient man, but there was no time to wait, not when you backed away and nearly ripped his tunic and holy symbol necklace from his body. To say he was surprised was an understatement, his lovely, tender wife, so demure, slid her hand down to touch him like never before, cupping his reactive member and making him groan hoarsely.

“Take them off,” you ordered, groping his smooth, clean torso before planting kisses along his length.

Osferth was stunned by the speed of the events, but he obeyed your command by removing the last piece that left him dressed, standing naked in front of you. You numbed at the sight of your husband and reached out again for a more aggressive and hungry kiss, rubbing your body against his, tugging at his dark blond hair and swallowing the sweet sounds he made as your skin rubbed against his newly grown manhood hardened and exposed. You held him for dear life, unable to let go, encouraging him to grip your waist tighter than usual. He moaned again as your hand touched his pleasure zone again, bracing itself against your body. You didn't want to stop the kiss and the movements, but you left him quickly to guide him to the shared bed.

“Lie down,” your voice came out breathlessly, watching him move to the center of the pale sheets. Taking off your dress for the first time, you were exposed in front of him, but you weren't intimidated in the least. “No barriers this time, I want to feel it completely.” It was the opposite. It was Osferth who sensed a prey under your intense gaze, but only until he saw your naked figure crawling towards him. So beautiful.

He could only watch with open mouth in anticipation as you climbed on top of him and braced your hands over his chest, leaning in very close to ask, "I want this tonight, is that okay?"

“Y-yes my lady, it's okay, it's okay,” he said between pulses of breaths.

You smiled contentedly before taking your husband's warm, smooth sword and pumping a few times, positioning yourself on top of him and sliding with a loud moan through the startling sensation of hitherto unknown pleasure. Osferth hummed as you wrapped him in your wet heat, cupping your hips and waist and then your breasts, almost ashamed to knead them between your fingers. You both gasped as you began to ride him experimentally, moving up and down deliciously before having him fully inside your shell and moaning at being so pleasantly full.

“Mmm, oh husband, this is so good.” You ground over him, fully wetting the length, making him tighten around your waist. The friction between the hot flesh was almost heavenly and crushing, better than other times and he needed to feel more, almost crying as your movements progressed and you bounced uninhibitedly on his manhood, moaning in unison. The pleasure was addictive and the wetness between your thighs made a mess at the base of his cock.

“My love,” he called, intoxicated by the steady rhythm you established and the way your core embraced him. So good. So deliciously good. He gently squeezed your breasts before cupping your ass and hips.

“Osferth!” you exclaimed as you rode him fast and hard, eyes closed at the magnificent friction and tingling growing in the bottom of your belly. So overwhelming. It’s sounds were loud and compelling, but nothing besides the carnal act between you and your husband mattered, not even the fine sheen of sweat that broke out on your forehead as the pleasure grew more intense and impossible to ignore, making you park your movements to grind and rub on it before jumping back in heavily.

He had never felt such a sensation, your connected bodies seemed to be on fire and he needed everything to contain himself and enjoy more. He just wanted more, almost desperate when his hips bumped unconsciously back to you and a tight grip caused by his wife made him moan louder. The lustful tingle seemed to explode through your body and a warm white color briefly blinded you. It was the most wonderful and intense feeling of your life, and if it weren't for your husband's hands on your waist, maybe your body would have fallen forward, still squeezing your legs.

“My lady,” Osferth moaned breathlessly, almost begging to be relieved as well. You ground against him a few times and felt the hot liquid gushing into your core as he sang loudly, squeezing your waist with a strength not seen before. Lying across his torso, you allowed yourself to relax after removing his sword from your womanhood. “That was heavenly, oh Lord, so good,” he commented breathlessly.

“Yes, it was so good my love”, you agreed with a wide smile and sparkling eyes. “Don't spend too much time out again, I need you here with me.” Your eyes met the beautiful soft blue irises before kissing him tenderly and calmly.

“I'm not going anywhere, my love”, he said with a genuine and passionate smile, hugging your body while closing his eyes momentarily. Yes, none of that felt like a sin.

for my bestie @syzrina 💗

#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x you #the last kingdom #ewan mitchell #osferth smut #smut #osferth x fem!reader #fem reader #baby monk #aemond

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themadlu · 3 months

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What Is It In You I Cannot See?

Astarion fails to sneak on Zelie, but somehow he still ends up with a full belly. Nothing asked of him. He is scared of her and angry at her at the same time. He is also happy. He is in uncharted territory. He doesn't understand if she'll be his salvation or his doom.

He also hates dogs.

TW: references to past SA (nothing graphic), mentions of animal cruelty (if him wanting to eat Scratch counts).

This is a oneshot from a longer fic idea. Zelie is my named Tav OC, but here there is no physical description, aside from eye colour.

Tagging @spacebarbarianweird because she's so talented and kind!

“Remind me again, darling, what are we doing in these godsforsaken woods?”

Astarion had woken up…happy—with a full stomach (He had forgotten what that felt like) and a clear head (He can hear the stern cadence of her sweet, precious blood being pumped through her heart).

His restless reverie made bearable by the life essence he took last night.

No, not took. He was too pathetically weak even for the basic functions of a vampire. It was a gift.

This is a gift—I won’t forget it.

He said as much, head tilted towards her, looking, but not seeing; he couldn’t bear to actually stare at the person he was indebted to now.

She doesn’t call it debt. There are enough ill-guided, wretched ideas floating in that head of hers, all about justice and fairness and respect, that she hasn’t asked anything in return for her donation.

Yet.

She will. If he thinks too long about it, it terrifies him.

No one hands their life blood over to anyone (to a monster) without a sizeable payback in mind. Either that, or he’ll have to start believing all her ideals (Her actions) are not an elaborate set of masks to trick him into trust (She’d be more idiotic than he thought, in that case).

Still, her confounding attitude worked in his favour. Not only he wasn’t left to starve the night before (a novelty in and of itself), but he’ll get future access to his dinner for the foreseeable future.

She said so (“You can feed on me again, IF you swear you won’t hurt others and stick to animals when I’m not around”). Her face carved in stone, unmovable as she always is when establishing her rules. Her boundaries.

(No one ever cared for his boundaries. An object of pleasure doesn't need any.)

But she looked at him like he would actually understand, as if the concept couldn’t be so foreign to him. Something in the world shifted.

Truth be told, you were my first.

Something changes in her eyes too and her expression softens, but doesn’t relent.

“Let’s keep me as the only for now. If you wish to tell the others and any of them are willing to donate their blood too, then you can expand your culinary options.”

What?

He knows she didn’t spill his secret to their companions (Gods forbid, someone as noble as their leader did that), but he assumed she would push him to reveal himself. Why wouldn’t she? She made such a fuss about how wrong lying is, and honesty this and fuck him that, and now she is willfully withholding information from the rest of the group.

Why?

You nearly got us killed at the Grove. Couldn’t keep your little mouth shut with that useless healer about the tadpoles. Foolish idiot, you’ll be our doom.

Was it a test? See what the hungry spawn does and punish him if he makes a mistake?

Astarion has an inkling of what she would like him to do, because it tends to be the total opposite of what he would do. He would continue their little arrangement in private, for as long as possible. He may have been a slave for centuries, but he’s not so daft. Why would a vampire willingly oust himself to a group that includes a literal monster hunter in their midst.

It would be suicidal and he has wished for death more times he can recount—often masked as sensual whimpers and pleas in brothels and alleys—but he doesn’t wish it now.

He won’t let a presumptuous, sheltered human kill him with her righteousness when decades of torture didn’t.

Not now he’s finally out of his grasp.

Not now he can exist in the sun.

Not now that he’s stuck in the mud chatting to a mutt.

Wait, what?

The scene in front of him is dreamlike: their stoic leader is knee deep in the dirt, shiny eyes coaxing a clearly aggressive dog closer, Karlach talking to it as if it were worthy of conversation.

Zélie stares at the mutt as if in a trance. Astarion asks her why they were in the woods in the first place to see if the dog isn’t actually a hypnotising hag.

The mutt snarls at him and he snarls back. Filthy beast.

“Hush, Astarion!” Zélie whispers, “he’s scared. You’ll only scare him more”

He takes notice of the corpse near the dog. Clearly dead. Filthy and stupid beast.

“Sweet thing you are, worrying about it,” he coos.

Hells below, you idiot.

“But may I remind you we are trying to get to a den of vicious goblins to find the blasted druid who can fix our wiggly issue?”

He points at his temple and she gives him the look. They’ve been travelling together for no more than a tenday and he already earned a signature look from her.

All piercing, hardened eyes and the disapproving tilt of the head a mother would give to her child before a good dressing down.

He wonders what his punishment will be, and his scars burn, his hands shake.

He quickly fists them behind his back to hide the tremors (A broken toy is worthless), strikes a casual figure, and something in her gaze mellows. Before it could have stricken down a dragon from the skies, now it would only manage a bear.

It certainly won’t manage a vampire.

He scowls at her, but her attention is already back on the mutt now within arm’s reach.

“You know, Astarion,” she murmurs, petting its fur with a care that had to be an act (Tenderness has no place in any realm), “dogs are beautiful creatures. They feel as much as us.”

Another stroke behind its ears, soft and barely there. Astarion’s own ears twitch.

“They accept our love, our mistakes, our pain, and still stay by our side. Sometimes they even see past our cruelty, so strong is their loyalty. I think you won’t find a more worthy companion.”

Another caress on its muzzle. The hint at complete loyalty to another would normally tear through him ('Remember thou art mine, useless boy'), but Astarion is transfixed by her hands on white fur (Would they touch his own white hair like that?) and his fangs are dangerously close to peeking through his lips.

(Two centuries of utter shit, but the mutt runs across her bare moments after his owner’s died.)

If I was alone, I’d bleed you dry. Animals only, so she said.

Fucking dog befriended, Astarion is ripped from his thoughts as Zélie stops her ministrations and stands up. She bows her head at—

“Scratch. Meet Astarion. Astarion, meet Scratch.”

The dog eyes him for a moment, then barks. Astarion almost hisses back. It’s his dear leader standing in front of him that stops him.

“I know he may look slightly ruffled, Scratch, but I like to think that you can trust him.”

Excuse me?!

She cannot speak with animals, so why the hells is she making polite conversation with it?!

“And you,” eyes on his, he hates how he has to prove that he can hold her look without squirming. She has the gaze of someone used to having a certain level of authority, and it disgusts him. His hands tremble more, nails now digging in his palms.

('You're nothing but a scared, little boy').

The others have moved further along the path, but she whispers it nonetheless, “When I say you should feed on animals, this is clearly not what I mean. Dogs are out of your food chain. Please, Astarion”

He doesn’t remember when it was the last time anyone ever said please to him, when someone kept a secret for him, and it’s enough to shock him into compliance.

“Thank you,” she says, a little smile on her thin lips (it looks foreign on her stone-like face).

She heads along the path without realising what she’s done. As if people handed thank yous around like nothing. He’s seen her thanking others, occasionally: Gale for his food, Shadowheart for the healing, even Lae’zel for not disembowelling a tiefling (How disappointing). But to him?

(He hasn’t done anything, besides taking her blood and her temporary alliance)

He kills and maims what enemies they encounter because he revels in the violence. In the control over another’s life—in not him being the pitiful wretch for once. If she thinks he’s doing it out of some sense of morality, then she’s even more idiotic than he thought.

She could simply be a pathetic moron with a noble soul. One who follows her way even when she doesn’t want to. Even when they do her more harm than good (Shouting a speech on interracial cooperation from a high rock to stop a vicious group of goblins and humans from killing each other was a terrible idea. Surprisingly, she only got scraps from all the arrows flying at her).

No. She isn’t. No one is like that.

Phantom touches on his body remind him of this shit world every second of every day and they will do so for as long as he lives. They all have their motives. She just hides hers beside a very put-together mask. An impressive one, if he can say so.

He falls into step with her as usual (Because he needs to make sure she doesn’t drag them to an unwilling death, because he needs to keep himself in her good graces now she knows his secret) and she acknowledges him with a nod.

The smile is still there—odd. She looks a moment away from giggling, a sound that he didn't think her mouth could form.

Now he needs to know.

“Copper for your thoughts, darling?” he drawls.

What’s going on in that confusing head of yours?

“I just thought—when Scratch said he’d join us at camp. I pictured Withers and him,” a corner of her mouth lifts, “playing catch. ‘Cometh here, oh chosen canine, and followeth thy ball along its rightful path.’”

Her eyes tear up from contained laughter (Have they always been so blue? He just realises one is more of a grey colour), then she coughs a little and her entire face resettles on its usual assessing expression.

"You're a bad influence, Astarion. I don't usually tease my elders, especially not millennia-old ones."

Astarion blinks (So she does have a sense of humour, even if it’s terrible).

He finds himself leaning into her, testing the boundaries. His sultry voice in her ear. "Darling, as your elder, you can tease me all you like. You have my permission." He is rewarded not with a whimper of excitement, but with the look again.

He finds himself suppressing a stray giggle and his hands stop shaking.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #named tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #astarion fanfiction #astarion angst #bg3 astarion #save scratch

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gettingfrilly · 8 months

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Make it count, EddEddy Fanfic

This was supposed to be a short drabble but it got wildly out of hand. Curse my verbose nature. eddeddy, first kiss, underage drinking, rated T

"I was kind of hoping my first kiss would be enjoyable."

The steady creaking of the rusty chains next to him comes to a stop for the first time tonight, Eddy's feet planting in the dirt to cease the momentum of his swing. Edd glances over at him just as he hears the pop of the bottle neck being pulled from his lips, Eddy's brow furrowed as he looks back at him.

"What're ya on about, Dee?"

"I was just thinking," Edd starts, reaching to grab the bottle from Eddy's hand. What little condensation still clings to the brown glass has long since gone lukewarm, the liquid inside not fairing much better. Perhaps it's his own indulgence in said liquid that allows him to let his fingers linger on Eddy's a split second before he takes the bottle from him and finishes his thought. "Do you remember our creek cruise scam?"

Eddy grunts and scrunches his face, his typical reaction to a past failed scam being brought up. "Yeah, I remember."

"And do you remember when the Kankers boarded our 'ship?'"

Now Eddy's lips pucker in distaste, his typical reaction to the Kankers being mentioned. "Uh-huh."

"Well... that was when I received my first kiss. The first of several from Marie, actually." He sighs and upends the bottle, gulping his small swig down quickly to avoid actually tasting the drink as much as he can. The stale flavor still gets him, though, and he grimaces while sticking his tongue out through the gap in his teeth, not nearly as used to the taste of beer as Eddy is.

"I was reminded of it today when I was over at Ed's house. I overheard Sarah and Jimmy discussing their hopes and expectations for their own firsts." Edd continues. "I suppose it made me kind of sad. It's not something I get daydream about anymore."

And this is why he doesn't drink often. Well, other than the fact that it's illegal and immoral and he could get in huge trouble. Drinking doesn't make him lighter and bolder like Eddy, or jovial like Ed—it just makes him sad, in a dreary, pathetic kind of way. He's already the least fun of the trio, as far as he's concerned, and he's loath to further accentuate the difference between himself and his two friends. But Eddy always makes sharing a drink sound like such a good idea, same as how he manages to make everything sound like a good idea; plus there's Edd's own underhanded motivations involving lingering fingers and indirect kisses.

"That don't count." Eddy interrupts Edd's reverie in a firm voice.

"Pardon?"

"I said that don't count." Eddy takes the bottle back from him, taking his own swig. "A first kiss is something both people gotta be into. I don't count any of my Kanker kisses, and neither should you." There's a bitterness to Eddy's voice alongside the usual stubbornness, a can of worms Edd is unsure whether he wants to open or not.

"Ah... I suppose that's one way to look at it." It's the way he wants to look at it, at least. It's not the first time he's wished he could view the world a little more like Eddy, stubbornly holding onto the notion that things are going his way, or at least will be very soon, regardless of what's going on around him.

"It's the right way to look at it. So go ahead and daydream, Romeo."

Edd hums in response, then goes quiet, sitting with Eddy's surprising wisdom. Eventually he hears the old swing set start to creak again, Eddy's restless body gently swinging back and forward, only just barely lifting his feet off the ground. The old playground has made for a good night time haven in recent years, the only members of their group young enough to still have interest in the playground being Sarah and Jimmy. The new families who have started moving into the newly constructed homes this side of the lane are either still childless or have children far too young to wander into the playground alone at night. When all three of them are together for... delinquent activities, the junkyard still makes for a safer bet. When it's just the two of them, without Ed's rambunctiousness, the playground is the more convenient choice. It's also, Edd frequently likes to note, the less stinky choice, especially when considering the effects the hot summer sun has on the piles of refuse. It's much more pleasant here overall, with the illumination of the street lamps nearby and moving playground equipment to keep Eddy's body occupied.

It has been just the two of them more often, as well. Not that either of them are hanging out with Ed less; they're just hanging out with each other more, spending more nights than not decompressing together here on the swings, or on the merry-go-round, or the monkey bars, talking about school, family, friends, life. Sometimes recreational substances are involved, sometimes not—sometimes Edd partakes, sometimes he doesn't. He can't remember when exactly this started, but he knows how much he appreciates and has even started to somewhat depend on their private rendezvous. He can feel their friendship evolving into something too scary to name, a fragile in-between that could crumple in his touch if he's not careful. He can only hope Eddy feels it too.

"So, how's that daydreaming going?"

"Hm?" Edd swivels his head to look at Eddy, blinking owlishly at him, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion into his personal thoughts.

"Your smoochin' day dreams. You've been quiet for so long I figured that's what your big smart brain was up to." Eddy sends him a mischievous smirk. "Anything steamy happening up there?"

"Ah—" Curse his propensity to blush at the slightest provocation. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Eddy." He sputters.

"Prude. Come on." Eddy prods him with his (filthy, muddy, dirty) shoe, jostling his swing in the process. "Who you playin' tonsil hockey with up their? Anyone I know?" His leer and grin are downright vicious now, eyebrows bouncing so quickly Edd's surprised they don't take off in flight.

"No one! I was just thinking about how nice of a night it is. That's all, really." It's partially the truth, though he wasn't thinking about just this night in particular.

"Sure." Eddy draws the word out, unconvinced. "Well, if you won't tell me who, then what? You said you hoped it'd be enjoyable. So how ya enjoyin' it?"

Edd frowns at Eddy's uncharacteristic nosiness into this particular subject. "I really wasn't thinking about that, honest! But if it will sate your curiosity..." He sighs wistfully, looking up at the night sky. "I'd like my first kiss to be with someone I know well. Someone I'm already close to, who already understands the depths of me. Nothing rushed or awkward—just something new between two familiar souls, maybe sparking a nervous excitement. And, well, not to be shallow, but it wouldn't hurt if they were at least somewhat attractive." He tacks that on at the end, mumbling shyly as he kicks the dirt at his feet.

There's a beat of silence that leaves Edd feeling cold despite the warm summer evening air, fretting for a moment that he perhaps said too much—

"Gee, sounds familiar. Except, ya know, change the somewhat attractive part to extremely attractive and good looking and devilishly handsome."

Eddy's voice boasts the easy confidence alcohol usually brings him instead of the faux confidence he typically carries himself with. When Edd chances a glance at him, however, he finds that Eddy isn't even looking at him, face slightly turned away as he stares off into the treeline, thumbs dipping nervously in and out of the crevices of the chain links. Edd's grip on his own swing chains tightens, palms becoming slightly slicked with sweat.

"Well. Perhaps I am speaking of someone you know." He doesn't know where that came from, feeling as though his mind had been a blank canvas when the words suddenly left his mouth. Good lord, he's never drinking around Eddy again.

"Oh yeah?" Eddy perks up almost instantly, turning to face Edd again with another mischievous smirk. It's different this time, though, the razor sharp edges of his smile dulled and softened like wax under a gentle flame, leaving his mouth looking enticingly warm and pliable. His half lidded eyes make for a good match, the whole effect not unlike something fuzzy and fluffy lulling its prey into a false sense of security before the teeth and claws come out.

Good lord, he has got to drink with Eddy more often.

"Yes." Edd sounds a lot more breathless than he'd like to, his already present blush deepening in embarrassment. "Someone I'm rather close to at the moment, both figuratively and literally."

'Well, shit." Eddy laughs, placing the nearly empty beer bottle down on the ground next to the others before reaching over to grab one of the chains of Edd's swing, pulling him closer. "Kinda sounds like we want the same thing here. Yeah?" Eddy questions softly, seeking permission with thinly veiled nerves and desperation.

Edd answers him quickly with fervent nodding, eyelids falling to half mast as he subconsciously pokes his tongue out to lick suddenly dry feeling lips. "And you, Eddy? What would you like your first kiss to be like?"

"With someone who won't make fun of me if I ain't no good at it." He answers shockingly honestly in a rare show of vulnerability, causing Edd's heart to twist itself up and wring itself dry.

"I would never, Eddy."

"Good."

Eddy's free hand lands on Edd's shoulder, shifting along his sleeve until he can feel his thumb graze the side of his neck. It moves up from there, Eddy's fingers rising onto tensed tendons one by one until his thumb rests next to Edd's pink ear. The touch tickles, sending a shiver up his spine as he leans forward, eyes slipping shut when Eddy closes the distance between them.

It's dry, is the first thing Edd notes, used to the overenthusiastic wet smacks of the Kanker sisters. Dry and soft, no sticky cheap lipstick staining his skin and making him want to squirm. It's warm as well, the heat between them growing as their lips stay put instead of moving all over in feverish pecks, Eddy exhaling through his nose and further heating where they're conjoined. Then Eddy tilts his head, causing their lips to shift against each other in a way that pulls a small sound out of Edd's throat, shifting his own head in the opposite direction to get more of that belly-quivering friction.

It ends too soon, the two of them parting nervously with soft sighs, gazing at each other through their eyelashes as Edd chews his lip and Eddy squirms in his swing. After a moment, Eddy lets Edd go, taking his hand off his shoulder and releasing his chain. Edd catches a glimpse of imprints left by the chain on Eddy's palm where he gripped too tightly before looking away and at the ground, trying and failing to suppress the small smile spreading over his face.

"Well?" Eddy asks, voice back to being tinged with the faux confidence Edd is used to. "Enjoyable enough for you?"

"Mm..." Edd hums contentedly, shyly hiding his smile behind his hand. "Indeed. And you, Eddy?" he asks, glancing his way.

Eddy gives him one more smirk, side eyeing him before closing his eyes and shrugging his shoulders. "Eh."

"You—!" Edd tries to push Eddy, but just ends up making his own swing jerk to the side, arms too weak to budge Eddy's sturdy body. "You're a dog! Not a chivalrous bone in your body! I had hoped to believe that with this, at least, you would have the good graces to be somewhat of a gentleman, but it seems even now you can't resist the urge to be a jokester, a prankster, a kidder, and an all around—!"

Edd makes another attempt to push him and has the words stolen from him when Eddy grabs his wrist, laughing like a hyena without a shred of remorse. He uses his grip to pull Edd closer, flipping his arm over so he can press his lips against his wrist, hissing more laughter against his skin as Edd's breath catches in his tightening throat.

"I liked it, too, sockhead."

#eene #ed edd n eddy #eddeddy #gettingfrillywrites #I finished this up on my phone so prolly has typoes and misspellings

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liminalpebble · 11 months

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Violet: Chapter 13, Advent

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Minors DNI

Chapter 13: Advent

The fiery onyx of her eyes softened into deep dark pools of warmth and need as she pulled him down to meet her mouth. She was burning, desperate for him. “I need you,” she hissed out.

“Then I am your servant, darling,” he gasped out, as they stumbled upstairs to her room.

“No, Padre,” she declared with a plush luscious grin across her lips, knocking him backwards into the soft down sea of her bed. “You're my dessert.”

Will sighed and closed his eyes, head falling back into her pillow. He inhaled and it smelled like her; violets and lavender and something sweet and dark and fleshy, like ripe plums. His mouth watered, ravenous for the fruit that would banish him from paradise. She straddled him flaring her soft skirts around herself in a swish, like the flap of wings. An angel, Will thought...a dark one...a child of Lilith. Violetta unbuttoned his vest and shirt sliding them open like the pages of a precious book.

The student was reading him, tracing the calligraphy lines where sharp muscles interlaced. She kissed his chest as the celebrant priest would kiss the word of God upon the alter. The vicar was an illuminated manuscript; the raised lines of his faintly blue veins drew wintry tree roots and branches along and around the hills and valleys of his biceps, forearms, and hands. She examined the punctuation of freckles dusted over his skin where the sun marked the history of his outdoor life; of muggy summers spent floating naked in the cool Essex tides. Now it was the cool draft of the house soothing his bare fevered torso while her small searching hands raised goosebumps of anticipation over his entire body.

Violetta slid down a bit to enjoy the view of him and continued her reverent study, tracing the deep creasing “V” of his lower belly; hip to mound to hip. Will was patient and charmed by her odd, gentle, reverie. Amused, he said, “Carving your initials on me, Ms. Vespero? You needn't. I'm already yours,” as he interlaced his fingers with hers, interrupting their journey.

She offered a small loving smile, lowering over him once more so his arms could encircle her, “Possibly...but more like I'm memorizing you with my hands. Your body is so beautiful, strong, wonderfully-made in 'fearful symmetry'. I'm sketching you in my mind.” She paused, suddenly nervous, as her thoughts turned to what else she would like to do with his body.

“Will?” she asked in a whisper, between pecks to his warm cheeks.

“Mmm?” he purred, gazing into her eyes, and stroking a finger down the curve of her neck, down the cleft of her breasts. She turned unexpectedly shy and hesitant to say what she wanted, and it only made him want her to say it more.

“In your letters...those things you said. The way you instructed me. It drove me to madness, that control. I want...”

“Yes, darling?” he said encouragingly with his wide devastating smile, teasing her, as his finger was twirled a lock of her hair.

Violetta brought her lips closer to his ear. “Padre, I want you to control me. Make me kneel for your sacrament, like a servant of the Lord.”

His breath quickened as the promise of transgression stoked the same sacrilegious fire he discovered from their last tryst, and he was powerless against the all-consuming blaze of it. She slid off of him and held his hand to sit him up on the edge of the bed. Very delicately, elegantly she knelt before him smoothing her skirts. The combination of innocence and mischievousness in her eyes was an unbearable magic potion upon him. Temptress...sorceress...succubus, he thought...angel.

All either of them could hear was slight creak of the wood floor and furniture as they moved closer, the staggered pattern of their breaths, and the whispering shuffle of sheets like restless ghosts. He slid one finger under her chin lifting her eyes to his. She looked so deceptively tame with her sweet face and doe eyes, lips parted, parched for him.

As he caressed his fingertips over her lips her small impudent tongue flicked out to swirl around them. She parted her lips and trapped them gently, sucking and licking them inside the wet warmth of her perfect mouth.

“Father, may I taste you?” she asked caressing the very warm stiff bulge forming against the starched black cloth.

He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing, as he asked, “Are you absolutely sure, Violetta?”

Those eyes, irresistible as dark chocolate, meet him in a pleading gaze. “Please. I beg you, Father...give me your blessing.” Her hands were beginning to work at his pants to free his cock, moving slowly, hoping for his approval.

“You're awaiting my permission?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Mmm...my apt student. You're so lovely like this...so perfect,” he praised. He gave a haughty evaluating nod, flicking his eyes up and down, playing the strict schoolmaster. “Yes...very good, Miss Vespero. I think you've earned it.”

She wasted no time freeing him, sliding his trousers hastily down his thighs then bracing her warm hands upon them, gripping the thick muscles tightly. She ran her palms over the curve of his ass, down to the thick muscles of his upper legs and held once more, reaching her little body further up to take him in her mouth. She licked gently, almost reverently at the swollen tip, closing her eyes to savor him for the first time, like a rare delicacy, like the eucharist itself. She tasted the salt of where it already dripped for her, then the hot sweet firmness of the shaft, as she circled her hand around it and moved gently.

Will groaned, his head dropped back, eyes closed in divine ecstasy, as the red carnation of her mouth bloomed around him. He cradled her head, combing his large pale hands through the black silk of her hair. They could both tell he wouldn't last long; not when she would pull away for a moment just to lick him languidly from base to tip and smile up at him with her slick red mouth. Violetta moaned, “Mmmm. Padre, you taste divine. Let me see those lovely ocean eyes while I take you. Let your face shine upon me” before taking him in even deeper.

He gasped, “I'm...close.”

She smiled so sweetly up at him stroking up and down, saying, “In my mouth...please. I want to drink you.”

He commanded, “Unbutton your dress...remove it. I want to see more of you...all of you, before I quench your thirst.”

Violetta drew back slightly, teasing him, fingers moving lazily over each pearl buttons as she released it revealing more and more.

He huffed a gruff grunt, and said breathily, “Ohhh...you sinful infuriating woman. Stop teasing,” but he said it with the tiniest smile breaking his severe expression.

She rose to her feet before him, nearly naked. Just one more drop of a hem and she would be bare before him. Starring him directly in the eye, she said, “Make me, Father. No one can fight me like you do,” as she toyed with where the dress rested low and loose over her hips, sliding her thumbs lightly under the fabric, her top already bare and tempting.

He pulled her roughly by the waist to stand between his thighs and tugged the remainder of her clothes off. Will's large hands and long fingers caged her pliant flesh, digging in, as his tongue lashed one warm long stroke from belly to sternum. His mouth hungrily enveloped her breasts, nipping at the peaks, sucking until she whimpered and her body became slack. He grabbed her discarded dark purple cravat, and slung the silk around her neck. It struck him that the scarf strongly resembled the deep purple stole he would wear for advent services...the color of awaiting the unknown. Will had done his waiting. He needed her now. With a grunt he balled the fabric tightly in his fist, pulling her to him. His face met hers as he flicked his tongue just once over her lips, then he said in a voice raspy with lusty frustration, “kneel.”

Eyes wide with arousal and the tiniest bit of fear she dropped to her knees, sucking ferociously at his cock, challenging him; daring him to resist any longer. He thrust lightly into her mouth. As she took him, he said, in his commanding parson's tone usually reserved for the pulpit, “This is my body, broken for you. Eat of my flesh...drink of me...and I will give you life.”

Violetta moaned her affirmation, gripping harder into his thighs, and sucking forcefully until the stiff length of him shuddered and pulsed against her tongue, the warm liquid coating her mouth and throat as she swallowed and savored, sucking every last drop he could anoint her with. She held him there, even as his breath slowed. Finally she relinquished her hold and he observed her in awe, seeing her crimson-lipped and diabolically sated, like a vampire. Licking her lips, she sat back her onto her heels and said, “Amen” with the most indulgently dark but devoted stare.

“Come here you lovely, sweet, evil girl, you,” he purred. When she rose he gathered her tightly against himself, kissing her and tasting himself from her lips. The vicar slid his hand gently across her shoulder, down the violin-curve dip of her waist and up again to her hip.

Will gasped out in awe, “Just look at you...bare and lovely as Eve,” sliding a finger under her chin and smiling warmly, proudly.

“Did I please you?”

He kissed her forehead and held her cheek as he said, “So well, darling. So well...but now it's time for your lesson.” He said, grabbing her mound possessively, ghosting his fingertip over her soaked lips, stealing her breath momentarily. “Bella,” he gasped as he cradled and traced her body with his hands. There was yet another chapter left for them to study this Sunday, and it was written across her skin.

Taglist: @coldnique @muddyorbs @goblingirlsarah @acidcasualties @jennyggggrrr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @icytrickster17 @pati52 @marcotheflychair @ladyofthestayingpower @gigglingtigger-deactivated20230 @alexakeyloveloki @letsg00000honey @bitchyexpertprincess @lokisgoodgirl @sweetsigyn @lovelysizzlingbluebird @talklokitome @dragonmurray @peaches1958

#lusty vicar #lusty vicarettes #will ransome #will ransome fanfic #the essex serpent #the essex serpent fanfic

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brucenat · 11 months

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February 14th

AO3

Fanfiction

Summary: As far as Natasha's aware, her plans for February 14th this year consist of running errands and lunch with her partner. Post-AoU, canon divergence in which Hulk did not sail off into the bowels of the cosmos.

Notes: You might be wondering why I'm posting a Valentine's Day fic in June. The answer is triple-pronged: (1) you all have been very patient, you deserve something light and sweet, (2) this is from a collection of unposted fics written 1-4 years ago that I decided to try and salvage instead of flinging into the bowels of the cosmos (where Bruce/Hulk didn't belong), and (3) because I want to, as Brucenat fans are always in need of more joy.

Preview

Preview continues under the cut.

Nestled between some corporate office building and a rival residential complex, the refuge of her apartment awaited her. The quaint cafe across the street bursted with bodies—more so than any cafe within walking distance of Central Park did on a typical day. A few couples and families gradually dispersed from the Jewish center on the corner. Cars congested the street, their drivers extra impatient today, judging by the incessant cacophony of horns.

With a bag of pharmaceutical supplies slung over her wrist and two sandwiches from one of the many nearby delis tucked under her arm, she retrieved her apartment keys with swift hands and escaped the restless city streets. As always, out of a perpetual distrust and skepticism of elevators, she took the stairs up to her unit’s floor.

At the apex of her ascent, she emerged into the hallway to a chilled breeze. Someone opened the hall’s one window again. Probably the neighbor prone to triggering the fire alarm with kitchen misadventures that happened whenever the woman plucked up the courage to try some recipe from Pinterest. It happened about every other week, complete with the woman thrusting the window open in a frenzy that included a frantic fanning of her door and miscellaneous shouts that alternated between apology and insistence on everyone carrying about with their day like normal, as if there wasn’t a tinnitus-inducing alarm screeching. Once the alarm stopped, her neighbor would retreat with a slam of her door and the hall window open, forgotten every time. It was a nuisance at most, but benign.

Today, despite it being the middle of February, the incoming air didn’t have the sharpened teeth of a New York winter; it was tamer. It was crisp; it felt like something she could snap into pieces and scatter like ashes or seeds. It felt like, smelled like the kind of air not found in an American metropolis. The keenness, gentled to ribbons as it filtered through the screen, compelled her to sidestep from the stairwell door for a moment in appreciation.

...

The prolonged moment passed like time underwater. Before she crossed the threshold for overstaying in the hallway amidst reverie, she tucked the thoughts away, pushed off the wall, and approached her place. Her key glided into the lock, and then she into her apartment.

Handle in hand, door halfway closed, Natasha froze.

#avianink #brucenat #brutasha #natasha romanoff #hulkwidow #bruce banner #brutasha fanfiction #avengers #natasha pov #natasha romanov #general fic #february 14th #canon divergence

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thethumpergod · 13 days

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(Eskel X Coen First chapter rough draft)

(Feel free to suggest things to make it better)

Coen's gaze swept across the scene, taking in the ambiance of the reception hall. The soft glow of the lighting accentuated the elegant decor, casting a romantic atmosphere over the entire room. Delicate flowers and flickering candles adorned the tables, adding to the allure of the space. From what Aiden told him, his family kind of took over the wedding planning, which to be fair turned out nice.

As he watched Aiden and Lambert dance together in the center of the room, clearly trash-talking each other, Coen couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness wash over him.

"Isn't that sweet? They have it so bad for each other,” Axel slurred, his blonde spiky hair combed back into something more formal, though he kept his many piercings on. Coen glanced at him, noticing Cedric's absence. Axel continued his words blending slightly in his inebriated state. "He's taking a shit if you're wondering."

Coen chuckled at Axel's crude remark. Earlier that day, he and Dragonfly had flipped a coin, and he had lost. Now, he found himself on drunk babysitting duty, a task he was very much used to..

Coen surveyed the room, spotting Ciri dragging Eskel to the dance floor. With a laugh, he allowed himself to be pulled into dancing by her.

Axel hummed thoughtfully, "He's cute. Maybe me and Cedric could..."

"Quit thinking with your cock," Dragonfly interjected, equally intoxicated, lipstick marks adorning her mouth, clearly not her own. This was one of the few times he'd ever seen Dragonfly in a dress, her blonde hair crammed into a tight bun. "Besides, Coen's a bit occupied fawning over him right now."

"I'm not fawning," Coen replied, a tad defensively. The two gave him a skeptical look. Okay, so Lambert's oldest brother was a bit of a looker. There are plenty of lovely-looking people in the world; that doesn't mean he wants all of them.

Axel grinned, “you know what? I feel like dancing.” He took the taller man by the arm, coaxing him onto the dance floor. “Shall we?”

Coen laughed before jokingly bowing, “It would be my pleasure.”

As Axel led the way with confident steps, his movements seemed to transcend the dance floor, fluid and effortless despite being drunk. Coen followed suit, , mirroring Axel's movements with a natural grace.

They glided across the dance floor, executing a waltz to the gentle strains of a slow melody. Coen quickly lost himself in the dance, enjoying every step as he always did. However, his reverie was abruptly interrupted when Axel paused, prompting Coen to look at him with confusion.

Coen noticed Axel's complexion turning a shade paler, a hint of discomfort evident on his face. Before Coen could inquire further, Axel spoke up urgently, "Where's the bathroom again?"

"Down the main hall to the left," Coen replied, his worry evident in his voice as he watched Axel dash down the hallway without another word, hoping he would be alright.

"Is he okay?" a voice beside him inquired, drawing Coen's attention away from the disappearing figure of his friend.

"My dance partner may have drank a bit too much," Coen chuckled nervously, trying to mask his concern.

And then, there was Eskel. Oh, he looked spectacular tonight. Taller than Coen by only an inch or two, Eskel exuded a quiet confidence that never failed to captivate. His short brown hair was neatly parted in the middle, framing a face adorned with a soft yet knowing smile. Coen couldn't help but be drawn to the warmth in Eskel's dark brown eyes, a gentleness that seemed to soothe his restless heart. Even the scar that ran through Eskel's smile only added to his undeniable charm, making Coen's pulse quicken with every glance.

Coen shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering thoughts. Surely, he would get over this crush soon; after all, it had only persisted for three years.

"Would you still be up for a dance?" Eskel asked, extending his hand toward Coen.

Coen's heart raced as he stumbled over his words, "Oh, uh, yes, yeah," he stuttered nervously.

With a soft smile, Eskel guided Coen back onto the dance floor, their bodies moving effortlessly in sync with the music. Coen couldn't tear his eyes away from Eskel, mesmerized by the way the lights played across his features, highlighting every contour of his face.

As they danced, Coen found himself leaning into Eskel's embrace, his head resting against Eskel's shoulder while his hand lightly pressed against his chest.

“You look good in a suit, I'm normally used to seeing you in either casual clothes or firefighter gear,” Eskel said.

“I was about to say the same thing,” Coen looked him up and down.

Eskel's arms enveloped him, pulling him closer in a comforting embrace that sent shivers down Coen's spine.

Lost in the moment, Coen couldn't help but feel like he was living out one of the romance novels he'd read so many times before. He was sure he looked like a human tomato, but he didn't care; he was determined to savor every second of this surreal experience.

"Not too shabby on your feet, Coen," Eskel remarked, breaking the silence between them.

Coen chuckled softly, "Thanks. I didn't know you could waltz."

"I once slept with a dance instructor, she taught me a few things," Eskel replied with a grin.

Coen snorted at the unexpected revelation, "Well, I learned from my family, but your story definitely sounds more interesting." He paused for a moment before adding with a playful smirk, "I did get together with a massage therapist once. I probably should have asked him to teach me a thing or two."

Eskel responded with a warm smile, shaking his head in amusement as they continued to sway to the music. Lost in the moment, Coen wasn't sure how long they danced together, but he cherished every second of it.

As the song came to an end, they locked eyes for a few more lingering seconds. A part of Coen wanted to lean in and kiss Eskel, but uncertainty clouded his mind. He wasn't sure how Eskel felt about him, so perhaps it wouldn't be the best idea.

"Yo, Coen," Gaetan's voice interrupted their dance as he approached them.

Coen refrained from groaning as they stopped dancing. "Yes, Gaetan?"

"Dragonfly and Axel are throwing up their guts. You gonna take them home," Gaetan informed him.

"Oh," Coen sighed. "Thank you for this... the dance, I mean."

Eskel gave him a soft look before nodding. "Anytime." With that, he stepped away, leaving Coen wanting to say more, to ask if they could dance together again, but he found himself at a loss for words.

Coen bit his lip before scanning the room for Aiden and Lambert. It was their wedding after all, and it would be rude not to say goodbye.

"If you're looking for Aiden and Lambert, they sneaked off together like 20 minutes ago," Gaetan explained.

It figured. They had been exchanging bedroom eyes since they said "I do."

#the witcher #artists on tumblr #art #fanart #aiden the witcher #aiden x lambert #coen x eskel #modern au

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reveriestardust · 2 years

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@thenightmareofyourdrems -- Corinthian -- liked for a starter

His King was back and there was no need for Daydream to continue with the additional strenuous tasks he had taken on in the Dream Lord’s absence, but despite being quite exhausted from a century of excess duties, Reverie found himself to be...quite restless. He tried to help where he could. It had been such a lovely day at the beach, so much happiness radiating from the families and friends gathered for picnic and play; the daydreams were rampant. Matthew was close by keeping surveillance on Rose Walker as she continued to hand out flyers in search of her missing brother. Reverie himself fit right in, just a fellow beach bum who managed to blend in well in his pastel hoodie and shorts...and perhaps someone ELSE would have fit right in as well...were it not for the distinctive sunglasses and nightmarish aura.

“...oh shit...” Reverie whispered under his breath, bare feet stopping in their tracks within the sand, nearly dropping the sandshoes from his right hand. The expression on his face was not one of fear, but rather relief and concern. Had Dream’s suspicions been correct after all? That the dream vortex would draw the errant dreams and nightmares to her? “You’re here...”

#thenightmareofyourdrems #thenightmareofyourdrems-corinthian #{hello there!}#{i hope this is an all right starter}#{please let me know if you would like me to change anything}#echoes of sand

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sunchipsarebest · 1 year

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Starry Night

In a mining village born the child raised to be adored His light reflected on their eyes, his parents prayed he soared For generations they have lived an impoverished life in squalor The cycle of poverty continues the story of blue collar Innocence of childhood too soon gone to witness the harsh truth of reality and lessons of forgiveness.

The child still a child; he can’t yet let go Deep within his heart, resentment quietly grows. Day by day, the child feels restless reading all alone Only come the void of night his mind can freely roam

Every night, the child looks out to the sky high above Gazing at the sea of stars and darkness that he loves He points out shapes to make a face and picks the brightest one That’ll be my star today; I think I’ll name it Brun

Slowly drifting off to sleep dully pained by hunger Reality starts to blur; his mind begins to wander Time does not exist for the child lost in thought Everyday he dreams of space and leaves his life unsought Pictures he has seen in books etched into his memory The sea of space becomes his place from child’s favorite reverie

If stars were made like planets every night the child dreamt A new world of possibilities ready to invent Ready for descent, he gets closer to his star Excitement starts to rise inside having come so far Almost in a trance he awakens to the door His father loudly enters in a state of drunk stupor The child lies awake wishing to be dreaming A burning anger deep inside he cries what he is feeling The day his mother left he still can not accept Until he sees her once again he wishes he had slept

#shortstory #poems and poetry #poem #poetry #original poem #writing #writerscommunity #rhyme #rhyming #story

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harrylee94 · 2 years

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In the Footsteps of Luminous Beings - Chapter 14

You can also find this on AO3!

Summary: Men arrived in dull red jackets and blue-grey helmets that covered half their face. He recognised these guys; he’d seen them lingering around the edges of their silicax mine, pointed out to him by some of the townsfolk who worked there, and there had been one or two non-violent run ins with them during trade trips to the city. The Mining Collective.

He didn’t even get a chance to reach his blaster before they started shooting.

Notes: Getting into familiar territory now...

TW for death and mentions of slavery

Chapter 13

——————————————————————

Invaders

Something had felt off all day. The Force had felt coiled tight, ready to snap or spring into action, and he couldn’t figure out which. It made Cobb twitchy, restless, and he ended up making three more rounds of the town than he usually would have. In turn, this made his people more on edge; they’d learned to watch him like he was some sort of meteorological instrument. He wished there was something he could tell them to help them prepare, but he didn’t know what for.

The tension eased some time around midday, a welcome relief, but there was still something there, an itch he couldn’t scratch. He attempted meditation, but the Force was even more wild than usual, making any attempt to discover what was happening next to impossible, and any attempt at attaining a peaceful calm were equally lost.

And so he patrolled the town’s border, keeping watch for unwanted visitors and Sand People, who Cobb still hadn’t quite figured out how to communicate with beyond exaggerated hand gestures and the occasional threat, though he’d somehow managed to keep them from shooting anyone else. Fatally, that was, since Myra was stuck on crutches for the next few months.

It wasn’t until the evening that they got any news as to why things might have been so confusing.

The news was all over the Holonet; the Death Star was gone, the Emperor was dead, the Empire was over.

Someone in the attack must have brought a camera, because there was a recording that Taanti insisted on projecting in the bar. It was definitely cathartic, seeing that thing explode over and over again, and it put him in a much better mood, even if the Force was still acting strange.

It was almost like he was acting blind, having to go without it. His instincts had always been sharp before, but that had been because of his connection; in that moment everything felt strange. He ended up relying on his other senses, something that put him off-kilter, but when his last border patrol came up clear he joined in the reverie, setting his blaster aside for some shots of spotchka.

Cobb couldn’t deny his friends their revelries — it was a great victory, to see the end of a dictatorship even if their rule had barely affected like on Tatooine — as it happened all too rarely here. The last celebration had been one at the news of Jabba’s death, and it had gone on for days.

It was as the clock drew closer to midnight that he felt it, the warning in the Force, but by then it was already too late.

Men arrived in dull red jackets and blue-grey helmets that covered half their face. He recognised these guys; he’d seen them lingering around the edges of their silicax mine, pointed out to him by some of the townsfolk who worked there, and there had been one or two non-violent run ins with them during trade trips to the city. The Mining Collective.

He didn’t even get a chance to reach his blaster before they started shooting.

As though it took the attack to get the Force to make any sense, he felt it tug at him, pulling him outside, away from his people. It was one of the few times he’d considered disobeying it, but he saw the flicker of Ben’s form ushering him on and he followed, pulling Taanti with him to relative safety while he felt one or two familiar lights flicker out. And yet, even when he was within reach of weapons, the Force continued to pull.

“Tell everyone I’ll be back,” Cobb had told Taanti before they’d split ways, not giving him a chance to argue before he grabbed the camtono from the speeder and running out into the desert.

He felt like a coward and a fool.

As he wandered the desert, following the Force, not following the Force, whichever it was he was in the mood for, he damned himself for turning his back on the people who turned to him for safety, for protection. He cursed his naivety, that even after all he’d been through, all he knew, he still managed to kriff it all up.

Ben was still there, sometimes, though he didn’t say anything; Cobb wasn’t sure if he was there as a guide, as comfort or if he was casting some silent judgement upon him. He couldn’t blame him if he was.

It wasn’t long before he started to feel the effects of the heat. He smiled through cracked lips at the memory it brought up; it had been almost twenty years now since he had followed that faint pull away from his life as a slave and towards his freedom, and now he was following it again, though he wasn’t sure what would be the end of that tether.

Day turned into night turned into day again. He’d slept restlessly, sure he had doomed his people to a fate he’d promised he keep them from, unsure if trusting in the Force had been such a good idea, but with his throat as parched as it was and his head feeling like it was being cracked open with a pick he wasn’t thinking of much beyond taking one more step after the next.

When he at last noticed a Jawa sandcrawler, he couldn’t be sure if it was real or a trick of his rapidly shrivelling brain, but he headed closer, barely keeping hold of the camtono, until its shadow fell over him.

He’d never been one for praying, but in that moment he sent up some words of thanks to Ar-Amu for allowing these petulant beings to have decided to make their home on this waste of a rock.

They offered him food and water, gifts he didn’t have enough words to thank him for, even if it was only a meagre amount, but when they opened the camtonon to reveal what was inside, they became a lot more eager to please.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that the Mining Collective had kept some of their more recent spoils with them; the silicax crystals he’d stolen were of a fine grade, barely any imperfections to be seen, and the Jawas offered him much; weapons, droids, even one of their smaller speeder bikes, but it was something else that called to him.

He’d never seen Mandalorian armour before, not up close at least, but even with his inexperience he could tell this set was worse for wear. He wondered if the dent in the helmet had been what got the previous owner, or maybe it was whatever had made some of the paint start to burn off, but whatever it was, after some discussion amongst themselves, the Jawas agreed to part with it.

When he first put it on it became clear that it was made for someone with a larger build than him, but he tightened the straps as much as he could without breaking them (they seemed to have suffered the same damage as what had occurred to the paint) before asking the Jawas for one last favour.

They dropped him off a good three hours’ walk outside of Mos Pelgo a little after sunset, along with a pouch of water. He still didn’t have his blasters, but Ben walked with him and explained some of the ins and outs of the armour he now wore.

“You sure know a lot about this stuff,” he’d said.

“ I’ve known a number of Mandalorians over the years, even worn some beskar’gam myself for a time. ”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that Ben had secrets, especially considering he barely knew anything about his past beyond what he was and his failure to keep his brother for ‘going dark’. He hadn’t imagined this old man to have done anything that involved armour like this, especially not with all the weapons hidden in every crevasse.

He had looked at it with a sad familiarity, with guilt, almost, but then he seemed to look at a lot of things like that.

After the surprise lesson in ‘beskar’gam’ and the many ways he could use it, Cobb headed into town, being careful to keep to the periphery as much as he could with help from the darkness of a sky lit with only one moon. He avoided everyone he could, specifically those from the Mining Collective, but also, by default, the townsfolk, a town-wide curfew having been implemented from the looks of it, and he slipped around the backs of buildings until he reached his own small box of a home.

It was a simple space, probably one of the smaller of homes in the town, though he still made sure to have two bedrooms for when Issa-Or came to visit. Everything else, other than the fresher, was all in the same space, from his small kitchenette to what passed as his weapons locker, which was more a few hooks on the wall that he covered with a curtain. It was here he headed for, collecting his HF-94 heavy blaster pistol and making to take his rifle too, only for the Force to tell him it would be unnecessary.

“If I could have taken them with just my pistol, then why did I have to flee like a kriffing coward?” he asked through gritted teeth, not expecting an answer and not receiving one.

Once, when he was younger, nothing more than a scrappy kid who wanted to survive, he might have charged in without a thought, but now he knew the advantages of patience and finding the right moment.

He ended up waiting until when the suns had reached their zenith, their heat forcing those who could afford it inside, which meant the invaders would have sought shelter. It wasn’t difficult to figure out where they were.

It sounded like they’d taken up residence in the cantina, the laughter and chatter he heard emerging from the open door unfamiliar and jarring, and when he stepped up to block the light he found himself staring down a room full of strangers.

There were scorch marks on the walls from where the attack had happened a few nights before, some of the tables too, but at most of them was at least one member of the mining Collective. They were exclusively male humans, and all bar two still had their helmets on, but that wasn’t going to be a problem.

He saw Taanti behind the bar, likely forced to serve them at this early hour, and while it took the weequay a moment to recognise him under the helmet, he took Cobb’s signal to leave without a second glance at the invaders. He could still feel the spots where his people had been killed lingering in the spaces between the stools, and he brought his pistol to bear.

Half a dozen men fell dead to the floor with his precise aim, his chest aching from a lucky shot one of them had taken, but when they’d tried to flee he made use of his new armour’s — perhaps excessive — rocket launcher. There was nothing left of their getaway speeder than shrapnel and ashes.

When his people finally emerged from their homes once the roar of the explosion had faded, they greeted him with relief and joy, but some were more wary of why he’d gone in the first place.

“I had to go,” he explained to those few, Taanti and Myra among them. “It was important that I get this armour.”

“But why?” Taanti asked. “If you’d stayed then maybe we wouldn’t have lost Gri-arf or Xerin.”

“We lost them in the initial attack, Taanti,” Myra said. “Things weren’t easy the last few days, but no one else died.”

The bartender huffed but said nothing, folding his arms across his chest.

“The honest answer is… I don’t know why it’s important,” Cobb said after a moment of quiet. “I just know that I needed to get it, and now I have it I need to keep using it.”

“Force stuff?” Her’or asked, and Cobb nodded. “Well, it’s not led you wrong so far.”

“No, it hasn’t,” he agreed with a smile. “I’m glad you’re all alright.”

“You know us, Marshal,” Taanti said. “We’re tougher than we look.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Her’or said raising her mug. “To Mos Pelgo; a town tougher than it looks!”

“To Mos Pelgo!”

The following party involved more lookouts than last time, and there were a few more blasters on belts than before, but the Town remained safe, and the guilt waned more and more as time drew on. Maybe one day it would vanish entirely, but he doubted it.

——————————————————————

I'm so excited about tomorrow's chapter....

Chapter 15

#writing #fic #fanfiction #fanfic #mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #star wars #cobb vanth #ben kenobi #obi wan kenobi #taanti #jawas #force sensitive cobb vanth #tw death #tw slavery

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gogogobarry · 2 years

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oh i love these prompts! fireworks, tomorrow, or return for it! feel free to pick any you want, or go wild and do all of 'em if you'd like! :D

ONE WORD PROMPT DRABBLES! | not accepting (planning to do one a day!)

fireworks + tomorrow + return for @volot !!

“Hey hey, come one, and come all! Tonight, Jubilife Village is the number-one party spot in all of Hisui! Yes!” Barry proclaims, grinning ear to ear as he throws his arms wide open, gesturing gleefully towards the decorated shops lining Canala Avenue. “Welcome to our first annual spring festival, presented by me--Young Oran, tonight’s Magnificent Master of Ceremonies--and the rest of the Gingko Guild! Not bad for a ragtag bunch of merchants, eh? Oh, and hey--don’t forget, there’s gonna be deals, raffles, games...all that fun stuff, all night long! Let’s just have a blast, okay? Oran out!”

The gathered villagers whoop and cheer as Barry takes a much-deserved bow, some of them already munching on assorted Honey Cakes, fresh-picked Berries, and Beni’s irresistible festival-edition mochi. The entire avenue is strung up in warm lights, with nearly every resident either happily milling about or providing games and wares from their typical wooden stalls. Anthe is all smiles as she shows off her new festival fashions, receiving choruses of oohs and ahhs from an awed audience. Even Dagero seems more energized then usual, his finger flying to the camera shutter as he snaps photos of posing Pokemon, abashed couples, and giggling friend groups against the colorful backdrop.

For a first-time event held on this scale, everything is going amazingly well so far--and Barry just can’t stop smiling. Even the weather--evidenced by the slew of stars twinkling above his head--couldn’t be more perfect. As he strolls down the crowded village street, hands jammed into the pockets of his Gingko uniform, people pause to offer him words of thanks, maybe even a hearty clap on the back. Yes, Barry can be an absolute nuisance sometimes--his early morning hawking of goods gets old fast--but everyone knows that he’s the true mastermind behind this impulsive festival, working so hard to bring this grandiose vision into reality. Bravo.

“Hey Tules! Everything good?” he calls out, offering the passing Guild member a jaunty salute as they exchange grinning nods. Selling wares isn’t the main point of this event, but Barry still can’t wait for Tuli to crunch the numbers in the morning--the guild is out in full force tonight after all, so a massive profit is inevitable. They were all going to be rich. Maybe grumpy ol’ Ginter would even crack a smile for once...

Barry’s smile continues to be omnipresent as he rounds on the Gingko camp’s crackling fire, his expression only brightening further once he spots the familiar figure seated at the flame’s edge. Volo had just returned from one of his mysterious regional trips--right on time--so the elder Guild figure understandably seemed a bit out of it tonight, his unwavering gaze fixed on the gaping celestial instability looming over the distant Mount Coronet. Yes, the atmosphere at the camp--somewhat removed from the main festival thoroughfare--is pensive, refreshingly peaceful...until it isn’t. Thank you, Oran.

“Hey, hey...earth to Big Bro! You in there, buddy?” Barry crows impatiently, sliding in right beside Volo and snorting as the older merchant--snapped out of his tired reverie--flinches at his sudden arrival. “C’mon, you’re the one who always tells me to...uh, keep my senses alert, or whatever--what happened to you? Maybe it’s your old age, or maybe I’ve just gotten sneakier, eh?”

“Hm! Maybe you have...” Volo responds lightly, stifling a yawn as he takes stock of the distant festival...and the restless boy who’s eagerly perched next to him, ready to drink in his every word. It’s Volo’s turn to smile now, and the de facto star of the Gingko Guild throws an arm around his wannabe protégé, giving Barry’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. ”I must say, this festival is truly impressive so far, Oran. You should feel very proud, taking the reins to lead something like this all by yourself.”

Barry’s eyes widen, his cheeks almost immediately flushing pink. “I-I had a bit of help. From Tules, Choy, y’know...” he mutters dismissively, clapping an embarrassed hand to the back of his neck. Contrary to his usual all-me attitude, the young blond seems almost flustered as he grins down at his boots, sits up a little straighter. It’s clear that Volo’s approval means so much to him--as usual--even as this rare moment of modesty inevitably fades away.

“...Man, I could’ve used your help with the sales pitch though. Do you know how hard it was to convince Boss Cyllene and Pops that this party was all worth it? Yeesh,” Barry grouses lightly, poking Volo in the ribs. “I kept reminding myself--what would Big Bro say?--and then I just kept talking until both of them rolled their eyes and said party on! Score one for Oran--I learned from the best speaker ever, right? Oh!”

Barry abruptly leaps out of his seat as if zapped by a phantom Thundershock, causing poor Volo to flinch again. “That reminds me! I gotta show you and the whole village something super cool! I know you’re probably pooped, but you don’t even have to move, okay? I’ll be right back!” The overexcited organizer takes a few steps before skidding in his tracks and whirling around. “Oh! And that also reminds me--once I’m done, wanna come down to the Ave and say hi to everybody? I know you’re probably pooped, but I promise the festival’s fun! I mean, everyone wants to see you and hear your latest stories...just think on it, yeah?” But don’t move just yet, Mr. Popular! I’ll be back in a flash--count me down, Big Bro!”

However, Barry zips off before Volo can even open his mouth to respond (or even count), leaving a very bewildered Hisuian traveler in his wake. What is even happening right now? Perhaps it’s the spirit of the festival, but Barry seems more frenetic than normal...if that’s even possible.

BANG!

A loud sound suddenly tears through the evening air, almost causing Volo to pitch backwards off his log stool. His eyes are immediately drawn skyward, mouth dropping open as multicolored lights dazzle the celestial canvas overhead. The merchant hears oohs and cheering from the Village’s center...and then Barry all but reappears in front of him, panting with hands planted on his knees. Young Oran is positively beaming now.

“Did...did you see that, Big Bro? It worked! They actually work!” he celebrates, dancing around Volo’s log with glee. “I present you with...Hisui’s first homemade fireworks! Look, look, here comes another one!”

Another impromptu firework arcs into the sky, prompting yet another majestic flash. Barry is excitedly rambling on about working with Choy to craft the colorful explosives from the fuses of discarded Pokeballs, but Volo isn’t paying much attention, his unwavering gaze fixed on the brilliant explosions. As the dependable Anvin launches the full arsenal of custom fireworks from the farm fields (Galaxy Corps permission for this be damned!), Barry finally runs himself out of steam and and plops down next to Volo again, the two merchants gazing up at the triumphant scene in thoughtful silence.

The explosions are so bright yet so fleeting, and Barry finds himself wishing that the momentary splashes of color would stick around for just a little longer. He harbors the same feelings towards this festival--this celebration of how far Jubilife has come--and part of him selfishly wishes that tomorrow would never arrive, wishes that he could just capture this singular evening in a capsule and exist in it forever. He lets out a sigh of contentment. Perhaps the fact that he can never return to such a perfect, temporary moment...is what makes tonight so special in the first place.

Volo’s eyes are also trained on the fireworks, though his gaze lingers on what happens after the explosion, when the discarded, burnt-out embers descend sadly to the earth. He frowns to himself--the fleetingness of this display shouldn’t disappoint him so much, but it does. Inevitably, he finds himself staring at the spacetime distortion portal looming above the Coronet Highlands, the ominous problem that this festival has tried to ignore. Unlike the fireworks, the portal’s light endures. Unlike the fireworks, the portal is only growing stronger, brighter over time. The white light sears Volo’s vision, reminding him of his greater mission. Once he makes his play, there is no returning to the Village, the Guild, anything resembling normalcy. After he’s ascended, he can finally abandon this pointless façade...and become so much more.

On Volo’s side, Barry sighs again, his hazel eyes twinkling with innocent wonder and big dreams. For someone who’s always rushing towards something new, he is truly content to stay in this moment for once. After all, there’s always tomorrow, and--this time--tomorrow can wait, just this once.

Volo sighs too, turning away from the distortion with a pang in his chest. For someone who always acts so casual and composed, he finds himself filled with an insatiable restlessness, the need to further his own goals preoccupying his mind above all else. The mask he wears is slipping more and more every day. Soon. He is so close.

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

#volot #long post #PLA VERSE.#WHEW!!!#(hi lucian!! thanks for giving me a chance to throw myself into writing again...this verse gives me life)#(and SO sorry for taking eons. i kept pecking away at this and got carried away...this is almost a celebration of everything PLA hahah)#(i also hope you dont mind me having volo speak in here...tried my best with the characterization!)#(this post is so long that i almost feel self conscious posting it LMAO...was super fun and i hope you enjoy!!)#queued #memeZ

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chinesegreenteagoldentriangle · 5 months

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Longjing's Reverie: Balancing Tea's Benefits and Side Effects

As winter's chill settled upon Hangzhou's West Lake, my friend Wei Zhou and I began our yearly ritual - steeping the prized Longjing tea while discussing the changes each new season brings. Its floral aroma lifted our spirits, as always, reminding us why this Chinese green is cherished.

But this year, Wei shared new concerns about excess caffeine keeping her up at night. As reports link black and oolong teas more strongly to insomnia than greens, studies show varying caffeine levels between Longjing cultivars - some containing as little as 20mg per 8oz cup. Location and processing methods also impact antioxidants and L-theanine content.

Drawing from traditional Chinese philosophy, I reminded Wei that Daoists viewed tea as heightening qi rather than "stimulation." Mindful moments appreciating subtle flavors are said to cultivate presence over restlessness. Indeed, research indicates various compounds may affect individuals differently depending on wellness factors like stress levels.

We then prepared our tea using gongfu cha's intentional approach - smaller leaf amounts steeped successively in a Yixing teapot allow deeper flavor extraction with lower intake. The sensory ritual nourishes spirit as much as body. Passing each brew with gestures of appreciation aligns us with Longjing's cultural journey, brought from China along the Silk Road by merchants.

Perhaps our celebration need not end, but evolve - as all things must - to honor tradition while caring for wellbeing, I reassured Wei. With research-guided moderation and mindfulness embraced like the ancient tea sages, Longjing's poetry can continue soothing mind and spirit for seasons to come. May its gentle verses transport all seekers of calm reflection during life's changes.

Buy Now

#Longjing tea #Chinese green tea #tea #Hangzhou #West Lake region #Health benefits of tea (antioxidants #L-theanine #caffeine levels)#Potential side effects of tea (insomnia #anxiety #caffeine sensitivity)#History and folklore of Longjing origin

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equanimitypage · 7 months

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REASONS OF LOVE:

1. His dearest smile—a radiant and beautiful masterpiece painted on his face, akin to the first ray of dawn that caresses the world awake. It possesses this magical ability to paint a canvas of warmth across my heart, as though a gentle brush of sunlight kissing the morning dew.

2. His beautiful laughter—as if a celestial orchestra awakens, a harmonious ensemble of angels singing in perfect unison. This symphony of joy, woven from the threads of his mirth, becomes an enchanting serenade that dances through the atmosphere of my day to day life with him.

3. His gleaming eyes—like an uncharted galaxy, vast and infinite, swirling with mysteries and wonders that only the fortunate few get to explore. They are deep, endless pools of understanding, each ripple a reflection of the profound depths of his soul which remains beautiful.

4. His melodious voice—a mesmerizing symphony, possesses the enchanting power to transcend the boundaries of sound and touch the very depth of my soul. It's a soothing balm for my restless spirit, akin to the gentlest of melodies that lull a troubled heart to serenity.

5. His warmest embrace—a sanctuary, a sacred refuge where the tumultuous waves of life's trials find stillness and serenity. Within the circle of his embrace, I find my sweetest solace and comfort that transcends mere physical touch. World fades into blur, and I am warm.

6. His endearing kisses—an exquisite form of poetry, each one a stanza in an epic tale of love and passion that we, together, continue to write. Each kiss paints vivid images of our connection, like the brushstrokes of an artist on a canvas, creating a masterpiece of ardor.

7. His tender touch—a soothing balm that miraculously mends the deepest wounds of my soul. When his fingertips make contact with my skin, it's as if they carry an enchanting elixir that possesses the power to dissolve all worries and pains, leaving behind a gentle tranquility.

8. His sense of humor—a boundless treasure trove, a chest filled to the brim with the most precious gems of laughter and joy. It's as if he carries a magic wand that can transform even the most mundane moments into uproarious adventures, leaving trails of delight in his wake.

9. His impressive strength—a multifaceted gem that transcends the boundaries of the physical realm. He stands as a towering pillar of support in my life, a lighthouse guiding me through the darkest of storms. He's my rock, an unyielding foundation upon which I always trust.

10. His soft vulnerability—when he peels back the layers of his soul and reveals his true self, it's as if he's offering me the most treasured gift, a glimpse into the inner sanctum of his being. Because it's true, it's raw, and it's sweet. I'd cherish and love him more for that.

11. His wonderful resilience—a quality that never ceases to inspire, is like a beacon of strength in the face of adversity. Much like a mighty oak tree that stands tall and unwavering through the changing seasons, he too faces life's storms with grace and unwavering determination.

12. His magnificent dreams—a fragments of constellations strewn across the vast expanse of the night sky, each one illuminating a unique path towards a brighter future. Together, we build a world that knows no boundaries, where the limitations of reality blur in our reverie.

13. His acts of kindness—akin to the gentle raindrops that fall upon a parched desert. In a world that often seems dry and desolate, his gestures serve as a reminder that love is not merely a sentiment but a powerful, meaningful action beneath this world that's full of cruelty.

14. His patience—a virtue as rare as a precious gem, possesses the remarkable power to calm the tumultuous waters of life's challenges. It's not just a trait but a profound reservoir of serenity, a tranquil oasis amid the swirling storms of misery in our existence.

15. His thoughtfulness—where he places every thread with purpose and precision. It's in the small gestures—the surprise cup of tea when I'm feeling down, a heartfelt note tucked into the pages of a book, or a simple text message from him; it's an embodiment of his deep love.

16. His genuine support—a formidable structure akin to a sturdy bridge, spans the turbulent waters of life's obstacles, offering a steadfast path to navigate even the most challenging terrains. With his presence by my side, I find the courage and determination to conquer anything.

17. His—

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