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bunny584 · 3 months

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OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

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ozlices · 2 years

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found a vanoe fic from october that i sincerely have ZERO recollection of writing, but since it is from october, that means it’s the first or one of the first things i wrote w them. which also means it’s one of the first things i wrote in years, & it’s rly good actually im kinda ?!?!!!!!!! over finding it. but also i can tell it’s so good bc it is absolutely DRENCHED in self-indulgence lmfao. so.

i might finish it but that’s a big mortifying ordeal of being known to post something that embarrassingly self-indulgent oofie

#vanitas is too easy to project onto bc it's not actually project he rly is canonically just like that #so he is such an easy outlet for my emotional turmoil. esp when i am coupling it w gay yearning SHEESH #sir. we both need therapy. does ur doctor license come with it we rly could use that knowledge if it does #vanitas being real & being my bestie but we literally just hang out in mutual therapy sessions.#mine #i think my writing being at its best when i am being horrendously self-indulgent is a scam btw. fucked up that it's how it is #esp bc it's like. ok well my best writing comes when im writing abt being a fucking emo ass bitch #if i try to be all poetic & descriptive w happy things i lose all my capabilities bc damn idk what that feels like bro KTJKJRJKTJ #can i start living my best life already so i can write happy shit w the same poetic prowess as my emo shit. pls.

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merakiui · 29 days

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I saw Rollo is a favorite of yours! As a fellow Rollo fan I have to ask, what are your headcanons (NSFW and/or SFW) and Rollo Ranking??

I love Rollo so much!!!! <3 the amount of GloMas screenshots I have in my photos (most of Rollo) is absurd,,,, he's rightfully earned his place among my favorites.

As for headcanons, I like to portray him as a gross pervert who hides his depravity under a cordial façade. The silent, invisible stalker type who admires from afar and doesn't insert himself into your life in any noisy or abrupt manners. He tries to be natural about it even though behind closed doors he's collecting your things and masturbating to lewd thoughts of you. He oscillates between wanting to be traditional (excessively long, modest courtship) and wanting to skip all of that and just,,, rail you six ways to Sunday.

I also like to imagine he reads erotic literature,,, he's so Victorian to me hehe. Do you know of Queen Victoria's journals and how she often wrote and detailed her sex life? That's what Rollo does with his diary. He writes about you nonstop in there. Sometimes it's sweet and a little poetic. Other times it's him using the pages as an outlet because he saw how easily amazed you were with a few of your mage friends and now he's both irritated and envious that such folly could impress you so easily. Most times the pages are filled with filth. I think Rollo would write so much smut in there. orz you just have him in a horny chokehold.

He's also so delusional and hypocritical. No one is allowed to defile you, but he's an exception because he's ✨ built different. ✨ which really just means he feels he's qualified because he's the only one allowed to love you this deeply, to protect you from all harm, to be sensible enough to care for you. He's above everyone else because he always has your best interests in mind, because he is responsible and would never use magic, because he's not one to submit to temptation so easily (a lie; he folds if you so much as smile at him).

Rollo worships you. Everything that you are is utter perfection to him. He would never hurt you, but if you refuse to understand him he will have no choice but to resort to more dramatic measures. Rollo just wants to lock you away and keep you safe and happy forever. Is that really so wrong? He's certain that his thoughts are justified. He could never be the villain in this situation. It's everyone else who's villainous! He doesn't blame you if you express interest in escaping. The outside must have poisoned your mind, in which case he must show you that it's better to live in captivity, where he can ensure you're always content.

Sex with him is wild because he's spent so much time fantasizing and horny gripping and now he finally has you all to himself........ he tries to restrain himself, but it's impossible when you're wearing such pretty lingerie. <3 you will be so exhausted afterwards because he is not resting until he's tired himself out. Rollo allows himself this greedy indulgence because it's a gift from him to,,, him. ;;; a treat for all the work he's done keeping you safe.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #yandere twst

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 months

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The Needy!M6 Drabble was sooo good it has me hoping for a mini HC of Needy!MC so could I request an MC just needing some extra reassurance and love?

The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6 when MC's feeling needy

Julian: the fussing dials up to 100, he's holding your hands, smoothing your hair, adjusting the room temperature, wrapping you up, offering food and water, kissing your palms and waxing poetic about all the reasons he loves you so dearly as he holds your gaze

Asra: teetering between their old habit of trying not to let you get too close and finally being able to do as they please. builds a pillow pile/fort/snuggle nest, gets all tangled up with you inside, traces your face and gazes at you adoringly with whispered compliments

Nadia: all of her provider instincts finally have an outlet. you're not allowed to move now, she's holding you in her lap and hand feeding you your favorite snacks and treating your skin and hair until they shine and going detail by detail over all of your personal strengths

Muriel: his love for you is slowly but surely winning out over his anxiety. napping and peaceful spots are his forte, so he'll take you out somewhere mossy and green and wrap you up with him in warm soft furs and press the occasional kiss to your temple while he holds you

Portia: oh, she loves the chance to return some love when she's developed such an appreciation for yours. she's turning the entire cottage into a cozy little nook, and then she's tugging you onto the couch and into her arms and playing with your hair and loving on you

Lucio: it might take a second for him to realize what you need, but once he does, he's so happy. he needs you too - and there's no reason not to indulge. he's getting as physical as you're comfortable with, rambling to you all about how safe he'll keep you so you can relax

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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chimmykai · 2 months

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Welcome to my "Why August should have the Crown" but in a bad way.

We've all seen how Wilhelm feels about being Crown Prince; he doesn't want it and he would we miserable with his role.

The Crown is a punishment to him, and he realised that. So I think it will be implied in S3 that in the future he will give it up.

And August will then became officially his backup. Some people in the fandom (and Wilhelm and Simon) still sees that in a bad way because they think that this will be like a prize to August and it might be in the beginning, but I think soon August will realise that it's indeed a punishment.

August is no Erik or Wilhelm; he doesn't have the people's love since he was a little kid, he has no media training, the Queen isn't even on his side, he was not born to play this role. Wilhelm either but he at least had grown up in this enviroment...

Also, imagine the day the news outlet find out that;

His father committed suicide

He can't stand his stepdad and went bankrupt.

He has no money left

This will cause a great scandal...

We are all forgetting that August suffers from an eating disorder, has low self-esteem and a drug adiction. How do you think he will cope with all of this?

I do believe that August is in love with Sara, and he's still not over it as seen in the trailer. And I think this moment in season 2 says a lot.

Dear August, you really think that the Royal Court will let you date the neurodivergent daughter of an inmigrant mother and drug addict father whose brother is in a sextape/dating the ex-Crown Prince?

August doesn't realise that from now on his life will be controlled by the Royal Court. The conversation of the 10 year plan that he had over the phone in S2 seemed to stressed him but didn't realise how serious it was; well, welcome to your new life.

Also, August doesn't have anyone; no father, he's angry at his mom, can't stand his stepdad, he doesn't have friends because the ones he had on S1 turned his back at him in S2 when Wilhelm said something...

I'm no Kristina fan and her decisions, but let's remember that she's a mourning mother. In less than a year her life changed dramatically. In public she might seem close to August but in private? He's the one that caused her remaining heir to think about giving up the crown and end her dinasty (?) by outing him in a sextape video... Don't think she will be fond of him...

So yeah, I think that August won't go to prison and won't be held accountable for what he did. He will graduate and then his life won't be his anymore, because from now on the Royal Court will be the one dictating all of his decisions.

Meanwhile Wille will get to live his life just like he wanted, free from that control.

And it will be poetic that August will be the one taking up his place, because he will then start to suffer what he thought he wanted.

August thinks that he will be the perfect Crown Prince, but he doesn't realise that being a Prince is not a privilege but a punishment.

#prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #wilmon #young royals #yr season 3 #august horn #young royals theory #sara eriksson

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meglosthegreat · 6 months

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I recently recced someone Dishonored, and in doing so realized that the reasons I love the series and the reasons game reviewers and media outlets loved the series are actually very different. So whatever you've heard about it being an inventive and mechanically intricate immersive sim, here's why you should actually play these games:

Corvo, the depressed dad who is also a rampant kleptomaniac who does a little bit (or a lot) of murder but it's ok because it's not as much murder as the ones he's murdering

Daud, the depressed ace/aro king who does one little war crime that everyone won't shut up about and is then sad for the rest of the series

Emily, the depressed empress who was actually pretty bad at ruling and needed to go murder a few people (or a lot) in order to get better at it

Billie, the depressed criminal who somehow ends up being a video game protagonist as a 40+ year-old black lesbian woman and is perpetually done with everyone's shit

The Outsider, the depressed god who is constantly soaking wet and torments people by giving them the power to do war crimes while also gleefully watching them slowly go insane

And that's just the major players! You also get as a bonus, in no particular order: deep worldbuilding, immaculate aesthetics, comically evil fucked up little guys, comically tragic fucked up little guys, talking rats, time travel shenanigans, slapstick comedy, and as much poetic justice as your twisted little heart desires.

#the mechanics are pretty good too I guess #dishonored #dishonored 2 #dishonored doto #video games #the outsider #corvo attano #daud #emily kaldwin #billie lurk #game recommendations #game recc

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sword-swallower-pin · 6 months

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we're in such a strange era where men will just casually wax poetic for several paragraphs in mainstream media outlets about how john and paul were in love with each other but no one dares to explore the real questions (were they having gay sex? when were they having gay sex? what kind of gay sex were they having?) mate you're a journalist, do your job

#rob sheffield what do you think of mclennon top/bottom discourse #john and paul #its genuinely jarring seeing the theories you thought niche to your strange little internet community in newspapers #but like nobody is bothering to go any furher with this #oh yeah john wrote several sad yearning song about how much he misses paul. why would that open up any intresting questions?#someone write a book please. if peter jackson can make get back then we should be able to find out what happened in india #john lennon #paul mccartney

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 5 months

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Hiya Mo! Congrats on such an amazing achievement! If it's not too much trouble, may I request something for Alfie Solomons using the following prompts please?

"Can you please just shut up for once?" + “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.”

Thank you (no pressure though)! And congrats again ♥️♥️

Hi my darling V!! This was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it my love!!!

100 Follower Celebration:

Evenings at Home

Alfie Solomons x Reader, Warnings: Language

Some people may think that a regular routine is something to be avoided. That the repetitive rhythm of life is synonymous to the shackles of a boring life which must broken as soon as it is noticed. But this isn't how you and Alfie saw your evenings together much less your life together.

The life as the King of Camden brought too many uncertainties. The business moved far too quickly in various directions, and the threats on Alfie's life were too numerous and too far reaching. The life of the King of Camden was anything but normal and ordinary and routine. Which is why Alfie craved and yearned for normalcy in his private life, and why he clung to your with all 10 of his bejewled fingers. You brought a sense of peace to his life. You brought an outlet where Alfie wasn't the Mad Baker, a ferocious man to be feared. With you he could simply be your husband. With you he could simply be Alfie. With you he could simply be a man coming home to his spouse and his dog after a day at the office. The tranquility and predictability of a warm home and loving kisses did more in mending his soul than any amount of riches and power and drink could ever do in a thousand years.

It was so that at 6pm on the dot that Alfie shut down the office and made his way to you, ensuring that no one would interrrupt any precious time with you. Dinner would be set, a fire would be going, and only candles would be lit to warm Alfie's bones and spirit. After dinner Alfie would drag you to the sitting room, with the radio softly humming in the corner, and your angelic voice reading from a book you both were working through. Alfie allowed himself the luxury of laying his head across your soft thighs, interrupting every so often to chastise the characters in the novel for being stupid.

This evening's reading was Wurthering Heights, a torrid and haunting love affair that expanded through the decades destroying the broken soul of a hardened man. The burning words on the page took your breath away, and you found yourself lost in the poetic and scorching story. Alfie however was lost in the way you breath hitched, and the dreamy way your voice wove the images into an ornate tapestry before his eyes. The voice of his angel and the feelings of your cool fingers through his soft thick hair was gently sending him off into a sweet sleep.

It wasn't until you heard the rumbling snores of your beloved below you did you realize that Alfie had actually fallen asleep in your lap. You smile softly, biting your lip to keep yourself from chuckling. He hates falling asleep in front of you like this. He would much rather kiss you to sleep in bed It's my duty as a husband sweet. The man doesn't fall asleep before his sweet heart and before he gives her a proper evening of affection.

But oh how you cherished these moments. You worried about him. Constantly. You wished he didn't have so much on his shoulders and on his brow. In the waking hours you did whatever you could to make his home sweet and comfortable and easy, anything to help alleviate the stress. But in sleep you could see the pay off. The softness of his face. The firm set of his mouth relaxed as melodic snores fall out of his lips. Those long lashes carressing his scarred cheek. You softly pet and carded your fingers through his hair and his beard, taking in his beautiful features. This in of itself was a treasure. No one else got to see him like this. No one else got to see Alfie Solomons as you did.

All too suddenly Alfie started awake, and you cursed yourself inwardly for possibly awaking him. With a quick inhale Alfie stuttered, "What happened? Did I fall asleep on ya?"

You bit your cheek, attempting to settle him back down in your lap, "Mmhmm. You fell asleep in my arms. It was kind of adorable really."

Alfie drug himself off your lap, "Adorable? Nah nah fuck no. Men are not adorable. Solomons are not adorable they are ferocious and and... handsome!"

You laughed at the sudden reddening of his cheeks. "While all that is true my love, the fact remains that it was sweet! You're very sweet in sleep."

Like a pouting child Alfie strongly disagreed, "You are out of line. Letting me fall asleep like that. Betrayer. What do I always say? You sleep first, then me. I'm the man yeah? I kiss your pretty head stupid and I fall asleep second. Now look at yeah. Completely changing the order of things. I mean is nothing sacred anymore? Next you'll want to run the rum house too eh?"

His rambling and ranting sent you into a fit of laughter. Because truly no one could be more ridiculous and ludicrous than your husband. As he was still raving you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his heated neck, "Can you please just shut up for once?"

You pressed your lips to his, immediately silencing him, and feeling his strong and thick arms wrap around you, bringing you closer against his chest. Only when your body was begging for air did you pull away, seeing Alfie's eyes closed and chasing you for your lips again. You hummed in pleasure, resting your hand on his cheek again. Alfie's eyes opened to reveal all the softness and love in the world. All yours. He patted your thigh before instructing, "Why don't you head upstairs for me sweet? I'll clean up and meet you in the bedroom?"

With a shy smile you nodded, kissing his nose to seal your deal. He scoffed and shook his head, as if shaking off the kiss. You merely chuckled, skipping upstairs, excited to spend another evening in peaceful paradise with your love.

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