I'm so tired.
Impudence (Emperor!KouenXReader)The emperor is the person with the highest standing in the entire Empire. He is the very embodiment of Judgement; should he order you to fight, then you fight. Die, then you have no choice in the matter. Refusing to do what he orders is a capital offence, as is ordering him to do anything. It’d be the equivalent to suicide to try and tell him what to do.
Lord Kouen’s chest was bare, tinted with fine hairs, the dark colour of which didn’t match his flaming mane of hair. At the moment, it was messy and hanging over his face, though he pushed it back over his scalp repeatedly and with growing irritation. Smoke was circling over his head, his lips puckering momentarily as he drew on the elongated, clay pipe. Your eyes drifted up the design, flickering over the scales on the twisted dragon’s tail. The beast’s great jaws opened on the end of the pipe, creating the illusion of it breathing smoke and ash.
Slowly your fingers slid up his ribs, quietly count
A near miss (Tsukito TotsukaX Reader) CMTsukito’s leg jiggled up and down as he waited by the front gate. He was leaning against the low wall destined for potential boyfriends to wait for their potential girlfriends. Under his breath, he muttered the pointers his brother and Loki had given him before he left. “Compliment and casual touches, compliment and casual touches.” He repeated again and again, his fingers drumming against his thighs. Taking this moment, he admired the clothes he’d been advised to wear, plucking at the loose cotton T-shirt and the dark blue jeans.
“Totsuka!” At this voice, he glanced up. To the unexperienced Tsukito watcher nothing would have shown on his face, however to those who’d been around him longer, his face had softened and his gaze brightened. You ran towards him, a great grin on your face until you got up to him. “Were you waiting long?” You asked, your eyes glancing over his normal clothes in appreciation; he looked good, better than he
Lazy Sunday (ErwinXPregnant!Reader) CMIt had been a quiet morning, starting with whispered conversations in bed, half-awake kisses not finding their goals but tasting sweet nonetheless. Even as the two of you had lain there in bed, bodies ensnared and legs all tangled, you could feel the soft breeze that rustled the curtains. Your hands had found their mark, just along the juncture between his shoulder and neck, fingers rubbing the tanner skin soothingly. With the widest of smiles, he had lingered in your arms as long as he could, until he went off to make breakfast and serve you in bed. And now you found yourself there, in his arms and as snug as a bug.
The laziness of Sunday afternoons was contagious, ensnaring even your normally so busy husband. Though his shoulders had been stiff with stress, his forehead a permanent furrow these last few weeks, he was now half dozing in the cushy armchair your mother had given you. His arms were around you, long fingers stretched out around your engorged belly. His chin poked your sho