#casting hues of red

[justin-travel-2024]

"Crimson Horizons: Behold the Enchanting Red Sunset in Sweden's Breathtaking Landscapes"

"Captivating Beauty: Witness the Majestic Red Sunset in Sweden and Immerse Yourself in Nature's Radiant Splendor"

[mahi-does-some-art]

Thorns Are Growing Over The Garden Of Eden, A Game Of Chess?!

Lily has gone rouge and batshit far too little for what he deserves and I think it’s a damn shame. Let him be crazy. Let him fuck shit up. I wanna see him tear someone’s throat out with his teeth.

[historiaxvanserra]

Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader

Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).

The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.

You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice. 

You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory. 

“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.” 

You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.

“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.

“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”

You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe. 

It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think. 

“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”

The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red. 

Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you. 

“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”

Your avenging angel.

Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement. 

The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name. 

She knows your name. 

“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses. 

The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen. 

In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here. 

“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts. 

“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”

“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.

The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.

You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity. 

“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”. 

You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.

Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment. 

The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.

Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.

The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove. 

Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark. 

He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.

In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty. 

Otherworldly and ethereal.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.

“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.

Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps. 

His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes. 

The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens. 

“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow. 

“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.

You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.

“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.

    “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait. 

“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.

“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.” 

“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles. 

“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again. 

Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.

“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls. 

This house is something truly breathtaking. 

It feels like a home you realize. 

“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son. 

“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms. 

As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother. 

It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…

The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.

Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp. 

Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it. 

“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.” 

“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”

That had been long before him. 

You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence. 

“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense. 

“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”

Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark. 

The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer? 

You want to live. 

The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.

“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.

“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--” 

“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse. 

You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.

Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you. 

It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.

“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her. 

“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”

“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms. 

“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”

“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you,  “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.” 

The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious. 

“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.

“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.

You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye. 

“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you. 

It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect. 

“I don’t think that's a good--” 

“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean. 

“Rhys--” You warn gently. 

“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him. 

He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.

Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.

“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.

Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement. 

“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.

[shonen-brainrot]

Dragon!Kirishima, who is a huge dragon with fiery red scales that gleam brilliantly. Crowned with two razor-sharp horns, he boasts a majestic golden-red mane that billows in the wind as he soars through the skies, his massive wings casting an impressive shadow below.

Dragon!Kirishima, who is a fire dragon. When faced with a threat or an intruder trespassing on his territory, he doesn't hesitate to unleash torrents of scorching flames, leaving behind a searing trail.

Dragon!Kirishima, with an affinity for all things shiny and golden, shares the common dragon love for richness. His lair is adorned with numerous trophies and trinkets, golden coins and goblets, jewelry, gold bars and many, many more.

Dragon!Kirishima, who is all about rhubarb and figs. Every dragon craves heaps of calcium, and it comes from different sources.

Dragon!Kirishima, who experiences intense heats, making it hard for him to think straight, with his mind consumed by the overwhelming desire to relieve himself in any way possible.

Dragon!Kirishima, who's finding amusement as you navigate lost in his territory, initially contemplates swift retribution. However, upon catching a whiff of your sweet and intoxicating scent, he has a change of heart, opting for a more intriguing course of action.

Dragon!Kirishima, who waits until you enter his den before revealing his massive presence. Amused by your initial screams, he reassures you that he won't harm you and offers a deal – your assistance in helping him get off in exchange for your safety.

Dragon!Kirishima, who, beneath his impeccably sculpted strong abdomen, has not one, but two cocks. Both of his impressive cocks boast extraordinary length, a substantial girth, and a mesmerizing gradient of coloration. Starting with a striking crimson hue near his pelvis, the tones gradually transform into a captivating shade of gold at their tips.

Dragon!Kirishima, who keenly observes as you tentatively discard your garments. In a swift and deliberate motion, his forked, serpentine tongue envelops the entirety of your pussy, earning him a chorus of sweet moans from your lips. The sensation of your exquisite flavor cascading over his tongue sends waves of wild passion coursing through him.

Dragon!Kirishima, who guides you through a series of climaxes with the adept use of his to gue and muzzle. The relentless waves of pleasure leave you thoroughly drenched, creating an ideal state for accommodating one of his impressive cocks.

Dragon!Kirishima, who, once you're wet enough, confidently seizes the opportunity to simultaneously fill both of your eager holes with his cocks. Witnessing you completely engulfed by him ignites a primal surge of satisfaction within the dragon.

Dragon!Kirishima, who fucks you in a forceful, hard rhythm, thrusting into you with primal, guttural sounds escaping his muzzle.

Dragon!Kirishima, who's nearly pushed over the edge by the symphony of your sweet pleas and desperate cries, as you express your inability to last any more.

Dragon!Kirishima, who's unleashing his runny, golden cum in a series of at least a few robust spurts, roaring loudly, praising you for taking both of his cock so well.

Dragon!Kirishima, who, having reached his peak, insists on keeping you close, sprawled on his massive, scaled paws. He watches you breathing heavily, pressing his sizable muzzle against your abdomen, savoring the lingering scent of your slick wetness and of the sex you just had, still hanging in the air.

Dragon!Kirishima, who's confident in his allure, and knows you'll return for more. After a bit of post-coital cuddling, he fulfills his promise and allows you to depart from his den, fully aware that you'll be irresistibly drawn back to him.

Dragon!Kirishima, who's deeming you his mate, luxuriously spoils you with furs, trinkets, and jewelry. Whatever you desire, simply ask, and it's yours.

Dragon!Kirishima, who has a little secret he hasn't revealed yet - a human form tucked away. He decided to keep that tantalizing mystery for himself just a bit longer.

these headcanons were requested by my lovely mutual @crystalwolfblog ilysm ❤️

[dorcas4meadowes]

Blood bending - Luke Castellan

Pairing - Luke Castellan x Fem!Poseidonreader (yes persassy)

Summary: watching avatar the last Airbender, but it's just giving Percy ideas on how to hurt Luke <3

(My bsf gave me the head canon and had to execute it)

warning: mentions of blood

w/c (short) 648

Master list

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Nostalgia endeared the Hermes' cabin, settling amongst the slouching bodies who took closure beside the blaring television. The soft glow that the screen emitted illuminating their tired yet content faces, casting a haze amongst the cabin of travelers.

The day had be tedious and the fatigued residents found solace in the familiarity of Avatar the last air bender, the show reminiscing through their adolescence.

As the final notes of the departure theme begun to unfold many moved from their strategically placed pillows and forts of blankets to take advantage of the interval. Numerous of the smaller Hermes' children retreating to their beds with heavy yawns and blankets draped over their shoulders. The remainder of inhabitants consisted of the older counsellors, except for a disappointed blonde who sat with his arms folded over one another with a disgruntled expression on his face.

He could not relish in the show for as long as the couple adjacent to him continued to be happy.

He made you laugh? The guy with the personality of wet cabbage, Percy thought as Luke - your boyfriend of 2 months - whispered something into you ear which made you helpless giggle. Percy rolled his eyes and tried to divert his attention away from Luke, focusing on the scent of buttery popcorn which wafted across the room and then in an instant, a sinister thought crossed his mind.

You had caught your breath from Lukes words and let yourself relax against him as one of his arms loosely hung around your middle, his other intertwined with your fingers which rested against his leg. You mumbled mindlessly until something caught your gaze, your brother.

"Can you see what Perce is doing", you asked Luke since your head were mainly stowed into the side of your boyfriend.

"I don't exactly know?" he responded, which made you lift away to watch Percy abide to be a buffoon.

He subtly gestured with his fingers to mimic water bending moves he had seen and then you knew what he was trying to do as his eyes bored into Luke's.

"Baby, he trying to blood bend" you said with ease, glancing back to Luke who didn't move from his spot, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"He can't do that right?" he questioned.

"He wouldn't have the control", you responded.

"Can you?"

"Yes" you mumbled, avoiding the question.

"On who?" he asked.

"That is none of your concern".

Instead of bending Luke's insides, Percy knocked over a bottle of water which sat on the coffee table, spilling its contents across the surface, a laugh falling from your lips.

"Percy its not going to work" you snickered, softening back into your boyfriends arms.

"How do you know?" he inquired, moving his fingers once again.

"You need to be calm".

"I am calm".

"Yes very" Luke intervened.

"Shut up Castellan" he yelled.

"Percy Jackson, do not scream at my boyfriend".

"He deserves it".

"Right i'm calling Sally" you threatened, but before you could stand he begun to apologise immensely. "Not to me, to Luke".

He appeared revolted, his cheeks turning a dark hue of red, "sorry" he whispered.

"Louder".

"Sorry" he said, quieter than the first time.

"Thank you Percy" Luke said beside you, accepting the deflated confession.

"What would you have done anyways Perce?" you asked him. You watched him think about ways he could injure your boyfriend, his features forming a smile.

Throw him into a fire?

Make him spill water on himself?

Drown him?

He could do the last one simply without bending his blood so instead of replying he made a list of potential ways he could hurt your boyfriend, the repetitive thoughts of violence lulling him to sleep against the couch underneath him.

You allowed him to rest until it was only Luke and yourself on the couches. After a few complaints about the sound from the television you stood and let your boyfriend walk you back to your cabin, with a snoozing Percy resting against him in his arms. 

"He's cute when he's asleep".

“When he isn’t trying to drown you”.

[saraswritingtipps]

Here are some examples of "show, don't tell" in action:

Telling: Sarah was very angry.

Showing: Sarah's face turned red, her fists clenched, and she slammed the door shut.

//////

Telling: The room was messy.

Showing: Clothes were strewn across the floor, books were piled haphazardly on the desk, and dirty dishes filled the sink.

//////

Telling: John was scared of heights.

Showing: John's palms grew sweaty, his heart raced, and he clung tightly to the railing as he looked down from the rooftop.

//////

Telling: The food tasted delicious.

Showing: The flavors exploded on her tongue, a medley of sweet, tangy, and savory notes danced in her mouth, leaving her craving more.

//////

Telling: Emma was sad about the breakup.

Showing: Emma's eyes welled up with tears, her shoulders slumped, and she spent hours curled up in bed, replaying their last conversation in her mind.

//////

Telling: It was a beautiful sunset.

Showing: The sky transformed into a canvas of vibrant hues—pinks, oranges, and purples blending together in a breathtaking display, casting a warm glow across the horizon.

//////

Telling: The car was old and unreliable.

Showing: The engine coughed and sputtered, emitting puffs of smoke. Rust covered the body, and the faded paint revealed years of wear and tear.

//////

Telling: The meeting was tense.

Showing: The participants leaned forward in their seats, their brows furrowed, and their voices became sharp and clipped as they argued back and forth.

//////

Telling: He was a kind person.

Showing: He often went out of his way to help others, offering a comforting smile and lending a listening ear whenever someone needed support.

//////

Telling: The forest was eerie at night.

Showing: Shadows danced among the trees, the wind whispered through the branches, and the distant hooting of an owl sent shivers down her spine.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda maximoff, your domme and girlfriend, tests you with impossible rules, and subsequently punishes you for failing to follow them.

content warnings: obvi smut, restraints, impact play, edging, cunnilingus.

word count: 4k+

masterlist

original request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

My Good Girl

The afternoon sun cast warm hues through the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the cozy office and casting soft shadows across the floor. Wanda sat at her desk, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the dark wood. Lines of text filled her screen, yet her mind was elsewhere. 

With a soft hum of contemplation, Wanda closed the laptop, a soft click breaking through the peaceful silence of the room. 

‘I want to try something new tonight.’

The text is sent with a soft sound, and Wanda traces her phone slowly as she waits for you to read the message. Her mind is thrown back to the plethora of information she’d spent the better half of the afternoon consuming. 

Agatha, one of her closest friends, and a well-known domme, had sent her a few websites to check out. Wanda had let it slip during one of their wine nights that although she was happy with you and the dom/sub relationship you’d built, she wanted to try something more. 

You were perfect. Truly. Submissive, and willing to do whatever she said. Wanda loved the thrill she got whenever you obeyed an order. 

But you were almost too perfect. 

One of the sites she’d pursued was full of dominants sharing the ways they put a bratty sub in their place. Wanda had found herself growing wetter with each post she scrolled through. Her mind had found itself wandering over to you. 

You, tears welling up as she choked you with her strap. You, pulling uselessly on scarlet ribbon restraints as she teased you for hours. You, with your face scrunched up as she twisted and pulled on your nipples until you begged her for mercy. 

The word mommy, slipping from your lips as you blushed. 

Wanda had to take several breaks throughout her afternoon, her fingers slipping below her waistband and sliding over the slick arousal coating her panties. She’d thought of you while rubbing herself to a climax, imagining your wide eyes as you knelt before her…

Fuck. She was getting worked up again. 

Her phone dinged, and Wanda had to physically shake herself while she scrambled for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone, seeing your message. 

‘Of course we can! What did you have in mind?’

You were so eager to please, so willing to succumb to anything Wanda asked of you. She took a few deep breaths, typing out her response with one hand while quickly packing her bag. 

‘When I get home, I want you naked and kneeling by the door. You will address me as ma’am, nothing else. Understood?’

Wanda could feel herself slipping into her dominant headspace, the thrill of giving orders rushing through her. 

‘And if I break one of those rules?’

Oh, it was almost too easy.

‘I’ll have to punish you, darling. I’m on my way home. Remember my instructions.’

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda cast one last look around her office before turning out the light. Locking up, she strode quickly down the hall, thankfully not seeing any other employees around. 

The car ride home was agonizing, the heat between her legs growing into an unbearable inferno. Wanda couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the thought of you breaking her rules. 

And she knew just the thing to distract you and cause you to slip up. 

At a stoplight just outside the city, about five minutes from your shared home, Wanda pulled out her phone. Knowing the light would take a while to turn green, she pulled up the locked photo album hidden in her files. Selecting a photo, she quickly sent it to you with no caption. 

The photo was a selfie, the phone propped up against her work computer. Wanda had popped a few too many buttons, the lace of her red bra peeking out from underneath her silk shirt and jacket. Her eyes were locked on the camera, iridescent and smoldering, while the fingers of one hand were wrapped tightly around her tie, pulling it away from her neck. The other hand was resting on her belt, a single finger slipping beneath the waistband of her dress pants. 

Wanda let her imagination run wild, imagining the flush creeping up your neck and coloring your face. Your breath would catch, pupils dilating as arousal shot through you. By the time you positioned yourself at the door, your juices would be smeared all over your delicate inner thighs, your eyes pleading and desperate. 

The light turned green, and Wanda refocused. Only a few minutes until she'd be home. 

The anticipation was killing her. 

—

Wanda forced herself to slow her gait, walking leisurely up the steps to the front door. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she hoped that you could hear her approaching. 

The door clicked open, the key sliding easily into the lock. 

Green eyes found you easily, a pleased smile stretching across those beautiful lips as Wanda observed your kneeling form. Your eyes were just as wide as she’d hoped, your irises disappearing as your pupils dilated further at the sight of her. 

“Hello, darling.”

Wanda made sure to pitch her voice low, a sultry tone making its way through her words. Her gaze pierced yours, a silent demand hidden within them. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Your voice shook, and you sucked in a shaky breath. 

Your hands were placed atop your thighs, palms flat as you subtly parted your thighs. Wanda caught a glimpse of the shiny arousal coating your inner thighs, and she breathed deeply, hoping your scent would envelop her. 

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, setting her bag down and slipping her jacket off her shoulders. She hung it up, flicking her fingers in silent order for you to follow. 

“It was good, um, ma’am.” You stuttered, crawling after her as she made her way towards the living room. 

Seating herself on the couch, Wanda crossed one leg elegantly over the other. You crawled up to her, eyes glancing between her lips and legs. You sat up, posture straight and palms flat, with your fingers thrumming nervously on your thighs. 

“And what did my good girl do today?” Wanda smirked at you. 

“Oh, I uh…” Your eyes grew distant as you tried to force yourself to focus. “I worked a little bit, and then I made some meal prep for the week, ma’am.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, “Anything else?”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember what you’d done that day. The only thing running through your mind was the insatiable picture Wanda had sent you. Your mind focused on the captivating curve of her breasts, the smoldering look in her eyes, similar to the one she was giving you now. 

“Oh!” You remembered something, excitement weaving its way through your words. “I made you something!”

Wanda paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for something, but you were looking up at her with wide eyes and a satisfied grin. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You could sense the satisfaction in Wanda’s voice, and faltered. 

“Ma’am.” You blurted out, but Wanda was already shaking her head. 

“Too late, darling.” 

You paled slightly, but Wanda could see the excitement glowing in your eyes. You were curious, anticipation thrumming through you. The flush on your face was slowly growing darker, the tips of your ears burning as the weight of Wanda’s gaze settled on you. 

“Bedroom, now. You know what position I like you in.”

A punishment. That’s what you were receiving. You hadn’t had one of those in a long time, not since the beginning of your relationship with Wanda. 

“Yes ma’am.” Your voice was quiet, and you stood, watching Wanda for any sign of disapproval. When she gave none, you turned and headed toward the bedroom, aware of her gaze burning on your hips. 

Approaching the bed, you let your hand caress the soft silk of the comforter. Kneeling on top of the mattress, you take a steadying breath, listening for the click of Wanda’s heels. 

You don’t have to wait for long. The slow, measured steps of Wanda’s confident gait reach your ears, and you subconsciously straighten your back. Ensuring that your gaze is locked on your hands, you resist the urge to look up when the soft light from the hallway hits your eyes as Wanda enters the room.

“Such a good girl.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you feel some of your arousal leak out and drip down your thighs. 

You don’t speak, knowing that Wanda likes to command every part of you, including your words. Instead, you offer a small smile, eyes locked on her form as she walks toward the closet. She disappears inside, throwing a smile over her shoulder.

A whimper threatens to escape you, but you choke it down. If Wanda heard one errant sound from you, she’d surely increase your punishment. That’s the last thing you want, so you simply resist the urge to shift on the bed and wait. 

The minutes stretch on, and you mentally curse your girlfriend out. You knew she was doing this on purpose, building up the anticipation. You want to call out, but your words get stuck in your throat, not wanting to add to your punishment. 

So you wait, your arousal building with each minute until the sheets below you are damp. 

You hear the door open, the heady presence of Wanda Maximoff filling the room. The sheer dominance that she emanates washes over you, loosening your muscles as your head grows fuzzier. 

You can trust her. Wanda only wants what’s best for you. 

“You’re doing so well for me, love,” Wanda says, moving onto the bed and kneeling before you. She’s still fully clothed, her buttoned shirt brushing against your skin in a tantalizing dance as she sets a few items beside her. You don’t dare look, keeping your eyes trained on your hands until she commands you otherwise. 

“Look at me.”

Green eyes seem slightly softer in the dim light, and you search them for any clue of what the night entails. 

“Tell me why I’m punishing you,” The words jumpstart your brain, and you begin speaking as Wanda picks up a silky, scarlet ribbon. 

“I forgot one of your rules, I’m sorry, mo…” The word almost slips from your lips, but you clench them shut. 

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to continue. You remain silent, still not ready to use the title you want. Your mind wars with itself, the waves of indecision subsiding when Wanda gently smiles at you and brushes her fingers lightly against your cheek.

Her eyes are soft, and you know that she won’t press the topic. Not until you’re ready. 

“And which rule was that?”

“I forgot to call you ma’am, I’m sorry,” You say, your voice earnest. 

At your practically whimpered words, Wanda has already forgiven you. However, the thought of punishing you is far too tantalizing, so she picks up one of the silk ribbons. 

“And you know what this is, correct?” 

“Yes ma’am,” You won’t be forgetting her title anytime soon, and Wanda feels pride shoot through her at your steadfast obedience. She gently pushes you backwards, until you realize what she’s doing. 

Positioning yourself on your back, you stretch your arms out toward the headboard, enjoying the feel of the scarlet ribbon around your wrist as Wanda begins to restrain you. Your clit pulses when she tightens the ribbon securely, and you fight the urge to roll your hips.

Quickly fastening your other wrist to the headboard, Wanda waits for you to test the strength. She smirks while you writhe beneath her, attempting to escape. You squirm, your hips restrained by her thighs as she sits atop you, her fingernails scraping lightly down your sides before you give up. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” You say, and Wanda’s eyes light up in pleasure. 

In one smooth movement, she flips you over, her fingers digging into your hips as she roughly positions you on your stomach. Your wrists cross over each other at the change of position, her hands pulling your body down until you can barely move an inch. 

A hand on the back of your head shoves your face into a soft pillow, and you turn your cheek slightly to be able to breathe. Wanda doesn't seem to notice, her attention focused on the item she now holds in her hand. 

You catch a glimpse of the paddle and whine. It’s been a while since she’s used that toy on you, and you vividly remember the last experience. You hadn’t been able to sit down for three days. 

“Remember your colors, sweetheart.” Wanda reminds you, and you nod into the pillow as her hand gently squeezes the flesh of your ass. 

The first strike takes you by surprise, and your body jolts, attempting to escape the sharp sting. You hear Wanda chuckling above you and can practically feel her eyes appraising the bright red mark that the paddle left. Before you’ve recovered from the first hit, the paddle swings down again, pain and pleasure mixing as she strategically places marks across your whole backside. 

When the paddle hits the sensitive skin of your upper thigh, you let out a yelp. 

“Darling?” Wanda asks. You can’t formulate a response and your breaths are heavy and fast. You tug at the restraints, a soft green tumbling past your lips. 

The hits are quick and hard, pain radiating through you even as your clit throbs. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheet beneath you. The humiliation of the situation only turns you on more, and it’s not long before you’re moaning softly into the pillow. 

A heavy sigh makes its way through you when Wanda pauses, setting the paddle down beside you. “Color,” She demands, her hands cool against your abused flesh. 

“Green, thank… thank you,” Your words are breathy, stuttering when Wanda’s fingers graze your slit. 

A single finger circles your clit, and you can’t help but push your ass upwards, trying to appease the tension between your legs. 

“Oh,” Wanda says, her voice full of mirth. “It seems like you want more, love.”

Nodding frantically, you roll your hips forward. 

A sharp pain makes its way through you, Wanda’s hand coming down quickly against your sensitive backside. You let out a half moan, half yelp at the action. 

“Don’t rut against the bed like a pathetic mutt,” She practically growls, bringing her hand down sharply a few more times. “You’re practically begging for a punishment.”

You want to complain, you want to whine about the injustice of it all. Instead, you remain quiet, not wanting to risk more pain. You can feel Wanda shifting, and bite your lip when the cool leather of the paddle drags across your overheated backside. 

“Do you want more?” Wanda asks, and you can’t do anything but nod. You turn your head, peeking at her from the corner of your eye. Her green eyes are locked on the swell of your ass, and you shudder at the hungry look in them. 

“Beg for it.”

The paddle presses against your clit, the pressure sending pleasure coursing through you. Resisting the urge to grind against it, you grit your teeth and speak. “Please, ma’am. I want you to hit me. Punish me, please, I’ve been a bad girl.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, instead raising the paddle and delivering more blows to your aching backside. 

You begin to moan, the pain morphing into a sick sort of pleasure. With each blow, your clit is pressed against the mattress, your orgasm approaching rapidly. You know better than to beg, you’d learned long ago that Wanda liked to control every aspect of your pleasure, including when you were allowed to cum. 

“Are you close?” Wanda asks, not giving you a chance to respond before she continues to speak, “I can see you dripping onto the sheets, your hips rutting pathetically of their own will. Do you want to cum, baby? Do you want to cum while mommy hits you with the paddle?”

The words worm their way into your mind, twisting your thoughts while pleasure and pain consume your being. Her hits don’t cease, the leather paddle slapping against you over and over again. 

The pillow is damp beneath your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you’d begun to cry, and a whine escaped your mouth without your permission. It only spurs Wanda on. 

“Oh, you like this, don’t you darling? You like being mommy’s little fucktoy, taking whatever I give you. Say it.”

You barely register her words, something incoherent spewing from your mouth as she delivers the harshest blows of the night. One of Wanda’s hands tangles with your hair, wrenching your head up from the pillow. 

“Say it.” Her voice is deadly, low, and raspy. You don’t dare disobey. 

“I like it, I like it when you treat me like this. Please don’t stop. Please, fuck.” You cut yourself off, feeling Wanda swing the paddle harshly at the curse word. 

“Mommy, please.”

Relief. Your brain starts to work again. The pain radiating from your backside subsides slightly as Wanda drops the paddle to the floor. You feel as though you should be embarrassed, but don’t. 

Truth be told, you’ve wanted to call Wanda by that title for a while, and at this moment, it just felt right. 

“Say that again for me, darling.” 

You feel your body being manhandled again, your hips twisting until you’re on your back again. Green eyes stare down at you, a slightly dazed look in them. Wanda’s fingers trace patterns on your ribcage, moving up to tease your nipples while she waits. 

“Mommy,” Your voice is quiet, almost shy, but the word is genuine. “Please let me cum.”

Wanda can’t bring herself to punish you any longer. Not after you’ve finally used the title she’s been yearning for. She finds herself suddenly incapable of speaking, the words catching in her throat. 

Surging forward, Wanda presses her impossibly soft lips to yours. Her tongue dances against yours, tracing your lips and drawing soft moans from you. You fight the urge to roll your hips, her thigh pressed perfectly against your center. 

Her tongue explores your mouth for what seems like forever, and you find yourself growing wetter with each minute. You can’t complain, though. Kissing Wanda will always be something you treasure. 

Eventually, the need for air becomes too great, and Wanda pulls back. Her eyes search yours, a smile slowly stretching across her face. 

“Good girl,” She coos, a hand reaching up and cupping your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,”

You grin, sure that your eyes are sparkling as you gaze up at her. From this angle, she looks almost angelic, with her hair falling around you. You don’t mind, if you could choose anything to worship, Wanda would be the first and only thing on your list. 

“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” She says, not giving you a chance to respond before she’s descending your body. She leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, enjoying the way you jolt beneath her whenever she nips you with her teeth.

The bruises she leaves behind fill her with pride and a hint of possessiveness, and she gazes up at you when her mouth finally reaches the glistening heat between your thighs. 

“Please,” You whisper, throwing your head back when her tongue applies gentle pressure against your clit. 

It’s practically torture, her skilled mouth alternating between sucking and licking your clit as your orgasm approaches quickly. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers with her hair, pulling her flush against you, and tug uselessly at your restraints. 

Your hips twitch violently, a sign that you’re close to an orgasm. A few… more… strokes of that talented tongue…

Wanda pulls away, and you whine loudly. Her fingers twist your nipple harshly in response, and you mumble a quick apology. 

“None of that,” Wanda reprimands, “you take whatever I give you, remember?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, burying her head between your thighs before you can fully catch your breath. This time, she sucks your clit violently, red-hot bolts of pleasure shooting through you as your thighs tense. 

Her mouth disappears. 

Giving you a few moments to recover, Wanda watches the realization enter your eyes. You mumble, “You’re going to edge me, aren’t you?”

Chuckling, Wanda circles your clit with a single finger. She watches your eyes gloss over as your hips twitch. Pressing harder, she moves rhythmically over the hard nub, enjoying the moans reverberating around the room. You tense up, lips parting as your orgasm draws near…

“Only good girls get to cum, darling,” Wanda pulls her fingers fully away from you. 

You want to scream. You want to curse her out, you want to escape your restraints and hump her thigh until you cum. You want to…

A moan claws its way out from your chest, and Wanda takes that as a sign to continue. 

You don’t know how long she edges you, the only thing you’re aware of is the growing arousal between your thighs and the pleasure that builds and builds and dissipates whenever Wanda senses that you’re close. 

After a while, the fuzziness takes over your mind, and you lose count of the edges as Wanda’s tongue relentlessly works against your core. She keeps her fingers locked around your thighs, refusing to give your pussy any sort of real satisfaction. 

Practically crazed with arousal and desperation, you attempt to roll your hips against Wanda’s lips. 

“Do you want me to bring the paddle out again?” Wanda raises a single eyebrow, her hand raising and striking your swollen pussy. The sting shoots through your clit, and you jerk your hips as you recoil from the pain. 

“No, I’m sorry mommy. Please…” You moan as Wanda’s warm mouth encircles your clit. “Please forgive me.”

Time blends with the countless edges, and you find yourself lost in a pleasurable vanilla haze. The only thing you’re aware of is Wanda. Her tongue, building you up. Her eyes, watching you as her fingers hold your thighs and hips against the mattress. Her scent, an addicting drug that you never want to abstain from. 

Your orgasm, just barely out of reach. Wanda, bringing you closer and closer and…

—

You open your eyes, your vision seeming sharper than before. Warm water surrounds you, suds covering your chest as a warm washcloth gently rubs against your collarbone.

“Mommy?” 

Wanda moves into your field of vision, her eyes filled with concern. You smile widely, relaxing further into the water. You want to reach up and pull her face closer, yearning to feel her lips against yours, but your limbs don’t seem to work properly. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You scared me,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you can sense the worry underneath her accent. 

“I’m alright, I promise,” You reassure her, resting your head against the side of the tub. “But…” Trailing off, you watch Wanda’s brows furrow in concern. 

“I still really want to cum.” 

Wanda scoffs, splashing you lightly as you laugh. Allowing yourself to fully relax, you let her wash away your sweat, her hands gentle as she scrubs the dried arousal off your thighs. 

“You don’t get to cum tonight, I'm punishing you.” Wanda sounds like she’s about to whine, and you splash her. The water droplets cling to her hair, and you laugh at her pout, your arms working again as you pull her in by the neck for a kiss.

Her tongue dances languidly alongside yours, and you push down the arousal that attempts to rise. Honestly, you’d get aroused if Wanda simply walked into a room. With her lips on yours, it’s much harder to tamper your desperation for her. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Wanda mumbles against your lips, and you roll your eyes. 

Eventually, Wanda ends the impromptu makeout session, finishing the bath and drying you off. She applies some aloe vera to your sore backside, kissing the marks softly as she does so. 

You’ve never felt more loved. 

Sliding in between fresh, cool sheets, Wanda pulls you flush against her. Your head is comfortably nestled in the crook of her neck, and you can feel her heartbeat against your palm. 

Gentle lips kiss the top of your head, and you feel yourself drifting off. Wanda hums, murmuring one final thing before you finally succumb to the waves of drowsiness washing over you. 

“Happy Valentine's Day, my love.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta

[cheollipop]

like a dream

navi | taglist

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader x song mingi

w.c.: 2.7k

tags: smut, fluff, newly-established poly relationship

with only the orange hues of the lamp illuminating the room, they have you for the first time, and it feels just like a dream.

warnings: dom!yungi, sub!reader, fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink (of course), some begging, drooling, sloppy kisses, nicknames (baby, darling, sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl), yunho's a little mean, and a tease, mingi is whipped, WHIPPED, some L bombs were dropped at the end, this is just straight up smut so don't come at me for the lack of an intro (￢_￢;)

A/N: thank you so much for the request!! this was my first time writing mingi and I enjoyed every second of it ^^ this fic made me experience every emotion known to man-- I was screaming, crying, debating with myself in the mirror, howling at the moon- ahem. anyway. happy reading!! (´ ∀ ` *)

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

➽────────────────────────❥

“Yunho, please,” you whined, voice breathy.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He whispered back.

The lamp in the corner of the living room cast warm hues over Mingi’s face, creating angular shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. His lips were parted, shallow breaths blowing against your heated skin, moving closer to press feathery kisses to your jawline. Your palm glided over his toned torso, down his chest and over his perked-up nipples to reach the prominent tent in his sweatpants. A wave of warmth rushed to your core upon hearing Mingi’s choked moan when you cupped his bulge, squeezing your palm around the outline of his cock to revel in the sound again.

Yunho pressed himself to your back, his long fingers curling deliciously into your g-spot. Your thighs shook where they straddled Mingi’s, your hips pushing back to meet Yunho’s insistent thrusts. His other hand wrapped around you to grab your jaw, twisting your face until he could meet your eyes.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

You shuddered as his husky tone reverberated in your ear, closing your eyes for a few seconds to take in the pleasure his fingers were sending up your spine before he gave your head a firm shake. You blinked your eyes open, working your palm harder over Mingi’s hard length as you answered Yunho’s question.

“Want Mingi to fuck me,” you whispered. “please, Yunho, can he?”

“I don’t know, sweet girl...” a smirk tugged at Yunho’s lips and he stared at the man slumped against the backrest under you, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth and his eyebrows knitted while you gave his clothed bulge the attention he desperately wanted. Mingi looked up at the older man and tried to make sense of his words through the haze of pleasure fogging up his brain. “What do you say, Mingi? Do you think you can fit in this tight cunt?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, fuck. Please, Yunho,” Mingi looked up at the other man, his eyes teary and glazed over with lust while his cock throbbed under your palm. “She can take it. Right, jagi?”

You nodded desperately, scrambling to undo the drawstrings on Mingi’s sweatpants before tugging on the waistband. Yunho scissored his fingers inside you, once, twice, before pulling out completely and swatting your hands away, pulling down Mingi’s bottoms himself until his cock sprung out and slapped against his lower belly.

You gawked at the length, the tip red and angry, leaking translucent precum over his smooth skin.

“Intimidated?” Yunho whispered into your ear, to which you gave a slight nod. “I wanna watch Mingi fill up this pretty pussy,” he gave your clit a firm tap. “can you do that for me?”

You nodded again, sliding your folds up his length until you reached the tip, watching as Mingi held himself up by the base and helped you position yourself over him. Yunho stood back, taking in the sight of you sliding down Mingi’s cock, taking him inside your fluttering heat – inch by inch – until he was fully sheathed within your walls. It burned, but Mingi’s head rolled back against the cushion and his mouth parted to allow a hearty moan exit, the sound gravelly and erotic. His eyes were scrunched shut, the hands gripping your hips promising blossoming bruises the next day. A string of drool streamed from the corner of his mouth and down his chin, and you leaned forward to lick it off his face.

You ground your hips experimentally, Mingi’s cockhead brushing over the spot that made your eyes roll back. “Mingi-”

“Fuck, (y/n), if you move I’ll cum,” he warned, lifting his head up to gaze at you through lidded eyes. But you rolled your hips again, a sly smile playing at your lips for a few seconds as you watched Mingi struggle – his eyes fluttered shut once again and a shiver shook his body, his hands digging into your hips in a failed attempt to keep you still.

Slender fingers wrapped around your waist, warm lips pressing against the shell of your ear and Yunho’s voice took over your senses once again. “Enough, sweetheart. We’ve waited far too long for this for it to end so soon,” he muttered, pressing a tender kiss to your jawline.

You looked down at Mingi guiltily, but the eyes that stared back at you were brimming with fondness. “Come here,” he cupped the back of your neck and lowered your head to press his lips to yours, keeping them there for a few seconds before poking his tongue out to taste you. You felt the fingers holding your waist slip away and a body plop down on the couch beside you, but Mingi finally thrusted up into your aching cunt and your mind turned to jelly.

He patted your hip before squeezing it, urging you to move at your desired pace. With your hands flat against his chest, you lifted your hips until only his cockhead remained encased within your tight heat before slamming back down, swallowing the whispered string of curses Mingi expelled into your mouth. Leaning back, you cupped the side of his face, running your thumb over his plush bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, grunting when you teasingly clenched around him, sensing him adjust his position.

With another squeeze to your hips, Mingi began thrusting up into you, sucking your thumb into his mouth for a few seconds before letting it go, panting heavily while relentlessly driving his cock into your sopping heat.

“How does she feel, Mingi-ah?” Yunho’s voice wavered, his hand palming over the obvious tent in his pants.

“Fucking amazing,” a groan vibrated past Mingi’s parted lips as he pumped his cock into you, angling his thrusts directly into your g-spot and occasionally licking over the pad of your thumb that was slowly straying out of his mouth, smearing saliva down the side of his face.

Yunho reached out a hand to flick your nipple, pinching it between two fingers then soothing it with gentle back-and-forth strokes of his thumb. “Mm,” he hummed. “Make sure to get her all nice and wet for me. Fill her all the way up, yeah?”

Mingi made a sound of approval and your eyes rolled to the back of your head – something about the way they talked about you as though you weren’t present made the pleasure building up in your lower belly even more mind-numbing. But when you peeked at their faces, they looked back at you with stars in their eyes, awestruck as they watched you bounce on Mingi’s cock. The succession of breathy ah’s escaping your lips, the sheen of sweat reflecting the orange hues of the lamp, the way your nails left red streaks over Mingi’s chest; your very being weaved itself into their psyche, as though you had placed a spell on them, forever tying their souls to you.

“Gonna cum,” Mingi mumbled, sliding his hand down to your drenched folds and circling two fingers around your clit.

He pulled your hips down until you were stuffed full of his cock, your body locking up as he painted your walls white, Mingi’s warmth paired with his insistent fingers over your clit sending over the edge with him. The dim room darkened further, your features contorting when your orgasm finally washed over you. Mingi’s lips pressed against yours to swallow up your broken moans, expelling his own into your mouth when you clenched around him, trapping his cock inside as it spurt out the last of his load, leaving him a twitching mess between your walls.

The kiss turned soft – the slow dancing of lips while a ballad played in your head, tender touches grazing each other’s skin while heaving chests met and parted between your bodies. You missed the hurried shuffling beside you followed by the muted thuds of clothes hitting the floor, too entranced by the plushness of Mingi’s mouth moulding against your own, his palm rubbing soothing lines over the length of your spine.

Hasty fingers gripped your hips, startling you away from Mingi’s touch as Yunho pulled you off the man and lifted your hips, disregarding the whine you emitted when cum began to seep out of your fluttering hole. He pressed his cock between your folds, sliding it through the sticky mess and groaning as his neglected cock finally got some attention. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

It took you a few seconds to process what was happening, still dazed by the force of your first orgasm. “One second,” you whispered while adjusting your position, digging your knees into the couch cushions and grabbing onto Mingi’s shoulders. The man under you held your waist, staring up at you with so much fondness it made you blush. You quickly looked back at Yunho, hoping the younger man didn’t notice the heat tinting your cheeks. “Please,” you wiggled your hips back at him.

Yunho breathed out a laugh, positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re killing me,” he muttered as he pushed in, the blend of Mingi’s cum and your arousal making the slide easy.

You slumped down against Mingi while your walls worked to accommodate Yunho’s cock, squeezing around him as he bottomed-out inside you. He bent at the waist to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades, his hot breath blowing against the slick skin. “Fuck, (y/n), I’m not gonna last,” you felt his lips move over your spine. “You have to relax, baby.”

Sucking in a deep breath, you did as he said, rocking your hips back against him experimentally, the soft moan that echoed from behind you spurring you into repeating the motion. Yunho was in heaven, the woman he’d wanted for so long was finally his – his to love, his to touch, his to hold. He ground his hips into yours, pulling out halfway before slamming back in, watching how your back tensed and relaxed as pleasure seared through your veins every time his cock split you open. You reached for Mingi, pushing your parted lips together while Yunho straightened up to watch his cock enter you.

Fingers tangled into the hair at your crown and pulled you off Mingi, pressing you flush against Yunho’s chest and securing you there with an arm around your waist. He adjusted his arm to grab a fistful of your breast, brushing his finger over the perked-up nipple while he pistoned his cock into your dripping cunt.

“I didn’t wait this long to have you so you could slobber over Mingi while I fuck you,” he growled in your ear, lifting a knee up onto the couch next to Mingi’s thigh. “Now be a good girl and show him how you’re gonna cum on my cock, yeah?”

You nodded desperately, locking eyes with the man under you while Yunho sped up his thrusts, the lewd melody of skin-on-skin resounding between the four walls. Mingi’s palms glided over your thighs, from your knees to your hips then back down, subtly squeezing the soft flesh along the way before repeating the routine. His fingers dipped between your legs, cupping your cunt to feel Yunho’s length stretching you open.

“Fuck, she’s taking you so well,” he cursed, flicking your clit with his thumb to the rhythm of Yunho’s thrusts, whining pathetically at the praise.

“Do you like it when we tell you what a good girl you are?” Yunho purred, untangling his fingers from your hair to grab your jaw. He twisted your face to look at you, leaning forward to slot his lips against yours before dipping his tongue inside to lick over the roof of your mouth. Your whimpers and moans came out muffled, Yunho’s lips pressing harshly against your own as he neared his release, his cock hammering into you until the room around you blurred. “I’ve thought about having you like this for so long, (y/n). Come on, sweetheart, give it to me,” he whispered against your lips.

Your thighs shook violently, and you would’ve fallen over Mingi if it weren’t for Yunho’s secure hold on your waist. Compared to your first high – Mingi guiding you over the edge and into a warm field of ecstasy – your second was more like a shockwave, curling your body as painful pleasure sent your nerves into overdrive, beads of sweat trickling down your temples and a blazing flush spreading over your skin. You shook in Yunho’s arms, a staccato of moans – broken and high-pitched – ripping through your chest as he continued his brutal pace, chasing his own high while elongating yours. A string of curses followed by a succession of your name sounded behind you, and warmth expanded through your belly. Grinding his hips into yours, Yunho milked himself of every last drop before finally pulling out, fixing his gaze on your core as a mix of his cum and Mingi’s streamed out of your gaping hole.

It took him a few seconds to pry his eyes off you, bringing his free arm under your thighs to lift you off the couch. Mingi moved to the side, allowing Yunho to lay you down on the cushions with your sore legs resting over the younger man’s thighs. He tugged the throw blanket off the back of the couch and covered you with it then kneeled on the floor beside you to press a kiss to your forehead. Mingi’s hands massaged your aching muscles under the fluffy blanket, a pleased hum vibrating in your chest at the gesture.

“Are you okay?” Yunho sounded nervous. “It wasn’t too much?”

You shook your head, an easy smile stretching your lips. “It was perfect,” you could hear the next question at the tip of his tongue, hesitance and worry painting his features, “I’m sure. I promise.”

The wrinkles between his eyebrows smoothed and he leaned in to place another kiss to the corner of your lips. Mingi watched from the side as the woman he was so infatuated with glanced between him and Yunho with hearts in her eyes, his chest bubbling with warmth and adoration.

“(Y/n),” he spoke, the rasp in his voice making the hair on your arms stand. “I love you.”

Your eyebrows raised and you paused for a few seconds, tears welling up in your eyes at the heartfelt confession. His eyes, so soft and loving, took in your features, down to the faintest mole painting your skin while his mouth curved into a smile that made your heart race. He didn’t seem alarmed at your sudden tears, the sparkle in his eyes glimmering brighter while he studied your face as though you were Aphrodite herself.

“I love you too,” you muttered, your bottom lip wobbling. Mingi’s hand found yours under the blanket, holding it firmly and giving your fingers a gentle squeeze. After a few seconds of wordless communication, you turned you head to the man beside you, gazing into his doe eyes that spoke aphonic words of poetry whenever they admired you, his smile colouring the world with vivid markers and crayons. “And you,” you reached your other hand to cup Yunho’s jaw. “I love you.”

You noted the subtle shaking of his bottom lip, his eyes glassy as he leaned down to pepper your face with kisses, whispered I love you’s tickling your skin as he dragged his lips from your forehead to your nose, then over your cheeks and jawline until he reached your lips. “This feels like a dream,” he whispered before tucking his face into the crook of your neck, hearing Mingi make a sound of agreement.

You giggled, carding your fingers through Yunho’s soft locks. Looking over at Mingi, his fingers rubbing comforting shapes into your skin, you wondered if it was a dream. The two men you yearned for, cried over, and thought you could never have, now surrounded you with their comforting warmth – Yunho’s steady breath blowing against your neck, his lips pressing feathery kisses to the delicate skin, and Mingi, eyes lidded with unending admiration and touch so soft it made you shiver all over.

Squeezing Mingi’s hand once more, you fluttered your eyes shut and allowed the two men to smother your senses, relaxing into the cushions as the love they so generously gave you seeped into your very soul.

“If it is… then I hope we never wake up.”

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[ozarkthedog]

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑

summary: joel saves you from a crooked qz guard and you want to thank him properly aka joel fucks you in an alley.

warnings: 18+ mdni. older!joel miller x afab!reader. no physical descriptors of reader; but they can raise 1 leg up. public sex; in an alley. handcuffs; reader is bound during sex but is extremely willing. size kink; joel is fucking massive from head to toe. oral sex. quick, feral sex. slight cum play. brief fight scene and mention of blood (qz guard). happy go lucky ending. no beta. w.c: 2.1k

author's note: this man won't leave me alone 🥴

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Shut the fuck up." the piggish guard sneers, roughly shoving you into a desolate, damp alley. Dusk slowly paints the afternoon sky, casting an eerie purple and red hue over the Boston QZ and making the brick dead-end even more sinister.

You knew it was a dumb idea to walk so close to a restricted area. The zones were taped off for a reason, but that didn't deter you from occasionally walking by to catch a glimpse of the outside world you missed, well, the way it was before. 

You scramble for a makeshift weapon but find only piles of trash and an overflowing dumpster. The guard grabs your shoulders and spins you around, causing your feet to slip on the wet concrete as the street lamps flicker on for the night. 

Wrestling shadows dance on the road as the guard snatches your flailing arms as you struggle against him and locks your wrists in unforgiving handcuffs. Your heart sinks when the shackles lock with a cold, deafening click. 

"Maybe you'll learn to avoid restricted areas next time." He shoves you against the brick wall, your shoulders taking the brunt of the hit, snagging your shirt on the rough stone. Before you can think, he invades your space. Your skirt barely protects you from his assault as he grinds into you.

Every nerve in your body turns frigid with icy fear just as a daunting voice fills the alley, halting the guard's advances. 

"Get off 'er," the stranger warns, slowly stepping from the mouth of the alley. "Righ' now."

Your teary eyes meet the one man everyone in the QZ knew not to mess with: Joel Miller. 

You'd briefly interacted with him only once in the last few years, trading a set of ration cards for a series of mystery books. He was intimidating and abrasive, but his demeanor softened around the edges when you let out a little squeal of excitement as he handed you the books.

From then on, he sent you the slightest smile whenever you crossed him on the street.

"Or what, old man?" The guard bites. He unholsters his handgun and threateningly aims it at Joel.

Your eyes flick back and forth between the two men, frightened, until Joel pounces from his position at the mouth of the alley.

He grabs the guard's gun shockingly fast and yanks it forward before thrusting the butt of the weapon back into the man's jaw. A sickly crack sounds, and blood splashes on the wet pavement. 

You want to look away but feel it's a disservice to Joel, your protector, your savior. Joel grabs a fistful of the man's hair and flits his venomous eyes to yours for the briefest second. Your world tilts on a dangerous axis. You've never been the target of such a cold, vile stare, and you unconsciously choke on your heart, praying you never have to again.

Joel cracks a blow to the side of the guard's head, making him stumble on his feet when he lets him go. The guard clutches his face in agony as Joel aims the guard's own gun at him. "Get the fuck outta 'ere." Joel snarls.

The guard's upper lip curls, revealing crimson-stained teeth. "Best watch yourself, Miller." He spits at Joel's feet before slowly backing away and exiting the alley.

The moment the guard is out of sight, air rushes into your lungs. You hadn't realized you stopped breathing.

"You alrigh'?" Joel asks, sending you a worried gaze as he flicks the safety on before tucking the weapon behind his back and into his waistband. His blue jean colored button up barely contains his expansive chest as he moves. 

"Uh, yeah," you answer with a long sigh, shaking off another traumatic episode that has now been added to a long list you've cultivated since the outbreak began.

Your shackled hands rest against your belly as he steps closer, his booted feet scuffing the wet pavement. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs and jiggles your locked wrists. "Didn' know you were cuffed. I don' got any keys on me."

Sincere eyes wash over you, but they're infused with an intoxic, energetic ferocity from having just saved your life. 

"It's okay," you reply, your tongue peaking out the corner of your mouth. "I'm more worried I don't have a proper way to thank you for saving me."

He flits his wolfish eyes to yours, fingering the chain again before pensively looking down the alley. "There might be a way," he says brazenly, a playful brow arching toward his hairline. "If you're willin'."

A small laugh of nervous disbelief puffs from your lips before snapping shut with a wanton mewl.

His throat rumbles with a ravenous hum. It's lascivious and all consuming as it takes root at the base of your cunt, forcing you to clench around nothing.

"I'll take that as a yes." He steps forward, closing the gap between your bodies and trapping your cuffed hands against his sturdy abdomen. A strong paw curls around your jaw, tilting your head so he can bring his lips a hairsbreadth from yours.

"S'no good gettin' involved wit' me." He husks, his warm breath blanketing your lips. "But if you wanna thank me, I won' say no."

Just as quickly as he took the guard out, he smothers your lips in a fiery kiss. He nips at your lower lip, tugging slightly, earning a whimper from you as he grinds his jean covered cock against your belly. 

You push away, as much as you can, with him trapping you against the brick wall, breaking the kiss with a smirk before sinking to your knees.

"Your full'a surprises, girl." He groans as you rub your face over his clothed bulge. Joel unzips his jeans and fists out a girthy, uncut cock you've never could've imagined. Your cunt throbs at the sight of his veiny length, thick and pulsing, searching for a warm, wet hole.

"Gon' swallow my cock, girl?" He taps the weeping, golden pink head against your parted lips. Your tongue teases out, licking the salty spend, making him snarl, "S'enough, lemme feel that pretty mouth."

He breaches and stretches your shiny, wet lips, gliding over your tongue until he bottoms out, forcing you to gag. "Sorry, sweethear'," he coos, thumbing a stray fallen tear as your fingers dig into his thighs. You flit your bright, bliss filled eyes up at him and vibrate his cock with an eager moan before trying to swallow him again.

He withdraws his cock, much to your dismay, and gathers your caged hands in his much larger ones. He's careful not to jostle the metal that locks your wrists as he raises them over your head. "Gotta wicked lil' mouth on ya. Shit-" he grits before roughly shoving back into your warm gullet and cutting off a surprised squeak from your throat. 

Joel's head tips back with pleasure as he moans into the twilight sky while freely and recklessly using your body. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. You're a soaked, wet mess from your quivering cunt to your watery eyes as they blur the ominous view of him looming over you with a feral grin.

"Already lookin' wreaked. What's gon' happen when I get my cock in ya?" 

You sputter, choking on your spit and heaving at the thought of his massive cock splitting you in two.

"Oh, ya like that?" he groans with amusement at your ravished expression, roughly framing your face with a large paw as he talks down to you. "I'm gonna enjoy splittin' ya in half."   

He drags you to your feet so fast your head spins. He works quickly, lifting one of your legs off the ground and securing it in the crook of his elbow. Your skirt bunches at your hips, allowing him to hook two thick fingers under the elastic of your panties and shove the soaked gusset to the side before grinding his throbbing crown along your obscenely sopping wet folds.

"Keep quiet now." He grits, flicking his eyes to the alley's opening as you let slip a frantic mewl. "Don' need any onlookers. As temptin' as it'd be to claim this sweet pussy in fron'a crowd."

A shocked gasp tears from your lips at his perverted words just as he lines his thickness up and spears into your heat. A low, slithering groan weaves from his parted lips at your tightness as he carves a new path in your cunt. Your head lolls from the immense pressure, but he catches it with a secure grip around the back of your neck. 

"No, keep those eyes on me," he husks, holding your glassy eyes with an insatiable stare. "Wanna watch this pretty face crumble as I fuck ya."

Joel cants his hips and dives into your cunt, biting back a savory moan as he bottoms out in one agonizing thrust. Another unholy quiver rakes your body as spine-tingling bliss races from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

"Such a sensitive, sweet lil' pussy. Bet you'll be feelin' me for days."

He's rough and powerful, overwhelming your mind and body with his enormous size. His hold on you is so strong you know you couldn't escape unless he wanted you to. The metal cuffs jostle, clinking together as you tightly clutch his jean button-up and do your best to keep your moans at bay.

Auburn wiry hairs grind your overstimulated clit on each devastating shove. He punches the air from your lungs as he snaps his hips, fucking himself deeper than you thought possible. His sac wetly smacks your ass, making the knot in your belly cinch tighter.

"Can feel ya drippin' down my balls, girl," he grunts, wetting his bottom lip like he's unconsciously tasting your slick.

The thought of him between your spread thighs, gray beard shiny with your creamy arousal, eating you out like his life depended on it, makes your insides cramp.

"Shit-" he bites, hips stuttering as your soaked walls clamp down on his length. You hit your peak so suddenly that you wail shamelessly into the dim alley like a wild wolf running into the night with its pack.

"Thought I tol' ya to be quiet," he mutely threatens, sliding his hand from the back of your neck to smother the lower half of your face. His hand is so large your nose barely peaks over the edge of his palm. "Guess I gotta make sure ya don' get us caught."

Your wild eyes flutter as he sets a tremendous pace and fucks into you with abandon. Your body jostles in his grip, and ragged moans vibrate his palm as your body shifts against the wall with every brutal shove, making you take every inch of his massive cock.

His brows pinch, forming a deep crevice as his mouth drops open with a gruff, torrid moan as you squirm in his hold. In a flash, he unsheaths himself and cautiously shoves you to your knees. He gathers your locked limbs in one giant fist again and pins them against the brink wall while his free hand circles his dripping, creamy length.

"Open tha' pretty mouth n' lookit' me," he grunts, hand moving faster and with less precision as you comply, sticking your tongue out with a wide smile.

He huffs a quiet laugh at your smirk. "Gon' be the death'a me." He flicks his wrist, swirling his tight fingers around his slippery crown before hissing and nudging your swollen lips.

The tendons in your jaw ache and your knees are sore and wet from the rough ground, but you wag your tongue, yearning to accept his cum. 

He grunts loudly, much louder than you'd been the entire time, and the sound makes your insides ignite. He fills your mouth with his seed, shooting warm ropes over your tongue and milking every last drop from his balls.

"Lemme see." he purrs, keeping your hands trapped over your head until you show him his immoral offering.

Your lips part demurely, showcasing his pearly spend swirling on your tongue. His features twitch and a shade of darkness overtakes him. His lips pull into a deadly smirk like a Crocodile seconds before it strikes.

"S'good girl." He praises, thumbing the corner of your lips and pushing some spilled seed back into your mouth. You happily swallow his spend after he gives you a slight nod. 

He eases your cuffed arms down to your front so gently and carefully that, for a moment, you forget he just fucked you against the side of a building. 

There's an awkward silence as you both fix your clothes. Joel tucks his damp cock back in his jeans while you nervously smooth down your skirt, wondering what the fuck just happened. 

He tilts his head toward the empty street, now lit in a dewy yellow haze. "Come on, I think I got a pair'a keys back at my place."

A curious brow perks at his words as you step away from the wall like a newborn doe wobbling on its legs. A steady, tender hand curls around your lower back, keeping you safe by his side.

He matches your features with a sly grin. "Unless ya rather stay locked up?”

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[withleeknow]

seasons of you.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff or at least i hope so lmao, not v edited and literally no one is surprised lol i sound like a broken record atp just adding that into every post word count: 0.7k note: inspired by a highly fucked up thing that @matchannie said to me yesterday lmao it has not left my brain since you said it you absolute monster

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

minho falls in love with you four times a year.

minho falls in love with you in the spring, over blooming cherry blossoms and vibrant daffodils that greet you on your weekly sunset walk. over the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his own without soft fluffy gloves getting in the way, now that it's finally warm enough to retire that extra layer of protection for the season. over the sun coming out of hibernation and filling your days with golden light, falling upon your face and casting you in a magical hue. over the remnants of winter that still leave behind a palpable chill in the air early in the morning or late in the night, that has you reaching out for the comfort of his warmth. over your delighted smile when he brings home a bouquet of tulips after a long day at work. over your glassy eyes, reddened nose and flushed cheeks as he takes care of you when the seasonal allergies kick in.

minho falls in love with you in the summer, over picnics in the park where you both lay on blue gingham picnic blankets, your head on his chest, as you watch the clouds overhead drift peacefully. over watermelon gelatos passed between teasing lips, the confectionary melting too quickly for your liking under the blazing sunlight. over spontaneous drives to the beach even though neither of you can swim, but you go just for fun, just to build sand sculptures in the shape of your cat babies and stand on the edge of the water to splash at each other. over long naps on the couch on days where you're too lazy to venture into the outside heat, preferring to stay cuddled up together under the air conditioner with niki playing in the background.

minho falls in love with you in fall, over shared slices of pumpkin pie as you watch the leaves turn yellow and red right outside your window. over the adorable way you hide your face behind your hands on nights where he puts on a horror movie because he insists on honoring the halloween spirit. over your off-key rendition of taylor swift's all too well (the 10-minute version) for most of the season because you adamantly claim that it's autumn's official anthem. over weekends spent attached at the hip, baking sugar cookies for hours on end. over your crestfallen pout as you take note of how the days keep getting shorter and shorter, already missing warm sunny weeks with all your heart.

minho falls in love with you in winter, over matching scarves and beanies, even though he often has to carry them for you because you have a bad habit of forgetting them before you go out. over the first snow of the season because they say that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you love, then you will stay together for a long, long time. over sweet cuddles in bed as a bad christmas movie plays on tv, and you fall asleep on his shoulder about half an hour into the movie despite being the one to select the movie in the first place. over your return from a shopping spree with your girlfriends with nothing for yourself but everything for soondoongdori, from christmas themed clothes to treats and toys.

but then again, maybe it's not entirely accurate to say that minho falls in love you merely four times a year. if he wants to be precise, then he would say that he falls for you anew every morning he wakes up and sees you asleep in his arms like a delicate miracle granted by a star he once used to wish upon. if he wants to get technical, then he falls in love with you with every smile that you send his way, which is a terribly sappy thing for him to admit but it doesn't make the statement any less true.

minho loves you every day of every week, of every month, of every year. he's loved you before he even met you, when you were just a romanticized idea in his head and hadn't yet walked into his life like the angel he was always meant to find. he loves you every minute of every hour; there isn't a second where you're not on his mind, not a single beat of his heart that doesn't spell out your name. he loves you throughout the seasons and a million times in between.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki @astronomicallyyy @alm334 @lashaemorow

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.04.2024]

[gyuzgrl]

tease ||yjh||

summary- Jeonghan's a tease. You're delighted to find that this extends to the bedroom.

wc- 4k

Blue hues of light lit up the living room- spilling out of the blaring television and onto your faces. It was loud. It was bright. But it did nothing to distract you from the way your boyfriend toyed with you while he watched.

You and Jeonghan had only just started dating- it had been about three weeks- and nothing had moved past innocent make-out sessions yet. There was no rush, he told you, he was willing to wait until you were comfortable enough.

'no one has ever survived my plain rice original attack- take this!'

'HA! you underestimate m- AHHHHH I'M HUNGRY'

It was a silly movie. On any other day, you would've loved it. You would've been glued to the screen, shoveling popcorn into your mouth as you laughed away.

But right now? Right now you were focused on one thing and one thing only; the way Jeonghan was touching you.

He leaned against the arm of the couch, legs bent at the knees, with you lying between them. Your head rested on his firm chest and his arms wrapped themselves under yours, around your waist. It was standard procedure thus far. You always cuddled like this.

The thing with today, however, is that his hands are...occupied.

One hand sits at the hem of your shirt, fingers fidgeting with the flimsy fabric, while the other holds your inner thigh. Over the course of the movie, Jeonghan moved from twisting the hem of your shirt to tracing little hearts onto the skin below, right above the edge of your panties.

You've got half an hour left to finish the movie now. Half an hour to power through your growing desperation.

"there's no need to drag this out," he mumbles into your ear, and you jolt in his arms, feeling his breath tickle the shell of your ear.

"huh?"

"I mean, he could've just shot the guy-"

Unsure of what he was referring to, you opt to agree, not wanting to give away your current state.

"y-yeah, you're right" you stutter, cringing internally at how pathetic you sound.

If he notices, he chooses to make no comment about your utterance and resumes watching the movie. His hands move back to playing with you, only this time, he drags his nails over the waistband of your panties, causing you to squirm in his grasp. The other hand settles back on your inner thigh, fingers bumping into your cunt 'accidentally'.

The contact has you whimpering pathetically, and you bite down on your lower lip to seal off your voice. You fail to notice, however, the smirk playing on Jeonghan's lips.

Oh, this was no accident.

Fifteen minutes to go now, and you think you're going insane. The squeeze of his fingers, the way his nails rake against your skin so softly, he has you losing your sanity. Your panties are soaked, your breathing is shallow, and your face is so red he'd be able to see it even amidst the harsh blue glow the TV casts on your face.

'hang in there' you tell yourself, trying to squeeze your thighs together, trapping Jeonghan's hand between them.

"you okay, angel?" he asks, wiggling his hand until your thighs fall open again, "you've been so quiet"

"I uh, I'm alri-" you break off into a whimper when he moves his hand up and squeezes again.

"what is it, baby?" His voice is sultry and low. You feel yourself clench up around nothing.

"n-nothing hannie I'm okay" you say, breathlessly. Too caught up in watching yourself, you fail to notice the evident grin in your boyfriend's voice- like he was up to no good.

"if you need anything from me, you can just say, hm?"

'I need your dick inside me. I need you to touch me, to kiss me, to have me. Whatever you want. I need you to just have your way with me'

"yeah I'll um, I'll be sure to tell you"

Ten minutes to go. You are an absolute mess. Your panties cling to you uncomfortably, like a second skin, your body is enveloped in a thin film of sweat, and his hands, god his hands have not stopped.

Those gorgeous fingers of his torture you with their every move. You've forgotten about the movie entirely now, choosing instead to look at the way he plays with you. The way his pretty, long fingers grab at your flesh, teasing you without mercy.

You're transfixed, honestly, drifting into thoughts of how they'd feel inside you, how he'd feel inside you. Captivated by his hands, you don't realize when time passes you. Before you know it, the room goes silent, screen turning black before your unfocused eyes.

The credits roll quietly as Jeonghan continues to toy with your body, now certain that you're as invested in this as he is.

He hasn't said it before, but he's wanted to have you from the moment you called him yours. His mind was plagued with thoughts of you- what you'd look like, what you'd sound like, what you'd feel like under him. But, he didn't want to push. This had to happen naturally.

As names litter the screen, Jeonghan brings his hand higher, now flush against your groin, and you fail to conceal the moan that rips out your throat.

"oh?"

"sor-sorry," you stutter, eyes widening, "I should um, I think I'll go wash up-"

Hastily, you move to scramble off his chest, shooting up off the couch only to find him mirroring your actions.

Jeonghan's hand finds your wrist, and he tugs you back, into his embrace. He wraps his arms around you, leaning his chin on the top of your head.

"why won't you ask?" he mumbles into your hair, smoothing his palms over your waist and lower back.

"what are y-"

"I'm all yours, y'know... whatever you need, you can take it from me"

When you fail to respond, Jeonghan sighs, peeling himself away from you. His hands land on your shoulders as he walks you backwards, pushing you onto the couch.

"hannie what are-"

Soft cushions greet your tensed frame, dipping under your weight. Your boyfriend stares down at you, slowly settling on top of you, with his knees resting at either side of your hips.

"take it." he whispers, bringing his face right above yours, so close you can feel his breath tickling your lips.

A breathy sigh slips past your lips, and you shudder at the proximity between your bodies.

Jeonghan inches closer. Your eyes flutter closed, anticipation bubbling away in your stomach. He draws nearer still, pushing further and further, almost reaching your lips, until he stops.

You lie waiting, with your eyes still shut, before he whispers against your lips.

"take. it."

Blushing wildly, you look up at him. He's still close, still almost touching you. At first, you're unsure of what he means, but the look in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

Oh.

He wanted you to work for it.

Your head tilts tentatively, angling yourself towards him. It's a strain, lifting your head at such an awkward angle, but you're almost there. Your lips are almost on his.

So close, just about to touch, when he pulls back ever so slightly. A frustrated whine leaves your lips as his own curl up into a devilish smirk.

"hannie," you pout. His smirk widens.

"c'mon angel you can do better than that, can't you?"

Ignoring your crumbling pride, you reach up once again, managing to ghost your lips over his, only to have him pull away like before.

You huff, letting your head fall back onto the cushions as you turn to the side.

"giving up already?" he hooks his fingers under your chin, forcing you to face him as he speaks.

You're about to bite back, say something mean, but the view you're met with has your throat closing up. Jeonghan's hair hung loosely around his face, his lips were parted, his eyes were blown wide with something you'd never seen before- he looked unreal.

"are you?" he quirks a brow at you before leaning closer, ghosting his lips over yours.

Taking full advantage of the proximity, you loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer, finally managing to kiss him.

The action takes him by surprise, but he quickly recovers, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

You gasp at the sudden movement, and he takes full advantage, shoving his tongue into your mouth, licking his way inside. There was an expertise to the way he kissed you- how his tongue moved so sensually, how his lips pressed against yours in a way that had your panties soaked.

While one hand binds your wrists together, Jeonghan uses the other to cradle your face. The gentle manner in which his fingers splayed over your hair, thumb tucked into your temple, had you reeling. How dare he act so innocent with his tongue shoved down your throat?

For a minute you both seemed to forget about the world, about reality. All that existed was you and him and the heat between your bodies. You can't help the small whimpers and moans that escape you with every flick of his tongue.

Panting, you pull away. Your chest heaves as you gaze into his eyes, noticing how blown his pupils are. The same eyes that sparkled with love when he saw you, the same eyes that crinkled under his smile, those very eyes looked unrecognisable tonight. There was a lust, a hunger, that shone behind his stare. It made your stomach flutter.

"angel," he mutters, his tone low and raspy, "what do you want from me?"

"I-" you start, breaking eye contact when your cheeks start to heat up once again, "I want you"

He quirks a brow at you, and for some reason, you feel the need to add in a quick "please".

"want me how?"

Jeonghan trails his fingers from your jaw down your body, stopping at your clothed cunt.

"want my fingers?" he smirks as you shudder under his touch, and continues.

"want my mouth?" his head dips into the divot between your collarbones, licking at the tender skin before nipping at it oh-so-gently.

"want my cock?"

In one swift motion, he grinds down into you, pushing his hard bulge against your sex.

A moan claws its way up your throat, and before you're aware of what you're doing, you find yourself whimpering-

"all of it- all of it please hannie"

He stares down at you, his dominant persona faltering for a second when he takes you in. Soft wisps of hair framed your face, a thin film of glossy sweat settled on your skin, crimson tints painted your cheeks. You were sprawled out, blushing, panting, all for him. All because of him.

The way his heart swelled at the sight of you was something he'd never felt with anyone else before.

"my pretty girl," he coos softly, brushing a strand of hair off your face, "I'll make you feel good, okay? Is that what you want angel?"

You nod, desperately, eyes wide with sincerity. God you're adorable- Jeonghan can't help but fuss all over you and pepper your face with soft kisses, before he regains his composure.

With alarming ease, he stands back up, beckoning you forward with the quirk of his fingers as he walks backwards towards his bedroom.

"c'mere"

You swallow your pride and follow him, scrambling off the couch eagerly, chasing after his figure.

The dark setting of his bedroom greets you as you enter after him. It isn't what you expected. Not one bit. For someone as soft and easy going as Jeonghan, black walls and dark satin sheets seemed quite... out of character.

But then again, you've only known him for a few weeks. Perhaps he isn't as soft as he let's on.

"if you wanna stop," he says, pushing you to sit on the bed, "just say the word. okay?"

You nod and his jaw ticks.

"words. I'm gonna need to to use your words for me, yeah?"

"y-yeah I can do that Hannie"

"good."

Slowly, Jeonghan tips you back, letting you lie back onto his mattress with your knees hanging off the edge. He shoots you a sly smirk as his hands run up your sides, under your shirt, making you shiver.

"this okay?" he murmurs, kissing the skin of your exposed tummy while his hands undo your buttons with expert precision.

"mhm"

With each button falling apart under his fingers, you feel your heartbeat quicken. Anticipation builds in your stomach with how slowly yet easily he moves. It was so sensual, so enticing, how he took his time, how he was so confident with the way he handled you.

The heat between your legs is unbearable now.

"there" he sighs, almost to himself, as he pops the last button off, revealing your bralette.

Oh.

Just when he thought you couldn't get any prettier, you had to go and prove him wrong.

"I'm really lucky, aren't I?"

"what ar-"

"I've got the prettiest girl in the world with me. all mine"

You turn away, bashfully.

"m'gonna make you feel good, okay, pretty?"

"yes" you breathe.

Sparing not a second more, he crawls on top of you, nuzzling his face into your neck, leaving wet kisses below your ear.

"could kiss you all day" he whispers against the shell of your ear, biting gently at the sensitive skin.

"Hannie-"

"don't think I'll ever be able to stop"

Jeonghan trails kisses down your neck to your cleavage, stopping right above the fabric of your bralette to look up at you.

"can I?"

"mhm"

Deft fingers slide under your back, pushing you to arch up against him as he unhooks your bra with ease. He lets the fabric fall apart under his fingers and tosses it aside, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your breasts.

You shudder when his hands knead the soft flesh, occasionally tweaking your nipples between his fingers. He really knew what he was doing.

The heat in your belly only grew with the way he teased you, growing almost unbearable. You needed him to touch you. You'd go crazy if he didn't.

As if he read your mind, Jeonghan places his lips to your breasts, sucking faint red bruises into your skin, moving south. He leaves a trail of marks all the way down your torso, stopping at the hem of your shorts.

"still with me?" he asks, fingers tucked into the waistband of your shorts, mumbling into your skin.

"yeah just- please keep going"

He grins. You were exactly what he imagined. Responsive, sensitive and desperate. Oh he was going to have so much fun with you.

Tugging your shorts down, tantalisingly slow, Jeonghan stares up at you- a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You don't think too much of it at first, but when he moves to pull your panties off, you begin to put two and two together.

A faux pout takes over his features as he holds your underwear right above your knees.

"oh no," he coos, snapping the waistband against your lower thigh, "it's stuck."

Oh.

"what-?" you choke. It was painful now, how badly you needed him. Your clit ached, your hole clenched up around empty space, your skin was on fire.

"can't seem to get these off," A stupid grin stretches over his lips, and you want nothing more than to smack it right off.

"Hannie c'monn it hurts" you whine, tears pricking your eyes, "please"

He pouts, a condescending furrow in his brow.

"but it's stuck"

"god-"

You shove your panties down, hastily, and kick them off until you're completely bare for him. Exasperation paints over your face, only to be replaced by a furious red blush once realisation hits.

Did you just-

"so desperate for me," he smirks as his palms glide over your hips, "fuck look at how wet you are, angel"

Jeonghan crooks a finger into you, dragging it along your slit before raising the digit to your face. There's a glint in his eye, half in awe, half amused.

"you're practically dripping off my fingers, baby"

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight and turn away, mumbling something along the lines of 'c'mon don't tease'.

There's a chuckle on his end as he gives in, pushing the soaked digit into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow around his finger, tongue swirling, and he sucks in an unsteady breath.

"will you be good, angel? can you stay still for me?"

You hum, opening your mouth to say something, but you quickly cut yourself off with a moan when Jeonghan's tongue drags along your slit. He works the wet muscle into you, dipping inside to collect your arousal before spreading it over your clit. His lips suction your aching nerves, tongue prodding it rhythmically, and your back arches off the bed.

Jeonghan's eyes meet yours, his stare warning you to behave. Instantly, your hips settle back, and you try your hardest to keep still.

"good girl," he praises, mumbling into your clit. The vibrations of his voice shoot up your spine, and you feel your nerves sing, now on edge.

A helpless moan escapes you when he slides two fingers inside you, pumping in and out as you squeeze around him. The combined stimulation of his tongue on your clit and those long fingers inside you, has you dangerously close to falling apart.

"H-Hannie fuck don't stop m'so close-" you gasp, grinding your hips onto his face to match the rhythm of his tongue.

His lips curl up into a sickly smirk and you feel you stomach drop. Surely, surely he wouldn't-

"gonna cum?" he grins. The thrust of his fingers begin to slow their pace and his tongue circles the area around your clit.

You push your hips up, chasing his tongue desperately, but to no avail.

"please-"

"please?" he echoes.

"so close"

"mm I could tell"

The sultry edge to his voice has you torn. On one hand, he just denied you of what would've been the best orgasm of your life, while on the other he sounded so fucking sexy being in charge. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to slap him or pull him into a kiss.

Your thighs quiver with the weight of your ebbing orgasm, and you feel tears spill over as it fades into nothing.

"aw, angel," he coos, thumbing away the pearls slipping down your cheeks, "you were right there, weren't you?"

You nod, sniffling away pathetically.

"do you wanna cum?"

You nod again and he tuts.

"what did I sa-"

"yes! yes please- wanna cum, wanna cum so bad Hannie,"

Jeonghan smiles, satisfied, and lowers his face to your cunt, this time shoving three fingers into you without warning and lapping at your clit with such precision you almost came on the spot.

You moan, hands flying to his hair instantly. His tongue flicked at your nerves just right and the stretch of your walls around his fingers felt ungodly.

"d-don't stop please-"

He smirks against your cunt and pushes further, harder. Within minutes you come undone, feeling your body sink into the mattress as your vision turns white from pleasure. Jeonghan fucks you through your orgasm, licking at your juices lazily.

"taste so good" he groans, pulling his fingers out of you and sucking them into his mouth.

The room feels hot. Far hotter than before. You can smell yourself, smell the salty sweat dripping off of you. Jeonghan grins at your dishevelled state, revelling in the way he had you breaking on his tongue.

"still okay?"

"more than okay" you breathe, tugging him by the collar of his shirt, into a filthy kiss. You can taste the remnants of your arousal on his tongue, and it only makes you want him more.

You pull away, panting, and keep your fingers tangled in his shirt.

"you- are far too clothed for my liking."

Jeonghan's eyes crinkle into that smile you fell in love with, and your heart skips a beat. God, he was just so pretty.

"perv," he smiles.

"hey, I'm the naked one-"

"mhm and who's fault is that? didn't you take these off yourself?" he reaches down, grabbing your panties before waving them around.

"god- you're so-"

"handsome? skilled? tempting?"

"just shut up and fuck me already"

Jeonghan steps back, now standing in front of the bed, and pulls his shirt off. You feel your lungs drain.

He was on the slimmer side, so you didn't really expect much, but the sculpted contours of his pectorals and abs told you something else altogether.

"you're staring"

Shamelessly you let your jaw hang open as you sit up to feel his abs.

"m'not staring what are you talking about?"

Your hands trace over his torso, eyes transfixed by how beautiful he looked like this- staring down at you, one hand resting on your hair, cheeks flushed.

He takes hold of your wandering hand and drags it up to the centre of his chest.

"can you feel that?" he asks, voice raspy.

It's his heart.

"that's all for you"

His heart thuds against his chest, pace so quick you'd have thought he was a racehorse.

"I-" you start, unable to find the words.

"c'mere let me take care of you, hm?"

Ridding himself of his shorts and boxers, Jeonghan let's your hand trace over him.

Gently, he lays you down on the bed, making sure your head rests securely between the pillows. He hovers over you, balancing his weight on his forearms.

"might sting just a little, okay?"

You nod, staring up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Slowly, Jeonghan eases himself into you. He was long. Really long. Girth wise, the stretch didn't hurt too much, but god- he was barely halfway in when you started squirming.

"shh, I know, it'll feel good in a minute angel"

Pushing further, he distracts you with a sensual kiss, licking at the seam of your mouth. You grant him entrance, whimpering when he swipes over your tongue.

He bottoms out inside you, and for a moment, you still in his arms.

"that's it, baby," he mumbles against your lips, breathing hard as is to contain himself, "taking me so good"

When he feels you relax around him, he draws his hips back before pushing back into you. His is pace is steady, his thrusts are firm, you swear you've never felt so secure during sex before.

His length kisses your cervix right away and you cry out, back arching off the bed and into his chest. Your nails rake down his back, leaving deep red marks you're sure he'll tease you about tomorrow.

"fuck-" he seethes, thrusting into you, his jaw tense as beads of sweat collect at his temples.

"Han- oh my god-"

The room echoes with your voices- desperate moans and whimpers neither of you can be bothered to contain. Hot, steamy air floods the space, and you can smell his cologne, his skin as he pounds into you.

A hand reaches down to toy with your clit, stretching your lips open, leaving your nerves completely at his mercy. His middle finger dips into you, rubbing lazy circles against your clit, and you cry out his name like it's all you know.

He muffles your cries with his tongue, shoving it into your mouth as you moan and whimper into him. It's hard to breathe, hard to speak, hard to think, but you just can't get enough.

A particularly harsh thrust has you clamping down on him and he groans. His lips trail over to your ear, and he bites gently at the tender flesh of your earlobe.

"you feel like heaven-" he shudders, licking at the shell of your ear.

Your skin lights up, hairs standing on end, and you feel your orgasm building.

His fingers circle your clit faster, and his thrusts move to a brutal pace.

Moaning into each other, you chase your highs, hips bucking eagerly, desperately, as you finally come undone together.

Jeonghan fucks into you, helping you ride your orgasm as he does his own.

There's a long silence as he pushes into you, both you and him wincing from overstimulation. He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips, and kisses you deeply one last time, before pulling out.

Whimpering at the sudden loss, your hips chase him, and he scoffs, an amused look taking over his face.

"you're insatiable- c'mon let's get you cleaned up"

Before you can protest, you find yourself slumped against his chest, carried in his arms like a princess as he walks over to the bathroom.

You're met with an already filled bath, rose petals scattered along the surface of the water, candles lit up and arranged along the room.

"so I uh, I might have planned thi-"

You cut him off with a peck, giggling at his sudden nervousness.

"thank you," you beam as he lowers you into the water, following right after.

"anything for my angel"

[brailsthesmolgurl]

DAMNATION

A legend foretold that the princess' heart is the only way to save his people. What happens when he refuses to take her heart when he had foolishly fell in love with her? But, what if she wanted to give his people the life that they deserved? Warnings: Angst, No Comfort, Death of Character, Blood and Gore, you might let out a tear or two, there could be an alternate ending in a parallel universe. Slight Spoiler for Rafayel's lore.

"Rafayel, please, please, please let me help your people." She sniffled, eyes and nose a hue of red as she held onto the sleeves of the God of the Sea. They had been at this argument for days, and time is not exactly in Rafayel's favour. His people are dying, and her heart, is the only thing that could save his kind from extinction.

It has to be out of her own will, they said. And here he is, watching y/n with his eyes that had taken up a shade of dark purple. The lack of lighting within her chambers had given him a good camouflage for his frown. He got her, to surrender her heart by her own will. But, Rafayel could not do it.

His right hand reached up to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks and he spoke softly, as if to conjure up whatever willpower he had left within his system to convince her to stop talking about this. "My love, you know I could not bear to lose you. I know my people may be in pain and suffrage, but I also know that you deserve the world. With me."

"BUT I ALREADY SAID I CAN!" Y/n shouted, the grabbed the candle holder by her bedside table and threw it across the room, her tears are now flowing like streams down her cheeks. Rafayel held her as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing and curling into a ball. Her voice a hushed whisper as she spoke. "How is living here any better than being dead? I am constantly locked in my tower, I had only ever been out whenever you are around and I just can't find myself to live like this anymore."

Her sigh ached Rafayel's heart, it hurts him deeply to watch her cry and to watch her make such a decision for him, for his people. He was caught up in between, eyes wandering across her dark room as the last source of lighting was put out. The moonlight however, casted a silvery-bluish sheen into the room, making the overall room more gloomy than it already is.

Rafayel took in a deep breath, muttering something about 'there must be another way to this', and he used his long index finger to lift up her chin, so her eyes meet his. "My love, I want you to stay put right here. I will be back by dawn tomorrow and we shall make a final decision on this. Please, heed my advice and just stay here alright? I will be back for you, as always my quintessence."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her cheek and lastly on her lips. Just like how he would always comfort her. Pulling back, he noticed the way her eyes struggled to open and with that, he slowly laid her back onto her bed, and tucked her in. She must be exhausted from the amount of crying she had for the night. Smoothing his hand over her silky brown hair, he presented a sad smile, eyes wavering while he looked at her for one last time for the night.

He had to make a choice, either it would be to sacrifice her or to sacrifice his people. Both bringing an equally heavy burden to his heart and soul. Call him a god, they said. But he is no longer one as he harbored such selfish thoughts to his own desire. Putting on his mask, he got off of the bed, stood at the window and then plunge down into the waters below.

...

It has been a few hours, and y/n rose from her bed, still groggy from her sleep. She looked out of her window to find her windows were widely opened, the moon shining brightly and she wondered to herself when did Rafayel left. It should be a couple of hours ago as the last thing she recalled was his lips on her face. And she recalled meeting him right after dinner time ended.

A whistling tune was heard from outside of her window, a tune so melodic that she was enchanted to approach her window sill. Her hands glided over the smooth stone slab and she peeked her head out before she was met with a boy in the waters below her towers. The scales on his body signified that he is a Lemurian, just like Rafayel.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n panicked, eyes darting all over her surroundings to scan for any witnesses around. You see, if Lemurians were caught, they would be pawned off to the wealthy, as it showcases the sign of one's wealth. And that was how Rafayel met y/n. But y/n knew that possessing a Lemurian would not grant her a new status nor the freedom she had longed for, hence, she freed him after they had promised to find each other again in the future.

"My name is Arvia---" Before he could even finish, he coughed, desperately holding onto his chest as he heaved for his breath. "I came to---" Another cough, one of his hand sprung out from the water to close his mouth, to silence his coughs as he did not want to draw any unwanted attention. As he withdrew his hand, y/n gasped. Crimson stain on his pale white hands, people on land may have identify it as lung infection, but she knew that Lemurians are leaning towards the grim reaper's will.

"Please, please my quintessence, I know My Highness would not let us near you." Blood trickled down the sides of his lips as he spoke. "But I plead you, as my mother has been in suffrage for the past few days, she could not speak anymore, let alone sing. All of my siblings are met with ill coughs, just like mine, carrying crimson taints. I beg of you, shall you have the means to save Lemuria, please meet us at the sea stacks as dawn strikes."

Another cough comes at the end of his sentence and she watched as he harshly pounded his chest, as if doing that would ease his cough better. "I'll be there!" Y/n responded without hesitation and her determined eyes were met with Arvia's aquamarine ones. The young merman wiped the blood off of his lips and he nodded his head before he dived back into the water, a hint of his tail peeking out as he swam back into the deep waters.

Y/n rushed back into her room and opened her wooden wardrobe, eyeing the gowns that she owns and picking one out that is made of the thinnest material possible. She wanted her movements to be stealthy and languid, hence the thin material would come to be more useful than a heavier drape. She changed into the white gown, and grabbed her fur coat to drape it over her small stature. Glancing at herself for the last time in the mirror situated next to her wardrobe, she felt a pang of sadness coarsing through her body.

She has chosen her own journey, she has decided on her own death. But it was all for the better right? One small sacrifice for the greater good. Staring at her own reflection, she realised her tears had streamed down her face. Why is she crying? She had no idea. But perhaps it has something to do with the ending of her life. No matter how convinced she is of her death being a greater sacrifice, she could never forgive herself for going against her lover's will.

She wiped off her tears and huffed. "This is it. My death shall come with a greater meaning. Rafayel would understand eventually." Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the rope Rafayel had made for her and she tossed it out of the window to climb down from her tower.

...

Perhaps the gown was not the best idea. Strong winds and thin gowns are not exactly complimentary to one another. Her fur coat however, ended mid waist so the length below her waist was bare to the wind's torture. It took her quite a while to arrive to the location that was appointed by the merman.

The huge rock sat in the middle of the sea, unwavering as the waves crashed against it. The sky was dark but along the silhouttes, there was hints of an orangy-yellow shade, a sign that dawn is approaching. Y/n took off her footwear and laid them onto the sand, and she took off her coat to lay it next to her footwear. The wind batted against her whole body even more harshly, making her shiver and tremble as she made her way into the waters.

As the sun started to rise even more, she noticed a few heads emerged from the further ends of the vast ocean, as if watching her as she made her way towards the rock. Arvia then bobbed his head out of the waters and he spoke. "You came, my quintessence. Come, take your seat on the rock." He looked ghastly, eyes sunken in and scales fading of its usual bright colours. He held out his hand and guided y/n up towards the rock.

Another merman surfaced from the depths of the ocean and y/n recognised this merman. He was always stuck to Rafayel's hip when she met Rafayel for the first couple of times. She never got to know of his name but she assumed that he plays an important role in guiding and supervising Rafayel's actions. "I believe we had met for a few times, when I was on land with My Highness. My name is Amund and I was summoned by my people to perform the sacrificial ritual on you."

His eyes glinted a sheen of red as he spoke to her. Was this the guy that Rafayel had warned her about? 'My people are of gentle nature, but I am afraid one shall lead them all towards perdition.' Rafayel's voice rung in her head. "Do you, my quintessence, know the risk of such sacrificial ritual?" Amund questioned her, eyes raking over her body in an uncomfortable manner.

"I will be able to save Lemuria right?" She responded, eyes filled with hope. "Will I?" She second guessed herself and Amund said nothing but nodded. He raised his hand to beckon to his fellow Lemurians and some of them started approaching her. "Wait, what is happening?"

"As long as my quintessence is at will to give us the God of Sea's heart, we will ensure that the sacrificial ritual is done with the utmost care and respect you deserve." A dagger appeared in Amund's hand. Silver dagger with red crystals adorning it's hilt, it definitely does look like a ceremonial dagger.

"Are you going to drown me first? Rafayel told me that as long as I am willing to give out my heart, then I could be drowned prior to the ceremony. Is it not?" She remembered Rafayel told her some details about how the ceremony takes place but given she was not drowned yet, she was curious if there was a different course of ceremonial action. "My quintessence, as I mentioned earlier, you deserve the utmost care and respect for your sacrifice for the people of Lemuria." He held up the dagger and gave a look towards the other mermans that were surrounding her. "Make sure she stays still throughout the ceremony." The mermans then grabbed her arms and legs and they stretched her limply across the rock. Y/n however, knew that she could not back up anymore at this point.

But, what she did not know was that this so-called ceremony was nothing more than a mere revenge to be taken upon Rafayel. The god who chose to leave his people to pursue his love with a mere mundane. Amund, does not approve of this relationship and neither does he want that to ever happen again. He wants to watch Rafayel suffer like how his people did.

"Stay still my quintessence, this would hurt." Without another word, Amund stabbed the dagger into her collarbone and y/n screamed in pain, tears started flowing from her face but she could not move as she was held down tightly. The pain did not stopped as the dagger dragged from her collarbone to the sides of her breasts. Her screams never falter just like her blood that never stopped flowing, staining the rock and eventually dripped into the ocean.

...

Rafayel had returned to her chambers but she was nowhere to be found. "Y/N? Y/N?" He called out to her name quietly as he walked towards her bed. Flipping the sheets, he was only met with the sight of her pillow stacked together to form a silhouette of her. He turned around and noticed the wardrobe that was sprung open, and her satin lounging attire tousled into a ball on the hardwood floorings. Confused, he looked over to the window sill and his guesses were right, she had escaped from her tower.

Without hesitation, the God of the Sea jumped out of the window and plunged right into the waters, not even caring if that had caused a huge splash to alert the guards as he had no time left to spare. He had to rescue her.

Earlier on, when Rafayel had left her chambers, he went back to Lemuria to speak with Amund. When he arrived at Armund's door, Arvia came out of the house, eyes widened when he was face-to-face with the lilac-haired God. "Your highness." Arvia half bowed and went along his way. Swimming past Rafayel and off into the weeds that were littered around the towns of Lemuria.

"What was Arvia doing here?" Rafayel asked as he closed the door to Amund's abode and finally meeting Amund's eye.

"His family was in dire need of some pearl essence. His mother's throat was ruined and his siblings are all ridden with coughs that drains their blood." Amund responded as he placed vials and bottles of medicine back onto the shelves. The clinking and clanking of the vials and bottles are the only sounds filling the silence before he continued. "Your Highness, you cannot delay any further. Our people are dying. And they desperately need the heart."

"Amund, listen." Rafayel spoke in a stern tone, hands running through his lilac strands as he looked frustrated. "I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't." The vial containing the pearl essence floated out of Amund's grasp and he looked at Rafayel with widened eyes. There comes the shouting, "You would rather watch Lemuria wilt just to save a woman that you have feelings for?! How dare you say that?! What do you think the people of Lemuria would have thought, that their one and only hope has decided to betray them all for the sake of a mere mortal?!"

Rafayel winced at Amund's booming voice, although he looked saddened with the situation at hand, his voice maintained the same as his posture, still and calm. "There shall be another way to change fate. I will do whatever I can to save my people but without the cost of losing my beloved bride. The decision is final." He turned to leave but stopped, whipped his head back and he warned. "Anyone who acted against my orders shall die upon my hand."

...

The waves batted against the shores, feigning a scene where the water desperately wants to come onto the shore. Just like how the mermans once dreamed of wanting to walk on land and having to dive back into the waters based on their own will. But they were bound, bound to the waters as coming onto land would not impose any leverage for them.

Rafayel ran across the beach, eyes searching every inch of land and water to find his beloved. The sun is rising and the pastel skies no longer gave Rafayel a sense of comfort but it added onto his paranoia, assumptions of the worst case scenario constantly teasing their way into his mind.

His heart suddenly hurt like someone had shot him with a canon ball and he fell in his steps, clutching onto his chest as he struggled to breathe. Not long after when he regained his breath, something felt different in him. Something felt like a--- a beating heart. Rafayel gasped at the feeling as it further confirmed his nightmare.

He ran as fast as his mundane legs could carry him down the shore and passing a cliff, he witnessed a figure, sprawled out on a rock limply, and he screamed. "Y/N!"

He trudged the waters and climbed up the rock, not even caring that the barnacles had sliced off pieces of his sole. He did not care at all as the scene in front of him would trigger bloodshed afterwards. Y/n laid on the rock, eyes closed, but blood trailed from her eyes, nostrils, and ears, staining her once beautiful white dress into a bright crimson red. Her chest bared a gaping hole exactly where the heart was supposed to be situated.

Rafayel reached out his shaky hands to touch her cheeks and in that moment, he got a brief flashback of her last moments. Her screams echoed through his mind, but none of her screams mouthed the word 'STOP'. Amund was there, alongside with a couple of other mermans that were holding her down. Amund was slicing into her skin, carelessly opening up a big hole on the left side of her chest just to retrieve the heart from her.

Rafayel's tears streamed when the flashback showed y/n stopped screaming and twitching when Amund grabbed the heart out of her body, holding it high up in the air as if it was some trophy earned. And just like that, the flashback ended and Rafayel was snapped back into reality, with her body laid right in his arms. He whimpered, but no sounds were emitted from his throat, his cries were silenced by the throbbing pain within his heart.

Watching her pale and faceless expression, Rafayel held her face close to his neck, getting his body stained with her blood like how he would always get paint stained on his clothes whenever he was painting portraits of her. But this time, he did not want the stain to be washed off. He did not want it to fade either, as it would remind him of the pain his own people had brought upon him.

"Why?" He asked the air, as you would no longer be the one to reply to him. "Why would they do this to you?" His voice a hushed whisper as the ocean started to rage. "Why couldn't they at least make it painless for you?" He was referring to the drowning that should have taken place prior to the ceremony of removing her heart. It would have hurt way lesser than this, it would have been more comforting, it would have lessen the bloodshed that would be committed by Rafayel.

"I will always, always wait for you my love. No matter how long it takes." He stood up, with her still in his arms, and he looked out into the horizon, staring into the waves that would soon remind his people of his identity of being the God of the Sea. The dark clouds started to close in, accompanied with lightning strikes that fears the men at seas. Rafayel held her lifeless body, clinging onto whatever warmth that was left from her body before he mustered up the courage to say this. His eyes turned from the usual blueish-purplish shade to a dark set of purple pupils. "I shall bring damnation to my people as how they had brought damnation to me."

Sequel here: Retribution

Parallel Universe Ending is up! Read through Retribution and you shall find the link for the parallel not-so-angsty ending!

And there you go my darlings, I wanna watch that tear drop :)

I think I will come out with an alternate not-so-angsty ending if i feel like it sometime in the near future. Lemme know what you guys think hehe <3. If any of you fancy for any requests of similar calliber or even new ideas, drop me a dm :>

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

[monster-disaster]

[goblin] Rust

goblin!Rust x human!Reader Good to know: public sex, freeuse

Summary: You work in a bar where the rules are slightly different from the outside world.

The bar is calm. The lights from the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling are dim, casting a warm glow across the place. Quiet music plays in the background. The singer's voice is deep and hoarse. You can barely hear it because of the sound of the bottles as your co-worker fills up the shelves behind you while you are busy swiping down the counter with a wet rag. All around, the air is filled with the quiet murmur of conversations. The clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughters echo off the walls. They are decorated with posters and faded photographs. The wide windows are darkened with the name and logo of the bar. The tables and chairs all around the place were crafted decades ago. They are still sturdy and marked with the memory of the countless drinks poured and the many fights that escalated over the years.

"They are here," the vampire behind you hums, glancing over her shoulder to the window. You can see the motorbikes parking down in a long row. The rumbling of the engines shakes the walls and goes straight to your core. "I can hear it," you reply, watching to door burst open with a loud thud.

Soon, the bar is full of bikers, taking their places all over the room as usual. They are loud and dominating. It's nothing you are not used to. You've worked at the bar for a few years. You know most of the patrons since Grimbrook is usually not a place for tourists. Especially not the bar with all kinds of monsters and humans.

Your next hour is busy with taking care of everything. The smell of alcohol and cheap beer is heavy and thick in the air, mixing with smoke. You can't hear the music anymore through the crowd's constant noise. Laughs and shouts boom every now and again from various tables. The boots thud heavily on the wooden floor.

"There is my favorite girl," the goblin greets you from one of the booths next to the walls. His smile is barely noticeable under his crooked nose. His green skin seems a bit more yellowish under the hue of the lights. The black leather jacket he always wears is over the backrest, leaving him in a black t-shirt and jeans. "Hey, Rust," you greet the male. "How's your night?" "It's better now that you are here," he hums, slipping his hand on your hip. His fingers grope your flesh, letting his nails dig into the fabric of your black skirt. "Really?" You laugh, stepping away from his hold as you put the empty bottles and glasses on the tray in your other hand. "I'm busy." "Well, you wouldn't be if Eva would do her job," Rust replies with a hungry smirk on his thin lips. Following his gaze, you see your co-worker on an orc's lap. The male is big and sturdy. His large hands are on your friend's hips, keeping Eva on his lap as she drinks from his neck. They grind to each other the whole time. "Oh, I think she is doing her job just fine," you laugh. Rust's hand is on you again. "And you?" His thumb grazes your nipple through the fabric of your shirt and bra. "I'm doing it, too," you reply. "Just not the fun part." "Don't make me wait for too long," he shouts after you when you leave their table.

You can feel wetness already pooling between your legs, ruining your panties. Heat lits up in your belly, and you have to force yourself to leave the goblin with his friends and continue your job.

"Are you done?" You smirk under your breath when the vampire female appears next to you. Her usually pale complexion seems much healthier. There is a slight hint of pink on her cheeks, and her lips are red and swollen. "With the orc?" She asks. "Yes. For the night? No." You laugh at her reply while serving the monsters around the counter. Your nose is full of the smell of the various drinks. "Oh," Eva continues. "Rust wants to see you." A knowing smile tugs on the corner of her lips. "I-" "Don't worry," she adds before you can say anything. "I will take care of everything while you are busy." "Like last week?" "Oh, shush."

Leaving the vampire at the counter, you make your way to the booth where Rust is still sitting with a half-orc and a demon. They are talking. The half-orc laughs at something. His head tilts back, and the golden loop around his tusk glint in the light. His voice is hoarse but booming.

Without saying anything, Rust pulls up your skirt until it's around your waist, and anybody can see your matching panties covering your mound. His nails graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he tugs you closer to him until you are sitting on his lap. His body and the desk in front of you barely give you enough space, and you have to spread your legs not to kick Rust's friends. Because of the height difference, the goblin has to sit straight if he wants to continue talking with the others. His voice is a deep rumble on your back, and his words fan over the curve of your neck.

"That's what I am talking about," he grunts into your ear, squeezing your hips as you start to grind down on him. The rough fabric of his jeans and his erection underneath it rub against your slit repeatedly. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every passing second. Your palms are on the table as you try to keep your balance and circle your hips on his lap. You can feel him moving under you. He pushes up, nudging your clit. Your lips part in a silent groan.

The male and his friends continue talking while you chase your own pleasure. Your pussy aches for more, your hole clenches around nothing.

"Stand up," Rust says, stopping your movement. The muscles of your legs flex as you keep your weight above him, slightly bending over the table. You can hear the zipper of Rust's jeans as he frees himself, but your attention is drawn to the demon in front of you. He reaches over the table, unbuttons your shirt, and pushes down your bra until your breasts are bare for his dark eyes. His forked tongue licks across his sharp teeth. Your nipples are tight peaks. The edges of the lacy cups rub against them every time you move.

"C'mere, love," Rust grunts, grabbing your hips again to pull you back onto his lap. His cock slides into you easily. He is not as long as your other patrons, but the piercing at the tip makes you forget everyone else. You can feel the cold metal rubbing against your walls, nudging you in all the right places. "Fuck," the male grunts behind you when you are fully seated on him. You envelop his cock warmly and tightly. He can feel your pussy clamping around his shaft, begging for more. "This is your job, no?" He asks, satisfied. "Keeping my cock warm with your sweet pussy."

And to your utmost disapproval, that's what you do for the next ten minutes. Rust doesn't let you fidget and squirm, craving every bit of friction you can get. He keeps you on him, enjoying your misery while his friends talk and stare at you. Their gazes are heavy and hungry on your tits. You push them out some more with every breath you take as you lean back against Rust's chest. His hands from your side slip down between your legs. His fingers tease across your slit, finding your clit with slow circles. You are soaked. Your arousal drips down onto his lap.

"One more minute, and she will combust," Eva states, smirking as she puts a few new bottles down on the table. Her eyes rake over your bare chest, unashamed. "Do you think so?" Rust jokes but grinds up into your hole. The sudden movement takes your breath away as your head falls back on his shoulder. Eyes flutter shut. "But she is so warm."

He teases you for a few more seconds before making you move on his cock finally. He uses your hole to his heart's content while his friends in front of you stare openly, sipping their beers. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and every circle of your hips as you get higher and higher on the goblin's cock. His clever fingers work on your clit with experience. Rust knows how to drive you crazy with need.

Eva is still at the table, watching. Her dark eyes glint with hunger as she leans closer. Before you know it, your moans get muffled by her lips. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, dominating you while Rust fucks into you. Your pussy is tight and demanding. You want everything he can give you. The burning coil in your stomach grows, and your muscles tense. You almost scream when Eva bites your bottom lip, licking down the blood and sucking for more. The slight pain and the stretch of your aching pussy are enough to push you over the edge. Every nerve in your body bursts with pleasure. Your limbs start to tingle, and your hole clamps down and pulses around the goblin's erection.

"Fuck," Rust groans, pushing you up over the table. Your stomach is flat on the wooden surface. You feel him pulling out of you, and soon, his warm seed paints your waist and ass while you are still shaking after your orgasm. Your muscles jerk, and your pussy clenches.

Blood slips down your chin from the corner of your lips. When you look up and see the demon standing up, too, tugging on his cock a few times before pushing his length into your open lips, you know you will have a long night.

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

[tflaw]

Bless u for papa neuvi 😩👌

now im brainrotting about the melusines that absolutely treats neuvi’s son like their own little brother and helps the reader takes care of him whenever his papa’s too busy with a trial 😩😩😩

౨ৎ ⋆˚ where the heart is ft. neuvilette. reader is referred to as ‘wife’. fluff — or at least an attempt was made ;; ++ here’s another one of papa!neuvillette <33 enjoy !! this is not proofread.

—

having a kid results in a lot of different things. one of which is a perpetually chaotic house right at the crack of a glorious morning. it’s particularly in disarray during weekdays and whenever court necessitates neuvillette’s absence from home.

“i’m sorry to leave you alone this early, darling. but i must, so i can be home before the sun goes down.” neuvillette kisses the top of your head while carrying your little boy in his arms.

“you needn’t worry; this little guy and i can manage. right, sweet boy?” with a smile, you poke at your son’s chubby cheek, earning a soft giggle from his precious lips. “you’ll help mama clean up, won’t you?” he merrily claps his hand in response. “see? that’s our boy.”

“it seems like we have a gentleman in our midst,” neuvillette comments, soft delight evident in his eyes. “take care of mama for me, alright?”

and it’s majestic: the scene before you. neuvillette has struggled a long time to morph emotions that can suffice his heart’s content. looking at him now standing against the sun, its rays forming a halo around his and your son’s bodies while the latter sizes up his tiny hand with his father’s huge one, sudden warmth caresses your chest.

you clasp both their hands tightly with your own, tip-toeing to bestow neuvillette an airy kiss on the lips. “take care, my love,” you murmur.

the unforeseen affection blows open neuvillette’s eyes, casting a hue of glowing red on his cheeks. you’ve been married for years already, and yet his world keep tilting upside down whenever your lips collide. as though the eruption of his world seems not to bother him, he leans in for another kiss— fervid with passion this time.

neuvillette brushes your forehead with his lips as a final seal to the magic you shared. you close your eyes, drinking in his scent, before responsibilities stow him away and buries him neckdeep in work.

“come on, darling.” the little boy lifts his arms reluctantly to you. under his curling brows, on the verge of tears, are twinkling eyes glued to his father.

the father takes his little chin, leaving the little one with a promise of returning home as soon as work permits. then, neuvillette tramps towards the door, only to see three melusines carrying their baskets, smiling from ear to ear.

“father!” they call in unison. sundry of greetings soon followed; each of them eager to wish neuvillette an agreeable and smooth journey ahead. “mother!” they beam, canting their heads to peek at you from the doorstep. it’s mamere, puca, and canotila.

neuvillette steps aside to let the children inside the house. they dash for the boy, faces gleaming with joy at beholding their sibling’s little frame.

“will you stay with mother while i’m gone?” neuvillette inquires, crouching to meet the melusines’ level.

three heads nod at once. neuvillette opens his arms, then, to embrace the three melusines. they murmur their goodbyes and promises that you and the baby will be alright. albeit flooded with the need to stay, which is exceedingly evident on neuvillette’s face, he departs for the court of fontaine. and thus, your day with the children begin.

“who wants to help mother bake?”

all three jump on their toes; puca and canotila have followed you to the kitchen, while mamere occupies herself by playing with your son.

not a day goes by that your house wouldn’t be flooded by the melusines. they contribute a great degree in making the air much vibrant with all their jovial disposition.

it’s a life you’ve been well-acquainted with ever since sealing the vow with neuvillette. the melusines are a part of you as much as their father is.

—

people used to name neuvillette as an immovable pillar; before the heaps of paper on his desk, he’s a man of patience and perseverance. he passes the opportunity of sleep without second thoughts if work demands his extended time in attending matters concerning the region.

however, he has acquired a strict sense of time after his marriage. once the clock finally signals his departure, it matters not whether papers keep piling on his desk, neuvillette will stand up and journey towards home.

he cannot help it; the tightness between his ribs and the ever-growing need to be with his family are too palpable to ignore. and it would seem as though a great part of him is being cut down the longer he’s away from home.

only the image of the house, with lights glowing from the inside, has been a salve to his rather impatient need to be in your arms.

“welcome home—”

he embraces you, then, cleaving the words you wish to speak. he embraces and sniffs at your hair, letting the heat of your body travel to his own, caressing the coldness away.

“i’ve missed you dearly, my love,” he murmurs, a little embarrassed, yet a whole lot fulfilled.

you giggle against his chest, the sound going straight to his heart where it marked yet another reason of why neuvillette loves you more than life itself.

“we’ve missed you, too. come into the house, darling. taste the cake we’ve made.”

“where are the children?” neuvillette asks, noticing the silence prevailing inside. normally, the melusines together with the little boy would be all around the house this time around; laughing and filling the corners with their merriment.

“oh, come! let me show you something.” you tug at your husband’s hand, exuding radiance that almost blinded him. “all of the children are currently in dreamland.”

you open the door to your room. upon the sight which greeted him, all the day’s worries and baggages shred off his skin. there, on the bed, the melusines are sleeping soundly. they’re formed in a cirle around his little boy, their chests heaving slowly. everything is peaceful.

“welcome home, my love,” you whisper once more, squeezing his hand and rubbing your cheek against his arm.

voice mixed with a sweet cadence, he answers, “i am home.”

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Billy x thief reader 👀 she tries to pick pocket billy without knowing his reputation which only leads to a flirty confrontation. Love your writing smm 💕

Takes two to tango || Billy the Kid x reader

A/n: i love this request, keep them coming!!!!! and thank you anon <333

Warnings: none?

Wc: 673

Billy the Kid masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

Santa Fe's sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden hues over the terra cote streets. You, adorned in a vibrant red dress that swayed with each sway of your hip, glided through the lively crowd. Your h/c hair framed an innocent smile that could charm even the sternest of faces, a charming and strikingly beautiful young woman whose smile hid secrets, a façade concealing the nimble fingers of a pickpocket.

The people of Santa Fe were oblivious to the danger that walked among them. No one suspected a pretty lady like yourself with a twinkle in your eyes, adorned in jewelry, to be a master of the unsavory art, pickpocketing.

Your charm, your grace that rivaled even the most high status ladies in society was your greatest weapon. Your targets were carefully chosen, and you would distract them with a captivating smile, witty banter, flirtatious charm, and the subtle dance of your nimble fingers.

One fateful day, the town buzzed, a cloud of dust announced the arrival of a lone cowboy. He had an air of mystery about him that drew your attention, a charm that rivaled your own. His rugged features were hidden beneath the brim of his worn hat, his piercing blue eyes surveyed the vibrant scene, taking in the sights and sounds of Santa Fe with a cool confidence.

Unable to resist the lure of a new challenge, you sauntered over to him with a coy smile, your hips swaying subtly with each step. "Well, hello there, stranger. Santa Fe welcomes you," you greeted him, your voice as sweet as honey.

Billy, drawn in by your beauty and charisma, reciprocated with a smile that revealed his dimples, tipping his hat. "Thank you, ma'am. Quite a lively place you got 'ere," his gaze locks on you. "Santa Fe is quite something, I agree." You softly chuckle, your eyes scanning him.

"What brings you here," You tilt your head, letting charm take center change. One corner of his lip tips up, his eyes drifting to the side for a fleeting moment as you inch closer to him.

You engage in conversation as Billy responds with equal enthusiasm. As you spoke, your fingers moved with practiced precision, exploring the edges of his pockets. The marketplace provided the perfect cover, its chaotic ambiance camouflaging your subtle movements.

You reveled in the thrill of the heist, confident that your charm would keep him blissfully unaware. Billy, though new to Santa Fe, was no stranger to the art of survival. His instincts kicked in as he felt the subtle graze of your fingers, and with a swift motion, grabbed your delicate wrist with a slight smirk.

Surprise flashed across your features, but you quickly composed yourself, turning the encounter into a playful interaction. "Well now, what do we have 'ere?" Billy's voice was low and velvety as he spoke. "A charming lady with a mischievous side."

You chuckled, feigning innocence. "Oh, you caught me. I must admit, you're quite perceptive, cowboy. Maybe I just couldn't resist the allure of a handsome cowboy like yourself," Billy's gaze lingered on you, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

Billy chuckled, releasing your wrist. "Well, darlin' you've got nerve I'll give you that, most folks 'round here just tip their hats and move on," You tilt your head coyly to the side at his words.

"I'm not like most folks, and you're not like most cowboys," you arch and eyebrow at him. "Tell me, darlin', what would drive a lady like you to such daring efforts?"

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you responded, "Survival, perhaps," You shrug, Billy's laugh resonated through the air, a deep and hearty sound.

"Well, you've certainly made my day more interesting, ma'am. But I reckon you should find a more honest way to make a living," A challenge flickered between you and the handsome outlaw, an unspoken understanding that there was more to both of you than met the eye.

"They say there are two paths that a women can take; marry, or whore yourself," You began, looking around before you fold your arms. "Tried whoring," Billy's lips part, "but that only made me realise my self-worth more," Your eyes fall down onto the grown at your feet where you kick a rock.

"Oh I know you're worth more than that, sweetheart." Billy steps closer to you, taking your chin in between his fingers which catches you off guard. The air crackled with a tension that transcended mere flirtation. The dance between pickpocket and cowboy had just begun.

"Seems you've got a talent for lightening a man's pockets," Billy remarked, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as you mirror him. You raised an eyebrow, "it's just a little something I picked up along the way. Keeps life interesting, wouldn't you say?"

Billy leaned against a wooden post, his gaze never leaving yours. "Interesting is one way to put it," he swallows, his eyes watching a family walk past, "most folks call it risky business, though," you lock eyes with him once again.

"Oh, but where's the fun without a bit of risk?" you replied, a playful glint in your eyes. "Besides, I've got a knack for it." Billy chuckled, shaking his head, "Well, ma'am, you've certainly added a twist to my day. Never thought I'd meet a pickpocket so......" he trails off, his eyes swept over you, a heat evident in the way his eyes drank your details, from head to toe before wetting his lips, "charming."

You stepped closer, the little space between you filled with an electric energy. "And I never though I'd such a handsome cowboy with keen instincts. Caught me fair and square." Billy's gaze softened, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"So, what's a charming lady like you doing in a place like this? There's gotta be more to the story." You sighed, as if revealing a secret. "Life's not always as pretty as it seems. Sometimes, a girl's gotta do what she can to get by."

His expression grew more serious, a subtle understanding passing between you. "We've all go out ways of surviving in this world." He sharply inhales, his hands resting on his hips. "Would you like somethin' to drink, ma'am?" He questions you with a subtle smirk on his lips as you bite your lip lightly, "Though you'd never ask," Billy cracks a smile.