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peachesofteal · 3 months

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Prologue: The Moirai

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 1.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: modern setting retelling of Hades and Persephone A strange dream, a strange visit.

For months, you’ve had the same dream.

You’re wandering a valley, your valley, a lush, green collection of rolling peaks, sweet grass and clover nearly velvet beneath your bare feet. The sun, high in the sky, does not moisten your brow, or cause you distress. You do not thirst. You do not tire.

You only meander, feeding the earth snippets of power, growing flowers and vines, a plethora of life, amusing yourself, as you do every night.

You roam this meadow, until your eyes open at dawn, bullfrogs and crickets and the raw chirp of birds tapping against the windowpane, brightening you to the morning better than any alarm clock ever could.

But tonight, the dream is different.

You’ve never seen so much Narcissus. It paints an idyllic picture, bright petals sparkling far and wide, blanketing the hills until they swoop low in the soft belly of the dream. They draw you in, pulling you down until you’re seated amongst a mass of blooms, Asphodelus scattered throughout, honeysuckle vine curling through the grasses, more fragrant than sea spray, filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness that you can taste, crystal like dew dripping with jasmine and vanilla.

It's beautiful.

A creek babbles nearby, crooning in its own language, rushing trickle drowning out your thoughts and feelings, twisting and tugging until it’s hard to remember you’re in a dream at all.

Is this not your meadow?

Is this not your own?

The Asphodelus shivers, rocking back and forth in a cool wind, the kind that chills your skin, whips around your shoulders and tousles the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hello.” The greeting startles you, twists your torso in the waist deep flora. Rise. Instinct booms, like your mother’s chide ringing a shrill bell for you to obey.

A figure stands in the meadow behind you, tall beside the sun, rays of golden light casting long shadow across their features. You squint, but it’s of no use. You cannot make them out.

“Hello.” You mirror, palms forward, heels digging into the grass. There’s a sharp prick, a sting that bleeds, and you curse, lifting your hand for inspection. “Acantha.” You hiss at the goddess, as if she has anything to do with your dreams.

Gold runs from the wound like the creek, slicking your palm, coating your skin in ichor, your own lifeblood.

The lifeblood of the Golden ones.

Lest you forget.

The figure kneels in the grass before you, their head bowed, black gloved hands reaching, tugging your palm upwards, dragging a thumb through the mess of ethereal life.

“I’m fine, just a prick.” You assure in the silence. There is so much light, and yet none, nothing to illuminate the face or the features of whomever it is that occupies your dream.

A fragment of your mind, perhaps. A trick of your mother’s.

Or an interloper.

“You’re hurt.” The dark pitch of the figure’s voice is startling. It’s fathomless, beautiful like the coast of the Aegean, guttural like the shout of death. Raw ruby, not quite plucked from its sanctuary, not quite finished or ready to be seen, a secret gem, only for you. The meadow rustles, thousands of faces in the little flowers leering, scowling, blue sky dimming into grey. Thunder shatters the tranquility, clapping in the distance, a garish boom sending electric shocks through the clouds, all manner of rumbles rolling over the hill.

Rot. It fills your soul in a flood, current wrapping around your ankles and tugging, like a thousand Oceanids lay at your feet, crying. Screaming.

But your hand is warm. Your hand is warm and it is held, for a moment, a moment in which you feel dramatically unlike yourself, unlike the fledging goddess you claim to be, unlike the unloved one you’re known as, and then-

it is cold. Your hand. Your heart. You. The being, the figure, is gone.

And you are alone.

The Greenhouse is quiet. An easy peace, so easily disturbed by comings and goings, friends and patrons, all manner of beings and others, stopping in and out.

They say hello. They ask for help, advice, favor. Some things you cannot give, even to some visitors who you hold close. Dearly.

These moments alone, moments of solitude in the Greenhouse, and some that you love the most. Moments when you're alone with yourself, your power, your connection to the earth. When you can feel it the most, the worms in the dirt, the roots desperate for water, the blooms aching to flourish. You are all these things, when you're alone. A power unto yourself. A goddess of life, of fertility, of Spring. The essential reawakening. The circle of seasons.

The secret weighs heavily.

But a goddess of Spring, is no mere goddess of Spring, your mother's voice echoes. A goddess of life, may as well wear a target on her back.

This morning, when the dew still refracts the light of the sun and birds are singing, no one comes. You sit alone, pruning, detangling, taming a pothos, encouraging its lovely green vine to live on its own. It protests, and you huff at it, conjuring slivers of magic, feeding it kernels as if you care for a child, trying to encourage it to eat.

“You must try, you know.” It curls around the back of your hand, lovely silver-white speckled leaves shimmering in the morning’s light. “You’re not staying here. The Greenhouse is full. I don’t have any more room.” The overcrowded shelves and carts agree, saplings and ivy and atropa belladonna all singing in unison, quivering voices rising in protest of the pothos’ weak effort. “See? You’ll make everyone unhappy.”

“You have a habit of talking to all your plants?” A musical voice chimes from the front door, and you jump from the stool, a book on your right clattering to the concrete.

“No, I…” Your voice fails, the woman in the doorway steps closer, allowing her mortal appearance to fall away, removing her Cloak and revealing her true identity.

The Moirai.

The Three who are One.

She turns her head to the east, a flash of the Maiden surveying your workbench, and then the Crone shines through, all faces eventually melding into one.

The Mother.

“Daughter of Demeter.” She inclines her head in greeting, and you blink rapidly.

“You...” What are they… is she, doing here? “You shouldn’t be here.” You swallow the fear that races in a cold rush under your skin. A frozen river runs in your bones, frigid rapids roaring, trapped beneath a thin sheet of ice, churning your power into a weapon of terror, an uncontrollable force that tries to build beneath the swell.

“Your mother is preoccupied.” She waves her hand; unease props the hair up on the back of your neck.

“What do you want?”

“To see you.” She strolls, careful, casual steps echoing off glass. “Finally, in the flesh.” The sh sound hisses, and your power pulses, pushing forward in preparation. “You are truly as lovely as they say, little Spring Goddess.”

“I’m not the Goddess of Spring.” You rebuke, and the resounding chuckle is dry wine, a tatter of bubbles that on her tongue that sours your stomach.

“You are not.” She nods. “No. You’re so much more now. You will be.” She steps closer, red lips perfectly lined and plump, pursed as she stares you down. “I’m satisfied.” She murmurs, and even though she looks right at you, it’s as if you’re not in the room.

Rain drops patter on glass panels.

“Pity.” She frowns, and then winks as a young woman, as an old one too, vanishing from sight with each step she takes to the door.

The clock ticks too loudly, and it feels like doom. Like a shattered mirror, shattered reflection, shattered life.

The Moirai have never visited you.

Why now?

Outside, a screech owl hoots, startling you backwards, a hand rocking down to the work bench in an effort to steady your trembling legs.

“Ouch!” you shriek, flipping your palm over, a pair of pruning shears dug into your skin, golden blood leaking out around their cool metallic points. “Fuck.” Your lips cover the puncture, tongue flicking against the rivulet of ichor.

The screech owl screams.

The throne room is silent. Darkness ebbs, inky webs slithering across the floor, shadowing the blood red stone that spills from the mouth of the dais, two identical, straight back chairs sitting proudly in the middle of the hall, dwarfed by columns stretching so tall Johnny swears they surpass the boundary of this realm. Their onyx marble shrouds Simon, who stands maskless, his hands clasped behind his back, peering into the pitch-black pool of liquid vibrating inside a silver bowl.

“Who is she?” There is a woman in the seeing glass. Beautiful, bright, an overflowing bouquet of narcissus, an endless melody of spring, the promise of early death. The greenhouse breathes in her presence, all nature of blooms and blossoms straining closer, desperate to be within fingertips reach. “A goddess?” He looks closer, and Simon’s amber laden eyes affix his, broad palm tenderly cupping Johnny’s cheek. His answer is a whisper, something unearthly and severe as they are: two Kings of the Underworld, two souls twisted together, two macabre fates made one. His words are a looming promise, a vow so ruinous Johnny knows the Moirai howl and the Lethe trembles.

“Our wife.”

#peaches writes #AIV(OFK)#ghoap x reader #hades ghoap #persephone reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #Simon Riley #john soap mactavish

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princessbrunette · 10 days

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i need puppy!reader with rafe sooo badd. I just need to climb all over him and bite him and lick his face

ok so puppy!reader + rafe universe is that she was a pogue her whole life but one of her parents just got a fancy new job that’s changed their life as a family, and the company moved them into the house right beside tanny hill. she still acts like a pogue and does all the things she usually does, just in a big house! she’s forced to attend all these kooky events now on this side of the island and she doesn’t know how to act, always with food on her cheek or a tear in her dress and the other girls make fun of her so bad and she’s just :(

rafe, being her new neighbour is forced to show the new girl around and at first he turns his nose up because ugh… this family will always be a pogue family in his eyes, but obviously can’t help but fall for you bc you’re just so sweet and naive and excitable !! people can’t believe it when she starts showing up places with rafe, the messy little puppy girl hanging off the king of kildares arm as he begrudgingly wipes her face and yanks her in the correct direction she’s meant to be walking so she doesn’t wander off. “focus, kid. m’not a fuckin’ babysitter.”

he stands up for her when people are being mean at kook events at the country club and gets real mad too. she starts to invite him over to her house like every day because he’s her “only friend” and at first it feels like a drag and he’s like what have i got myself into 🙄, standing in her room with his hands in his pockets as she rambles away at him, but soon he realises how he can use this to his advantage, esp as your parents are so thankful for him and trusting of his presence…… starts to find his way into your bed getting humped on by his sweet new ‘bestie’, letting her kiss him all sloppy if it means she’ll do the same to his dick.

tries to teach her how to behave to fit in better but she can’t change who she is and in the end he just gives up and accepts her😭 once he’s comfortable in the relationship he’s not afraid to put her in her place and can get really mean, gripping the back of her neck saying shit like “dont forget i fuckin’ own you alright? you — you need me. without me you’re just a dirty little pogue puppy from the litter. y’understand?” whilst he’s digging her out in backshots . sighh

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #puppy!reader

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ayanominitrash · 5 months

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INTRIGUE (True Form Sukuna x Reader)

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Humans.

Though weak creatures, they cause chaos wherever and whatever era. It only seems like the only consistent thing in this world. They crawl like the desperate pathetic ants they are, forever struggling to survive day by day. The other idiot ants feel superior to the others, taking advantage of their power that they’d go so far as to take the food that others worked hard to haul onto the hill only for them to have it for themself. Corruption. No matter the age, Ryomen Sukuna - King of Curses- has witnessed the same thing over and over again. It’s getting a little tiring to look at.

This is the exact description that anyone in the village would put in the Kamo clan - the corrupt and tyrant rulers. They are wealthy and at the top of the power hierarchy, the very source of corruption, of abuse. The men in the family would beat, abuse, and take advantage of their blood relatives. Some are sold, adding more riches to their unnoble stockpile of treasure. To any lowlife they come across and feel like harassing, they would do so through pain and torture or even just public humiliation just for fun. There wasn’t any person that was brave enough to stand up against them. They were the only ones who were capable of protecting them from curses that would invade them from time to time. The people in that village are under their mercy. Where else can they go when there are curses out there beyond, not knowing how many are out threading freely?

Sukuna sighs in exasperation as he remains squatting on a tree branch, overlooking the nearby village under the bright sun. Sukuna hides in the forest, far away enough that humans wouldn’t loiter around much but close enough that he can watch what goes on in that small puny community. If he does encounter a human, his terrifying four-armed figure will be the last thing that they’d see before their demise. However, in recent days, there haven’t been a lot of humans threading deep into the forest because of the rumors that people who go there never return. Because of this, he hasn’t eaten for weeks and is currently starving for meat. Sukuna debates if it is time to raid the village to satiate his hunger and quench his thirst for blood.

As if on queue, there was a rustle from the bushes nearby and a familiar scent carried in the wind to which Sukuna wasted no time but to take it all in with one big whiff. It’s the scent that he’s been longing for so long.

Food.

He makes his move, swinging his four arms from one branch to another as quietly as possible, making his way toward the delicious smell. He won’t be bothered to check if this one’s good meat, the only thing he cares about is to quiet down the rumbling of his stomach. When he reaches a safe enough distance, he crouches down his big frame behind one of the bushes near the small river stream. Sukuna’s red eyes shine against the sun as soon as it lands on his meal, licking his lips.

It was a small girl with short hair, the bottom of her purple kimono neatly folded as she was squatting down at the side of the stream, running a hand in the water while staring in silence. She has her back turned to him as she hums a tune to herself. This was a very easy and effortless catch for Sukuna, a little girl with her guard down. He doubted that he would feel full after ingesting her whole being but it was better than nothing. The King crouched down and waited, getting ready to pounce until he finally did with a deafening roar.

Sukuna lands where she is, thinking he has crushed her. He was ready to dig his fingers into her body when he realized that he didn’t hear any screaming and that there was no one underneath him. Confused, he looks around only to see the girl had dogged him and is now holding her hands up. This completely baffled Sukuna as he stared at the girl’s shocked but not scared face.

“E-easy there, I don’t intend to harm you. I’m sorry if I wandered too far into your territory.” She says in a high-pitched shaky voice. “I-I know you must be h-hungry. I’m actually carrying hens in the b-basket I’m carrying, if that would suffice”

Watching the girl talk made his blood boil. How dare she outwit him by dodging his attack? He would’ve consumed her by now if it weren’t for her eagerness to live. The foolish human thinks she can talk her way out of getting eaten by the King of Curses. He runs towards her, claws extended in front of him when she jumps out of the way again but this time, he can grab her by the foot. She yelps in pain at what he thought because of his grip but he looks down and sees a massive bruise on her ankle. It looked like it had been there for a few days so it couldn’t be because of him. She screams and lands on the shallow side of the water, wetting her hair, face, and upper body. He drags her leg towards him, laughing at the way she digs her fingers into the soil trying to stop herself from getting dragged. With ease, he lifts her upside down with one hand, satisfied with the way her Kimono drops down exposing her slender legs and undergarments.

“Oi, oi, oi! That’s no way to treat a lady, Mister!” She makes an effort to shake her fist at him despite being upside down. “P-please, maybe you should try the hen first?!”

The gull of this human to keep talking as if her life was not about to end made him stop in his movements to look down on her. Her face is panicked but not scared. This takes the fun out of killing her but he’s really after the food instead of the thrill. Still, Sukuna has never encountered a girl who acted this way. It was always screaming, crying, and flailing their hands which made it all the more delicious when he finally sank his sharp teeth into their flesh, silencing the pathetic pleas. Still holding her upside down, his eyes curiously do a double take on this peculiar filth he managed to catch. The little girl, no, this young woman had bruises, burns, and cuts all over her limbs. Some wounds have already been scars but others are still healing. The curse thought this person was a little girl but no doubt she was a woman with her mature figure and breasts. It was just that she was incredibly thin as if the concept of food was never introduced to her. Sukuna knows that he told himself before he attacked that he wasn’t gonna bother with the quality of this meat, but this made him lose his appetite. But mostly, he was curious about what this filth went through, and why doesn’t she act as if life was taken from her, like an empty shell. Instead, she has a wild and bright spirit in her that burns his eyes. It was. . . interesting.

He drops her to the ground.

“See, see! Hens do sound good if you just give it a chance. Come, come!” The woman scrambles to her feet to reach for the basket near the stream. She whips it around and offers it to him, with a hopeful smile on her face or a grateful one for having shown mercy. “They’re fresh from my uncle’s farm!”

He stares at this ridiculous scene in front of him for a moment before crossing both pairs of his arms. “Get that fucking thing out of my face, you filthy being. What do you take me for?”

The curse’s deep menacing voice was frightening enough that the young woman recoiled, pulling the hen back to her chest. She was too stunned to say anything.

“Well then, why didn’t you eat me if you didn’t want the hen?”

This made Sukuna pull a dumbfounded face for her to talk to him so bluntly. He curls his lips in amusement, “You’re as filthy as they come, human. You’ve ruined my appetite with your disgusting state.”

“Hm?! Do you mean my injuries? I didn’t know curses were so picky.” She puts her hand on her chin as if in deep thought.

“So you know what a curse is then, filth. Are you not afraid?”

“Should I be?” For the first time, there was a small smile on her lips as she stared up into the king’s eyes. “I’m well aware that people who enter the forest never come back and I know for sure that they’re eaten by curses. I didn’t think I’d encounter one so soon though, and it is the King himself, no less.”

It’s as if everything that comes out of this filth’s mouth was made to surprise Sukuna every time it opens. He still hadn’t come to terms with that this was all happening, so he couldn’t stop himself from laughing maniacally out loud out of the ridiculousness of it all, of his sharp teeth bearing in front of her. She flinches a little at the sight of him.

“You amuse me!” He finally says as soon as he stops laughing. “Bear to me your name, filth.”

She says her name in a small voice.

“Never heard of you! Nonetheless, I shall not forget you, filth. I’m still hungry and I’m still going to eat you despite how you are.”

He laughs a little when he sees her shoulders drop and deflate at the realization that her life was not spared, the hen finally flies out of her grasp.

“Uh- I know I came here knowing my fate but it seems that I'm afraid to die after all. I know you’re hungry. Are you alright with at least an arm? Or a leg? I can give you that much.”

Again, he was taken aback by the words that left her lips once more. Before he can even say anything, she throws her left arm in his direction. “How about this arm?! There aren't many cuts here?”

For the first time, Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, was at a loss for words. He glares down at the odd creature in front of him, wondering what’s wrong with her. He takes a few steps back, widening the distance between them. After a few steps, he plops himself cross-legged on the ground. They carefully watch each other in silence, wary of each movement one of them makes. In the background, the hen she was once holding was leisurely bathing itself in the shallow end of the water.

“Human,” Sukuna finally speaks to her, who flinches again. “Tell me, why are you decorated like a warrior and sickly thin like that of a twig?”

The girl deflates in her seat again in the grass. She looked down at the stream and opted to go back to her position before Sukuna attacked her, one hand dipping in the water. Silence blankets them once more as she gathers her thoughts.

“Hmmm. . .if you’re not going to eat me, then what are you planning to eat? Do you eat pigs?”

“I asked you a question, filth. I have yet to hear your answer.”

“- Because if you eat pigs, I could go ahead and grab one from the village and offer it to you. I don’t think I just leave knowing that you’re hungry if you’re kind enough not to kill me.”

“Are you not going to answer me?”

“Can I at least offer you something to eat first before I do?” She gives a sheepish smile. “I know what it’s like not having anything to eat, as you can tell. My arm is still on the offer if that will help you.”

“Bring me another human, then.”

She was quiet for a bit, removing her hand from the water and then bringing it up to her chin in thought, not minding the water droplets dripping on her kimono since it was already messy from the earlier event. “Do you think an older lady will be okay? She’s on the brink of her death. She’s got a plump frame.”

Sukuna laughs again in amusement. “Do you have no regard for your kind? Oh, Humans!”

She shrugs, then grins, “I heard you like cooked humans. I can cook her for you if you’d like.”

His ears perk at this. It has been a while since he tasted cooked human meat. His previous servant was the only one who could cook for him and they have long since parted nearly a decade ago. His stomach growls at the mere suggestion of grilled meat.

She lightly laughs, her eyes softening. “I take that as a yes. I can do that much for you for your kindness. You may find it odd for me to kill my kind, but honestly, I think it’s better to put her out of her misery. She was a great woman.”

“How do I know you’ll come back, filth? I know, if you do not come back when the full moon rises, I will burn down your village.”

Sukuna had a small inkling that she wouldn’t mind her village burning down, seeing how she is all covered in different types of injuries just from living there, but the mere mention of her village made the color drain from her face.

“Understood, then.” As the girl stands up with the basket full of hens, she makes an effort to dust off her kimono but it doesn't do anything. “Full moon it is!”

“Hurry up, fifth. I do not like waiting.” Sukuna says before standing up and walking back into the forest where he came from.

⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere // this is one of my first Sukuna fics and I wrote this way back on March this year damn //not re-proofread so sorry if some parts dont make sense or some typa cringe lol

#sukuna x reader #jujustu kaisen #fanfic #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk fanfic

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thegnomelord · 5 months

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#23 with male reader and soap. After a mission m!reader helps him clean himself in the shower maybe because soap got injured on the field or just really sore. And he washes off the blood/dust/dirt and helps dry him off and it turns into something kinda fluffy. I just wanna play with this man's stupid mohawk so bad.

Honestly me too, I just see that strip of hair and get the urge to tug on it, completely forgetting the man's fictional 😅 Ended up writing washing his hair and showering together because hyperfixation lol Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Washing their hair

CW: NSFW but no sex, non sexual nudity, M reader, showering together, hair washing, just fluffy fluffy fluff.

As much as you care about Soap, you've got to admit he's a bit of a dumbass, a reckless dumbass to boot. You tell him to be careful and what does he do? End up falling out of a second story window and rolling down a good 60 feet down a muddy hill while chasing after a target. You hear him swear the entire way down from where you're tucked away safely behind the sight of your sniper rifle.

By the time you get back to base Johnny feels as miserable as he looks, covered in so much mud you can't see his skin and his entire back wreathed in dull throbbing pain, not to mention the numerous cuts and scraps. And that's on top of Price chewing him out about safety and Ghost and Gaz teasing him the entire flight back to base.

"Not a word lad," He growls, giving you the stink eye. "Price already yapped me ear off." Soap turns to his heel in an attempt to head to the communal showers, biting his lip to stop himself from swearing out god, king, and country when his muscles scream at him.

"Wasn't going to." You stop him, one firm hand tugging on his bulletproof vest so you don't jostle him too much, though even that has drops of mud splashing on your clothes. "Come on, you can shower in my room."

He looks at you skeptically, but it doesn't take much to sway his mind when you offer him simple comforts; privacy, warm hands to wash away the days pains, a warmer body to remind him he's alive. He follows you without a word, neither one of you caring about the mud you track— tomorrow's problems.

"Foooock." The groan comes deep from his bones, perfectly encapsulating all he feels as you methodically unclip his gear, taking the world's weight off his shoulders and dropping it haphazardly on the bathroom's tiled floor. "Feel like a fockin' hog," He frowns.

"Look like you rolled in a pig sty." You helpfully supplement, receiving a few words in Gaelic which you don't even attempt to understand, though the humor in his tone is crystal clear even when you take hold of the bottom of his shirt; the mud and grime had gone through every layer of clothing, leaving not a single inch of skin clean.

He attempts to raise his arms to help you, only to suddenly yell out a "Oh ye fockin' cunt!" when pain flares from his shoulder down the entire length of his spine. You swear you hear his spine crack at least a dozen times by the time you pull his shirt off his mud wet skin.

"You sound like an old geezer." You chuckle to lighten the mood, dropping to your knees to untie his shoelaces and take off his boots, then the rest of his clothes.

"Says the bloke who's left knee tells the weather." He bites back, a bit of teeth on display as he grimaces, another few curses leaving his lips when he has to lower his arm. "Or tries to, yer got as much accuracy as the bloody reporters on the telly."

"Starting to complain like one too," You add, not at all surprised when Soap proceeds to brush his muddy hand across your face. "Of you fucker," Your words gain a childish little giggle from him, and he lets you guide him into the shower.

Your bathroom's one of the few that has a tub in it —a relic of past tenants before the army remodeled the base into an actual military installation— you had to bribe Price with a lot of high quality cigars to get it, but every penny was worth it. There's a tap as well as a detachable showerhead up top that Johnny eagerly uses, turning the water hot and just standing under the stream while you disrobe.

The clean water turns muddy the second it hits his skin, brown muck swirling around your feet as you step into the tub behind him. "How's that sweetheart?" You ask, taking the soap bottle and squirting a heavy amount onto your hands, not bothering with a sponge and instead using your fingers to wash away the dirt on his skin.

"Heaven." Johnny sighs, his muscles fluttering beneath your hands, mud and blood washing away to reveal deep blooming bruises across his back. "Shite, that hits the spot." He leans against you, the slow but firm pressure of your fingers massaging the sore muscles around the blotchy bruises making him groan. You lean in to place gentle kisses on the darkest bruises, "So good fer me bonnie," he hums, using his arms the best he can to at least wash the mud off his face.

You two float in a sort of mindless space where nothing outside the shower matters, the sound of water running and Soap's occasional groan filling your ears, all your focus on the way your hands rub him down; from shoulders to his back, down to his feet and then back up to his face when he turns around.

Once the water runs clear again you turn off the shower and start the tap so the tub fills with enough water to keep him warm, maneuvering him to sit in the tub while you step out to dry yourself off and put on boxers.

"Don't need ta be pampered like a show mutt," He grumbles, the hot water easing the soreness in his frame and making his exhaustion prominent, Johnny's eyelids starting to droop despite his best efforts to stay awake.

"I know, but you hair's a damn crow's nest." You snort, running your fingers through the mess on his head and showing the gunk stuck on your fingers, hell, you even pull a damn twig out.

His eyes widen, "Well fock me," Soap grimaces, gives a bone deep sigh as you settle behind him, sitting partially on the tub. Cupping water in your palms you rub your fingers down the length of his mohawk, loosening the dirt sticking to the strands until rivulets of watery mud run down his neck.

"Maybe later." You both chuckle, squirting the shampoo Soap always loves to smell on you in your hand and lathering your palms up before bringing them back to his hair. Soap mumbles something, leaning his head into your hands whenever you scratch a particularly itchy spot on his scalp.

His head tips back as much as his aching shoulders let him, his eyes settling on your face. I got it made, he thinks to himself, desperately trying to keep his eyelids open so he can see how you focus on even a simple task like washing his hair. Every brush of your fingers across his dirty strands fills his chest with lingering warmth, every scratch of your nails across his scalp making his eyes droop just a bit more.

Johnny doesn't even notice the slight sting when you occasionally tug on a knot, your touch making his mind buzz pleasantly like the low background static of a TV on late nights, and Soap doesn't realize he's dosing off.

You notice how he leans against your leg, leaning over to see his eyes closed and chest steadily rising and falling. You let him sleep for a bit while you finish up cleaning his hair and then use the detachable shower head to wash the bubbly shampoo off.

"What is'it?" He mumbles when you gently shake him awake, eyelids fluttering open and shut.

"Need you to get up Johnny." You hum and it's laughable how easily he follows your instructions, needing a bit of help to stand up when his back still aches like hell, a shiver racing down his spine as the cold air of your bathroom nips at his skin. "Fock, do'ah look like a snowman?" He grumbles at the cold.

You chuckle instead of saying anything, silencing any other complaints with sweet kisses on his lips as you towel him dry.

Soon after you two are huddled under the covers, his body draped over yours and using your chest as a pillow. Your fingers card through his slightly damp hair, the soft brown strands like feathers against your skin and your touch making him sigh and melt against you.

"Hey lad?" He suddenly says, voice a gentle whisper; like he's about to reveal a secret kept from the world — something only meant for you.

"Yeah Johnny?" You ask, a few stars reflecting in his blue eyes from your window.

Your heart melts at the soft and goody smile he gives you, "Love you." he says, leaning his head into your hand that's in his hair.

You smile and lean your head to kiss him, "Love you too," You mutter against his lips, and when you pull away he's already drifted off to sleep like a babe, soft breath tickling your skin and arms possessively wrapped around your waist like you'll disappear.

But you catch the way he smiles in his sleep.

#Gnome's prompt game #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #top male reader #male reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #sub character #sub john soap mactavish #fluff #so much fluff

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

whenever you have time, i NEED you to write something based on that ask you got about vhagar being super attached to aemond's girl 🥺

These requests are from November, so yes I am still working on the messages I have received! Thank you for them :)

I would love to expound more upon Vhagar bonding with the reader (you) especially after you and Aemond get married. The idea of dragons being intelligent enough to feel/recognize the bonds their riders have with other people is something I'd love to be canonized.

When Aemond could not find you within the walls of the Red Keep or honing your body in the training courtyard, he knew by now you were well outside the confines of King’s Landing, spending quality time with your newest best friend.

“I thought I would find you out here.”

You looked up with a smile at Aemond’s familiar velvet voice. Your back was pressed against the iron dragonskin of Vhagar’s neck, a book of Targaryen history propped open upon your knees as you had been regaling the dragon with tales she would’ve been well familiar with.

“I needed to escape the stuffy sitting room for a while.” You agreed, feeling the rumbling purr growing within Vhagar as she acknowledged her rider’s presence.

You scooted into Aemond’s embrace as he took a seat on the soft earth beside you, peering briefly at the book you had been reading. “And what does Vhagar think about today’s reading material?”

You looked sideways up along the endless expanse of Vhagar’s neck to where her yellow eye watched the two of you. You caught Aemond’s eye with a smirk. “No complaints so far.”

“Hmm.” Aemond took the book from you, closing and setting it aside before taking your hands in his. He leaned into your space, brushing his nose against yours before finding your lips in a chaste kiss. “One day I’m going to seek you out and find you’ve taken her out for a ride.”

Your heart stuttered in mild fear at the very thought. “That’ll be the day.” You laughed as Aemond breathed a soft chuckle, tucking your head beneath his chin, his warm breath rustling your hair.

He held you for many moments as you basked in the warmth of his body and the continual rumbling of Vhagar as she shifted slightly at your back.

The three of you were alerted to the sound of many hooves thundering upon the earth as several riders cleared the hill. Upon seeing the massive island-sized dragon laying before them their horses reared in fear, nearly sending several soldiers toppling to the ground. Vhagar’s head became visible from your periphery as she growled low and deep, moving to position her snarling teeth in between where you and Aemond sat and the newcomers.

“Vhagar, gida.” Aemond calmed the dragon with a word, though Vhagar did not move her head from its defensive position.

Aemond gave you a strange look which you mirrored right back at him. “Has she acted like this before?”

You shook your head, glancing to where you could see the sun glinting off dragon teeth the length of a man’s body.

“My prince!” The leading rider called, unwilling to come any closer. “The king requests your presence at once!”

“Duty calls.” Aemond sighed, rising to stand and brushing sand off his clothing. “Would you like to remain here or accompany me back to the city?”

You took his proffered hand and he helped you rise to your feet. “I’ll come back with you.”

At your movements Vhagar grumbled another deep sound of displeasure, her tail this time slithering around to block your path forward, even separating you from where Aemond stood.

“Vhagar!” Aemond said almost reproachfully, looking to where Vhagar’s gaze was still fixated on the soldiers. He shook his silver head in annoyance. “Seems she has become incorrigibly possessive of you overnight.”

“Vhagar.” You called to the ancient she-dragon gently. The yellow eye flicked briefly to you. “Nyke ȳgha.” She seemed to relax at your Valyrian reassurance, allowing you to take Aemond’s hand again and proceed closer to where the soldiers waited.

“I haven’t a clue what’s gotten into her.” You muttered to your husband.

Aemond shook his head in agreement as he glanced back toward where Vhagar still was growling low. “Perhaps she decided to take you on as a sort of dragonling…” He stopped mid-stride, color draining from his face as he turned to face you. “A child.”

“I am hardly her child, Aemond.” You snickered, your smile dropping when his expression remained serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you…” Aemond shot a look to where the riders were obviously trying to listen in, he lowered his voice and leaned closer to you. “Are you with child?”

Your stomach swooped as shock coursed through you. “I-I don’t know.”

“Let’s pay a visit to the maester after dealing with whatever my brother wants.” Aemond squeezed your hand briefly, unable to keep an excited grin off his angular face. He looked again at Vhagar, this time in mild wonder. The grumbles and groans of the dragon faded away as the riders escorted the two of you back to the Keep.

Nine months later the kingdom welcomed the birth of their newest Targaryen princess.

She grew to be very much like her father, in mannerisms and visage. When she was old enough Aemond didn’t waste any time in introducing her to Vhagar.

The old dragon seemed to already know who she was.

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leohamatoblog · 1 month

Text

More Headcanons: Personality Quirks

Leo:

• calm and collected but also very stubborn. it's his way or the high way until you prove him otherwise

• feelings aren't foreign but definitely aren't something he's particularly good at. he's guarded when he's confronted with someone who's heart is on their sleeve

• feelings, that being said, aren't a sign of weakness in his eyes. go ahead, be angry or be sad, but get it together cause shit needs done

• only truly comforting if you're full blown sobbing, and depending on your relationship, big bro leo or soft boyfriend leo come out

• best at de-escalation unless he's the one fighting with the other person

• hates, hates, hates being wrong (i don't make the rules) but weirdly not afraid to apologize for being wrong, in his own way of course

• he hates the word sorry and believes it's just a word. since he's a man of few words, he prefers to show he's sorry. (i've mentioned it before and i'll die on this hill, king of acts of service)

• can dish advice like it's candy but for the life of him can't take his own advice

• the patience of an absolute saint, unless you're one of his brothers

• confrontation is his middle name

• sarcastic but very thoughtful and very appreciative

• besides mikey, he gets the most depressed because he feels like his only identity is a leader at times

• he strikes me as the kind of guy that just comes up out of nowhere and says "need some help with that?"

• willing to try anything once, open minded to an extent if it's not dangerous

• extremely trustworthy and loyal

Raph:

• hothead but the most sensitive out of all the brothers. very quick to cry

• feelings, like mikey, are shown on his sleeve. he makes it everyone's problem

• bad at communication...that's all i gotta say on that

• unhealthy projector of feelings but is willing to hear tips on how to do better

• the type to start crying if you start crying

• not the most patient in the world but if you're new something he tries (keyword: tries) to be as patient as possible

• he gets awkward if he knows he hurt someone's feelings and has to apologize. very bad at words and not the best at showing he's truly sorry

• horrible at advice

• chronic gaslighter in some situations (i don't make the rules)

• he truly does try to better himself if you call him out on his bs, he's able to hold himself accountable..in his own way

• even though he's a hothead, once you start crying, immediately he stops. the first sight of your lip quivering and he's shut up cause he crossed the line and he knows it

• doesn't mind confrontation

• loyal, loyal, loyal

• type to hold a grudge forever and never forget

• the "where's my hug at" guy

Donnie:

• his intelligence is his strongest suite but sometimes it goes to his head...literally

• very awkward with feelings and has no idea what to do in situations that call for comfort

• unless he's very comfortable with you, he will send you to someone else if you're upset so he doesn't upset you more

• not emotional but also not not emotional

• doesn't like confrontation at all unless you're nice about it

• best at communication out of all the guys because if he's bothered, he makes it very known

• besides mikey, he's very easily manipulated

• chronic overthinker

• very insecure in his abilities as a ninja

• hates to talk about his feelings and bottles them up until he explodes

• not one to get angry but he is the passive aggressive king

• germaphobe (no elabortion...he just is)

• he's very kind and very helpful when the situation calls for it

• he's the most gentle of all the guys

• definitely on the spectrum (not sure which, but he's definitely on one)

Mikey:

• number one most emotional out of all the brothers and doesn't show it

• jokester but is able to have meaningful and deep conversations the best

• most empathetic and compassionate but too quick to trust

• explosive temper that only comes out when his family or friends are in life threatening danger

• feelings are worn on his sleeve and he isn't ashamed to show them

• boundaries are an extreme work in progress (do with that what you will)

• sometimes is unable to decifer when not to make a joke

• will take jokes as far as they'll go to the point where the offense level is very questionable

• apologizes until it gets incredibly annoying

• will never be afraid to share his opinion but will always be quick to point out the good

• he cries all the time with no shame

• actually a very analytical and extreme outside the box thinker

• the "i had him/her first" friend if you get into a relationship

• very good listener when needed, but selective hearing most of the time

• he has adhd. nothing further needed.

#rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt ask blog #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #ask blog #tmnt 2003 #tmnt headcanons

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iznsfw · 11 months

Text

The Devil's Telephone

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader Smut

6969 words

Categories | model!Yujin x photojournalist!you, rough sex

Barely edited. Who cares, I did great.

"Is it true? What they say about you?"

You're nervous, fidgeting in the king-sized bed with your arm leaning against the mattress. It feels odd to be in a rich and attractive girl's place without being naked. Not that it's something you've experienced before anyway, but it's like breaking an unspoken law everyone but you was oriented to. But you have your manners, and so does she. Supposedly.

She's still beside you, her expensive clothes hiding not her shapely form. And to think it looks beautiful without the need for oil painting all around it or nakedness. That pretty smile, that also intimidates you a little, is the cherry on top of the cake that is An Yujin.

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?"

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly.

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

Yujin lifts herself off her comfortable lounge position on her bed and instead sits on the backsides of her legs. Her hands are on your lap rather than her own. Should've been a sign for you that this is going nowhere but in a downward spiral.

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?"

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not," says Gaeul. "Say that one more time and your career's over. No going back."

The small smile that's an everyday accessory to her features is gone. That tells you that what she says is what there is to her statement. What you hear is what you get. There's no underlying tone to it; she's completely serious, and besides, when has Gaeul ever lied?

Wring the looped lace of your camera over your head and place it and the device that can make or break your career on her desk. "Nope," you say. "I'm not doing it."

"You will," Gaeul says. "Nobody else will do it."

"Can't you get Jiwon to show up there?" It's worth a try, right?

"Like I said, no chance. Rei's with her on vacation. And Yunjin is out of the question."

"God fucking dammit."

Looks like this day can actually get worse. First, you miss the taxi going to the studio, ending up being about an hour late to your meeting. And then the nervous intern almost spilled coffee all over your camera. Luckily, the scalding liquid only ended up mostly on your pressed shirt. It's like the day is toying with your feelings, trying to see how far you can get without breaking down.

Your eye twitches. The day might see your breaking point after all.

"Gaeul," you say, "I'm a photojournalist, not a fucking Seattle professional."

"And so are a quarter of the people who go to the fashion week," she counters. Gaeul exhales through her nostrils, then leans forward on her desk, hands folded. "All you have to do is stand in for Chaewon and take the photos for each model. Don't worry about the caption."

"How'll I know what they're wearing?"

"I can do that for you. I'm quite the fashion enthusiast, if I do say so myself."

You don't see the sense in it, like, at all. "Then why don't you go take the photos?"

"Because I don't want to, newbie," replies Gaeul simply. She swings her legs over the table and places her palms behind her neck. "You can sit here all day whining about I'm-a-photojourn-this and I-can't-do-it-that, but you're still going to go through."

Gaeul's a rather straightforward girl, yet she can still make her blunt words sound frightening. You have to show that you can hold your own, too, and that you're not going to back up. Ever.

"And why do you think I'll give in so easily?" you challenge.

She smiles. "Because An Yujin's going to be there, and unless you live under a fucking rock, you'd know she's the main attraction."

You aren't dumb. Of course you know her. It’s impossible not to know of her when the magazines all scream her name and the camera flashes crave her presence. It’s hard to navigate life without at least seeing a Yujin standee for one of the brands she sponsors or her face on soju labels. She’s become a household name that, even if you somehow wished it to be the other way, she's become an inescapable force in every Korean’s life. That’s just how it works. It’s been like that for as long as you remember.

She rose up in the industry at a young age. Being her age, you can remember the buzz she creates among your classmates, from head-over-heels, hopeless romantic boys and adoring girls (and a few girls who'd die to be able to touch her, too.) She's on their phone wallpapers, in another cutesie pose, and on the photocards in the back of clear cases. She's here, she's there, she's everything everywhere.

You're familiar with her, but nothing about her except the usual: she's a model, she's an idol, she's a—

Ah, how should it go?

The girl beside you at the event, who's rather tall and if circumstances were different should be on the runway herself, tells you it goes like this: "She's an international free-use backstabbing slut."

Well, you didn't expect Kazuha to say that so easily (she told you her name earlier just so you had something to call her during the mandatory small talk), but you know what she's talking about. However, you have no right to say Yujin's a slut when you're dressed… well, dressed like this. Your whole outfit is an embarrassing array of rainbow colors. Even your tie's pulled into passiveness by the colorful dress code. If this is what those high fashion enthusiasts call "fashion," you're glad you're not a part of them. You'll be glad to keep shopping at your local thrift store.

Hence, "I wouldn't put it that way," you say.

Kazuha smirks. "How would you say it?" she asks.

Why is she so interested in what you think about her? You suspect Kazuha's one of those girls who's rather jealous of the stick-figure models strutting the runway but would deny it with all her soul. Maybe that's it. She's jealous that she sits there in the audience while perfection after perfection makes themselves known to the public.

"She's…" You snap a pic of another eighty-pound model walking down the runway. "Uh, promiscuous. That's all."

Kazuha grins. She purses her lips and writes down on her notepad, probably intending to use your statement as a headline pun. "Maybe we should switch jobs," she says. "You can be the devil's advocate journalist, and I can be the white knight photographer."

Exhale loudly. For fuck's sake, you want to tell her, I'm only here to do the job I didn't want in the first place. Why has she chosen you to play with to fulfill her boredom? Whatever game she's set, you're not joining.

"Look, what is it about Yujin that you hate?" you ask.

"She fucked Jang Wonyoung, those MCs she used to partner up with, that actress from the period drama who was on Produce, too… everybody."

"Okay." You look at her pointedly. "Source?"

Kazuha gestures a rude index to the runway. "Look at her. Look at her and tell me she isn't a slut. I dare you."

You look up from the lens of your camera for once, and as much as you'd like to come to Yujin’s defense, seeing as there’s no evidence to all those allegations and being a public figure with all the criticism must be the deepest ring of hell, you see what Kazuha means.

You hate to say it, and you’d love to pass no judgment, but the prodding journalist is right. Yujin isn't skin and bones like the other models, nor does she wear light makeup. However, her confident gaze that not once settles on the floor immediately makes you think, wow, now that is a model. She only looks forward, stepping onto the smooth floor in heels that make her much taller than she already is. Her eyes are lined with this sharp, blaring dark that makes her brown contacts stand out and makes her look like a black cat. So much for Jiwon’s nickname.

But that isn’t all. It’s far from done, because it’s not Yujin’s arrogant smile that drips of sultriness that confirms Kazuha's allegations for you, nor is it her makeup. It’s what she’s wearing. Her chest nearly spills out of the oddly-cut neckline of her blouse, and it’s see-through, meaning that even if her busty figure is in some way contained by the clothing, you can still see everything. For example, her tummy lined with her abs and a small tattoo (barely noticeable, but enough to cause a few tabloids to freak out); her wide hips, and of course; the bare flesh of her breasts. The fabric tape does nothing to hide them when her brown nipples beg to be seen through the fabric. Each bounce coerced by her confident strut is out there for all to see, and so are the jiggles of her full thighs.

Which part of everything do you have to immortalize in a photograph? You don’t know. You just keep taking pictures. There’s plenty enough to create a video of her walk without actually having to record one.

Seeing your dropped jaw, Kazuha grins satisfactorily. “Told you,” she says.

You aren’t done looking, though. As the press and audience scream her name, (they all know her name—she’s bagged so many brand deals, shot more than enough magazine covers, and performed songs you couldn’t count on two hands just so that any type of audience can recognize her), Yujin steps up to the end of the catwalk. She smiles at all the attention, setting a hand on her waist before blowing several kisses to the audience.

And, of course, she finishes off her umpteenth walk with another scandal:

Shredding her blouse into pieces. Yujin rips it clean from the seams, letting the lost dangle of fabric finally reveal the whole of her chest. Her skimpy shorts are the only thing remaining complete on herself.

The viewers gasp, and you do, too. But you're hypocrites, the lot of you, for you remain interested in scanning every bit of her enviable body. Secretly, you all know that some part of you were looking there even before her blouse ripped.

You haven’t seen a model do that before, but then again, she’s not just a model. She’s plenty of things: a singer, an idol, an ambassador—

A slut. A full-on, shameless, lives-up-to-her-name slut.

“So.”

“So,” you say, resentfully. Your camera’s in your bag, and Gaeul is on the phone with you. You’re proceeding out of the vicinity like everybody else. It's eight p.m.; someone’s bound to be hungry at this hour, and that someone is you.

You can hear the giggle in her voice as she asks you, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” you say, flabbergasted. Zip up your satchel bag and walk through the rain. “Gaeul, the girl just ripped her shirt off in front of everyone! This isn’t what I signed up for!”

What should you get tonight? Minute Burger? Maybe McDonald’s or some sushi? You’d take anything—you’re pretty hungry after the long show. If this is how hunger hits after shows, you’re glad you don’t have to go through the whole fashion week. By Saturday, you’d be as dead as everyone was after the stunt Yujin pulled.

“I thought you knew about her, newbie,” replies Gaeul. She’s clearly poking fun at your reaction. What’s also clear is the obvious fact that she picked you out for this job just to see how you’d handle it. Would you go crazy? Treat Yujin as a Victorian man who’d just seen a lady’s ankles would? Oh, she’d love to find out.

“I didn’t know she was…"

"Yeah?"

"B-bold.”

“Oh, please be normal about it. You’re a photojournalist. You handled the dead guy who was stabbed alright, but a woman showing her tits is where you cross the line?”

“It’s not that,” you say tiredly. Your stomach is really growling now. “I guess… I think…”

"Hey."

Your phone drops to the wet cement road. Like a haunting phantom, Yujin appears out of nowhere. It's like she suddenly materialized from the fog of the storm.

You don't know where to look. Yujin's still dressed, (somewhat), in her ruined blouse. The thing is even more transparent as the rain beats down on it. Still, she looks perfect. She is perfect. You know that without having to be a fan of her.

The light from a camera hidden in a beaten bush makes you flinch. If the crouched man in black taking photos of Yujin isn't there, you'd have accepted your fate to get struck by lightning. Yujin raises her eyebrows questioningly, and you're forced to compose yourself once more.

"Uh, hi," you stammer. Bend down to pick your sodden phone up. Darn it, it's dead. How will you contact Gaeul now?

"You're one of the photographers, right?" asks Yujin. Unlike you, she doesn't care that your phone has met its end, or mind that her boobs are out in the open.

You mutter something of agreement, but you're still tinkering with your phone. The battery's probably broken, which's a pity when your late mother gifted it to you on the last birthday you had together.

"Damn, must be nice to snap photos of a half-naked chick, huh? You liked seeing me up there?"

That makes you stop fiddling with your destroyed gadget. "I," you say, cornered into confession but still trying to gather a burst of energy to escape, "I'm not—"

"An Yujin," she says, as if the whole world doesn't scream her name. As if she were just another girl out there who's a little too friendly. She doesn't offer her hand; she grasps yours and shakes it firmly.

You have no other choice but to be acquainted with her there and then. You tell her your name, albeit nervously, as you slip your phone into your pocket. What is she planning? Why is she out here with you?

Yujin grins. "Nice to meet you. Want to come to a party at my house? Starts when we get there."

Now you understand what she's planning. What else would you expect from her?

First things first, though: where should you look? Her chest is a dangerous option. To look or not to look? That is the question—you choose the second option. Note the dim stars in the foggy sky. Look down at the road blotted with raindrops. Remark inwardly about the state of your shoes and how they're too expensive to be dragged through a weather like this.

Second, should you go? Gaeul would be looking for you. She'd want the pics immediately so she could put them in the magazine and on your company blog site. But you haven't had fun in years, and for a girl with the wealth and status of Yujin, it might be a new beginning.

Work, however, comes first.

"I'm sorry," you tell her. You really are. Yujin seems like a fun girl outside of her wildness. "I don't think I—"

"Great! Come on, I'll drive you!"

That's how you end up in a limousine for the first time in your life and learn that An Yujin doesn't take no for an answer.

The seats are dark and soft, and there's two long aisles of it for thirty pax max to occupy. However, despite the spaciousness, Yujin still chooses to sit snugly beside you. Should you feel flattered? Intimidated? You struggle to choose for this question.

You wonder where you're headed. The infamous Jang Hills where celebrities like singer Son Seungwan and model and humanitarian Jang Wonyoung, who owns the place, reside? The rain is too strong for you to be able to see where the vehicle's headed, but you suspect that's the destination. There's no other.

"So," says Yujin. She's still sitting comfortably beside you. Her smile dimples her cheeks, and it just doesn't match the boldness of her ripped blouse. When she wears that smile, she looks like a girl who's too cheerful and innocent to be… the way she is. "Would I have to pay you to see my photos?"

"For god's sake, Miss An, put on some clothes before you scare the guy," chuckles the driver, shaking his head. He's a tall, dark man with the typical shades and a rosary on his rearview mirror. You wonder if he prays for Yujin sometimes.

"But that's no fun," she says, the pout on her face growing wider when her driver tosses her a black fur coat (that still reminds you of her when you note how the chest part is gone) and sleeveless innerwear. Seems like he keeps clothes in his car for situations like these. "Clothes are so big and boring, you know. Totally outdated.

"Anyway, about the photos…?"

"Oh, you don't have to pay," you tell her. But you know that money isn't a problem with Yujin—she can buy you and your whole life if she chose to.

"Gimme then." She makes grabby hands, and your camera eventually ends up in them. Her eyes sparkle with narcissistic adoration. "Oh damn, I look hot. Delete this, though. Bad angle."

"I– okay."

"My tits look amazing, don't you think? Come on, say my tits look fantastic."

"Ms. An," says the driver firmly, albeit his tone holds some of the amusement in it still. "Put on some clothes."

Yujin rolls her eyes, but she does. And you watch as she strips, painfully slow. She pulls the soaked blouse above her wet body, showing her bare, beautiful arms and pits. Even her soft midriff is perfect. And, try as you may (must), you can't stop looking. Several snaps and pinches would be too weak to pull you back into reality, because there's the goddess that she is to look at. You figure out now why your former classmates were and still are obsessed with her. She may be a wild little thing, but she's got an amazing body, an amazing fashion sense. Everything about her, even her boldness, is enviable. Desirable. Unreachable.

The clothes mold to her beautiful shape. The damp, slightly messy hair only adds to her beauty. You can feel yourself getting warm.

"We're here," says Yujin cheerfully, oblivious to the way your eyes are raking down her perfect body. "Here's your camera. Wouldn't want it to break like your phone. Pity."

Getting up to open the car door isn't part of a wealthy girl's everyday life. Yujin isn’t an exception—she has her driver to do that plus assist her out of the limo, and when he does, you're welcomed into a whole new world.

The rain has halted. Signs of its earlier presence, however, can be seen on the drops on the maze of bushes. There's statues of Eros, gray and mighty with his strong arms and arrows, perched on pedestals to the entrance of the mansion. Through the gate, you catch sight of a large pool, where heiresses and friends of Yujin laugh and swim. It's no land for lowlives. You are the exception, somehow.

"This… this is your house?"

"Yep!” She nods positively. “Daddy gave it to me after he died from a heart attack."

"My condolences," you say. As the guards open the gate to Yujin's mansion, you admire the place. It looks like a temple for cupids. Perhaps it’s Yujin they’re worshiping. "Did he have heart conditions before that?"

"No." She shakes her head then waves happily to one of her friends at the pool. "He just saw me wearing a bra over my crop top, and he dropped dead."

You snort. Yujin looks at you weirdly. That's how you realize she isn't kidding.

"You're serious?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but forgets it. It's a long story that doesn't need more sequels.

Just the second drink of the night and you’ve met more celebrities than an average person would see personally in their whole life. As the dazzling disco ball shimmers rainbow colors all over the place, you catch sight of more than plenty of pretty and handsome faces. Over there is Jang Wonyoung, one of the models who walked earlier, and Miyawaki Sakura, a famous CEO of more beauty lines than you can count on ten fingers. Whether their beauties are handcrafted or God-given, they all have something in common: they’re all A-listers—they’re relevant, popular, used to this wild lifestyle. Camera flashes have trained them not to flinch at the gliding lights. This is an everyday routine in their book.

However, you’re used to being behind the camera, not in front of it. You’re overstimulated by the sea of laughing, moving bodies and the loud music. While Yujin happily screams and downs several shots, you stand idly beside her, dizzy and tired.

“I don’t think I can handle more.”

“Past your bedtime?” asks Yujin, grinning. She waves at Wonyoung and points at you, mouthing something to her, to which the model winks in response. You wonder what kind of exchange the two models had that granted an unusually smug look on Wonyoung’s face. You’re certain it’s about you, but you don’t know what it’s about. You’re not even sure if you want to discover it.

“It’s not that,” you say embarrassedly. “I’m… I’m not a party person. I get lightheaded easily.”

“Wanna take a break? Go to my room?”

Now that’s a red flag. It doesn't even try to hide its true color; it waves proudly in front of you. You’re the bull who went straight for it.

Yujin’s bedroom is the size of your living room, with a large bed to match. Curtained pillars stand on each end while posters hang off the walls. You suppose that the people on them are the ones Yujin looks up to: IU, known as Lee Jieun whenever she ventures out of singing and into acting; Marilyn Monroe (no explanation needed), and a few other nameless models and actresses. A lot are old posters of seventies’ pornographic films. Lights frame the mirror on the dresser table.

“You’re a privileged girl, miss An,” you say. It’s the only way you can respectfully say that she’s kind of a spoiled brat. But maybe that’s your jealousy talking.

“I know, right?” replies Yujin, twirling around. “And please, call me Yujin. You can sit on the bed if you want to.”

Your mind toys with the idea of the posters on her wall debating if you’re the hundredth person to have come over or the thousandth. Nevertheless, you want to stay neutral; it’s none of your business anyway. So you take a seat on the edge of the softest mattress you’ve ever felt while Yujin does so, too. She kicks her boots off on the carpeted floor.

“Hey,” says Yujin, “want to play a game before you doze off?”

Just how many red flags does this girl have? “Er, sure.” You shrug. Maybe it’s just a game, nothing more, like she said.

“Since we barely know each other, let’s take turns asking each other questions. Dibs on the first question.

“I haven’t seen you in shows before. How did you end up there?”

A safe start. “One of my coworkers was sick,” you explain. “I had to fill in for her. My turn.”

“Hit me.”

“Did you take modeling classes?”

Yujin laughs as if it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “God, no,” she says. “Classes and workshops are scams. All I had to do was ask my daddy to ask for a spot for me.”

“Must be nice.”

“Right? Did you take classes for photography?”

“I took one of the scams, yeah,” you say, earning a giggle from Yujin. “I’m a journalist first. It’s all I know.”

Meaningful silence fills the air. You remain hooked on your sentence, realizing how true it is. Photojournalism is the only thing you’re good at. It’s sheltered you and brought you so many opportunities at the same time. You don’t know how to find other hobbies to make your forte when you’re stuck in its bubble, and its bubble only. Without your camera, you’re nothing. Without people like Yujin to take photos of, you’re nothing, too.

You suppose you should break the heavy silence. But you’re unsure if your question should be asked; it might trigger a violent response from her, although she’s been nothing but laid-back with you. And you don’t particularly want a rich girl to ruin your career. You’ve gone so far that the only direction to look at is forward.

But you must learn to take risks.

"Is it true? What they say about you?"

Speaking of, there's one right now between her lips. She's toying with its strand of a twig, tracing the cherry she got from the bowl beside her bed along the pink hills of her luscious mouth.

"After everything I did," Yujin says, "what do you think?"

"I don't really…" Struggle to find your words. "I, I don't really dwell on—"

"If I'm a slut or not?" Yujin finishes for you, smiling teasingly.

This conversation's a mistake, now that she's using words about a subject you tried to tread on lightly. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I get it."

"You want to know if the rumors are true? If nepo model An Yujin's really a slut, like they all say?"

"Uh… sure?"

Yujin gestures her chin to your crotch. "Whip out your dick. Then you'll see."

You’re flustered. Did Yujin—this tall, alluring model that’s got her whole life ahead of her yet nothing to lose, this irritatingly attractive Yujin—really say that to you? Or was it something lost in the swarms of shouts and music from outside of the room? Maybe you’ve misheard. Maybe you’ll keep playing safe tonight.

But those are just mere maybes with no connection at all to what’s about to happen.

“Can’t do it yourself, pretty boy? Let me help you.”

Yujin lifts your satchel bag from your shoulders. You find yourself raising your arms to help her. It’s like the what and tension in the air have infected you and made you into this heated, lustful character far from the real you, because if this were truly your own self, you’d say you had a career. You’d say this shouldn’t be happening. You’d leave the room instead of helping her unbuckle your belt. You’d do anything but this.

Perhaps she’s changed you.

Yujin slips a tongue along the path of her luscious lips at the sight of your bare thighs and cock. “Our friend here,” she says, “needs a little help from me, no?”

“Yujin…” you moan, and it’s humiliating, especially when barely anything sexual has happened yet. At least, anything sexually physical.

Luckily for you, she curls her fist around your dick and gives justification to your breathy sounds. Maybe the rumors about how she likes to get around are true; Yujin knows how to work her way with a cock. Her warm fingers jerk your flesh at just the right timing, letting the hardness build up before doing that too with the pace. She’s looking at you with this wild desire in her eyes that grows bigger when your erection does, too. Oh, and that smile—if looks could kill, An Yujin would already be arrested for your murder.

“Now that’s not so bad, is it?” she remarks. She spits on your cock. Her wet saliva coats your length with just enough to let her smooth palm slide along itself pleasurably. “You like this? Just wait until you feel my pussy. Or maybe my lips would do first? The higher ones, I mean.”

Yujin’s lips descend onto your shaft, welcoming it into an impossibly soft and wet heaven. Yujin’s little tongue flicks at your base gently, even daring to lick at a little part of your balls before working their way up. It deliciously slides upwards at your veins.

“Fuck, Yujin. Your mouth—fuck, it feels so good.”

“Mmm.” Yujin engages in an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss with your tip. “I know. I’d fuck me, too, if I could, but I have you to do that.”

“Right,” you say breathily, because she is. If she’s sucking your cock this well and her cheek’s painfully stimulating as your cockhead brushes it, how much better would her pussy be? You’re definitely fucking her, even if your experience in this is zero. Yes, that’s also right: you’re a virgin. Zero experience, no bitches.

But, if it means anything, it’s the other way around. It’s Yujin making you her bitch. She may be serving you with the lips and kisses of a good girl, but her eyes tell you that there’s more to it than you think. You’re hers, see, for this night, and that’s all you ever will be. You’re no photojournalist anymore—you’re Yujin’s one night stand, and that’s the only achievement people will ever remember to your name.

“These’re so fucking full,” murmurs Yujin as she admires your heavy balls. Sucking on them lightly before smiling up at you, she adds, “Make sure to blow all of it in my face, ‘kay? Promise me.”

“Think you can handle it, Yujin?” you ask, and it’s another embarrassing moment you’ll relive forever, for your cockiness will never get on the level she has. Your voice shakes too hard and your cock drips too much—it’s clear who owns who at this point.

“I’m a big girl.” Unfazed, she smiles. “I can handle myself.”

“Y-you sure?”

“Oh, don’t play hard to get it, baby,” Yujin coos. She pleases you with one hand and glides her fingers on your thigh with the other. It’s deadly. She’s deadly. “Let your guard down. It’s just me.”

“And you’ve said that to how many people?” you shoot back.

“More than you’re worth,” she quips. She winks at you. “Now cum for me.”

Ouch, but it doesn’t matter when her lips provide a great suction to cool the burn. It’s making your cock feel the heat instead, forming the tightness in your stomach more. Her hands massaging your thighs causes your sensitivity to reach an all-time high. Yujin’s covered your shaft in such an amountful that just one lick sends your toes curling. She licks, she sucks, she laps at your weak spots and delights in the upward push of your hips, but her hands keep your legs down. Can’t have her meal escaping. She wants all of your cum, and when Yujin wants (no, needs) something, she gets it. It’s how she’s navigated life, having everything her heart could ever want brought to her by whim. But if she has to work for your cum, then so be it. Either-which-way, she’s not giving up until she gets it.

She kisses your cock deeply, almost making your lips jealous. She sucks on each sensitive side and your dripping tip. What takes the cake, though, is how she downs the whole thing so suddenly, slipping itself inside her tight throat and letting you fuck it. Gasps can’t be contained by your pursed lips, and their cycle of repetition continues because of her. Because of Yujin, Yujin and her stupidly desirable mouth.

“Fuck,” you whine. When she hears that, she pulls away. Like rain, drops of semen make slick landings on her face. You keep expelling several shots of the thing she so desperately wants, and you realize that, even with your own pleasure being fulfilled, you’re still serving Yujin. You’re still giving her what she wants: your cum on her face. The fact that she’s playing with you remains stoic.

“Ah, this is the best.” Yujin licks her cumstained lips. “I could have swallowed it all like I did with these cherries here, but I can’t let it spoil the main course.”

“W-which is?” you inquire, still panting. Can you handle more?

You find out through Yujin taking off her black vest. Then, she slips out of her jean skirt. It hugs her lower figure so nicely that it nearly makes you mourn their departure, but you find a better thing to gawk at, and it’s Yujin’s ass and thighs. She may have dressed earlier, but the panties were off. She cares not for modesty, even outside of the modeling industry. It’s just not who she is.

For that, you’re glad. If Yujin were modest, you wouldn’t have had the chance to see her fat ass and shaven pussy up close. You wouldn’t get to see her sway her hips side to side, letting you see from behind how her ass ripples and bounces, or let you peer at her dripping thighs.

"You're weaker than all the others," Yujin notes. "I like it."

Should you be offended? Probably, but you aren't, because there's her approval. There's her saying that she likes how easily you break. There's her on the bed with her pussy spread by her fingers, revealing her tiny hole and needy clit.

There's a lot to look at is what you're saying, and a lot to take in consideration. For example—

"Ohhhh, fuck," moans Yujin. She rubs her core and gets a feel of how wet she is. "I'm so wet, see? I'm so, fuck, wet from blowing you."

Yujin leans against one of the pillars of her bed. What makes the sight of her masturbating hotter is that she's still covered in the face with cum that soon drips down her neck and onto her collarbone. She looks like she's been used incessantly, to the point where no amount of cock or finger can help her reach a good enough high. Although you're still sensitive, you begin to jack yourself off to her.

"Shit. Ohhh." Her head tosses backwards and she shuts her eyes. "This feels so good. Make me feel even better. Use your mouth."

It's all about what she wants, but you find out that you also want to put your mouth on her. Stop jerking off to kneel on the floor and place your hands on her thick thighs. You have no idea how to do this except from porn, but she moans loudly when you flick your tongue upwards, so you must be doing well.

Yujin's so wet that she dribbles on her expensive sheets. The feminine scent of her drives you crazy. Due to that, you pick up the pace of eating Yujin out. She's delicious. Better than any expensive meal you got going out.

"Oh, fuck," mewls Yujin. She grinds her clit down on the flat of your tongue. "That's it. Eat me out like that."

Next, guide your tongue to her slit, catching the juices she has. Push it inside, make her thighs suddenly clamp around your head. Painful, but worth it, because as useful as her makeshift earmuffs are, you can still make out her heavy moans.

“G-good, god, so good. Don’t you stop, don’t you fucking stop.”

“I won’t.”

The force of your mouth holds nothing back as it holds Yujin’s nub captive. She pulses in your mouth, and you can sense that she’s close because she’s screaming. She's squirming, she's writhing, she's—

“Stop.”

“But I, I thought you said—” You were having such a good time, too. Why did she have to ruin it?

Yujin giggles. “I wanted to cum on your cock,” she confesses. Sweat rolls down the sides of her face. “Let me?”

She’s subtly assertive like that, asking you first before making you do it anyway. She’s so used to getting her way, so used to letting people bend reality into the form she wants. And you’re becoming one of those people, as you lie down on the bed and let her mount you. You don’t suppose anyone would refuse either—her splayed lips rubbing your tip seems like a good thing to have in exchange for being under her ownership.

“Fuck,” you curse. Maybe this is better, in hindsight. Her hole grasps for you, but she teases it by only letting her clit glide along your cock. “Miss An, ah, Yujin, you’re so—”

“Pretty? Successful? Tight?” She sinks down on your dick with a smirk that differs from your weakened look of bliss. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

They’re all perfect adjectives to describe her, but you weigh in the most on the last. Her soaked slit swallows you without time to properly take it in. She just keeps bouncing on you, a millisecond going unspared, as if she’d die if your cock weren’t ramming in her all times of the day. By her desperate moans, you think you’re right. They’re heavy, hanging onto your mind for too long that it just makes you throb harder inside.

You reach up to grab her tits. The bra-like innerwear she dons blocks you from experiencing the whole of it, and Yujin takes that into consideration, through which she pulls it up her arms and off herself. Her bust now moves up and down freely, looped in your mind like a constant reminder of how lucky you are to have Yujin fuck you. She may get around a lot, but whoever she fucks is like her: a hell of a catch.

You lift yourself up to suck on their brown nipples. She moans ferally. Her pushing your head deeper into her tits is how you realize you’ve wanted to do this, to suck and play and slap her chest, ever since you saw them be set free on the runway. It’s funny how two mounds of flesh can hypnotize you just like that. You’re trying to defeat the impulse actions they convince you to do, as if they were spiritual entities on your shoulder each to twist your decisions. But both are devils—even from their source, it’s clear that An Yujin is no angel.

“Yes, so good!” she screams. Her eyes are shut as she rides you with an impulse and speed that surely can’t be human. The pleasure she unleashes onto your cock as her pussy clings and gropes it must be the embodiment of the deadly sin of lust itself. It was written before in holy books, preached as a warning in churches. There’s no explanation for how angrily she impales herself with your cock. “Your cock’s too fucking big, I’m going to cum all over it!”

You spank her ass, and the plentiful skin wiggles right back into your hand. Seeing her face twist up into this pained yet blissful reaction inspires you to continue. That and your cock entering and exiting her hole, plus your kisses following the path of her neck makes Yujin go crazy.

“Fuck me!” She’s fully unhinged when she cums. Her short yet sharp, alliterate downward thrusts of her core leaves red on your thighs. She’s kissing you with this hunger that’s been fulfilled, in a way, but with which comes gluttony. She can’t have enough. She can’t have enough of your dick. It starts to scare you how she’s like the girls your pastor warned you about in Sunday school—she’s a gluttonous nymphomaniac greedy for things that aren’t good for her. Aren’t good for you.

Having sex with An Yujin makes you debate if you should go back to your religious roots and pray again. You’ve heard about the devil hiding behind human faces, and she completely fits the criteria: charming, deceiving, gorgeous beyond human comprehension. However, her divine body also can be something holy. It’s something that’s more than worth worshiping.

Which is which: evil or good? Angel or demon? A goddess who descended to earth or something far, far more dangerous?

Whichever, you just busted a load inside exactly that.

“So.”

“Hm?”

“Come on, tell me,” you say. Yujin’s teasing banter piques your curiosity to higher levels. “Did you really fuck all those people, or is it just,” shrug, as if you couldn’t care less when you do, “you know, hearsay?”

Yujin strokes your chest thoughtfully. The aftermath of the rough sex has left her almost invalid, but after a shower, she’s good to go. You followed suit after.

“The devil’s telephone,” she whispers.

“Huh?”

“Here. You know where to call me.”

#kpop smut #izone smut #ive smut #an yujin smut #ahn yujin smut #izone yujin smut #ive yujin smut #yujin smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #pov smut

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clarakiki · 25 days

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The spring revel

Thranduil x reader

Summary: Spring has come upon the Elvenking's realm and you know exactly how to celebrate it.

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Warnings: afab reader, no use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and the reader and Thranduil being drunk, explicit smut, children (? not yours just yeah, they're there)

Notes: Hello my loves <3. Coming back to you with many firsts in this fic. It is my first time writing for Thranduil (I have a Lotr phase and can't get him out of my head) and my first time writing smut. So please excuse if it's not that great, I will get better I promise. I appreciate your comments and kudos and I hope you'll enjoy <3

You dance under the trees.

The air is warm and sweet, the torches glow with golden fire and the wine is flowing freely. The lush green canopy hides the night sky above, making it feel like you are in a great hall.

The spring revel has come upon Eryn Lasgalen, and you are drunk and happy and free. Your bare feet feel the soft grass and cool rock and your short dress sticks to your body while you dance around the hill.

Other elves twirl and jump around you, they take your hands and laugh with you. Tonight the line between monarch and subject blurs. The lively music of pipes and flutes makes your head spin.

At the head of a great carved table, which bends under the weight of fruit and soft bread and carafes of deep red wine, sits your husband, The Elvenking, and for once he seems to be enjoying himself. Upon his regal brow rests a crown of flowers and leaves and his lips are curled into a smile. His wine cup is never empty.

Perhaps that is the reason he lets the group of elf children prance around him. Some are singing to the music and dance around happily, some climb on his lap and look up at him with their big bright eyes. One child has dared to touch his crown and braid his hair. For once he lets them, for tonight is a time of celebration for everyone, both a king and a child.

The round ends and you can finally go rest for a moment. Your spent legs carry you towards your own throne, one set next to your husbands. It is a beautiful thing, spun from intertwining branches and adorned with carved writing. Budding blooms decorate the headrest.

With a sigh you plop yourself, rather ungracefully, into your seat. Before your husband can get a word out, the child sitting upon his lap starts: “Please my lady, come and dance with us.” The little boy pleads and others join him.

“Did you not ask your king to dance with you?” you ask, teasing them a little, for you know the answer.

A choir of intermingling voices answers you, one over the other accusing their Elvenking of refusing them. You laugh quietly at their distress and at your husband's tired sigh. “Alright, dear children, I promise I will come and dance with you. But you have to promise me, to ask your mothers first and then to go to bed on time.”

The little faces light up and soon they are all scrambling to find their parents.

“You saved me, my love,” Thranduil laughs, a rare sight. “How was your dance? You seem already spent.” You know he is only joking and you decide to retaliate.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” you exaggerate. “It would be better, however, if a certain elf joined me for the next song?” It is meant only as a jest but he surprises you with his answer.

“Be good to me and I just might,” he voice is low and rich and it does things to you.

“Are you too deep in your cups, or are you teasing me?”

“Believe me, I know how to hold my liquor and I am totally serious,” he smirks and drinks from his cup. You want to kiss the smug look off of his face. You might just do that later tonight. No, you will.

“I shall hold you to that promise.”

“I have never doubted that, dearest, however I believe you already have a different partner for the next round.” He points towards the crowd and suddenly the elf children come running back to you.

You stand up, grab the chalice from Thranduil’s hands and take a deep swig of wine. It is rich and bitter and your face scrunches at the taste. “I will dance with you tonight,” you warn your husband and let yourself be pulled away by a throng of laughing children.

—

The night has given away into the early hours of morning when you get back to Thranduil. The crowds have thinned, the music slowed and the elf children finally went to sleep.

“My love,” Thranduil says standing up, when he sees you.

You come together like it’s second nature now. He embraces you around your middle and you hide your face in his chest. He smells sweetly of wine and flowers. You would drown in it if you could.

He cups your face in his big hands and you look up into those cold cold eyes, warm only for you. “Are you ready to fulfil your promise?” you ask, voice low.

He smiles at you like he does at no one else and your heart melts at the sight

“My king!” you exclaim drunkenly. “Let us dance around the hill one last time and after that I am ready to go to bed,” mumble the end of the sentence into his shoulder, your eyes already droopy. You feel him shake his head at your antics, but then he swoops down and kisses your forehead. You shiver at the gentle gesture.

Thranduil, with you half leaning on him, leads you by your hand among the elves. A single lonely flute plays a slow melody, you feel entranced by it. The music and your husband's icy eyes lull you into a sleepy daze.

You twirl in his arms and reach up to inhale his sweet scent, kissing his white throat. He hums above you and winds you to him even closer.

The air is warm and sweet and spring has come.

—

You are led back to your rooms by your husband, leaning on him, drowsy from both the dancing and the wine.

You let yourself be lowered on the grand bed and look up at him with droopy eyes. “I want to kiss you,” you do not know if it's the wine giving you this courage or your sleepiness.

Thranduil smiles at that, and it’s incredibly soft, and obliges you. He tastes like always, rich and full. “I love you,” you mumble into his lips.

“And I you,” he answers, when he pulls away from you, setting himself gently above your thighs.

You don’t like that he is so far away, so you grab his hips and try to pull him back to you. “Please,” you whine. “Please-.”

“Use your words darling, you know I can’t read your mind,” he tuts above you, while starting to undo the lace on the front of your dress.

“Please touch me, I need you,” the fire is burning in your belly and you feel like you might burn if he doesn’t do something. Anything.

“Let me get you out of this dress first,” he promises and smirks, pleased with himself. His hands are careful, but sure, and soon the silky fabric of the bed covers caresses your skin.

Then he stands up to undress himself. Reaching to take off his crown, he is a sight, naked, his brow adorned by flowers. Pale smooth skin and ice blue eyes. You swear he’s never been more beautiful than he is now.

“Come here, my love,” you say and he does. He lays over you and kisses you hungerly. You moan into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his silky hair, finding some of the braids the children left there.

“Let me take care of you, dearest,” Thranduil whispers in your ear and you shiver at the thought. He trails kisses down and down until he reaches your thighs and licks and bites there until you're squirming under him, his strong hands pinning you down by the hips.

“No more, just touch me,” you whine and pull at his scalp harshly.

To your horror Thranduil stops all together. He pulls himself up, your hands still in his hair. Above you he looks like a mythical being, one you should not have the honour to touch.

“You have gotten so bold since we met. Commanding you king.”

With his slight smile and a teasing tone he brings you back to earth. “But you love that about me, my king,” you smirk at him.

“That is true, yes, but if I am to comply to you, and truly touch you like you want me to, you shall, let me tease you a little. As a treat,” oh, he sounds so proud, high and mighty. Yes he shall tease you, but you shall repay it tenfold.

With a satisfied smirk on his lips he returns to his task excruciatingly slow. He works you up again, lapping at your thighs, biting the skin there and holding you to the mattress by your waist. So the moment he does, finally tastes you with his tongue, it feels like you're going to burst. Dragon fire burns under your skin, unvanquishable, everlasting. Only he, Thranduil can save you.

He is savouring your taste, as if it was sweeter than any wine he’s ever tasted. He builds you up to your peak slowly, taking his time, until tears of pleasure sting your eyes. The dam brakes, when you come from his mouth alone. It is deliciously painful.

Thranduil wipes his chin with his hand and lays next to you, circling his arms around you. You kiss him again, tasting yourself on his lips, reaching down to touch him. “Meleth nin,” he moans and you watch as his brows scrunch up and his blue eyes roll in pleasure.

You smile for yourself and kiss his neck, biting and sucking. The white skin goes dark quickly under your lips. In the end you don’t have the heart to deny him, and so you don’t tease him much. Still, he doesn't last long at all, for he was already bursting from eating you out. With a few final strokes he moans loudly and comes in your hand.

You kiss for a time after that, but you both are too sleepy to continue properly. Thranduil, ever the gentleman, offers himself to go find a towel to clean you with. You would so like to watch him, as he prances around the room in all his glory, but you can’t hold your eyes open. You feel his gentle touches and hear his loving words, but at that you are already half asleep. The last you know is your husband pulling you to his embrace, holding you head to his chest.

You slumber as the dawn breaks.

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil fluff #Thranduil smut #The Hobbit #Lotr #fluff #smut

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boxofbonesfic · 8 months

Text

Title: Brave [5 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The journey to Tarrath is not one to be undertaken lightly—there are more things to fear in the untamed places of the world than stags, a lesson you are soon to learn.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy/n AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

A/N: 👀

You have been riding since before sunup, and your hips and back ache from long hours spent in the saddle. The pack sets a leisurely pace through the grass sea, meandering through the plain in a loose line. The vast mountains you knew are at your back now, shrinking into misty, faint points. They tell you how far you have come with their distance, and you wonder how many steps you have taken since last you were the person you had been before.

Since you left the woman you were supposed to be by the riverside—and how many more you will have to take to become someone else entirely. Though it has been only a fortnight sine you watched the village burn, it feels like a lifetime ago. Someone else’s memory, someone else’s eyes.

The pack keeps a steady pace until the sun is high in the sky and the mountains are meaningless pinpricks. The land changes too, the flat plains turning into rolling hills that remind you of the cresting waves you have seen painted in books and on tapestries. The only difference is, these don’t come crashing down to drown you, the grass whispering quietly in the breeze.

You ride somewhere in the middle of the line, the pack stretching both before and behind you, riding towards the sun as it begins to sink low in the sky. You can see Steve near the front, his sword strapped between his broad, bare shoulders. Like he can feel your gaze, he turns back, one thick fang hanging over his lip as he grins. You drop your head, your cheeks burning.

Let them see.

When you look up again, he’s gone.

—

Night on the grass sea is beautiful. A thousand thousand stars glow like fireflies caught in tar, stretching out further than you can see into the darkness. The pack does not stop, continuing at the same pace as all light fades, and the moon rises cold and clear. At first, the sheer drop in temperature is enough to keep you awake—without the thick furs and blankets neatly rolled and strapped to your horse, your ripped dress offers less protection against the biting wind. But after a few hours, despite the chill, your eyelids begin to droop heavily, your shoulders dropping as you slump in the saddle.

It is the feel of Steve’s warm hand on your back that wakes you, instantly jolting you into panicked awareness as you turn sharply to glare at him.

“Easy, Sweetmeat,” he replies. “I mean only to keep you from breaking your neck.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless that is your wish this night.”

You scowl. “No, I—thank you.” The words come haltingly.

“The journey is a long one.” Steve shrugs. “You will learn to sleep in the saddle.”

“Or fall out of it,” you mutter, and he laughs, a loud boisterous sound that carries out into the night.

“You never cease to amuse, Sweetmeat,” he says after a moment, the words still colored with the sound of his mirth. “I wonder what the elders shall make of you.” There is fear at his words, but your curiosity burns just as brightly.

“What is it like?” You ask. “Your city?”

“In your tongue, Tarrath means ‘city at the end of the world’.” You feel your eyes widen in spite of your attempt to keep your features schooled into neutrality. “It was built into the cliffside by my people long ago, before we knew the arbitrary lines your kings drew on their maps.” You gape at him, floundering for words. The maps you know end somewhere out into the grass sea. At their edges, perhaps an orc settlement or two, but mostly… nothing. The impossibly vast mountains and the forests that border them are all you know.

But perhaps the truths you know are not truths at all.

“Have you seen the sea, little one?” You shake your head.

“What does it look like?”

Steve smiles. “Blue. The water is salt to the taste, but so blue. Like… two skies.” He motions with his hands, and you hold the reins tightly as you close your eyes and try to see it. More water than you could possibly imagine, as deep and endless as the sky.

“And the city?” You ask, stifling a yawn.

“There are great towers of red brick with fires at their hearts. And there are not so few men as you might think.”

“Humans?”

“And more.” He nods. “Elves, Dwarves. Children of the world before.”

You begin to slump again as he speaks, but this time Steve doesn’t wake you. He reaches across your lap to grasp the reins in one large hand. He loops them around the horn of his saddle. When you do finally begin to lean over, it is against his warm shoulder.

“You coddle her.” Bucky’s irritated voice doesn’t wake you—the firm hold exhaustion has on you is too heavy to drag your mind back to wakefulness, and you will not remember these words when you do wake again. Steve chuckles.

“I like her.”

—

“Storm’s too thick.” You, and the rest of the pack are crowded around Bucky as he speaks, the horses shifting anxiously in the stillness. You can see it, the band of dark, angry dust stretching across the horizon. You’ve never seen anything like it, like the Gods’ fury given terrible form. When Bucky had set out to scout, it was a pinprick–and now the cloud stretches almost as far as you can see. “We’ll be waiting days for it to pass.”

Steve grimaces, his tusks hanging over his lip as he showcases his displeasure.

“Aye,” he agrees, turning his eyes toward the horizon, eyeing the storm. “We’ll go around.”

“The pass?” There’s a murmur of something like discomfort that passes through the pack. Something like fear. “Gods damn it.” Bucky looks back toward the storm and curses again. “We don’t have the rations to wait it out.” He doesn’t ask—it isn’t a question. And Steve’s grim expression is all the answer you need.

“We’ll put it to a vote. The pass—or the storm.” He turns to the pack. “Those who want to brave the storm, step forward.” Lightning crashes in the distance, and you swallow thickly. By the sound of it, the pass is equally formidable. You recall the stag, it’s hungry jaws and fierce eyes, and wonder what else waits for you on this road—the one you’ve chosen.

After a moment, Steve nods stonily, his expression battle-fierce.

“The pass it is.”

The pack wastes no time reorienting itself, turning west to skirt around the tempest of stinging sand and thunder. Carol rides up beside you, her expression grim.

“Do not think we have chosen the easy road, little human.”

You don’t. “What is the pass?”

“It was a road, once. One that has returned to the sea and the things that live inside it.” Her voice is low, warning. “Men are wise to fear the zikaegina,” she gestures at the endless shifting grass. “It hides many things.”

“Why did you abandon the road?” Carol grimaces, her expression heavy with memories, knowledge you don’t share. Her eyes are dark when they meet yours again.

“Because other things used it too.”

to be continued

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haruchuiyo · 8 months

Text

Everlasting love

being a princess means select people for you to fall in love with, but what if you love the man who’s sworn to protect you?

content: royal au + princess x bodyguard + fluff + kind of poetic (i hope so lmfao) + more fluff + established friendship + requited love + even more fluff + slight angst + fem!reader + kisses + slightly suggestive + jing yuan’s so incredibly desperately in love with you

word count: a little over 6k (this fic had no reason to be so long but it’s a fast read I promise!!)

this fic is very self indulgent so I wrote whatever I felt like so lots of stuff isn’t gonna make sense lol

—

It feels silly to do what you’re doing, hiking up a grassy hill while holding onto your dress so you don’t trip, all the while your white haired bodyguard is trailing silently behind you a few steps away. The grass was cut evenly and was muddy from the rain earlier this morning.

You weren’t actually allowed to go out but time to time, rules gets disobeyed by you and you do what you want to do. Although your bodyguard hesitated in stopping you when he saw you put on your walking boots. But who was he to say no? You were the princess of the kingdom after all and he is just a mere bodyguard assigned to guard your well-being. At all times.

The first time you saw him was through your window in your bedroom at night. You heard the horses neighing, the carriages stopping in their strides and distinct deep voices speaking. As curious as you were, you look down from your window and see the king’s guards in their uniform. A particular figure caught your attention with his interesting long white hair. Feeling as though he was being watched, he looks up and your eyes meet. Your eyes slightly widen in surprise when he sends you a smile your way. And you hastily hide yourself away from view.

The first time you met him, he had a gentle neutral expression on his pretty face. He was tall, had long strides when he walked, and he gently held your hand while kissing your knuckles when greeting you. When he spoke up and called you ‘your highness’, and introduced himself as Jing Yuan and your new bodyguard, you felt puzzled with the way your heart pounded against your chest. This was the first time you properly met the behemoth of a man in front of you. And all you wanted to do was leave. Bodyguards are tiresome and they’re on your beck and call every moment of the day without fail. It’s tiresome. Definitely why you felt puzzled because of your increased heartbeat.

Standing atop the hill, the wind was cold but you felt warm below your garments. You look behind you, sure to say jing yuan was behind you.

“It feels nice doesn’t it?” He was looking at you away from the scenery in front. He smiles gently and slightly nods. “It sure does, my lady.” He replies and you smile at him back.

“It is very nice actually, this is my favorite spot did you know?” You ask again while looking at the scenery, taking in the view with a smile on your face.

“It’s my first time hearing of it actually but I keep that in mind, princess.” You giggle at the name he called you.

“And it’s my first time hearing you call me something else aside from ‘my lady’” you retort, lightly mimicking jing yuan at how he says ‘my lady’.

You see his eyes slightly widen in surprise before he took steps in front of you with lowering his head.

“I apologize, my lady, i didn’t know I was out of line.” He hastily speaks up and you chuckle at that.

“It’s because you aren’t out of line, jing yuan.” You gently say before speaking up. “It’s quite nice to be called something else than my lady although it’s the title of my current status.” You lightly giggle at your own words as you kneel down to pluck a flower from the grass.

You see how it’s a pink bluebell, which surprises you because there aren't a lot of them on this hill. You were gonna speak up about it when you realized you were looking down at the flower too long, and also the fact that Jing yuan was quiet. You look up at him and see how he’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes was gentle, thoughtful and of something else that you can’t quite put a name on. And then he flashes you his usual gentle smile. “I keep that in mind as well.” He speaks up, before adding with a glint in his eyes. “Princess.” And you giggle at that which makes him smile even more. His smile has you momentarily glance at the pink bluebell before looking back at him. Your hearts pounding faster against your ribcage.

—

“Let’s go horseback riding today as activities, shall we?” You speak up at the dinner table, directing your words towards jing yuan. Your father is looking at you with a questionable face as if he couldn’t believe your words. Jing yuan was surprised himself but was better at hiding it.

“Surely you can take the carriage?” He asks and you shake your head while cutting into your food. “Take the carriage where? Horseback riding it is.” You say with a tone that your decision is final. You look up from your food at Jing yuan, who’s standing at a corner close to you. And when your eyes meets, you send him a big smile his way and he reacted with a slight smile as well along with a small bow to his head.

And here you are standing in front of a horse like it’s the first time you’re seeing the creature.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” You hear jing yuan’s familiar voice from behind you.

“I don’t know how to ride a horse.” You simply say and jing yuan turns quiet. You look behind you and see how he’s getting down from his own horse.

“A moment, please.” He says before walking away with his horse. Coming back a few moments later alone.

“It’s been decided I ride with you.” He simply says.

“On the same horse?” You ask.

“On the same horse.” He repeats finally.

And he helps you up on the saddle, your dress puffs up in front of you which you grin at because it simply looks so silly. And then you lightly squeal when you feel jing yuan hopping up on the saddle behind you. You feel his arms go around your body and your heart pounds faster. Your body feels hotter when you feel his firm chest pressed up against your back.

“Hold onto this tightly, princess.” He says by your ear and you turn loss of words and simply nod your head. His voice was soothingly deep and it almost sent your brain into shambles. You hold the reins and you feel warmer inside when you see how Jing yuan’s holding the reins as well along with you.

“It’s a bit cramped.” You blurt out and jing yuan chuckles. “Nothing to do about that now, is there?” At his words you chuckle before you squeal again when the horse starts walking.

“This surprised me.” You say after calming down. “Feels quite nice actually. You’re a good rider.” You add in.

“Been riding since I could walk.” He simply says and you giggle. “You merely jest, I’m sure I couldn’t even talk when I took my first steps.” And at that, jing yuan laughs and you decide you like the sound of it.

“Alright princess, wanna go a little faster?” He asks and you widen your eyes in excitement. “Who am I to say no? Of course I want to.” You chimed and jing yuan nudges the horse with his heels and the horse’s speed increases.

That makes you laugh in delight, at the speed and how good it makes you feel and excited. You look up at the sky, feeling the breeze on your face and breathe in the fresh air with your eyes closed, not realizing you leaned your head back against Jing Yuan’s shoulder.

“This feels so nice.” You say happily, opening your eyes and getting a closer view of Jing Yuan’s face. He quickly tilts his head to meet yours and your faces was inches apart.

“Eyes on the road, princess.” He announces, looking at you and you giggle. “You’re the one who’s controlling the reins of the horse.” And at that, he grins at you. “Touché.” He simply says, still grinning while looking away at you.

Only now did you properly process how close your faces were and how it made you feel. Nervous, curious, especially at things you shouldn’t feel curious about your own bodyguard. And also over the moon, because it also felt nice to have him this close in this proximity.

Little did you know the man himself felt the same. How he wishes to actually properly hold you. Infuriating how he could only put his arms around your frame to hold the reins, but not your body to his. His heart beats faster when you laugh at his jests, when you show him your pretty smiles, smiles he sleeps and wakes thinking of. How your eyes seem to glisten in happiness when he steps into your view. No matter what side of the bed he wakes up on, whatever emotions he’s feeling, as soon as he sees you his entire day is made for the better.

He feels satisfied and content at how your head is still on his shoulder and he signals the horse to slow down and the horse starts to walk calmly.

“I didn’t like you at the beginning.” He hears you speak up. He raises his brow but his hearts is racing and his minds jumping to conclusions.

“What do you mean by that, my lady?”

“I simply did not like you because you were a bodyguard. Mine especially. Didn’t like anyone being just steps away from me all the time, every moment of the day. It felt suffocating.” You admit to him, tilting your head to the side of his neck, Jing yuan swears he could feel your lips brushing his neck and it’s taking every restraint in him to not react and move.

“I see why you didn’t like me.”

“I do like you now.” At your simple bold words, his bloods rushed and his heart rates piqued. He unknowingly made the horse stop in its tracks hastily, which had you almost falling back on the ground before jing yuan caught you with his arm.

For the second time of the day, your faces are inches apart and your eyes are widened in surprise.

“I mean I do like you.” You repeat. And jing yuan eyes widens at your second confession. Or was it really a confession.

“Princess, I’m not sure I understand the meaning behind your words.” He sounds breathless. He watches how your lips open and closes, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t mean it like that way.” You blurt out. “And of what way do you speak of?” He asks again.

“I’m not sure I can speak of what I actually mean, I’m so confused myself.” You tell him and he hears how your voice wavers. And I’m sure his eyes are as hectic as yours, looking all over each others face.

“I apologize, my lady.”

“Why do you always go back and forth between calling me ‘my lady’ and ‘princess’?”

You ask him. And now it’s his turn to be loss of words. “And stop apologizing when you haven’t done anything wrong.” You remark gently but sternly.

“I apologize. A force of habit, princess.”

“And there you go again.” You say and he smiles lightly.

“What can I say?”

“A force habit that as well?”

“You might be right.”

And you haven’t spoken of what transpired that day. Yet.

—

“I’m not interested in being wed to the prince, father.”

Your father, the king, sighs as he rubs his temples at your defying attitude. You merely send him an angry look his way and when your eyes meet jing yuan’s, you simply wanted to cry your heart out at the frustration you felt. Of being wed, to not have your own choice of who you want to marry and the feeling of your freedom slipping away, slowly by slowly.

“You are to simply get to know him, not to be wed.” Your father stated and you let out a dry chuckle.

“And at the end of the day, you’re gonna have me wed to a man I do not want nor love.” You retort back before walking away, ignoring your father calling for you. You continue to walk, knowing jing yuan is on your path behind you.

“My lady.” You hear him call for you when you arrive at the doors of your suite. You stand still and turn to look at him. “Yes?” You answer, pretending to look fine but failing miserably. You see how jing yuan’s eyes look dismayed at your apparent displeasure.

“Do you wanna go to your spot?” He asks and you feel a little of your displeasure slowly lift off your mind.

“I’d love to.”

The moment you arrived your favorite hill with jing yuan, your heart felt light and content. Emotions surges over you when you see pink bluebells once more. Why they grow on this hill, you have no idea but you’re not complaining.

“That flower is beautiful.” You hear jing yuan say and you look up at him with a smile. You pluck the pink bluebell and raise it in the air, placing the flower beside jing yuan’s head. You close one eye as if to observe him from a binocular.

“What are you doing?” Jing yuan chuckles at your antics.

“Just observing how beautiful the flower are, of course.” You say with a big smile and jing yuan feels his heart skip. He thought of the day he asked for the meaning of the flower from the royal gardener. And what you just did now, he feels his blood rush and lovely feelings come over him.

—

The day the prince from the neighbouring kingdom arrived, you detested him right away. He wasn’t kind to the servants, simply looking you up and down before showing you a pretend happy smile. You felt revulsion when he grabbed your hand to greet you with a kiss to your knuckles.

While he was doing that, you looked at jing yuan who was standing beside you and you simply did a face to show your annoyance. He merely replied with a smile before glancing at the prince and back at you, you took that as a signal to look away from jingyuan to the prince.

The days after that, every walk after breakfast and luncheon, you had to take it with the prince. You dreaded those walks every day and would rather have them with the wall of your bedroom, than with the prince who only seemed to be interested in himself.

On a sunny day, fortunately, the prince didn’t come along as he complained of an apparent headache. You were able to take a walk alone with Jing yuan.

While walking in front of you, you suddenly slowed down, making jing yuan bump into you from behind. You giggle when you hear him slightly gasp.

“Are you alright, princess?” He asks worriedly as if a slight bump to your body will damage you. You giggle again. “Couldn’t be more alright.” You answer and you see how his shoulder seems to relax.

“Take a walk beside me, will you? I quite missed our time alone.” You confess honestly and jing yuan’s face shows evident surprise at the sound of your words before he nods. “Always at your request, my princess.”

After walking for a quite a moment, you glance at the man beside you, whos silently holding onto his sword at his hip in his holster, face looking straight ahead of him, his hair fluttering along with the wind. You kept looking even if he turned to look at you. As he does that, you smile at him.

Jing yuan felt his body warm up at your smile and the way you were looking at him. He wished he could take this walk with you closer without a single distance, while holding your hands and not as your bodyguard but something more. But that is something he could only dream and think of.

“The other day, I was being honest.” He hears you speak up, still smiling but looking straight in front of you as you walked. “About liking you.” You softly add in. Jing Yuan holds his sword holster a tad too hard.

“I’m your bodyguard princess, I’m afraid we can’t be anything more.” He detests himself for saying that, but it’s only the truth. Even if the truth hurts. He sees you smiling sadly at the ground before looking up at him, widening your smile. But he knew it wasn’t genuine by how your eyes seemed to glisten in tears.

“Even so, I’m not saying I don’t feel the same way.” And now it was your turn to get surprised. And he sees how your eyes wavers in shock and dejection at the same time. Because as he mentioned before, you two can’t be anything more than a princess and her bodyguard.

“It’s frustrating.” You admit ruefully as you try not to let your tears fall. You smile sadly at him while holding back your tears. You see how Jing yuan steps closer to you, hesitating to make a move only to not do it. You were gonna speak up before you hear footsteps behind you, and there is the prince you don’t wanna marry.

You give the man you love one last smile before putting on a false happy front for the prince.

—

Ever since that day, everything felt normal but wasn’t the same.

Jing Yuan feels his heart ache each and every time he sees the prince from the neighbouring kingdom gets close to you, gets to stand next to you. His legs wants to walk and stand beside you, hands itches to touch you and his heart wants to be with you every moment of the day.

Today was a small ball your father hosted for only nearest relatives.

Your beauty is infinite and you’re indescribably pretty in your ball gown. And jing yuan couldn’t take his eyes off you at any moment. At some moment of when you were dancing with the prince, your eyes met and he sees you do a shy smile and he swear he felt his cheeks and body heat up.

You swear you saw jing yuan fidget in the spot he was standing at when you smiled at him. And your heart flutters at the thought of the effect you have on the man who’s sworn to protect your life.

The dance was over and you feel a presence behind you. Turning around as you let go off the prince, you see Jing Yuan.

“May I have the pleasure of your next dance, princess?” His voice was of a gentle tone, mellifluous to your ears. He gives you a soft smile as you nod your head. “You may.” You accept his offer with a mix of a shy and delighted tone. You don’t miss how the prince eyes the both of you. So you turn to look at him.

“I had a lovely dance, your highness.” You state smoothly and the prince does a slight bow. “As did I, princess.” He simply says before walking away, not before eyeing jing yuan down as if he was a threat to your presence.

The orchestra starts a new melody and you feel Jing Yuan’s hand on your waist and his other holding your hand. You place your unoccupied hand at his shoulder.

Your fingers touches the nape of his neck and you feel your body get pulled closer into his. You smile as you waltz the floor with him. Jing Yuan closes his eyes when he feels you softly massage his nape and you resisted in your entire body to not place your cheek on his sternum.

A moment into the waltz, you feel his hand at your waist slightly hold you tighter and you look up at him. Your eyes meet and his eyes were mesmerising. And you give out a subtle gasp when you feel his hand slip lower down your waist. You see the decisions from on jing yuan’s face and you wanted to stop him before he did what he did.

“Thank you for the dance, my lady. Have a lovely evening.” He shortly says before leaving you alone on the dance floor. Him leaving has you thinking you should look at your father and you did.

His face showed he knew it all.

—

That same night, jing yuan got to his suite and took his suit off. He loosens his bow tie and rolls up his sleeves. He looks around his room in frustration while gripping his hair. Frustrated at the fact he ruined your moment too early, he shouldn’t have touched you so intimately without your consent about it. He saw how your eyes looked frantic before he was about to excuse himself. And the way your expression fell when he did excuse himself. But something about the touch felt so right and for him. You felt right to him and with him.

Feeling like he needs to take a walk to settle down, he grabs his suit jacket and opens the door, almost walking into you.

When he sees you there hiding under a large mantle, your face hidden by the hood. Your eyes met him and jing yuan doesn’t waste a second to pull you into his room before anyone sees you.

“My lady, you shouldn’t be here.” He mentally hit himself for that statement. He just pulled you inside. “I know.” You simply say, pulling down your hood.

This close proximity with you has his mind and body in shambles. You’re alone with him in his bedroom. Alone. Whatever could happen and if it does, he won’t stop it. He won’t excuse himself again and leave tku dejected and disappointed.

“You should leave.” He says and you take a step forward.

“Would it be different between us if I were not a princess?” You ask softly, standing in front of him.

“No, not any closer. I beg you, have mercy on me.” He says while ignoring your question, almost begging and your heart aches.

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have crossed your boundaries.” His own heart aches at the tone of dejection in your voice.

You understand his reluctance to be close to you. Maybe you shouldn’t have decided to come here. You’re putting jing yuan in trouble if anyone saw you at his door. You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if something were to happen to him. You look behind him and see his window, there is a cup of water with pink bluebells resting in it. Your heart aches for him. You turn around and were facing the front door in jing yuan’s room and was about to pull the hood over your face, before your entire body gets turned around.

His hands holds your face, he looks at you momentarily before his lips presses down against your own. Your eyes welled up in tears. This felt right. Your arms wrap around his torso, gripping the back of his clothes and you feel his other hand trail down your spine before drawing your body closer to his.

Your breasts flattens against his chest and you wrap your arms around his torso tighter. Your lips move leisurely against each other. He pulls away slightly.

“I’d still follow you around even if you were not a princess. Because I wanted to, not because I’m your bodyguard on duty.” He confesses as he brushes his lips against your jaw, moving up to softly peck the tip of your nose. You hum in content at his kisses while your heart increases its beat at his words. At his answer to your question from before.

He leans in closer again, kissing you. An unhurried kiss, with wants and longings for you, as if the time of the world is in your palms.

Jing Yuan’s lips were soft and smooth against yours. Lips working leisurely against your lips before he angles his head to deepen the kiss. You feel him guide your hands around his neck before he holds your own, for more deeper kisses.

A sweet little noise leaves your mouth when you feel him swipe his tongue over your lips to stroke yours, as if your mouth is molded for him and his kisses. He softly strokes the pulse point below your jaw, the pace of the kiss is slow yet agonizing. You want more of this man.

You feel his hands lift off from your neck, trailing down your spine before gently grasping the back of your thighs through your mantle. As if reflexively, your legs circle around his waist when he lifts you off the ground, pinning you against his front door.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, so is he but he isn’t stopping anytime soon. He presses soft chaste kisses down your jaw, to your pulse point and throat while you go catch your breath.

It is when you feel him lick your shoulder blade that everything comes back to you. He continues to nibble having you softly moaning, before he bites down gently, leaving a slight mark.

“Jing yuan.” The way you call out his name so desperately and so beautifully, he knows you have his entire body and soul bewitched and in the grasp of your palm.

“I love you, I can’t imagine a day not seeing your beautiful smile and ever making you feel sad. I hate myself for it everytime I see you so dejected. When you're in pain, it hurts my heart.” He presses kisses on your throat desperately. You softly whine out his name.

“I love you dearly, my heart. Infinitely.”

—

You’ve been fidgeting the entire day, ever since you saw that there’s another soldier to guard you instead of jing yuan. You pace back and forth in your room before you decide to do something and find him.

Your first thought was to go to the royal court room, your father is usually in there. And when you get there, your fathers guard announces your arrival.

“Father, what happened to—“ you cut yourself off when you see your father looking down at jing yuan. Who was kneeling on one knee in front of your father. Your hearts racing in fear at the sight of man you love in such a vulnerable position in front of your father, the king.

“What is the meaning of this?” You hear your voice waver.

“Do you swear on what you said, son?” Son? Why is your father calling jing yuan that way? Your mind in tatters and you don’t know what to make off the scene in front of you.

“Yes sir, I do.” Jing Yuan answers as he bows his head. And the moment you see the king pull out his sword from his holster, your hearts a mess and you immediately run in front of jing yuan.

“What is the meaning of this?” You repeat your question, your tone belligerent and glaring at your father this time. You grip onto jing yuan from behind you with your left hand, while your other fist clenched by your right side.

“It is alright, my heart.” You hear jing yuan say from behind you, you look away and turn away from your father. “It is alright.” He repeats gently, his eyes are looking all over you with soft glint to them. You shake your head as you kneel in front of jing yuan, holding his face.

“I cant let him hurt you, you didn’t do anything wrong.” There’s tears forming in your eyes and you see jing yuan smile at you, before chuckling a little. He reaches his hands out and gently holds your face as well.

“He won’t hurt me, in fact you just interrupted something, my heart.” He slightly grins at you while stroking your cheeks with each of his thumb. There’s confusion evident on your face and when you look up at your father.

“You have indeed interrupted something, my sweet daughter.” Your father says, his tone has a lighthearted tone to it. You furrow your brows and your father laughs.

“If you don’t mind, please do step away.” He says and you hesitantly step away but not before you give a kiss on jing yuan’s lips. His eyes widens in surprise and when you look at your father again, he seems surprised too at your boldness.

“Don’t hurt him.” Your words are final. And your father seemed to understand it. “I’ve got no intention to do so.” He says before looking at jing yuan again.

“Jing Yuan, soldier of the king's guard. Do you swear to protect the kingdom in case of emergency and war?” Your fathers voice was booming. Your heart races faster when you hear Jing Yuan say he swear and your father taps his sword on his right shoulder. Jing Yuan swears once more at your fathers words and the next thing he says, you clutch the front of your dress and you see Jing Yuan smile as he looks down at the ground.

“And lastly, do you swear to love my daughter, princess of the kingdom, through life and death, every moment of your life?”

“I swear.” You don’t know what you feel aside from relief at the fact jing yuan is not hurt and the way your heart seemed to surge with love for him.

The moment the sword finishes tapping his shoulder, you hastily run up to jing yuan and he hastily holds you into his embrace, his arms tightly wrapped around your body and yours around his neck. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck as you grip onto his hair, as if he’s gonna disappear any moment.

“I love you.” You hear him say. “I can't see spending a single day without you beside me. You’ve seized my entire heart and soul in your bare hands and I wish to never get it back.” Tears fall from your eyes as you nod your head.

You pull away as you nod again, your face full with tears. “Only if you never give back mine.” You say as jing yuan bursts into a slight laughter. “At your request, my heart. I will never.” He voices and you giggle.

He sees your tear stricken but happy face, your lips shaped into your beautiful smile he thinks of every second of the day and you are beautiful. He feels his eyes water, his heart pounds against his chest at the thought of you protecting him when you thought he was in danger. The roles were reversed that moment and he can’t stop loving you. And when you press your lips against his, he feels fulfilled. Fulfilled having you in his arms, where you should be, and being the man you love.

You pull away slightly and he gently kisses your tears away from your face, your eyes closes in content and there’s a smile on your lips. He can’t believe he’s finally your and you’re his.

You place your cheek on jing yuan’s chest and make eye contact with your father. Who’s looking sadly at you two. You pull away from jing yuan and take your father in your arms.

“Thank you, father. You have no idea how happy I am for you to do this.” Your fathers arms wraps around your body. “That’s why I did it, because it makes you happy and that’s all I wanted for my daughter.” His words have you tearing up again.

“I’m having my king's guards after you if you ever hurt her.” Your father says nonchalantly and you swat his chest while he laughs. “I swear on my life I will never.” Jing yuan says with a grin to his face.

—

You flatten out the blanket on the grass on the hill when jing yuan lightly taps your nose, making you lightly giggle resulting in jing yuan flashing you a gentle smile.

“I have something for you.” He simply says and you sit up excitedly. “And it is?” You ask giddily, jing yuan smiles at your excitement in receiving gifts, grand or simple, you love it.

When he reveals your gift, his heart is racing a lot anticipating your reaction. He sees how your eyes widened in surprise, how you look back and forth between him and the gift.

It’s a flower crown made with only pink bluebells and it’s beautiful.

“I tried my best, although it isn’t the best sight to the eye I still hope you like it.” Jing yuan confesses shyly and you giggle. “I love it so much.” You say as you lean in to press a quick grateful kiss on his lips and he hums in content.

“May I, my princess?” He asks and you nod your head. He places the flower crown on your head and views you with gentle eyes.

“You are beautiful, my heart. Never seen anyone more beautiful than you.” He utters with a content sigh and you giggle. “You flatter me too much, my love.” You softly swat his chest and he chuckles.

He reaches his arms out and immediately envelopes you in a hug making you laugh at how quick he was to grab and hold you. He falls back on the blanket with you on top of him, his arms around your waist and your hands on his chest.

You lean down to peck his lips and Jing yuan meets your kiss halfway. When you begin to pull away he makes a discontented noise, and you smile when he lets out a content sound when your lips are on top of his again. You feel his hands trail up your spine to softly hold you by the neck as he softly deepens the kiss. You clutch his clothing on his chest.

After a few more kisses, you pull away to catch your breath and when you look down at Jing yuan below you, he is breathtaking as the sun rays caresses his skin, enhancing his golden eyes and the pink bluebells on the hill is swarming his head like a halo.

You feel his fingers brush the back of your thighs through your dress, tugging on the clothing, urging you to lay on top of him properly. Caging his body in between your thighs and when you do, a love struck smile crosses his face and he looks happy. He gently strokes your thigh and you smile at him.

You have no idea how in the world you started to fall in love with the man beneath you. Along the way from your first meeting, he caught your heart and you’re glad it was him.

“How did you end up in the royal court room with my father?” You ask curiously as jing yuan continues to stroke your thighs.

“He called for me into the royal court room and simply wanted to speak to me about you.” Jing yuan says and you roll your eyes teasingly. “Simply speak to you about me? Whatever for?” You ask again and you see how jing yuan is now hovering over you, caging you in with his thighs, his thighs brushing against your own.

“He found out after the ball and wanted clarification.” Jing yuan answers and you nod in understanding. Then you chuckle and you see how there’s confusion on Jing Yuan's face.

“I’d be lying if I said we were discreet that day.” You tell him and a smile is on his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. “We were the most discreet people showing our love for each other.” He delivers it lightheartedly in a sarcastic manner while brushing his nose against yours, making you giggle.

In actuality, jing yuan had a crush on you the moment he saw you from the window watching him from your bedroom. His heart pulled and developed into love for you. But he repressed them as best as he could because of the status of your current situation. Cupping a hand against your cheek, he leans down to meet you in a soft kiss, and he feels you smile into the kiss and he gently squeezes the back of your thigh with his other hand.

And then his hands were atop your hips. He pulls himself in closer against your body and deepens the kiss while squeezing your hips gently. There’s so much ardor and deep affection laced into the kiss, a heat spread across your face and body. Jing Yuan tastes just like the herbal tea he drank and honey cookies.

Suddenly feel a gentle breeze but it’s almost knocking your flower crown off your head and you hastily pull away, laughing as you hold onto your crown while jing yuan holds you by the hips, laughing along with you.

He sits up, bringing you with him and he lifts you up onto his lap by grasping your thighs. You are still holding onto your crown. “You will always have my body and soul, my heart.” He whispers languidly by your ear before pecking your mouth. You cozy yourself closer into jing yuan’s embrace, burying your face into his chest as a love struck smile flashes across your face at his lovely words.

“And you’ll always have mine, my love.”

—

in case you wonder, pink bluebell flowers is the meaning of conveying your feelings of everlasting love :)

if you’ve come this far, a like and a reblog would soo much appreciated hehe <3

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