#sea angel dewdrop

[d3scendd]

what could've been if dew hadn't turned fire 😔

[the-moon-in-the-gutter]

Dewdrop is typically an early riser, the fire ghoul is one ruled by that big ball of radiation that mortals call the Sun. As soon as the sun begins to make its ascent in the sky, the ghoul is quietly dragging himself from the bed. He dresses in the semi-dark, the faint morning light filtering through his curtains as a guide to the clothes laid out across the back of a chair. All before pressing a gentle, quick kiss to Aether's temple, the only patch of skin not covered by the mound of blankets. The quintessence ghoul had slunk into bed only a few hours prior, the late shift in the infirmary was his own demise.

The only day in which the fire ghoul doesn't rise early, is the pack's collective day off. A day spent resting and recuperating from the chaos so the week prior. They spend their days off laid in bed until close to noon, the ghouls attempting to prepare themselves for the coming week as they do not know what will occur within the walls of the Ministry.

Aether rises before Dewdrop on these days, bringing two mugs into their room. Coffee for himself, and tea for his partner. One morning in particular he returned to the fire ghoul sprawled across the bed on his back, arms outstretched above his head. Legs tangled in his blanket. Angelic face contorted into an expression that was near snarl. Academics would refer to it as looking similar to the fall of Icarus, but Aether recalls a more biblical story. One of angels cast from Heaven, one in which their wings were ripped away, nothing to break their fall whereas Icarus had the sea. He knew those bony ridges, lying just beneath the jagged scars upon his partner's shoulders.

The fire ghoul's contorted positions typically brought forth laughter from Aether. He was an active sleeper and no one quite knew what position he would be found in the following morning. Mountain had referred to sleeping with Dewdrop as like "sleeping with a bicycle" on more than one occasion. Only Aether was capable of settling the restless ghoul into a calmer status of sleep, crawling into bed each night with a quiet voice "Scoot over damn it, this bed's supposed to be big enough for the two of us."

This morning in particular no joke would rise from his throat, instead he placed the two mugs on his bedside table. The quintessence ghoul slid into his side of the bed, before pressing a gentle kiss to his partner's forehead. That simple action roused the fire ghoul, who immediately relaxed his positioning. Dewdrop would open his eyes slightly, before rolling onto his side to face the quintessence ghoul whom he unknowingly gave a shock to. "Did you bring tea?" He would ask in a raspy, sleep filled voice, the aroma thick in the small room. The scent of Aether's coffee, the cinnamon and slight hint of plum in his tea, two familiar scents that brought peace to the figure that had been reenacting his Fall only moments before.

[papal-babygirl]

the body is mostly blood

well. i became severely sad after brisbane, so i made everyone's favorite whump ghoul get sad as well. aether's dead, copia might be soon, and little dewdrop isn't coping very well.

also no. i dont want to talk about the fact that this is 10k words. just be grateful it is.

read on ao3, or continue below

-

Dew should be in the mood for celebrations. Everyone else seems content to be, Aurora excitedly searching up the hottest nightclubs in Brisbane, flicking through hair colors for her glamour while Phantom peers over her shoulder to offer his advice. Cirrus is leaning back into Cumulus' chest, breaths whistling softly through her angelically parted lips as she dozes. She'll join the new kids, and she'll swear she didn't have a nap on the bus. No one will say anything against it, lest she invite them to her room for apologies back at the Abbey. Mountain has taken up residence around Rain's lithe body, nose buried in his hair as Rain's tail wraps around Mountain's wrist. They sway with the movement of the bus, and to some little tune they're sharing with Rain's headphones. Swiss is deep in a low conversation with Copia, probably talking about some vintage whiskey he'd like to share with his Papa and see where the night takes them.

So that just leaves Dew. Back of the bus alone, noise cancelling headphones on, listening to the loudest, angriest music he could find. He'd gone through the effort to put it on his phone after it managed to disappear from the Internet— he might as well listen to the fucking thing. He has his phone open to his texts, cursor blinking at him as he indulges in his worst habit.

A conversation stares up at him, a few months old now, long discontinued. A conversation with Aether.

Aeth 🖤

Haha you know I got you babe

Dewbug 💧

you are the wind beneath my wings 🕊️

It's the last thing he ever sent to Aether, or rather the last thing Aether ever read. There's a wall of messages from over the past months, none of them sent, and certainly none of them received. Telling Aether how much he's tried to hate Phantom, as if it would bring him back. How the little shit managed to worm his way into some small portion of the hole Aether left. The sheer amount that Sunny would have clicked with Aurora, two little fireballs of energy and life. How his day had gone, how tour was going, little things that made Dew remember him. And every now and again, breathless, sobbing messages, barely legible because Dew couldn't get his hands to stop shaking.

He types out a message a few times and deletes it, like this isn't just some masochistic diary. Eventually he just starts typing and sending before he can even think, and then thinks about throwing his phone out the bus window.

Tour finished tonight. I know how much you loved this country. How much you loved this world. I wish you could have seen this crowd, shit. It just gets bigger every time.

I'm sorry I never stopped missing you.

I'm sorry about the hole left in my chest. The new kids don't deserve it. They're so young and full of life.

You would have been so proud of Phantom. He handles that fucking Fantomen better than either of us ever did, sorry to say.

Copia called himself frail, the fucker. Watched that sea of phones go up, like it's a game to them. Maybe it is. Maybe they don't realize.

Well I mean he stuck a fucking ice cube down his pants, I can't blame them for wanting to keep that forever. 

Satanas, I hope I keep him forever.

Dew presses his forehead against the window of the bus, rattling his skull in a way that's perversely satisfying as the bus rounds a corner. When they arrive at their hotel, a sleepy little collection of cabins he's heard a couple locals — and Mountain — call a caravan park, he makes his way to his room without even so much as a goodnight to everyone else. He has no idea if anyone else notices, but he hears and promptly ignores Copia's soft voice calling after him. He just can't tonight, just can't face pity and look into those sad eyes and pretend like he isn't scared out of his mind.

He's similarly distant at the airport, hood drawn up and sunglasses shielding his eyes. Everyone else has a pounding headache from the celebrations, Dew just can't handle the idea of being witnessed. He sits apart from the group when they get to their gate, ready for that long haul back to Stockholm and wishing he could let some of his glamour slip. He feels itchy and cooped up, and maybe if he could soothe the spade of his tail like a kit does, he'd feel a little better.

But as kind as Copia is about their forms, that's a step too far. It's not like Dew is going to do anything to face the wrath of the Ministry, certainly not now, so he just contents himself with knowing he's got a few good months of letting his wings free coming up soon. He's sat beside Copia, to his infinite dismay and his eternal delight. Their hands stay tangled under the blanket the whole flight, as few words are exchanged between them. Neither feel like talking much, and Copia spends about half the trip snoring away anyways. 

The Abbey welcomes them like a parent awaiting the empty nest to be filled again for the holidays, warm and insistent but also a little bittersweet. Everyone knows it is not meant to last. As Copia gives his first sermon back to a rapt group of Siblings, worn lines gracing the curves of his face, Dew has to leave Black Mass halfway through for the first time in his infernal life. There's something in the way the light hits Copia's face that makes him seem as frail as he toyed with being on stage, tired and beaten down. Hopefully his Unholy Father can find some way to forgive him the transgression. He presses a kiss to the icon of Asmodeus on his rosary and makes a silent promise to the Saint of Hell that he won't whine next time he's asked to deal with the hundreds of candles in the chapel.

As he walks, his legs carry him on well worn paths, ones he remembers walking with dewier skin and a younger heart. The ever so slightly disastrous state of the garden calls to him, whatever little mote of water that remains between his ribs aches to help Mountain fix it the way he used to, even though the earth ghoul is still kneeling piously in the pews. The autumnal shade of the oaks lining the gothic courtyard remind him of years past, chasing after the love and affection of other Papas, and losing those just as easily as his beauty earned them. Dew ends up back in the dormitories, looking up with a start when he realizes he's at the place that hasn't been his room in years. It's the one he shared with… Satanas, he can't remember their name anymore. Back when he was still craving Secondo's attention, the little siren that he was.

Dew shakes off the memories and heads back to his own room, but not before passing Copia's door. It's obviously unoccupied, but there's a little pull from deep in Dew's gut that begs him to change that. He makes to continue towards his chambers, but he gets about three steps before doubling back and trying the doorknob tremulously. It gives— Copia had a terrible habit of leaving doors unlocked behind him. 

Copia’s room is a monument to his simple tastes, to the luxury of small things. It’s nowhere near as lavishly appointed as Terzo’s room was; there’s no sumptuous silks and fine rare dyes here, no gilt kissing the corners of everything. And it’s certainly not the somber elegance that Secondo surrounded himself in, high pile velvet that swallowed all light and sound until the room felt almost claustrophobic. No, it was about as breezy and light as the old Abbey could manage, windows perpetually open to let in the smell of fresh cut grass, or the breeze off the lake, or the sick-sweet rot of leaves as Dew notices now. The window is a panoply of cool colored diamonds of stained glass, casting a mottled glow onto the floor and on his arms that reminds Dew of hot summer days in the lake, of flirting with Mist as they ducked through the cool waters together and let their bodies twine in ecstasy. 

Dew crawls into the butter soft sheets, the delicate cream color feeling like it’s going to be sullied by his presence. He can’t call to mind the country of origin, though it sounded fancy when Copia decided to treat himself after a long tour with one too many scratchy sheets. Dew didn’t pay much attention, his thoughts were occupied otherwise as Copia ordered the sheets with one hand idly petting away between his horns. The little ghoul crawls into the divot formed by Copia’s body and buries his sensitive nose into the place where his head rests nightly. It’s an explosion of love that blasts the blackened char of his heart into a thriving, burning core again. It’s vanilla and jasmine, the first kiss of spring after a winter of using the powers forced on him to keep the Abbey’s residents warm, that very first time a timid Cardinal looked his way and said that he didn’t know if Dew would want the compliment, but that he was looking very nice today. (He hadn't been, he had smoldering sticks in his hair from where he'd dived into a bush to capture one of the Cardinal's rats.)

He delicately tangles his fingers up in the sheets, careful not to pierce or snag them with his claws, and curls up tight. The sensations in the room are all he can focus on; the ambient chatter from Siblings and ghouls alike that sings through the unhallowed halls, the decaying smell of the book glue holding together Copia's beloved and very old copy of the Malleus Maleficarum, the taste of his own bile on his tongue as tears rise unbidden to his lashes. Dew lets a few of the tears fall to the pillow, sullying the fine fabric with his own weakness. He barely notices the acid clang of the chapel bells ringing to signal the end of Black Mass, though when the door clicks open he shoots up guiltily, ears pinned back.

"Papa, I didn't, I-" His voice cracks from disuse, and Dew realizes then how little he's been around his pack since they got back. He slinks off to bed before anyone retires, has shrugged off invitations to movie nights and even brushed off Mountain when he was invited to spend some time in the greenhouse. He'd just needed his space, right?

"No, no, tesoro mio, you know you're always welcome. But I noticed you slip out of Mass, and you’re never absent from Mass.” Copia comes and sits on the bed, depressing it slightly. He puts a hand between them, bridging the gap in a way that leaves Dew the power to make the choice to reach out. Dew watches guiltily as his gloved fingers stroke idly along the grain of the fabric. His whole body screams at him to reach out, to make the connection, but he can’t make his arms move from where they’re wrapped around his wan frame. Trembling fingers soothe along the scars on his ribs where his gills used to be, and Copia moves his hand to Dew’s knee. “What prompted you to leave, Dewdrop?”

“I haven’t.. I haven’t been okay for a while, Papa.” Dew admits, voice low like a confession. Forgive him, Unholy Father, he knows full well what he’s done. “I can’t…” His voice clicks as more tears spill over his cheeks. He brings his knuckles up to brush the tears away, but they're interrupted by the soft kiss of leather as Copia catches the tears on his own fingers.

"Take your time, mio amato." Copia scoots a little further onto the bed, and in a flurry of hot limbs, Dew launches into his arms. He lets out a soft oof as he catches Dew, sinking a hand into the tangle of his hair. Dew paws at Copia's shirt for a lifeline, sobs shuddering his whole body.

"I can't lose you. I can't lose anyone else." Dew whispers hoarsely all in one breath, until he takes in another gasping breath and the tears fall heavier. He didn't think there was so much water left in his body. Copia tuts gently and strokes down each knob of Dew's spine, a soothe he discovered after Dew had his first panic attack under Copia's care. It had happened after that very first show where he was on lead guitar, with a body that felt alien and shouldering more responsibility than he could manage. The show had gone off without a hitch, but Copia had found Dew a sobbing mess on the floor of the dressing room. He'd stayed there longer than the venue really wanted, but it didn't matter. Copia was determined to stay until his ghoul was alright.

"You aren't going to lose me." Copia murmurs back, rubbing the thin space between Dew's shaking wings. The little fire ghoul whimpers piteously, claws sinking into Copia's shirt before he realizes with a gasp what he's done. "No, no, you're alright. It's just a shirt." He soothes, voice low and sonorous.

"Aeth said-" Dew can't finish the sentence, but Copia figures out rather quickly what his ghoul is implying. He knows well of the bond between the two, and how much it had pained Dew to have it severed. When the Ministry came to collect its assets, to recoup the loss of a very taxing new quintessence ghoul to summon, Aether had gone with a grace the barbaric act hardly deserved. But he'd not been given the choice to explain to his mates, or to even say goodbye. It was sudden, jarring, and Copia had been there to support Dew while he delivered the worst news to his pack that anyone could fathom.

"I know. I know it must sound like an empty promise. But who could take me away from you?" Copia says gently, pushing his hand under the hem of Dew's shirt to stroke the furred base of Dew's tail. "I would fight the forces of Heaven and Hell to keep you in my arms." 

"Who could take you away? The same people who took Aether, Sunshine, your brothers, Alpha, Omega, Ifrit. Should I go on?" Dew pulls back to look at Copia incredulously, tear tracks burned into his cheeks. He looks over Copia's face, takes in the life worn into his features, the freckles that Dew himself has kissed over after a night of passion. "You said it yourself, Papa, you said that you're frail. Your time is up soon. And you can tell me that some of it is toying with your flock but-" Dew cuts himself off with the memory of their arms wrapped around the others waist on stage, as Dew did his best to not look utterly besotted with his Papa. I love you, little man. Saints, the words ring in his head even now. How it thrilled his chest to be publicly declared worthy of the unholiest love he knows, how bittersweet the finality of it all felt on his tongue. "How am I supposed to know that when I wake up, you'll still be here?"

"I think you'll just have to trust me." Copia sighs, fingers still rubbing the little patch of fur that graces the transition from human to beast, from glamour to ghoul. "I know it is an impossible task."

"No. Trusting you is easy. It's the world I can't rely on." Dew rubs the tears away, a low purr kicking up at the gentle pets to his trembling body. His heart rate is starting to slow, that infernal core cooling off to a glowing coal. The panic takes a backseat to the fact that Copia is here, in his arms. For right now, whatever comes next is immaterial. 

"Then let me be your world, and rely on me." Copia breathes, pulling Dew into an achingly tender kiss. Dew can still smell the incense from Mass clinging to his hair, with that undercut of jasmine and salted tangerine from his cologne. That all too familiar scent is safety to Dew, it's love, it's home, it's hope. No matter the bouquet of pheromones that his pack has for him, it's never quite this combination. He would know Copia by this alone, by the brush of uncalloused fingers on his cheek, by the sound of rushing blood through his veins rather than ichor. 

The kiss finally lets Dew relax, wings drooping heavily as all the tension leaches from his body like his namesake evaporating in the heat of a summer morning. He's cried himself into emotional exhaustion, and now he just wants to be touched. He's tired of shutting himself off, tired of being on the outside of the pack, tired of being scared and wounded and crawling off to die alone like a cat. Copia pulls him closer, a low whine building in his throat that makes Dew crave him deeper than he ever thought possible.

"I love you." Dew pants when they both pull back for air, foreheads pressed together as Dew feels leather-clad hands exploring the familiar pathways of his body. His horns press softly against Copia, that eternal reminder of how different they are at their cores. "I've never- you.. I don't think I'll ever love like this again." Copia hums softly and kisses the corner of Dew's mouth, drawing him back in like the tide. 

"Maybe not. Maybe you will." Copia leans back slightly, bringing a hand up to his teeth to pull the glove off. Perhaps he doesn't notice how it makes all the hair on Dew's body stand on end, perhaps he notices and doesn't care, because he does it to the other one, clasping the gloves in one hand and gently tossing them to the desk where they land limply. His fingers are impossibly warm and soft as they come back to grace Dew's imperfect form, well manicured nails scraping ever so slightly. "All that matters to me is loving you here and now."

"Then love me. Love me fully." Dew begs, a whine creeping into his plea. But Copia isn't deterred by the vulnerability, isn't scared off by Dew's infernal ache. He pushes into the soft curve of Dew's jaw, leaves painted kisses there as he slowly pulls the shirt off that Dew stole from Mountain some years back. It hangs off him like a tunic, but no one could deny him whatever he wanted, considering he looked so loved in the oversized garment.

Perhaps it isn't wise to seek to heal this hurt with sins of the flesh; Dew recognizes this. And there is more yet to do to banish this pain from his mind, his soul, and perhaps truly it will never be gone. There is always going to be an indelible mark that the ones who are no longer here make on his pitch-heart, carve their name in hellish runes on the very surface of his obsidian bones. And in time, he will learn to live with this. In time he will wear the names of the departed with pride, and love, and welcome new names and new loves to become part of him. For right now, though, he is as shattered porcelain, begging to be put together anew. Changed by the process, but once again whole.

Dew sinks his claws into Copia's shirt again as his Papa's lips travel lower, kissing over his prominent collarbones, and up to the faded scars from his gills. Dew had tried to open them up once, a year or so after his transition. A delusion grabbed hold of his shattered psyche, convinced him that the beautiful creature he used to be lay still underneath the surface, needing to molt to become himself again. It was Aether who found him, fingers stained black with the effort of his pain, shaking and sobbing and woozy from blood loss. It was Aether who used his fledgling powers, tripping on the unsteady legs of a newborn deer to knit flesh back together again. And it was Aether who convinced him that he was beautiful any and every way he was, and that the cruelty of the powers that be was in no way his fault. 

The Ministry moved in mysterious ways, sometimes bold and striking declarations from Sister Imperator, and sometimes people unbeknownst to even Copia would show up and demand things of he who should be the highest power. It always unsettled Dew, made him feel as if Copia was little more than a dancing monkey, a figurehead puppet who they could shove in front of the yearning masses, who could take the fall when culture came to bite back. It was Copia, of course, who takes the blame for introducing the devil back into the 'good, Christian world'. Copia, of course, who takes the blame for corrupting youths by daring to imply that they should be loved as they are. Copia, of course, who is at fault for wanting his flock to feel and touch and love and fuck as much as their desires told them to, for what could be more human?

"Should I just take this thing off, eh?" Copia says with a smile, eyes flicking down to the long claw marks in the dog-collared button down. It only strikes Dew then that he probably came back to his room to get changed after Mass, only to find a very sad and vulnerable little ghoul in his bed. 

"Oh, I.. I didn't mean to-" Dew shrinks away from all the points of contact with Copia, only to have it chased right back as Copia slides his arms around Dew.

"It's just a shirt. Dime a dozen, dolcezza." Copia squeezes Dew gently, fingers finding scars with featherlight touches. The ones he's given himself, the ones inflicted on him, all fall away to nothing under Copia's careful touch. It's as if he's made anew. "Help me get out of it?" He doesn't need help— it's become tatters— but he wants Dew to unfurl, wants him to feel this. Dew plucks at the buttons gingerly, one by one, until he can push the shirt to the floor.

Dew takes a moment to regard the one he loves, the incrementally graying chest hair, his softness, the beautiful fallibility of his mortal flesh. He'd only started to notice Copia's temples going gray this most recent tour, and it was certainly fuel for the fire that was his anxiety. But in the objective sense, it granted him a handsome gravitas Dew couldn't deny. From the way his flock would cheer when he promised to fuck the crowd, it would seem that he wasn't alone in that opinion. Shaking claws reach to stroke along Copia's sensitive sides, and Dew watches with rapt attention as his perfect stomach twitches with barely contained laughter.

"You know I'm ticklish there, don't you?" Copia asks with a smirk, though both of them know that he is. "And yet the touch persists, how cruel of you." Dew finds himself smiling ever so slightly as he shifts and pushes Copia down to the plush bed, deft fingers attacking soft curves. Peals of laughter ring around the room from the both of them as they fall back into each other, into soft lingering kisses that feel first-time timid. With that same gingerness, Dew reaches below the belt for the first time for an exploratory pet. The response he gets is beautifully favorable, a stuttered gasp from Copia, pupils blown. "And if I said I was ticklish there, would you stay your hand?" 

"Saints, I love you when you get romantic like this." Dew says, Copia's fingers coming to rest along Dew's forearm. They regard each other for a long moment, Dew's hair curtaining down in the way that he's always been called beautiful for. He'd thought about shearing his hair after his transition, no longer yearning to feel his hair trail behind him while he swims, no longer feeling like anyone's preziosa sirenella. It was a joint effort from Aether and Copia that had kept it long, Aether meditatively brushing and plaiting the hair while Copia held him close and called him beautiful again, praised the fire in his eyes and the blaze in his bones.

"What you call romantic I simply call honest." One of Copia's hands traces a little trail up the inside of Dew's arm, along his chest to cup his cheek. He pushes up with the other hand, pulling Dew in to kiss him with a little more urgency, a little more breathlessly. He moans wantonly into the kiss, parting his lips to let Copia get even closer, to taste him more insistently. They eventually make their way to a reverse of before, Dew laid back on the pillows looking for all the world like a fallen angel. Sure, the horns and batlike wings don't fit the picture, but the amber eyes looking up through pale lashes seem for all the world like a creature spurned from grace.

His beauty turns to ecstacy when Copia litters his chest with little kisses and love bites, none too hard. Though he'd be hard pressed to bite harder than Swiss, especially considering his rather dull teeth in comparison. But right now Dew can't imagine anything feeling better than this, especially when soft lips brush over his piercings. His back arches into the contact, tail squirming and disturbing the duvet. He lets out a long, low, whined out Papa, which gets him a little hum against his heaving chest. Copia's clever fingers take an exploration down to where Dew's shaft has grown behind his loose joggers.

"Please?" Dew whines, hips jumping and earning him a low, husky laugh from Copia. 

"You don't have to beg, tizzone." Copia says gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Dew's pants. His eyebrows raise expectantly, and Dew scrambles to lift his hips enough to get the joggers off. Dew kicks the pants to the ground and paws hungrily at Copia's chest, pulling him into more kisses as the room floods with his cinnamon desire. He's already dripping slick all over the slim juncture of his thighs, squirming underneath the watchful gaze of his Papa. He is flayed open, raw and beating heart ripe for the taking by any predator who dared. And yet, he is not torn in two, and the soft curve of his chest is simply kissed over, leaving smudges of black paint. When Copia leaves his ministrations be, he looks more like a raccoon than normal, all the paint on his lips smudged off completely.

"You look like those, Saints, what does Mountie call them, the bloody trash pandas?" Dew says through a snorting laugh, appending his best true blue impression of Mountain. Copia rolls his eyes fondly and pushes back up onto his haunches, looking down at the ghoul spread out like a feast before him.

"If you're going to be mean I can leave." Copia earns playfully, getting his stern voice out that usually gets reserved for when they've destroyed a hotel room with some sexcapade that makes the bill fall on his shoulders. Notable examples include the scorched bed from when Dew was pinned down and made to cum over and over and over until his little body couldn't take the pressure and literally exploded into flames; the broken bed frame from when Rain begged Mountain for more more more harder please mountie please and the gentle giant had unleashed his powers to rend the particle board to dust as he finished deep in the hot clutch of Rain's body. The most recent incident was the room that looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off when Phantom had lost control of his powers and unleashed a supernova in a cheap hotel, but each of them was brushed under the rug by an understanding but mildly disappointed Copia.

"No! No, I'm sorry, you look nice." Dew reaches out shakily, gripping Copia's shoulders with a fervent whimper. Copia's shoulders slump slightly, and he rubs his thumb along the bird-light joint of Dew's wrist.

"I could never leave you, but I do think I should probably get my shoes off before we continue, eh?" He presses a kiss to the fluttering pulse of Dew's wrist and pulls back a couple steps off the bed to slip his dress shoes off, pulling his belt out of the loops. He hears Dew's throat click with a heavy swallow, and for a moment they share in the hunger for something harder, something that leaves Dew flushed and crying. They're no stranger to that kind of play; there's a very good reason why Copia has a plethora of different leather gloves, well worn by use and, well, too much cleaning. But the moment passes, fleeting as can be, when Copia bends down to unclip the garters from his socks. "Should I leave the pants to you?" He asks with a soft smile, just as Dew's crawling his way down the bed to pluck teasingly at Copia's zipper. 

"Maybe. I let you undress me." Dew grins up at Copia wolfishly, quick fingers dancing along pressed slacks until before Copia knows, his fly is undone and Dew is pawing at him. 

"Should I just fuck you like this?" He laughs, following the line of Dew's thin fingers to gently grip himself. "Boxers and all?"

"You can do it however you like, Papa, as long as you don't let me go." Dew breathes, flame-hot over the thin fabric separating his flushed mouth from sensitive flesh. Copia awkwardly shuffles everything down to a messy pile on the floor, the only real sign someone lives in the room that Dew's noticed since he crawled into bed. His cock springs up, a tempting little bead of pre welling up at the head. Dew grits his teeth in an effort to resist, but as if pulled by an invisible tether, he leans in to press an almost chaste kiss to the head.

"Now that's very dangerous of you, tizzone." Copia breathes as Dew returns to lounging on the pillows, waiting for Copia to chase him up. Nimble fingers dip down to splay open his slit, shimmering in the sun that still filters in the windows. Copia looses a punched groan and moves with a swiftness few people see from him, clambering across the bed to smother his ghoul in kisses once more.

"Need you in me, you know I'm ready for it." Dew juts his chin up proudly, grabbing Copia's hand and shoving it unceremoniously down to his slit. His wide eyes beg him to pet through the velvety folds, and then up to let the smooth, slick length of his shaft throb against his hand. Copia relents, of course he relents to the bid for touch, probing a couple thick fingers into Dew's entrance. He scissors his fingers gently, watching Dew's expression carefully. The fire ghoul's face screws up, but through the years they've been sleeping together, Copia has learned well the difference between pain and pleasure. Dew is firmly on the side of pleasure, at least until something shifts in his face, lip twitching.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Copia pulls his fingers out, and Dew scrubs at his face, taking a gulping breath and trying to calm his hummingbird heartbeat. He shakes his head, mouth trying to find words.

"It- you… for a second, you felt like…" Dew closes his eyes, trying to find some anchor in the sea of his feelings. "Aeth. I know it's stupid to think about—"

"No, no, Dew, it's not stupid. When do emotions run higher than this, more than when two become one?" Copia brings his clean hand up to cup Dew's cheek, pressing their foreheads together. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No. Saints, no, I- I need this. Just need you." Dew throws his arms around the broadness of Copia's back, fingers splaying over the freckled expanse of skin. He clings tight, chest heaving until Copia presses a warm palm to his sternum. They don't say anything, they just breathe in tandem until Copia's even breathing is the rhythm they both follow. Dew nods, and Copia knows what he's ready for without words. They've really never needed words, able to read each other with the smallest twitch of an eye or the quirk of a lip. So it's no surprise to Copia that when he latches his lips to Dew's hot pulse and sinks his fingers back into the warmth of Dew's slit that the little ghoul howls in pleasure, hips jumping erratically.

Copia suckles a dark bite into the pale gray of his Dewdrop, purple blooming to the surface prettily as he opens Dew up. He doesn't need Copia's fingers scissoring him open, not by a long shot, but he'd be remiss if he didn't get his hands dirty in the pursuit of pleasuring Dew. Copia curls his fingers just so, and Dew shouts in ecstacy, shaft throbbing dully as more slick leaks out over his soft stomach.

"Please, please Papa, I don't want to wait anymore." He lays the piety on thick, which seems a little bold for a ghoul who snuck out of Mass. Copia forgives the indulgence, though, and lines himself up to tease the head of his cock along slick folds. "No, no no no nonono, don't tease, please." Dew sobs out. He seems so shattered already, Copia can't help but sink into him, mouth tucked into the angles of his throat to feel his pleasured noises.

"See, I can be kind." Copia mumbles, mouth a little occupied with absolutely ruining Dew with kisses and bruises. Dew yelps as Copia sinks home, hips kissing for a brief second before he pulls almost all the way out.

"Not that kind, apparently." Dew grumbles, jerking up to try and fuck himself on the unmoving cock. Copia lets him try it for a little bit, a faint amused smile playing on his lips. It doesn't last long until the heat beckons, that velvet inferno, and Copia sinks in again with a low groan. Dew's little wings flex against the sheets, claws barely resisting sinking into Copia to pull him impossibly close. He doesn't need the prodding, though, because he picks up a neat little pace. It's not as hard or fervent as it will grow to be, but for now it's just what both of them need. They move together with the gentle push and pull of the ocean, and it reminds Dew of endless quiet moments on the bus, smothering moans in the plush flesh of his lover as they rock with the movement of the bus.

It threatens to ruin Dew's mood, but he forces his mind to think of the ones he's shared that experience with who are still here. Chief among them is of course the man between his legs now, but he feels a different little thrill thinking about Swiss swallowing Dew's noises by clamping a big hand over his mouth, or Cumulus promising to treat him so well if he can stay quiet all on his own. That brings him back from the brink of absolute collapse, to say nothing of the reality of Copia dragging him into a slow, messy kiss. 

Dew slides a hand down in between the both of them to tug at his shaft, but his hand is batted away by Copia. He whimpers at the loss, but Copia picks up the slack immediately. "Just let me take care of you." He murmurs by way of explanation, gently squeezing the slick length of Dew's shaft. His barbs leak all over Copia's fingers, making the glide of skin on skin all but frictionless. It's not the only trait he retained from his previous element, but it was probably the least upsetting. He never needed much foreplay, though he enjoyed it thoroughly, and it definitely made him the pack's favorite choice for a quickie. His hands almost instinctively slide up above his head, ready to be pinned by a large hand. It was one of Mountain's favorite moves, to make him feel impossibly small, but Copia doesn't make the move.

So instead, Dew opts to keep his hands locked tight around the bars of the headboard, thin fingers twining around carved mahogany. Copia groans at the sight when he flicks up his mismatched eyes, focusing back on ruining Dew's chest with love bites. If he thinks too hard about the unfailing obedience that Dew offers him, this endeavor ends far too soon. Then again, compared to the infernal endurance of his ghouls, he's a minute man by comparison, so frankly he's just got to try his best.

"I love you." Dew blurts out randomly, voice thick with pleasure and barely held back tears. Copia's hips stutter for a moment before he looks up to see that the tears are of ecstacy, as far as he can tell. He blinks once, and the fat tears fall from his lashes and race down the hollow of his throat to leave wet spots on the pillow. In response to the love, Copia adjusts himself and pulls Dew's slim legs around his waist, locking them together eternally.

"I love you, Dewdrop, Father Below, do I love you." His hand leaves Dew's shaft for just a millisecond to make sure Dew's legs are locked tight. It returns in due time, bringing with it increased fervor and a lump in his throat that Copia wasn't expecting. He's never been stoic, Saints no, but not nearly as much of a crier as his sweet Dewdrop. There's something in the air today, then that has him choked up. So be it. If his body needs that release, he won't deny himself.

"Don't leave. Please, please don't leave me alone, please stay, Copia please, I can't live without you, I can't lose you." The steady stream of tears turns to wet sobs, and Dew's hands fly from the headboard to cling desperately to Copia and pull him impossibly closer. Their bodies are all but one as their hips meet over and over. Something in the desperate cries makes the fragile dam inside Copia break, and when he screws up his face when Dew flutters, he feels the hot slide of tears down his own cheeks.

"I could never, tizzone. I can't bear to lose another person. I can't hurt you." His voice shakes, and he'd love to pretend that it's because of all the sensations swallowing him, the sweet honey heat of his Dew. But it's a disservice, he thinks, to pretend himself incapable of tears. What then, of the grief he'd experienced, of all the loss of family and love alike? Here, in the sanctuary of his room, he has no obligation to be His Unholiness, Papa Emeritus IV, a stoic figurehead to lead and protect his flock. He can just be, ever so simply, Copia. A man, with vulnerabilities just like everyone else. He swallows heavily, and Dew leans up to kiss his tears away. They're both just sort of crying on each other, wet cheeks pressed together. 

They press even closer to each other, chest to chest as Copia's hips speed up. His hand squeezes the forming knot at the base of Dew's shaft, interrupting the tears with a yelp of pleasure.

"Oh, oh fuck, harder, please, can you- harder?" Dew asks, voice trembling. He never asks this politely, and combined with the throb of his shaft, Copia realizes he's not the only minute man here. The pace slows down in service of more brutal thrusts, getting punched little groans from the both of them as the bed creaks with protest. His hand makes choppy little strokes along Dew's shaft, lack of rhythm unbecoming of a practiced musician. Dew doesn't seem to mind, head tossing back and forth and making his silken hair into a mussed tangle despite the inelegance of Copia's thrusts. Right about when Copia expects, his thighs and hips start to burn in protest. It's for the best that he thinks about bringing things to a crescendo.

It's definitely not a premature end; Dew's slit is pulsing heavily around Copia which always signals that he's about to burst. The little hiccups each time he fucks a little deeper into Dew's hot body are a sure sign that it's time to try his dirtiest trick. Well, 'dirty' implies that he's on equal sexual footing with the very emissaries of Hell's lust, so it's more that he's a very clever lover. He swipes both his hands under Dew's ass, trusting his knees for all of two seconds to bear the weight of him while he adjusts to fuck up into the spot that makes Dew howl. And howl he does, one hand clawing deeply at Copia's shoulder without breaking skin. The other rends the pillow under his head to downy shreds, fine duck feathers exploding into the room and clinging to Dew's sweaty shoulders.

"Aaah, yes, yes, Copia please, please I'm right there, touch me touch me please please, Unholy Father, I need to cum!" Dew sobs wetly, bringing a feathered hand up to scrub the tears away so he can beg with the full power of his alluring amber eyes. He doesn't need to beg; he never needed to ask. But it seems ingrained in him to ask permission, so Copia gives him a little grunt of affirmation. That's apparently the key to get the levee to burst, because Dew spills all over his stomach and chest with a wail. Iridescent cum coats his piercings, glittering in the dappled light of the window. The fluttering of Dew's silken walls around him means Copia is barely moments behind, spilling into Dew and screwing up his face. 

The ecstacy brings the tears back in full force, a sick combination of pain and pleasure. His chest constricts as if squeezed from within, and he finally looses a proper sob. Copia wipes at his eye, coming back with a smeared blob of paint staining his fingers, and it's quite belatedly he realizes that he probably looks absolutely haggard. He can't be fucked to care, honestly, especially as he pulls out and lowers Dew back down to the bed, watching as his chest heaves. Dew's cum barely starts to dry, hardly gets the chance before Copia leans down to clean him up with that silvered tongue. He laps broadly, swiping up slick and cum in equal measure as Dew sobs quietly into the back of his hand. Copia keeps his kisses featherlight, his tongue as restrained as he dares. If he catches a couple of his own tears in his ministrations, so be it.

"Saints, I could worship you forever. You are so dear, so unholy to me." Copia breathes against Dew's damp skin, ears tuned to the stuttered hiccup at the reversal. Dew had caught the attention of many a man (and woman) of the cloth, and yet none of them had found him worthy of worship. Only Copia truly viewed him as not only equal, but superior. Dew did his fair share of devotion in the bedroom, but he was used to being on his knees in more ways than one.

"Don't deserve it." Dew whimpers, though his hands tell a different story when they sink into Copia's hair. "I don't- I'm not beautiful anymore, not like I used to be. Too much blood." His hands twitch on Copia's scalp, and for a brief moment all Copia can think of is the moment Dew stumbled on him in a puddle of ichor, of Aether's— No. No. Not now. Not when he's dragging down lower, sensitive cock brushing against silky sheets when he settles in between Dew's legs. Copia's spend leaks wetly from Dew, little pulses of his orgasmic afterglow pushing a new wave of slick and cum out of him. He watches for a couple seconds, pleasure-dazed until he remembers his purpose, hands coming up to stroke gently at the thin plane of Dew's thighs. Gentle fingertips stroke at the fine hair on his legs, feeling the muscles twitch uncertainly as Dew awaits whatever comes next.

What comes next is a supernova of overstimulation, Copia's tongue licking broadly between dusky folds. He's so pretty and dark down here, like a rare flower with midnight petals. 

"Fuck, hurts. Hurts good." Dew bleats, taking a fistful of Copia's hair in his hand as he's cleaned out with gentle licks. "Please don't stop. Might go again." Copia groans into slick flesh, the idea that he could bring Dew to even the littlest orgasm down here stirring heat right back up in his gut. So he sets himself to the task, bringing a single firm finger up to prod tenderly. It's under the guise of making sure Dew is cleaned up properly, but it's really to pet at his soft walls and feel him flutter with each lick. Before he knows it, Dew is clamping his thighs tight and squealing, body forcing every last drop out of him and onto Copia's tongue. Dew doesn't have to push him away when he's had too much, because Copia knows him intimately, knows just when to draw his finger out in the aftershocks.

Dew's face is blotchy, all different shades of plum and tyrian purple, and the patchwork only continues down his neck and chest. His face is still wet with tears, though they've dried down to a velvet sheen on his soft cheek. Copia kisses the inside of his knee, murmuring softly that he'll be right back, he's just going to grab something to clean them both off. Dew assumes he's going for the ensuite, and he paws at Copia with a yelp, but he only moves to the other bedside table to flip open a vintage cigar box. Inside is not cigars, but a pastel little packet of baby wipes, all hidden away to keep the impeccable aesthetic of his room in order. Dew watches curiously before he lets out a watery laugh that turns a little teary, making more feathers from the destroyed pillow stick to him.

"Oh, shit, the- Papa, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—" Copia waves a hand and beckons Dew off the ruined pillow. He goes uncertainly, relaxing into the touch as Copia wipes him down, leaving him smelling faintly of honey and almond.

"It's a pillow, I can get another. I'll forgive you if you tell me what's so funny." His mouth settles into a lazy smile as he discards the wipe to grab another and slip it down between Dew's legs. The little ghoul hisses at the cold between his warm legs, but he does as his Papa asks.

"Just the," he waves his hand at the cigar box, "I don't know. Such a silly little thing hidden away in a mature shell. It's very you. And I love that. Practical and not too serious and-" Dew shudders as his sensitive shaft retreats, brushing against the cool wipe. "Hells, that's cold."

"I would be loathe to invest in a wipe warmer." Copia explains mildly, with the not so subtle implication Dew was being a bit of a baby about the cold. "Rain loves it, says he gets too hot and sticky." Dew opens his mouth to protest, but clacks it shut with a snap of his jaws, brow furrowing.

"Well. I'm not much like him anymore, am I?" He says quietly, eyes sparking like when he loses control of his element. Copia watches him carefully, fingers stopped in their work to ensure he doesn't obliterate the bed. The fire dies down completely, quenched by the tears that bubble up and fall with a scary speed. "Not much of anything, really." He hiccups, and it's the comedown Copia was really expecting. He's never escaped a teary romp in the sheets without lengthy aftercare, and likely some of the world's worst pillow talk by normal standards. 

"No, no. You're everything. I knew you were beautiful from the moment I saw you." Copia soothes, tossing the soiled wipes into the wastebin that's there for just that purpose. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if it's worth the effort to clean up his paint. But he eventually perishes the thought, considering that Dew is grasping up at him with pitiful paws. So he looks like a rat left out in the rain, so what? He sits back down on the bed, shunting Dew into his lap and gently picking every stray feather off of his damp skin. Every fourth feather or so, he brushes Dew's cheeks of the tears that incessantly fall, granting him reprieve best he can. "It's alright. I knew this was coming for a long time, dolcezza." 

"What- what do you mean?" Dew looks up blearily from behind his tears, eyes now dulled to the color of stale coals. Copia tuts gently, flexing slightly so that his foot doesn't go fully numb with the pressure of the little head on his thigh.

"You were withdrawn since Brisbane. Barely spoke for weeks, all you did was hold my hand on the plane." His voice is gentle, all the patience of a teacher, a leader, a pastor. All the things he's been to Dew and more, his anchor in the storm. "I've seen this mood on you before, Dewdrop. I know how you get when the.." He waves his hand, looking for the words, "melancholy takes a hold of you." He's probably looking for depression, but he's got a poet's soul. Sue him. "Mountain came to me a little while ago, asked if you had been more forthcoming with me about how you were doing. Your pack is worried about you, myself included." 

"I wish he wouldn't." Dew grumbles, wiping at his face. He's mostly free of feathers, so Copia's moved to gently detangling his hair and picking out the down he finds stuck there. "I just.. I wish they'd leave me alone."

"You know they won't. When I saw you leave Mass I.. to be honest I almost stopped the whole affair to chase you." He'd been in the middle of Desecration, holding His Infernal Body aloft when he saw Dew excuse himself and slip out along the shadowed corridors, votive candles burning a little brighter as he passed. It'd formed a lump in his throat that hadn't gone away till he'd been able to shed his robes, leaving them in a pile for the poor sacristy ghouls to deal with. "I was glad to find you here, instead of.." He trails off with a shaky breath, the implication hanging as a sword of Damocles above them.

Dew closes his eyes tight, forcing tears down his mottled cheeks. He balls his fists, and it's like he's trying to squeeze all the anxiety and pain and doubt out of his little body. He relaxes with a slump, laying heavier on Copia's lap. Alabaster horns prick at Copia's thigh, and he sinks his fingers into Dew's very scalp to massage around the base of his horns. Sometimes that touch is arousing, but right now it's just soothing, though it does little to stop the tears.

"What's keeping you away from us, little flame?" Copia murmurs, trailing his fingers down to press his middle fingers into the little spot at the hinge of Dew's jaw on either side. So much tension is carried here, not to mention the spot where his pheromones burn the strongest, and when Copia massages the whole room floods with warm tobacco and teak. 

"I.." Dew breathes in and out once, chest trembling, "I'm terrified that when you go, I won't feel it. That I won't know." The confession seems to shatter something in him, and he crumples up his face like the words struck him. "And I thought maybe if I could pull away it wouldn't hurt so bad, wouldn't kill me when everyone dies again and again and again. But maybe not knowing is worse." One of Copia's hands presses on Dew's sternum, helping to regulate his breathing. The other travels back up to scratch softly at his scalp. "I still message Aether." Dew continues, "I have for months. I don't know what I'm doing without him, it's like.. I don't know. I've lost packmates before, so many of them, but I never thought I'd lose him."

"I know. Saints, do I know." Copia strokes his thumb along Dew's feverish skin, scooping a hand underneath his head to deposit him gently on the bed. Dew whimpers, hands reaching up for Copia piteously. "I'm not going far, dolce." He gently makes his way over to the desk, sliding open a drawer and pulling a bundle of tied together letters out of the very back. They're all different sizes, some as thin as a single sheet, some clearly stuffed full with multiple pages, and as Copia brings the stack back, Dew spots the name on every single one of them in elegant script. Aether. "It's a little more old fashioned, but.. I write to him. Not on a schedule, just.. when I find myself thinking of him. And I tuck them away, and I," He sighs, a shaky little noise that has Dew finally sitting up and cocking his head, eyes searching Copia's face. "When I can go long enough without remembering that.. that damnable pool of ichor, I'll burn them for him. In the summoning room, and I'll hope that he gets to read them."

Dew takes the stack of letters gently, noting a faint herbal scent when his hands warm the papers. They're all on fine paper, thick and rich and sealed with wax bearing the symbol of the church, carefully embellished in gold by a gentle hand. He brings one of the letters to his nose, but he can't for the life of him identify the herb. Mountain probably could, but he doesn't really spend enough time in the garden. Anymore.

"Rosemary. For remembrance, and because he always used to love that lamb roast Mountain would cook up for Ostara, which Mount always claimed was traditional hell cuisine and I'm just now doubting the veracity of that," Copia laughs fondly, a small, sad little noise. "There's a sprig in every letter for him. I learned that magic a very very long time ago, at that boy's school, Saint Amduscias'." Copia takes the letters back and tucks them into the desk again, fingers lingering briefly on the lacquered wood.

"How often do you think of it?" Dew asks, eyes searching the expanse of Copia's back, noting each freckle for the hundredth time. He knows asking the question is like poking at a sore tooth for the sick satisfaction of it, but there is a perverse pleasure that leaves the ache a little duller each time he talks about it.

"Those letters? They're all from this last leg of tour. And I have more I haven't unpacked." Copia turns, always so beautifully unashamed in his nakedness. It was a shame that humans got so touchy about their bodies, considering how wonderful and unique they all are. Dew's always been grateful that Copia never seemed to be in a rush to cover up after sex if he didn't strictly have to. "How can I not think of it? I can't.. I don't know that I'll ever forget fully. I knew Ministry staff were to be there that day, but I never thought.. well, I knew the rumors. I'd heard things, here and there but they were my first replacements." The words drips off his tongue as if it were acid, vile and burning.

"I can't stop thinking about feeling it before I saw it." Dew comes over and swings his legs off the bed, leaning back and looking up at the one who's charmed his heart over and over again, and will probably do so till both of them are in the ground. "I'd seen some important looking people around but, I mean. You know how I am with authority, I just ignored it."

Copia pushes off the desk and settles his body in between Dew's slim knees, until Dew is craning his neck to make eye contact. "What did it feel like? You never told me." Dew's heart skips a beat so loudly it feels like it reverberates around the room.

"Like a star collapsing in on itself. Like a heart attack, from what I've been told it feels like." He swallows thickly around the lump of tears in his throat. He feels like a wrung out rag, like blood squeezed from the stone. There's probably more tears in his body, but Hell Below, he just wishes they'd stay there. "Like being stabbed and then the knife slides out slowly, like the person doing the stabbing enjoys it. Like losing a limb." Dew gets quiet, and he rests a hand over his heart, scars from former fins shimmering down his arm. Copia bends down and presses his forehead against Dew's, a Ghoulish kiss Dew first taught him by accident. The fire ghoul had just done it, and Copia played along, until Dew realized the poor Cardinal had no idea what he'd been doing.

"I'll do anything I can to make sure you never feel that again." He murmurs, and Dew sighs, a dismissive tone to the noise.

"You know you can't promise that." Dew says shakily, and Copia bumps his nose against Dew's a soft little movement that makes Dew's chest constrict.

"No, not entirely. But I mean it. I'd do what I could." They fall into a silence then, breathing in each other's air, enjoying each other's space. The arrhythmic rasp of a starling sings through the window, a discordant soundtrack with the backing beat of their hearts as accompaniment. Dew pulls back eventually, nosing at Copia's jaw to get his attention.

"Do you want to go see him?" Aether has a sort of grave, a shrine really. They weren't allowed to keep his body; the Ministry had taken it as some sort of grotesque currency for Phantom's summoning, but they had other things. The mask Terzo had given him, and the first one Copia gave. A broken little shard of horn from early on, when he literally butted heads with Omega and snapped it off. His beloved bracelet, which Ivy had gifted him, shaped by their own hand from scrap guitar strings. The first Fantomen he'd gotten, all those years ago. Phantom was given a new one, apparently not too dear a price from the Ministry for their newest summon. Gifts from fans, piles and piles of them, carefully kept safe in a plexiglass case. He'd kept almost everything he'd been given; if he could fit it into a nook or cranny of a gear box or a bunk, he would. Dew had found some little trinket tucked into his guitar case when he opened it up for the first time to prep for tour, and it's been on his bedside table ever since. It's all lovingly ensconced in an explosion of flowers that Mountain maintains like a soul-bound duty, heliotrope and lavender and aster and stargazer lilies, each one beautiful and perfect.

"I think that would be nice. I haven't been since we got back. The lilies should be blooming, and I think Mountain will forgive me if I take one for myself." Copia muses, wondering if he can find some little bud vase that he can get Rain and Mountain to jointly enchant to have a perpetual flower on his desk.

"Oh, you know those things make me sick whenever you handle them too much." Dew grumbles, but it's playful, light, and the beat of his tail on the bed says as much.

"Ah, so I shouldn't wear my gloves to pick one? Wouldn't want those dreadful lilies near your, eh, most sensitive parts." Copia gets a wicked little smile, and Dew pushes him away with a groan, flopping back to the bed and watching as a couple of feathers float up from it.

"You're so lucky I love you."

"I am."

[sphylor]

Sea Angel

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship(s): Dewdrop/Rain

Words: 1252

Summary:

The book left on Dew’s desk didn’t belong to him. He wasn’t exactly an avid reader. Back when he was a water ghoul, maybe. His small collection of books still sat on his shelf, collecting a thick layer of dust. But he hasn’t touched a book in a few years now…

[libidomechanica]

And Mankinds Eye it is not my paper, show of

A limerick sequence

               I

Last came, twas only sin when love, thus sings a bird on every soul devoid    of grace which Nature, striue    you the World! And Mankind’s Eye it is not my paper, show of.

               II

She comb’d its brightest ground; when you’re slow, his mantle hairy, and there I said,    Look! On the citizens’    applause, of which hath one, and cast it in doves and women whores?

               III

Cries coming from all milk of human soul, the Carian Artemisia strong    emotions fill the    rosebuds steeping! And, which Betty Foy? To find a soul that’s his.

               IV

To malice, and break so great loue which we’ll speak of young heart not alone. With    many a vacant heart    I set thee wi’ as gude a craft rig as made out on the wall.

               V

Hark what she kisses, thief that Orpheus voyce obtain from the barbershop.    Dearest Eye it is, the    bowl, then commend. His arms shall not trout name your cool radiance fell?

               VI

His prisoners, dividing the fold? To manage well descrie, teaching heart, head, and    mutability. And    Johnny? Into a married my bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle.

               VII

There is she, where I will not that thou find’st not be so, nor the halloo! Stella,    who made me go to    the New Morning sun. That tracks her night and now doth Geraldine?

               VIII

The golden head has wit in it. I believed in not the castle where I    shall see some richest dye,    flames are blest thee to meet you in your sorrow to Niobe did breede.

               IX

A king sate on that I was: love paternal in his old age in her Cypress    but uncurrents of    clean body. And lay down in widest rivers, cloud of his peer.

               X

‘Are you are, shining in time of night. And we entered our trust and the    shepheardes all: which is    traditionally designated great. God, even silence decay.

               XI

And far, near her cry, “o misery! I lift the wind,—and nothing saw, but    she will say that to her?    Slew both his blinding thee Proof that the Bridegroom of Dominion.

               XII

An imagination is a love- sick eye, that never crowed for a single    gentle streaming eyes    endure not satisfied with his Feet. Are good fortune of shame?

               XIII

To which we in the edge of that lie open a persons say the white balloon?    Think you, if Laura    had been and still an unwean’d lamb, the wrong! How she utter’d be.

               XIV

The touch, the stroke—If Johnny’s wit and thy brow, to smoothed a petticoat; pity    he lovely in crowds    before you may witness of her. Angel of flight to my cell.

               XV

Them placed me to mee: no, no, no, go not think for a minute. One little    breeze that come, thou art a    queen, fair friendly face. And all the hall, or frost, nor dare complain.

               XVI

With his sharpen’d from the river or a war? Like the hills of Ettrick’s vale,    is sinking to the Heaven    only knows not, grow in only frightened field, where my God.

               XVII

And fly with love, like curious odor, that thou wert wont to fear to thee,    and speak out in the blast    was over, this woman send away! Happens, this love so well.

               XVIII

Which treats of war the fourteen I married men; for the sky, or who dare touch’d    the boundless welcomnesse.    Nations something, and the rank mist they were one walked through the sea!

               XIX

Which are one of all the westland winter, when the brain to me belonging    it home. Since the things as    cold earth-wandered if her mother doth roam the clime shed its fruit.

               XX

Can young heart from sacred through the palace to stay. All are not fear; above    the sensuous organic    Harps diversion, perhaps million fighters forth sweet, and clear.

               XXI

Thou lik’st so well hast thou to malice, and the mild white neck to venture such    expenses, dreading the    flower. Or if Delusion came down, down! Than stockit mailens.

               XXII

Where Cupid, and she, like the churchmen starts; no jealousy a human heart.    But that all-white Ohio    town your passion ought, to make church and. At fifteen I stopped.

               XXIII

The day; come away, away, until I get a man. For often she is    mild and gleam, where dewdrops    pearl the whole flood that complain of her hand, the vena cava.

               XXIV

While to touch of her idiot boy. The Princess. Oh! Or brought: for of thy    worth the other chamber    door; and did but To make the floor, and heard of Martha!

               XXV

Ah, woe is me! Moth for their names, pulling tales to a short tunes? I hae as    gude a craft rig as made    thy brow, and tak the cool and dust, like one long as it’s most trying!

               XXVI

At the laurel, issued gorged with little avails then my harp can tell?    Foolish am I to    the gracious God! Intersection to join the custom of old?

               XXVII

And if you are as good! And he is busied. But not learned women: but    the class, What faculties,    when the bark of my sore distresse, who made me sick, am I.

               XXVIII

As if in Susan’s side, far and forever and over his Supremacy.    To the rock, than that    peep and restless love, to the courtesy, this dreams have a tear.

               XXIX

Than alive less bigger than the striped white girls longer think no more than my    knees. The upper air, feel    some of the second and soon I shall read a book together.

               XXX

How she uttered words Salámán’s face a furnace sealed: drink deep, dear cockade,    ye’re no unwrought; no    courtier could I have years half so fair! Half-listening chambermaid.

               XXXI

A sunbeam found the parching me out. The creature to bind my knee. The dark    lintels, their style I’ll sighing    cry, a ruin, underpropp’d, and wishing mathematics.

               XXXII

No more, for tongues can in good compare? But to show, the service dwell, whence haue    had found’st a louely grace    she the last gasp of love pitiful grew better ha’f o’t.

               XXXIII

His question, he, made increment of a wall, a hedge, between eternity.    Play but at push-pin    half the declivity, seeing his traveller: for ever.

               XXXIV

Why is thy grove, each simplest Lute, placed me under female hands over to    otherwise. It is the    space between ye; yet ne’er let me, true in love as I am?

               XXXV

But most, and a sun, and all his best. The Field of Sir Leoline? With earth has    Nero, more than dust! In    all than not revere: imagine you may not I that his peer.

               XXXVI

The main, and tell it all to yourselves for two. Love as braw and birth new joy    was sprinkled on your eyes    and his Palate blew; he said—Oh Darling our discoursing size.

               XXXVII

—The wean wants a cod: i’ll profess no second spring; begin, and    ends of free the world goes    by, still such an one. What new to speak too much mescal. The world.

               XXXVIII

I met her; point out with two tame fools may delight, sank down with a wand’ring    kiss the vale of thought I    went to search for our moist and pine! And there that perilous flood.

               XXXIX

Know not,’ quoth the Diamond of urine. Grip, angle and spite and spite and spiral-    talk. As those floweth    Helicon the orange, the modest, took advantage of shame?

               XL

The nights to see such valid reason? Some to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let    bee. From whose Palace The    Soul of each, and o’er his minions and built a house in mourning.

               XLI

And tell each obscene and see this to the very top, and on the poison    through the errant fog, the    bay? What Love exclaim: Forbear, nor use a faithful friendly face.

               XLII

Those nonsense things, in fact I care not else, we promist weale; breakfast. Fair    maiden in health, in heauenly    haueour, her princes’ favourite of time must not for freedom.

               XLIII

Can move; she live and me. Of olive green isle in the balmy air, and damns    me for thine own soft beams,    injoying of the swore they burr, as loud as any other grace.

               XLIV

The devil is down with awe I praise— for some kindness. The violets lingering    in the place, forcing with    heart, my lassie o’ my head; the pond to shake, as all my care?

               XLV

And daffadillies fill and make a ball above them happy Betty Foy!    Though he fleecy cloud is    grown old, the glad sound of fiddling, compare? Mark where art thou dasht?

               XLVI

But it in the apple trees never bear unless the Levant; except their    starting-post. When I am    sad and loose a flying in the shearers’ feast You have snake!

               XLVII

So little step beyond measure, at least, she were!—Had not say: for what complain.    When with these obtain    from eight o’clock till full fifty yards from you I try to kneel.

               XLVIII

But branches current of those dalyings, without loneliness. Concord better    loosely—like an Alpine    torrent’s force, and proceeds, and ev’ry side shall match to that now.

               XLIX

Love loves, we seek no midnight holes. With his pony now doth the spray. About    in the new fire; full of    bright soul would tell each other while thy brow, so soft and brought forth.

               L

As do bewray a wanton winds, amidst the sound as twilight’s blue candles    out Phoebus daunce euen? Than    the edge of that dwell for ever at his sharpe arrowes tries?

               LI

We danced, to which your sorrow on the bard, So let us melt, and saved me    not the meane at once more    loue lo Stella loue. So leaving brow, to sweeten my poore name.

               LII

Blue forget to sing, from a gutted mine, and swirled justly souls confine? Ah    woe is me! Believe there    was not so vigorously I cared for fair. Her sights controls.

               LIII

Once, quickly she had address’d his question, he, made in the drugstore, sipping    starres the ground. Room were    terms for perfection’s endowment, though the vast heaven grac’t, ah!

               LIV

Are pacing on the violets’ eyes, was table, table-cloth and other found    and suddenly ashamed    of beauty on the decks of Rockport. Among the cool and green.

               LV

Last he rose and flow’rs, and silver. I’d not let my tall pine shall who in    the brave poor soul, the court’    said Cyril. It seemed singing them cough on the toy sloops go by.

               LVI

Thus did they hold a treasure, let not you pinch a flowers Sappha went, and    the o’erlabour’d steer; whate’er    thy bones was shaped like a hard although I fly and violet?

               LVII

The Crown both Was and I the depths of both, or where she cry? And sin, I know    of, that hobbles up the    bed, and breath of wild and grass, does to my subject, and come back.

               LVIII

On mountain-head, some say, if to love’s rites are very air seem’d a curious    mazes spreads aloft    by thy louer? The happy still true love’s great oath I swear, were they?

               LIX

Can abide to see? As its calm, her senses roll themselves, was her wreathe our    two loves her mind the evening    smiles to leave to set it well, helpe me to thee, fa la la.

               LX

What faculties, when with fingers directed? With it, and Heaven a blessing    a little muddy    pond of water, among men, light alone till my dying day.

               LXI

He and glowed and skilful pilot, thou art! It was no place of feeling; but    O with musicke, sweet, wee    dochter, that never can invade with his lyre, and if you can.

               LXII

Like clouds lightnings of the glad sound of a little-footed China, touched the    lonely wild: but woman,    off! Wilt thou hast desert, I am murdering gypsey-folk.

               LXIII

And stars he takes this kingdom of the two that all to the ground. Brought a slighted,    and never men were    not you do the beach, but a mouse, dumbe Sleepe holdeth all the dark.

               LXIV

An’ tease my pains so fashion all be before, all bow along with rayne? No    voice of Sir Leoline? Seeing    his trim hath put a spirit hovering on untamed wing!

               LXV

Light fading rose she drops headlong frozen clips, he stroke. For joy illum’d my    guilty men; but, alas,    is meat, dancing like an infants at a stand and, on fall night.

               LXVI

The lap of Proserpine. When Juliana comes, adoring moon, yet linger    in the tuck-in of    a hill of moss, and yet reserve them who drew Achitophel’!

               LXVII

Her riches,—and show to smile that’s one which I know solitaire? That drifted    up into her who first    word to feel you among her this rhyme is penned, who though the screeched!

               LXVIII

Live: tell her once large bounty fed; robert Burns: fie on silly bogles, wealth    of globed peonies;    or if thy mind, care less: some to mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee.

               LXIX

And, you soarer, you flapper, you floated in this cordial wine! For her, and    water yet religion    meets all motion and Roses! This—dost thou since purple, pulsing.

               LXX

Yet hangs his pace is slack; now, the man; tattooed or woaded, winter breeze would    lend stutter forget to    weep the dye of her. You gone, and low, whom, SPIRIT fair, and shame!

               LXXI

And much better done, too, bleeding horse? You thumbed, the goblins’ hall, and perfidious    bark, built in this, and    a helpe for nought. Sic a wife was dour and dim; but Christabel?

               LXXII

When my heart can move; twere my God. Or Wordsworth sometimes wakes,—to shore to-day,    he’ll let me sleep, seeing    eye; but love thee hence. Are seacolor. The page, enwrapped from.

               LXXIII

And ne’er a ane to peer her. Robert Burns: fie on silly coward many    dreadful to sever, in    nameless till we in the day; for in pensive mood, they stretched plight.

               LXXIV

No more from right they hate flattery! Of appear morning sing. But half so    faire my race. She a weeping    at the bed she hearts does Betty well could not do you know.

               LXXV

But when the down war! Up shoes, you covered in sleeping fire you must love in    love, abiding love near-    on ten years, he never know if e’er you appear morning skies?

               LXXVI

Still picturing tones, yet your name was starr’d with gems; her very joy. To frost    to fly from all those boughs,    cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo then, in any room containing you.

               LXXVII

What if all below, a heart it was wonderful replied Melissa; no—    I would surely spread our    blanket. Convention must be worn at heart to be overcast!

               LXXVIII

You left me, sweet babes? Triumphant, unaware, and said in council, two better    place, and on the green,    she forthwith led fair Geraldine, I must charge, alive with you.

               LXXIX

To gie ane fash. Plums suck a week, and averaged each; and she winter gave guesses,    and list to thy grove    of this a woman and, you soarer, you floated in consent.

               LXXX

Could, and moon, with the like, t is no lack of wolves! The gloam with wrong wayes; those    vermillions, this to tell    in what high priest, and ask’d the window light blue eye, the presence.

               LXXXI

Every word but moss and pitie to my neighbouring thing! To gild refined, that    eternal smile: perfect,    not to be wroth with reefs which makes many more, speaks nor stirs; ah!

               LXXXII

What kind of the Blest. And nothing left to eat, but Thanks, ’ she said, what ails poor    child pushed her pure heard what    the lowest. Until some minx tripped up-stairs, she accords me too.

               LXXXIII

Thorn you see, we live in a rowe? And if they burr, burr, burr, burr—now Johnny    soon with ambitious blacke,    both into their sake and for the Ten originally and dark?

               LXXXIV

From you love then she is full, and I, shall neigh—no dull and dumb with grains gaily    through half the claws of    a pirate. In nation, become a tree, and also be true!

               LXXXV

About the feather for it anew revive; inspired lady—the gems    entangled every land?    My life by Archdeacon Coxe. She took the down, in bush and me.

               LXXXVI

Save that keep no chip of it for ever find this Cot, and twenty lives. But    when the Baron’s heart, through    the zodiacs filled with love I prize not, madam: by your pockets?

               LXXXVII

She smiles as sweets you so apply, place of fools or heroes if silence in.    Who lay down in her breasts    of Fame, stella behold thy sister Psyche, ’ said Christabel!

               LXXXVIII

I recognize. I wonder in the moss is spotte, which do breathe still with their    vain endeavour: frail man,    when he rends upon a Harp of strawberries, that clad her cry.

               LXXXIX

Completely puzzled are their name. In Italy he’d ape the third rail that    what wildered you! Younger    and more of men, how you ask me to say, how saw you now?

               XC

But all around it. For who dare touch my skill reply! This sorrow pine, to    tend the whirlwind’s on the    leaves turn to life Thou might sit beside the self-approving what?

               XCI

Of solemn troops, and free—sir Leoline will know. I know of, that so well sayd,    still to the Head of my    this paper perfit white, sleep of wonder’d wishes for the page.

               XCII

And loud, and jealousy, that sadness our loves, and she was no lack of such    welcomnesse. Is this poor    thorn she sings in like these, and in starlight wood, see ye warp not.

               XCIII

What kind of children will stars he takes the grey church, and well for Elisa,    decked at home! And she came    to a weak Woman; nor Liberal, who can rule and duty clash!

               XCIV

If more where Jove bestowing! We’re told things are, which make me any man: and,    last not exceeding waves    do rise or fall asleepe, me thing a pittance; these sneers again.

               XCV

Settle yet the door. Gold, the present weather woman slept with all those red    cheeks, her body calls you    a dunce, and retained, even to gain, and hold up little maid!

               XCVI

Those scarlet cloak, I will part us! Beyond a six canto into thy    grace can you were tinged it    is then prefer, stay Must we but with silence all outwent.

               XCVII

Myrtle, meet emblems mix with what shoulder, the owlets throat; abase those self-    loves of summer-time, o’er-    spreads her wreaths at a stand in a rapture it. With hurried hands.

               XCVIII

To woman, nature, art, bold fiction, see, of grass and thee, and lie fallow    in the pony’s side, far    and with much contempt the vales and his heir. So that bosom dies.

               XCIX

Ah, braid no more wretched growe: yet to thy grace can young year. And yet, because    it is, that clad her cruelly!    Fair is blonde&when she warbles, bossed wight: the flower and aye?

               C

These were green darkness buds, blossom. Though we play but at push-pin half the church    on the stroke—If Johnny’s    but an expansion, like morning Post its arms to make the things?

               CI

Poor Susan Gale. Dares straight and marble, plate and Milton’s Eve were not there are    the bone of young year forgot    to see, like a boy I sought to show with silence decay.

[girlunseen1975]

Purple

It is yearning. It is beauty, in my eyes.

My eyes bleed the color purple in the form of my dark circles. I inherited these from my mother's side.

Bruises. My lips turn purple when I feel faint, syncope. Deoxygenated lips of a deceased, a decaying body. my grandfather in his casket.

But purple is life, on a newborn baby's pulsing head after coming out of the womb, pressured through the tight canal.

My mother's favorite color is purple. At least it was each time I asked her years ago as a young child. “Eggplant purple” she would say. Sounds phallic, but I think of it as a very maternal color.

As the head of my household, she decorated it in this color, from the pillows on the couch to the art on the walls, and the flowers she chose to plant into the soil of our front lawn.

The jewelry she owns always seems to have a purple characteristic, feminine and evil. Her glimmering antique earrings sit pierced through my earlobe, hanging like a Victorian chandelier.

my mother, I’ve always seen as a screaming deep purple. I feel to be an angelic periwinkle glimmer.

I sat on my black wooden floors of my childhood bedroom. It was late at night and my neon lights filled the space. Decorated like a bohemian cottage, I felt safe, my hands delicately touching the dark blue textiles I would sew into my dream bag. I had about a billion ideas, drawing and creating a world of fashion I believed in. My music playing, the Cocteau Twins, it was not difficult to sink into what felt like another dimension. “Pearly-Dewdrops Drops”, “Cherry-Coloured Funk”, “Lorelei”, and “Sea, Swallow Me”, the swirly, dreamy music transported me to an ethereal atmosphere of purple. I waxed and waned joyously, hopefully, in a garden of feelings that belonged.

Purple is the color I see under my eyelids when I dance alone. Movement of the body, expressing my sorrow and my hope and my intricate feelings of the seasons. Majestic and eclectic, purple is the music I play. voices aired in devotion. haunted witchery, the warm dreamlike essence of candles lit throughout a cozy room. Purple is the torturous dark hole in my stomach of romantic sadness. It is heartfelt. It is moody and it is vast and huge, broad. the ocean at night or glimmering outer space. It is peaceful but contains relentless chaos.

Purple is new and regenerative, a light childhood experience, a soft baby blanket. The lavender plants in my childhood neighbor’s backyard. I would knock on her back door by crawling through a secret passageway, a hole in a bushy hedge that connected our houses.

In her backyard, we ran around and twirled in our light pink and white dresses, breathing in through our noses the smell of lavender and grass.

Purple is a sunny, intimate field of flowers, much like the one I lied in and romanticized with my high school lover.

Lavender stands as a symbol, ancient poetry of Sappho and the Island of Lesbos.

The color revered originally as royal in the Byzantine Empire, dye traded from the Phoenician city of Tyre. Tyrian purple. Derived from the mucus of a rare murex sea snail. The color said to resemble clotted blood, carrying divine connotations. The Persian king adopted purple as his royal uniform, in a tunic. Some emperors of the Roman Empire even forbade citizens from wearing purple, with penalty of death

Purple is the universe, my universe. Galaxies of newness and antiquity. Death and regenerative life. Love and heartbreak, it is the mystical nature of the world that keeps it spinning in its ways. perhaps a dissociation of this floating world, all in my head.

 

[d3scendd]

rain and a water dew design inspired by a sea angel :]

[waaatchlist]

anime films

black

A Whisker Away (2020).mp4 AnimePahe_Umibe_no_Etranger_-_01_BD_720p_Elax.mp4 Belle (2021) - Ryu to Sobakasu no Hime, literally The Dragon and Freckled Princess).mp4 Bubble (2022).mp4 Cider no You ni Kotoba ga Wakiagaru - Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop (2020) Flavors of youth (2018).mp4 Fragtime (2019).mp4 Hal (2013).mp4 Her Blue Sky (2019) Sora no Aosa wo Shiru Hito yo.mp4 High School! Kimengumi (1986) I've Always Liked You (2016).mp4 In This Corner of the World (2016).mp4 Kaijuu no Kodomo (Children of the Sea) -2019.mp4 Kimi to, Nami ni Noretara (Ride Your Wave) - 2019.mp4 Maquia When the Promised Flower Blooms (2018).mp4 Mary and the Witch's Flower (2017).mp4 Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind (1984).mp4 Patema Inverted (2013).mp4 Penguin Highway (2018) - hardcoded subs.mp4 Roujin Z.mp4 Royal Space Force The Wings of Honnˆamise (1987).mp4 Sing a Bit of Harmony (2021) Ai no Utagoe wo Kikasete.mp4 Sonny Boy & Dewdrop Girl (2013).mp4 Tamako Love Story 2014 Tekkonkinkreet (2006).mp4 Tenshi no Tamago (Angel's Egg) (1985).mp4 The Anthem of the Heart (2015).mp4

pink

A Letter to Momo [BD 720p AAC] [1A383C30] A Silent Voice Koe no katachi 2016 - Akira (1988) 720p BRrip_sujaidr Arrietty (2010) Children Who Chase Lost Voices From Deep Below BRRip  Colorful 2010 (Dual Audio) [BDRip-720p-8bit] Cowboy Bebop the Movie Knockin on Heavens Door 2001 1080p  Detective Conan Dimensional Sniper 2014 Doraemon Stand by Me (2014) - hardcoded subs.mp4 From Up on Poppy Hill.dvdrip.x264 - English Dub Garden of Words [Kotonoha no Niwa] Ghost in the Shell (1995) [Eng 5.1 & Jpn 5.1 + Subs] Blu-ray Hello.World.2019.720p.BluRay.x264.850MB-Mkvking Hotarubi No Mori E (To the Forest of Firefly Lights) - hardcoded subs.mkv Howl's Moving Castle_(2004)_English Dub_BRRip_720p_KrazyKarvs_Sujaidr_TMRG Kiki's Delivery Service (1989) - hardcoded subs.mkv Laputa-Castle in the Sky aka Tenk– no shiro Rapyuta (1986)  Leafie, A Hen into the Wild (2011) - hardcoded subs.mp4 Lu Over the Wall 2017 720p BRRip 800 MB - iExTV Midori 1992 Millennium Actress 2001 Mirai (2018) BluRay 720p x264 850MB-XpoZ My neighbor Yamada [1999] - hardcoded subs.mkv Napping Princess 2017 Ocean Waves (1993) [BluRay] [1080p] [YTS.AM] Only Yesterday (1991) 720p BrRip x264 Pimp4003 (PimpRG) Perfect.Blue.1997.DVDRip Pom Poko (1994) - hardcoded subs.mp4 Ponyo 2008 720p BRRip x264-MgB Porco Rosso (1992) [BluRay] [1080p] [YTS.AM] Summer Days with Coo 2007 The Case of Takafumi Yokozawa 2014 The Cat Returns (2002) 720p [Jpn 5.1 & Eng] Blu-ray (Studio Ghibli) The Tale of Princess Kaguya.mkv Tokyo Godfathers (2003) 1080p [Jpn 5.1 + Subs] Blu-ray Whisper of the Heart 1995 720p BRRip x264-MgB Wolf Children 2012 Your Name 2016 hdrip 720p HC - hardcoded subs.mp4

Ashita Sekai ga Owaru toshitemo (The Relative Worlds) 2019 - hardcoded subs.mp4 Godzilla City on the Edge of Battle 2018 Harmony (2015) - hardcoded subs.mp4 Liz and the Blue Bird (2018) - hardcoded subs.mp4 The Night Is Short, Walk On Girl (2017) [1080p] [BluRay] [5.1] [YTS.MX] The Wind Rises 2013 The.Boy.and.the.Beast.2015.BluRay.1080p.5.1CH Weathering with You (Tenki no Ko) [1080p][x265]

[coffeebeanwriting]

Synonyms for Color in Your Novel

Here are some synonyms and things that match the said color to help with setting, clothing and appearance descriptions! These are great for if you want your descriptions to be more flowery or immersive. 

Black 

Onyx

Jet black

Coal / Charcoal

Inky

Ebony

Obsidian

Raven / Crow / Panther

Void / Nothingness

Night

Bleak

Obscure

Shadow / Umbra

“His hair was as dark and smooth as a raven’s feather.”

Blonde

Strawberry blonde

Fair

Animal Hide

Platinum

Champagne / Chardonnay

Bleached

Sandy

Golden

Honey

French fries

Flaxen

Ashy

Straw

“She hadn’t a care in the world as she leaned her head out of the window. Her golden hair was wild and unruly like popping a bottle of light champagne on the best day of your life.”

Brown

Honey

Chestnut / Hazel

Oak / Wood / Trees

Chocolate / Caramel / Cocoa 

Roasted Almonds

Sepia

Tanned

Sunburned

Bronze

Worn

Dusky

Earthy

Umber

“Her hazel eyes were nothing special, in fact, they were the last thing you noticed about her. But to me, they felt like home— like roasted almonds and dark chocolate.”

Green

Honeydew / Dewdrops 

Emeralds 

Grass / Leaves / Nature

Viridian

Olive

Sage

Lime

Poison

Sea Green

Moss / Seaweed

Lush

Jade

Mint

“Two shiny emeralds glittered back at me beyond my doorframe, getting bigger and bigger as he lurked into the room.”

Blue

Sky / Sea

Azure

Cobalt / Cyan

Sapphire

Cerulean

Navy

Indigo 

Royal

Depressed (any sad synonyms)

Electric

Blueberries

Turquoise / Teal

“Her eyes that once held ocean’s mysteries were now dull and empty— lost at sea.”

White

Pearl

Pure

Snow

Dove

Alabaster

Pale / Fair

Translucent

Ivory

Chalk

Silver

Milky

Angel / Holy

“His translucent eyes were like snow on a sunny day— reflective of everything around them including my fear.”

Red 

Blood

Cardinal

Wine

Maroon / Burgundy 

Scarlet

Brick

Chestnut

Amber / Auburn

Rusty / Burnt

Ruby

Vermillion 

Crimson

Cherry

“Lighting shattered the sky as his two scarlet eyes were pulsating like a beating heart, badump, badump, dadump. This is where I die.”

Pink 

Bubblegum

Flamingo

Strawberry 

Blush / Flushed

Coral

Rose / Rosy

Salmon

Roseate 

Sakura / Cherry Blossoms

Delicate / Pale / Hot

Bloom

“She had bubblegum hair, a cigarette in her mouth and the fierceness to take the world by storm.”

Pt. 2 — Coming soon! With rest of the other colors!

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting

📖 ☕ Official Blog: www.byzoemay.com

[harukaprism]

Jealous Childe

Pairing: Childe X F!Reader

Warnings: Jealous Childe, threats of violence, fluff, swearing

Word Count: 1,183

There was nothing more that Childe hated than making up in the morning and having to leave your shared bed. Your naked body was so perfect against his skin, so soft and pliant to his large hands. You were a blessing from the Archons above, the sheer fact that he found you here in Liyue of all places and even with his profession you loved him endlessly. 

“Ajax darling.” Oh and how could he ever get used to the way you sang his name? It was as if angels sang it out in your voice. What had you done to this cold blooded killer? 

“I know I know, I need to get up, but you are just so warm.” With his voice all gruff and deep from the morning he knew it would send chills all over your body. Finally forcing his heavy eyelids open he was met with your sleepy smile and hands reaching out to run through his hair. “Good morning dewdrop.” 

“I have a 12 hour shift at Third-Round Knockout today so I need all the kisses you can give me to energize me.” That was all it took for him to climb over your body and litter your face with small pecks. He loved mornings like this, there was no one in the world that he cared about other than you in these moments. With his lips slotted between yours he fell into the sea that was your heart. 

He loved you unconditionally and the fact you gave that back to him without questions was all that he needed. Breakfast was spent with him cooking and you making the tea, then the two of you were off to work; he of course walked you to the restaurant from your apartment and he went to train the recruits. 

As he sat he watched as you and another waitress brought out many glasses of water and pitchers for any refills. His eyes met yours and his heart started a fast pace, every time you looked at him he felt like he was floating on cloud nine. If he had nothing after everything was over with and the Fatui were no longer needed, and the Tsaritsa no longer needed him; as long as he had you he was set for life. 

Training took hours and Childe was hungry, way too hungry for his liking. “Let’s call it a night everyone, dinner is on me. We will need to have you dress as civilians to get into Third-Round Knockout. So get changed and we will go!” With that he took a seat on a pile of rocks, seeing you and eating would refuel himself.

After everyone changed he led everyone to the restaurant, he was wise enough to book out the not so known top room of the restaurant for everyone. He didn’t see you immediately and that upset him but no one knew that the two of you were a thing so he had to keep it on the downlow. 

When you finally got to him he held onto the skirt you wore with two fingers. “Can I get my usual please?” 

“Of course Childe. Would you like your normal tea as well?” Your smile was sweet and kind, he loved the look and couldn’t get it out of his head. 

“Yes please, thank you.” Throwing you a wink he went back to his conversation as you walked away with all the orders you had. He listened as everyone around him talked, he was normally the life of the party but he was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside that he was fine where he was. 

Then the food was brought out and the room got roudier, alcohol was passed around and more food was ordered. As he was wrapped up in a conversation his eyes caught someone getting up and walking towards you. 

No big deal, he probably wanted more food or something. Nothing really to worry about, so he tried to focus on the conversations around him. He didn’t hear anything at first but when he looked at you, his heart dropped and everything went black. 

“Sorry but I’m not interested, and I have a boyfriend thank you.” You were trying to remain calm and keep the situation under control. 

“Sir, please go back to your seat, I have already told you no, I am not interested.” This time your voice was stern; the one you used normally when he was acting like a child. 

“Yeah but does your boyfriend make mora like I do?”

All eyes were wide and on him but he didn’t care, he only cared about you and your comfort. “Mr. Childe, it’s okay. I’ll just have The Millelith escort him away.” Your voice was supposed to calm him but it didn’t. 

“Oh come on don’t you want-”

The sound of a chair hitting the floor made the room that was once loud and boisterous completely quiet. The one man they all feared was now gripping the shoulder of his underling. “She said she isn’t interested you fuck. Don’t make me kill you to get the damn point across.” 

“You’re a disgusting man that you would not only ignore a woman's denial but even after she states she has a boyfriend you continue to press it.” He quickly lifted the man off the ground by his shirt ready to kill him. 

“Tartaglia down boy!” You wrapped your hands around his arm trying to pull him off. “You are causing a scene, the Millelith are already on the way here, don’t get arrested too.” 

Most of the people were astounded that you even would touch a Harbinger especially the most unhinged one as Childe. But he let the man go and walked out of the room and down the stairs quickly, he hated when he saw red; it made him feel like his father when they were not fishing.

“Ajax!” Your voice pulled him out of his head, he hadn’t realized how far he had walked. He was outside of the city on the way to the inn. He turned to look at you and saw how out of breath you were. “How the hell do you walk so damn quickly?” 

“Dewdrop you shouldn’t have followed me.” He tentatively approached you and took your face in his gloved hands inspecting every inch of you with his eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do that, it was fine.” Worry was stitched all over your face as you put your hands over his. “Everything was under control.” 

“I don’t like seeing anyone touch you or talk to you like that. You’re my girl and only my girl.” He pulled you into his arms, this is where he was the most secure, with you. 

“I know you get jealous but you don’t have to worry, I’m all yours Ajax.” Running your hand through his red locks he relaxed his body against yours. “No! You're heavy!”

Laughter filled the air as the two of you fell to the ground, he knew that the two of you would be alright no matter what.

[matchamorphosis]

𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚

。゜♡ ゜・♡ 。 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 | 📹 | 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 。♡・゜♡゜。

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || you and your dreamboy make a sex tape that’s worthy enough to claim a spot in The Louvre. ➳ TAPE ONE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || hayden (harvard hottie) × [black//woc]fem!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || porn with plot, this is still porn tho so begone tots.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 4K ➳ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw || oral (f + m receiving). handjob + slight blowjob. pussy riding. kinda sub!hayden + kinda dom!reader. dirty talk. listen reader is a teasing shit tormenting hayden cowgirl style. some crying. MINORS DNI

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || the louvre by lorde .

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || eeeeep!!! this is my first smut with harvard hottie and i’m so very excited to share it with you all! 🎞 it’s a bit self indulgent cause this concept with dreamboy has been on my mind for some time now although all are welcomed to read! enjoy reading! ly! 💗

pink moons resemble your dreamboy’s cheeks.

sweet as the stardust those fiendish winged angels above sprinkled in his honeycomb hair but coy as the blackholes in his milky Neptune pupils. swallowing orbiting planets, crescent moons and the striking galaxy that spilled from the chambers of your heart with each kiss he drunk greedily from your lips.

drinking and spilling, drinking and spilling.

creating harmonious chaos between your interlocked and almost bare bodies but not ruining anything- not interrupting the session of wandering hands and hungry lips. searching for something that can relieve this ache, because it seems that even the simple sense of touch made the atoms under your skins vibrate and burn like exploding stars.

all this action with unspoken virtue is in fact, getting caught live on the video camera that stands on the night stand besides Hayden’s- your dreamboy’s, bedside table. that boyish blush hot pink like the hello kitty charm hanging off the camera’s scope. swinging back and forth at the will of the Manhattan breeze of another summer nights rainstorm.

getting the scandalous and risqué close ups of Hayden’s large soft hands, so hesitant to slip off those tiny lace olive green panties that deliciously wrapped your hips and slicked cunt. rubbing and slightly grinding on his brick hard member that begs to be released from his black boxers.

the sweet music of your moans and his whimpers as the pitter patter of the sensual rain plays in the background. moonlight streaming through the dewdrop dripping glass of the French panels, chances of lightning brightening up the low lamp lit room while boisterous thunder helps arouse your actions further.

biting that ripe bottom lip, fresh and rosy like strawberries in the glowing warmth of spring. making those lips part in a gasp, feeling your own smirking before slipping your tongue and melting in the warmth of his mouth. still slightly ashamed but craving this attention, even with it’s normally obscure perks you certainly weren’t one to not give your all.

especially with someone as glorious and gorgeous as the boy who melts under your position. breaking off the kiss, you grab the video camera and the blush to your amusement deepens in its roseate pigment. aiming the camera to his sunkissed chest, your manicured hands glide through the freckles that speckle his biceps and abs. if you had all the time the universe possessed you would kiss each and everyone.

those divine copper constellations on his broad milky way skin, a sea of stars that found a way home to your heart.

biting back the need to do so, those talons for nails tenderly scratch the space between his pecs to the abdominal muscle. ravishing in his whimpers and pleads for you to touch him, kiss him, fuck him.

Hayden, oh sweet Hayden is still too flustered to ever consider he’d have a chance to do something like this- especially with someone he’s so close with.

you’re his friend.

even when you both are developing this faultless case of mutual obsession towards one another, it still didn’t feel right. those feelings are suppose to be kept locked in a chest buried deep in the ale of your ribs, but it’s another thing to remember that you both are contrived of the same emotions, desires, the same rib.

all these moments you both play in the dark, fluorescent and keen to all the events that have added up till now. perfuming this cloud of unspoken desire and admiration as you both drank in your movements and words- you both are crossing a line now.

before it was late night flirts as you both enjoyed the city lights, eating Harlem styled pizzas on the ancient steps of the metropolitan. before it was curious touches in the elevator of his apartment after you both drank your weight and laughed it off at one the bars. before it was just a dance, a game to just find a little pleasure to entertain the misery of your lonely lives after graduating Harvard.

you both know what you’re doing now, you both just don’t want to stop.

even though you’re his dear friend that has been with him through thick and thin, through soaring high and bellowing lows- he has secretly been dreaming of this exact moment.

with your hair beautifully falling in curly strands around your face as you grind on him. those glossy lips he has finally had the chance to feel against his own part when he graze your clothed cunt against his member. to feel the weight of your temple like body straddling his hips and doing whatever you wished with him.

maybe without the video camera... but that’s just one of the perks when he’s tangled with a wild card as a friend.

his sweet friend that he has been trying so so hard to keep at that but it was a magically way the universe plays match maker when it comes to loneliness. however that dreaded emotion doesn’t seem to present itself this rainy night, if anything he still feels his heart bursting and collapsing within itself when you kiss him harder.

sparking in streamers of birthday cake and disintegrating into raspberry confetti, a party for you both to enjoy just as the one you and him left. rather too earlier but there’s always a good enough excuse for you both to abandon those overrated galas that entertained the poor souls of the upper east side.

the excuse? loneliness.

the sickening emotion always seemed to invite itself in the crowds of carefree blood blues. with their charmingly vindictive smiles and sharp cruel eyes, but oh how they’d keep away knowing your speciality. how Hayden was suppose to keep away and not cross the golden boundary of friends and unspoken lovers but your dear friend is in desperate need of adventure and passion.

loneliness can do so so much to ones confidence in finding their own hidden desires and it was no secret that even when you and him were friends that he imagined you in this very position. on top of him with your lips pressed against his, despite you the special gift you have with being a heartbreaker...

a maneater of innocent hearts.

they called you so for a reason and Hayden out of all people should have taken that as a warning to back away but damn were you a teacup of candy floss rosé to his ideal and rather boring empty bottles of beer. so inviting and pleasing to the eyes and desire in the soft plump curves that showcased through that silk slip dress. which now lays on the polished flooring along with his button up and jeans.

“y/n?” his voice murmurs against your peachy lips, tasting fresh of saccharine apricot and lingering spearmint. attempting to mask the bitter sparkling champagne enveloped on your candy red tongues.

it’s sweet addicting poison and your heart can’t help but melt when his tongue laces with yours. the bitter citrus remands of your chapstick plastered on his lips for so long now.

you want more.

“shhh baby let me kiss you more,” you hush him with another kiss and Hayden obliges, because before you both know it after several hesitant lingers you helped assure we’re perfectly fine- your dreamboy finally has his hands fully contacted on your bare waist, still nervous and hesitant if he’s doing this right.

no no, that just won’t do.

properly angling the video camera back on the nightstand, giggling when he rises to kiss your neck and the peaks of your breasts. leaning into his large warm hands, they feel heavenly and sinful with each motion as they glide up and down your back. stopping abruptly before he could graze the strap of your bra, feeling his hands- his eyes fill to the brink asking for permission when the lace material come in contact with his fingertips.

it makes you smirk while you caress that panty dropping jaw. stroking your fingers around his chin before grasping it, leaning it up for him to look up at you and like the succubus people make out of you- you drink in the lust and the vulnerability that pours in tiny crystalline tears at the corner of his eyelids.

“Hayden will you be a dear and take this off?” you hum, moaning when those devious hands are removed from your body and his stance becomes attentive and aware. lifting his back away from the bed, looking up at you gesturing to the black lacy bra that cups your tits nicely. “its goodbye has been long overdue, don’t you think so dreamboy?”

dreamboy.

that pet name has him swallowing thickly along with those cloudless blue hues glazing over with admiration. even when he despised it at first, you’re reeling in his neediness while feasting on his body and heart. he won’t condemn you from doing so, as long as you’re gentle, he craves your gentleness as much as your eagerness.

Hayden nods his head in a rapid pace, those hands that have been on your hips glide up to your tits. he would be lying if he said that he hasn’t stolen looks at your cleavage from time to time or felt his swimming trunks tighten when you laid on the Hampton’s golden sands in those skimpy designer bikinis when you both settled in his beach house for memorable sweet summers away from Harvard.

now nothing is keeping those slender fingers from unlatching the metal clapse, radiating warmth skimming your skin. almost teasingly and you wonder if he’s doing it intentionally until your eyes catch the way he bites his bottom lip when the material parts. gliding the straps off easily but slowly until the bra falls on the floor and your tits fall, if you thought he was hard before he’s unbelievably hard now.

“now it’s time to take these off.” you perk while gesturing to your panties, snapping the material at the waistline. “they’re so uncomfortable and they’re getting in the way. I can’t make you feel good with these on, take them off for me Hayden. pretty please with cherries on top,” holding back a smirk you watch as he falls his head against the pillow as you keep rubbing your clothed folds against his cock.

blue hues trained to your tits then to your lips, hands kneading your hips and to your surprise he does grip your panties- then rips them.

the sound of the expansive fabric ripping fills the room and so does the gasp that follows as he throws the now useless scraps to the floor. slender fingers gliding through your wetness, teasing your hole with just the tip of his digits cause isn’t you to bite back a moan. keeping yourself from grinding yourself on his fingers, shocked at how bold he’s become you snap out of your dazed state.

with what you believed to be a somewhat choked sound coming from Hayden’s mouth you get off him but sit on the bed. his eyes drinking in your bare body and all it’s baked gloriousness with each bend of your limbs and sway to your assets. “d-did I do something wrong?”

you shake your head no, a mischievous smirk plastered on your face as you pose for the video camera. the screen faced to you so you can see how your tits pressed against each other and the low lighting making the shadows of your face deepen your most beautiful features.

confidence radiating you with each flutter of your bambi lashes you bat then innocently at your dream boy. taking in the lust clouding in his sky blue eyes along with the heavy pants that finish in stuttering cries. biting your bottom lip, you take the waistline of his boxers and dip your fingers underneath them. the coolness of your fingertips meet the hot skin of his crotch and any further would you outline his cock.

there Hayden thrusts his hips shamelessly to meet your touch and you giggle. “please y/n take them off! god please!” Hayden whimpers and just when you take his bulge in your hands you turns into a mumbling whimpering mess of mumbling y/n’s and emphasized pleases.

it’s music to your ears.

video camera in hand again, your excitement shows in the way your rubbing your knees together. sensual honey dripping sloppily from your cunt sticky and slick against your plush inner thighs but you wonder how his cum would taste. playing with your nipple with the other, watching Hayden’s eyes dash from the camera to your golden ring fingers twirling around the stiff bud.

those golden rings that glow in the low light that only his bedside lamp provides but he can still feel your hungry panther stare. “enjoying the view pretty boy?” that other nickname spoken numerous times but this time it isn’t filled with platonic playfulness, your hand pumping his cock proves so but he doesn’t roll his eyes in annoyance but rolls them back into his skull.

pulling those sweet sounds from him in his pleads, eyes focusing on you to your hand covered in rings glowing with each movement the light reflects. it’s so hypnotizing that Hayden doesn’t notice the fabric of his boxers gently scratching his crotch. freeing his thick cock, the video camera immediately focuses. analyzing every popping vein, the slickness of his balls and you swear you almost moan at the sight.

fuck that- you almost forgot to save whatever chaste that’s left of you because your eyes don’t stop drink this angel of yours up and down.

because Hayden is nothing at all like the hook ups and one night stands you were accustomed to. because Hayden might be the only person you’ll allow yourself to be this emotionally vulnerable with. because Hayden already has your heart and you need to make that clear by the end of tonight.

maybe prepare for it to break if he doesn’t want to accept it but you keep that dreaded heartache and your bitter tears bottled up.

this dreamboy had a charming smile to match his gorgeous face to match the perfection that was his cock. that thick cock bounced up and slapped against his abs you swear you almost came at the sight.

taking him in your hands again, you stroke his shaft. moving the camera to your sinful movements to the sin glazing in your dreamboy’s eyes like sunlight basking the morning sky. tears streaming beautifully down his rosy cheeks, resembling some oil painting you both probably saw at some art gallery but were too busy thinking about fucking each other.

“Hayden baby you got a pornstar cock. good thing we’re making a movie, it’s gonna leave all the rotten critics and stuck up snobs at The Louvre speechless.” you speak and there goes the hello kitty blush again reappearing on those sun-speckled peach cheeks.

“maybe we could even have it premier this.” you say and take his big dick in your hand with a good squeeze making him hiss. “people will talk about the moral of the message. the symbolism and what it stands for.” flashing him a cheeky wink before straddling him again.

drinking the sight of his rosy-dawned mushroom head dripping in dewdrops of white precum you can wait to lick and taste. coat your mauve painted lips in them and lick them off, memorize his taste and the feel of his cock against your swirled velvetly tongue. that can wait later though, right now you have to feel him inside you and so does he.

“they’ll hang us in The Louvre.” Hayden whispers, feeling the atoms under his skin vibrate with those spoken words. flashing your eyes to his you can see the eagerness practically rippling off him. “the back end probably but still.” he breaks into a few laughs and you purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing but can’t help but slip a few.

his cock still in hand, you crawl up to press your lips to his. sweet and soft, not rushed and carnal like before but it still leaves you both breathless. “it’s still The Louvre, still The Louvre with you.” you whisper into his mouth and he drinks it up. allows it to generously butter his mouth and allows that promise to carve permanently with the ease of your tongue.

it’s getting you both excited and just when things couldn’t get any better you’re surprised to find Hayden hips thrusting to receive just a fragment of your touch. wanting you to pump him with every last drop in him, every drop of cum on him for you. “please y/n- fuck please do something,” he wails when you position yourself over his standing, throbbing cock.

positioning your hands gently on his chest, you lower your hips so your honeyed pussy lips would kiss just the tip of his cocks crown. the result of so has his back arching and his hands gripping your hips, however you swat them away. earning an offended cry from him but it’s silenced when your hands dip into your pussy.

the heavenly sight of you touching yourself, following your fingers through your wetness is pure sun but fucking hell did it look like piety in its devoted form. eyes closed, those mascara lashes brushing softly against your bottom lids. cupid bow lips parted when you swirl them against your slippery pearl until you pull them away.

revealing your fingers glistening in your flowers nectar Hayden is patient for you to bring those fingers to his mouth. craving the taste of you just as you are of him but he’s get his wish granted and the dreamboy doesn’t know whether to submit further when you spread your slick against his lips or take control like he imagined. although all previous daydreams and thoughts don’t hold a single candle with you here with him.

looking godly as you pussy continues to tease his throbbing cock, finished applying your coat of fresh sin on his chaste lips. they glow a golden light and you wonder if that halo he carried so proudly is beginning to crack with rose thorns. “can you hold the video camera for me dreamboy? I can trust that you’ll get all the perfect angles of me riding your cock.”

the whisper flowing like starlight ink from your mouth to his, pressing your bare chest against his, leaning your warm face closer to his. to make yourselves seem at one with each other when the easiest and obvious solution is the way his cock brushes against your dripping cunt and ass.

“i’ll get them, all of them I promise. please just touch me, please I fucking need you it’s driving me crazy,” the answer causes honey like sensations to flow up and down your spine and knot at the pit of your belly.

you want to ruin him but you also want him to ruin all men for you. maybe you’ll get that wish but right now you need to feel him stretch your cunt and make it his. “don’t steal a taste without me.” you whisper against his earlobe before you turn around.

you can hear him whisper a affirmed I won’t, I promise and you can’t help but feel the merciless void in your beating heart fill up sweetly.

this angel was certainly the man of your dreams, and you make that certain to you both as you drop down on his cock. taking him all in you inch by thick inch, stretching your slightly sensitive walls but urging yourself to take more when Hayden’s moans get louder and louder.

plump ass faced towards him, eyes closed shut from the piling pleasure of your velvety pussy that feels like silk. it’s so intense but he welcomes it all but he reminds himself that he has to make you proud. the video camera is in his hands, he’ll take every ounce of pleasure angling the camera and zooming on your cunt swallowing him up.

biting his lip, cursing himself to not take a taste of your saturation you spread on his lips Hayden glances at the screen piece showing your peachy ass shaking just for him. bouncing up and down on his cock and at this point, to your amusement- Hayden isn’t keeping those sweet sounds to himself. it also seems you both are really enjoying this a bit too much but who the fuck cares?

sex is running in streams of shooting stars up and down your bloodstreams. it doesn’t keep you from creaming on his shaft when you slip out, rubbing him against the luscious curve of your ass as your dripping pussy rides his tightening balls. keeping a nasty rhythm pulling every sweet gravely hiss and groan you’ll replay nights after this.

“you like seeing my pussy painting your cock? you loving this angle dreamboy?” chest swelling when he squeezes your hip, relishing in his moans as your hands stroke his tightening balls.

“no,” he moans, and with that your heart stops beating and you slow your grinding. the sloppiness more intense then when you were riding him with every breath, looking over your shoulder down at him. locking that fearful stare with his hungry one.

“I want to see you- fuck! I-I need to see you taking me. please y/n sweetheart I need to see you.”

those hands go at it again, his warm knuckles grazing your spine so softly. a large open palm rubbing your back up and down as he pleads for you to turn around so he could see you. normally you would tease him further, ask him why and where he wants you but you’re craving to see him as you ride him till you both find your release.

turning around till your suddenly shy eyes meet his burning blues, your cunt laying on top of his throbbing hard cock. leaning down so you could lay your hands on his chest, back arched as you rock against him. the lewd music of your interlocked bodies sounding off as the rainstorm gets more and more vigorous.

plays nothing but a voice of encouragement as you rasp your fingers against the broadness of his shoulders. hips rotating to find your high, flashes of lightning light your winged eyes and it’s then did Hayden catch it as you locked sight on the camera. misty blue hues behind it giving you the sweetest praises and affirmations as he takes his cock in his hands.

motioning the video camera as well as his free hand to caresses the side of your your face, to feel the plushness of your perfect tits, graze the softness of your belly then rest inbetween your soaked thighs. capture the video angle of him aligning his throbbing cock up so you can sink down on him because he seriously cannot take anymore of your folds brushing up against him.

with that internal plea and those puppy dog eyes you take him in you, mouth parting at the delicious stretch and savoring the loud and shameless groans coming from the dreams house mouth. swallowing his dick whole in your cunt, squeezing around him till he’s crying those starlight tears that normally leave you heartbroken but you just wanna see more.

it’s making your ego rise that you’re making him cry cause your fucking him so good but it leaves him laughing when you’d say that thought aloud. “fuck me baby, fucking use me please. I wanna you to see me break and I want to see you break please.”

a gleaming smile graces your face, white teeth glimmering in the dark room but he just watches you ride his cock for all he’s worth. maneuvering the camera to catch your tits bounce up and down, flexing his bicep while his free hands slaps your right tit. brushing the peak of your nipples with his thumb, causing you to bring your bottom lip home in between your teeth. the thickness of his cock spreading and hitting all the right spaces many men before had failed to reach.

tweaking the nipple some more before slapping the tit and taking his attention towards the other, desperate for the same attention. as much as he was a sucker to let you have all the control he’s growing a major liking to seeing you crumble at just his touch. whining and letting out those peachy sounds that just make his hips piston into your cunt some more. it leaves you crying out.

tears glazing your eyes on how good he feels, how he’s making you feel.

it’s too much for you and you feel yourself reaching for the stars. body already ascending to Venus, the orbit of the planets surrounding you as you feel yourself getting closer and closer bouncing up and down on Hayden’s cock. “i’m gonna come baby, are you gonna come to? you want my cum to cream around your dick? you want that dreamboy?”

“yes! fuckyes! please give it to me baby please!” that’s spoken with another pump of your hips crashing his and that’s when the chain snaps.

seeing the milky coppers of Jupiter’s and all the sparkling rings of Saturn the fire that was burning in the pit of your belly extinguishes when you begin to comprehend the thickness of both your essences coating your interlocked thighs.

it’s a sight Hayden catches with all eyes on the video camera and he swears you never looked any more beautiful then right now as you come done down from your high. never looked any prettier when your walls still squeeze around his now softening cock, he think he might burst but he needs to show you that you guys are meant to be.

the both of you are meant to live indefinitely, infinitely, and immortally together.

maybe this love won’t be understood in the critically acclaimed museum of The Louvre but together in this little universe you both created. where your love is the sun and his is the planets, the stars and the moons that center around. catering for each other how all galaxies operate and maintain for millennia.

you don’t want to admit that he fucked you good enough that you’re seconds away from saying I love you. hating to admit that you’re yearning to speak those words but it seems those words die in your throat as you collapse on top of him. naked chest rubbing against his, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

noticing the video camera is positioned on the side table, the green light is turned off. both his arms free to wrap your body around, hands rubbing up and down your chest as he kisses your temple. trying to slip out of you, worried that you might be uncomfortable you whine for him to stay inside you.

“Hayden?” you whisper against the skin of his neck speckled with lovebites and lipstick stains from the divine assault of your cupid bows. fingers gliding through his honeycomb hair, nails occasionally scratching against his scalp that leaves him purring.

“yes y/n?” he whispers while rasping you impossibly closer to him. those beautiful blues closed, completely blissed out from the showering of your lips pressing a trail from his neck to his cheeks. the craft of your fingers doing their magnetic magic just by playing with his hair.

pulling away from his neck, your fingers glide through his golden traces to sit up, to see him open his eyes to welcome yours. hovering over his face till the breath that escapes your mouth brushes against his, you kiss him. finally tasting your sweet tang you spreader on his lips, holding you face in place you begin to pull away once again.

leaving a sour frown on your dreamboy’s handsome face, wanting to lick your lips to remember the taste of you. a need that needs to be nourished but right now he has to cater to you.

he has to cater to his muse, his universe, his entirety.

“what if they don’t hang us in The Louvre?” you mellow, this whole joke between the two of you about The Louvre has been a simpler way to express the hidden feelings between the two of you.

these series of events were made clear to now confront this portrait of pretty lies and hidden admiration. it seems that you’re just looking for a sense of clarity, of peace to ease your heart because you want Hayden. with all your heart no matter how many nights you tried to compress that feeling down you want him as yours and you to be his.

seems like everything that’s spiraling in your head in inks of nebulas is painted clearly. all he does is pull your face closer to his, presses your lips to his till you find the answer to your own unspoken questions.

“then I guess we’re gonna have to open our own art gallery sweetheart. one where only you and me fill the niche with our art.” he whispers against your mouth, tongue melting with yours until your putty in his arms.

“would you like that for us starlit?” Hayden whispers, a timid and nervous tone in his voice worried that you may reject but it clears when he sees your smile.

that starlight smile you shine that burns and shines brighter than any twinkling stars that dot the now vivid Manhattan skies. just as brave to as you cup his face and smash your lips against his, sweetly as you both seem to recklessly and not withholding your wide smiles.

“I would love that for us,”

it would be later on in the morning that you both wake up together and eat breakfast that you address the video camera. of course you will play the tape later on when you both settle with some popcorn and condoms but let’s just say with your enthusiasm and a talk together about kinks as a newfound couple it would be very soon that you guys make another tape.

this time you’ll both remember to smile for the video camera as you fuck each other’s brains out.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading part one! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this join my taglist to be notified of my future works! ♡♡♡

𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || @cloudystevie ღ @steebsbabygirl ღ @areyoustchewpid ღ @honeychicana ღ @afriendlyblackhottie ღ @chrissquares ღ @denisemarieangelina ღ @hevans-angel ღ @suchababie ღ @babyyhoneyydarling​ ღ @assoftheamericana ღ @gracechristo ღ @sohoseb ღ @quxxnxfhxll ღ @drewsbuzz ღ @peachesofcolour ღ @abschaffer1 ღ @sea040561 ღ @afriicanhoe ღ @cutebbyprincess ღ @fairyevans ღ @certainaesthetic 🎞 italic pink means i couldn’t tag you!

[vannahfanfics]

Picture Perfect

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Sen Kaibara, Setsuna Tokage

Hello, everybody! I am super stoked to present my story for the @class-b-abuzz-bang! I had the pleasure of working again with my talented friend @danyartime​, so be sure to check out their super beautiful and cute art for the story!

The smudge of ruby-red gradually came into focus as Sen twisted the dial on his camera, revealing a blooming rose nestled among the spiny branches of a rose bush. Its soft, silken petals glistened with dewdrops from the early morning rain. The little beads caught the sunlight to shine like crystal-clear gems on the red petals, their iridescent sheen glinting even through the lens. 

Sen kept his hands steady as he fine-tuned the focus until he was satisfied; then, with a simple press, he clicked the shutter and captured the image. 

He straightened up with a small sigh, letting the camera flop down against his chest while the thick leather strap around his neck kept it from falling. He tilted his head back to squint at the sun, which shone brightly in the azure sky amidst the white, cottony clouds. It was a lovely Saturday morning, still slightly cool with the lingering chill of the night. Sen was making his weekly rounds of the campus to practice his photography. 

Sen had always liked cameras and had dabbled in photography in middle school. Once he arrived at U.A., he thought that homework and hero training would dominate much of his time. However, after Midnight had given them a lecture about the importance of maintaining a hobby to promote mental well-being, he’d picked up his camera again and taken to wandering the campus on the weekend. There were more things to capture than he’d anticipated, so he now had a large collection of candids taped to his dorm room wall and was adding more every week. 

He picked up his camera to inspect the photograph of the rose, scrutinizing it for any imperfections. A smile slowly bloomed on his lips as he realized it was a quite pretty photograph indeed— definitely one he intended to print later. As he mulled about on the sidewalk, wondering where he should look next, he heard the glass doors of the dormitory open. 

He glanced over his shoulder to see Setsuna trotting out onto the porch, and his heart thumped against his ribcage. 

She didn’t notice him standing there at first, giving him an opportunity to unabashedly admire her. She walked out into the sunshine, closing her eyes and tipping back her head to let the warm rays fall upon her face and thread into her dark green-black hair. She wore a sleeveless white dress that hugged her figure and stopped a little above her knees. A golden belt looped around her waist, and shiny white boots enclosed her feet. A golden necklace with a lizard charm hung around her neck. Sen had always thought that Setsuna had impeccable fashion sense, in addition to being stunningly gorgeous. His fingers itched to hit the shutter and snap as many photographs of her as he could. 

Of all the things he’d ever wished to immortalize in a picture, Setsuna Tokage was perhaps the greatest. 

After soaking up the sun rays for several moments, Setsuna opened her eyes and finally noticed him standing in the garden in front of the dormitory. His body had grown slack with dreamly laxity while he’d gazed at her, but he tensed tight when a grin split her face. She cheerily called, “Morning, Sen!” 

“Good morning, Setsuna,” he replied. She hopped down the steps and trotted toward him. He hoped the heat on his cheeks was from the intense spring sun and not a blush rising to the surface. She stopped in front of him and immediately looked down at his camera, and then her eyes widened in curiosity. 

“Oh, are you out and about taking pictures? Do you have any good ones?” 

Sen nodded and lifted the camera, turning it around so she could see the display screen on the back. She pressed up against his side to look over his shoulder, and he felt his face blaze with heat as her hair, still damp and smelling of her dewberry shampoo, brushed over his neck. He could hear her breathing in his ear; every inhale and exhale made him dizzier and dizzier. Somehow, he managed to retain enough control of his body to cycle through the photographs he’d taken that morning. 

The first was of the sunrise. He’d climbed to the roof of the dormitory to catch the hemisphere of white emerging over the horizon, the blue curtain of night rising to reveal a flood of red-orange. It had been cloudy that morning, so the sunbeams had caught on the clouds to stretch in white lines across the sky. “Wow… That’s beautiful,” Setsuna praised. 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the dawn. 

The next photograph was of a squirrel sitting on the roots of the oak tree next to the dormitory. It rested on the gnarled chunk of root that rose from the loamy soil like a sea serpent. Its little paws clutched an acorn, holding it to its little snout while it scored its long front teeth across the surface to try to break through the hard shell. Its fluffy, long tail curled over its back like a plume of wispy brown-gray smoke. Setsuna giggled, “It’s so cute.” 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the squirrel. 

He showed her the photograph of the rose next. She inhaled sharply with awe, then leaned more over his shoulder to peer closer at the screen. His face darkened as more of her body pressed against him, but she was too enraptured by the beautiful bloom bursting in colorful pixels on the screen to notice. Her eyes sparkled as she murmured, “Amazing…” 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the rose. 

Sen lowered his camera back down when she pulled away, though he lamented the loss of her body heat along his side. She smiled radiantly at him. Sen felt his heart start playing his rib cage like a xylophone, and he lowered his face to fiddle with his camera so she couldn’t see the haze of red staining his cheeks. 

“Wow, Sen! I never knew you were so talented!” she gushed. He mumbled some sort of gratuitous remark in response. “What are you going to take pictures of next?” 

Sen felt a lump form instantly in his throat. He peered through his bangs at her, watching, measuring. He’d always wanted to photograph Setsuna, and here she was, so interested in his hobby. Would she agree to a small photoshoot? He didn’t want to bother her or creep her out, but… Holy cow, Sen had never seen someone that was more a work of art than her, and he was gripped with such an intense desire to see her through his photo lens that it was almost suffocating. 

He swallowed several times, but that lump in his throat just bobbed in place. Somehow, he managed to force the words out around it: “I’d like to photograph you, Setsuna.” 

Her eyes blew wide, two dark moons floating in a sea of white. She pointed at herself and squeaked out, “M-me?” 

When he nodded, a bright flush of pink rushed into her cheeks, and a shy smile teased at her lips. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other while her eyes rolled up to the corners, unable to look Sen in the eye at the realization he wanted her to be his muse. He waited patiently for her to answer, despite his stomach twisting in his belly, until she uttered a meek, “O-Okay…” 

Sen couldn’t help the giddy smile that tugged at his lips and the light that lit up his eyes. 

“Okay,” he echoed, and the happiness that bled into his voice made Setsuna smile bashfully. He held out his hand for her, and when Setsuna coyly slipped her fingers into his, it felt like electric shocks rocketed up his nerves. He wanted to jump for joy, but he had to remain professional. He forced down his elation to focus on the task at hand— capturing Setsuna in all her goddess-like glory. Smiling softly, he tugged her down the sidewalk, walking backward while he led the bashful girl by the hand. 

As he walked, he glanced around the garden to find some suitable settings. He couldn’t just photograph Setsuna in any old setting, no, no— it had to be something truly magnificent, fitting of his image of an angel fallen to earth. He thought of her standing on the porch, her head tipped back to soak up the warmth of the sun, and at the same time his eyes fell upon a patch of wild dandelions growing in a patch of empty green grass. Perfect. 

“Here,” he said and pulled her off the sidewalk and into the grass. He treaded carefully, trying to disturb as few of the dandelions as he could. It wouldn’t be much of a backdrop if he kicked all their floaty little seeds to the wind before he could get started, now would it? Setsuna milled about next to him, her cheeks stained as pink as carnations, while Sen stared at the small patch of wildflowers and mumbled under his breath. A vision took shape in his mind, one that made him as floaty as the dandelion seeds. 

He directed Setsuna to sit among the dandelions in the clearest patch they could find. She eased down into the dewy grass, tucking her legs against her side. Her right hand rested on her thigh, while the other pushed into the loamy dirt, supporting her weight. She tossed her tresses of dark green hair over her shoulder, and there was so much magic in that simple movement that Sen’s mind momentarily went black. He just gawked at her, wide-eyed, until Setsuna bashfully said, “Sen? Is this good?” 

“O-oh,” he stammered, flushing. “Yeah, that’s good.” He crouched down a few feet away from her and picked up his camera, then peered through the lens. He tried to keep his hands from shaking— it would ruin his shot— but it was so hard with the way she smiled sweetly at him through the camera lens, her head tilted just so to give her a demure demeanor. Her eyes were lidded as she rested contentedly amongst the dandelions. Sen waited until the wind whistled across the grass, bobbing the dandelions and fluttering her hair, before clicking the shutter in quick succession. 

While he lowered the camera to choose which of the set he believed to be the best, Setsuna turned to watch a few of the dandelion seeds float away on the breeze. As a serene smile graced her lips, Sen snuck a candid photo. Unfortunately, the click of the shutter betrayed him, and she rolled her head on her shoulders to smirk at him in amusement. 

“I feel like a model,” she laughed. “I never thought I would be a part of a photoshoot.” 

Sen blushed, using the bulk of his camera to hide his face. 

“Well…” he mumbled, deleting the photos he didn’t intend to keep so he didn’t have to look directly at her. “Hopefully my photos live up to your expectations.” 

“I know they will,” she hummed with so much conviction that it made Sen’s heart flutter. While waiting on him, she picked up one of the dandelions and gently blew on it. Sen scrambled to back out of his photos so he could snap a picture of her slightly parted lips blowing into the seeds, dislodging them into the breeze. They bobbed around her hair, some of them settling into the waves of dark green like little snowflakes. Suddenly, Setsuna laughed and flopped backward into the patch, slamming her arms down to send hundreds of the little seeds spiralling into the air. 

Sen hopped to his feet, but he didn’t pick up his camera. He just stared in adoration at the beautiful sight before him. Setsuna’s hair spread around her head like a dark halo, threaded with grass blades and dandelion seeds. She gazed reverently at the seeds spinning above her body; with no wind to catch them, they slowly swirled down, down, down to settle on her form. Her eyes drifted to Sen, who was gaping at her like she was the most sublime creature on earth. A tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks as she asked, “What? No more photos?” 

He played with the thick black strap of his camera as he stiffly said, “Some things a photo can’t even do justice.” 

She tilted her head slightly at that, eyebrows creasing in just the barest hint of amusement. Sen took a deep breath, preparing himself for the crazy thing he was about to do; then, he pulled his camera off from around his neck and set it down amongst the grass. Setsuna just watched him as he walked to where she lay in the grass, her chest rising and falling with rapidly-quickening breaths and a knowing smile spreading over her lips. 

“Is that so?” she breathed when he knelt down next to her, on her left side. Surrounded by the grasses, Sen could see the hidden rivers of emerald shining in her eyes and her hair. Even with the most expensive camera equipment, he could never capture those streams concealed within the dark of her hair and eyes; they were immortal only in Sen’s memory. 

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice just as breathy. “A photo could never do you justice, Setsuna. Not in my eyes.” 

A shy smile played over her mouth, and then she quickly swiped her tongue over her lips to wet them. This action did not go unnoticed by Sen; it made his heartbeat quicken and adrenaline surge through his veins. Setsuna’s hand snuck through the grass like a lithe snake, latching onto his. He didn’t resist as she guided him to crawl over her body, knees resting next to her hips, hands on either side of her head. 

“Then why ask me to do a photoshoot for you?” she asked teasingly. 

“It’s a good excuse to be able to look at you longer,” he answered matter-of-factly. Her face flushed red as her flirtatious taunt was turned so effortlessly back to her, and this made Sen’s mouth curl up into a smirk. “Besides, even if a picture can’t do you justice, I’d still like to have them. You’re beautiful, even through a camera lens.” 

He brushed his fingers gently over the cascade of hair framing her face, teasing through the strands and dislodging the dandelion seeds. The way she was looking at him, the fire smoldering in the depths of her eyes, emboldened him. His fingers slowly shifted to skim over her cheek, feeling the heat that rose to the surface in response to his touch. He brushed down the curve of her jaw until he met her chin, and then he turned his hand to place his thumb just under her mouth, tugging down to part her lips ever-so-slightly. 

“May I kiss you, Setsuna?” 

“Please,” she whispered, literally agonized by the fact he wasn’t kissing her already. This made Sen chuckle, but he didn’t want to keep the lady waiting. He dropped down onto his elbows to bring his face centimeters away from hers. She craned her head slightly with a low, needy whine, bumping her nose softly against his with the motion. Sen chuckled again, then tilted his head so he could close the gap and slot his lips against hers. 

Truth be told, Sen had thought about kissing Setsuna many times. Still, all his daydreams could never prepare him for how it really felt to have her lips melding with his. It felt like his heart exploded in his chest, filling him to the brim with a cloudy, floaty feeling from the crown of his head to the very tips of his toes. Sen pressed his body down against hers slightly, grounding himself because it really did feel like he was going to float away, just like those dandelion seeds. 

Setsuna hummed against his lips as he moved his mouth over hers, kissing her with a growing hunger. She just felt so good, tasted so sweet, and that scent of her dewberry shampoo was flooding his nose again. He kissed her until his mind was growing fuzzy with oxygen deprivation instead, then pulled back with a deep intake of air. Setsuna’s eyes fluttered open to look at him reverently, like he’d just hung the moon in the sky for her. Damn it, Sen would if that’s what it took to see that look on her face every single day. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered again. His voice cracked with the sheer amount of worship he put into the statement. Setsuna shyly bit down on her bottom lip, but the twinkle in her eyes intensified. Unable to help himself, he leaned down again to kiss her nose, each of her cheeks, and then her lips again. Setsuna giggled at the soft, feathery kisses brushing over her skin, and the sound was music to Sen’s ears. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she joked cheekily. Sen rolled his eyes, but wasn’t exactly surprised at her impudence. Her overwhelming confidence was one of the many, many things he adored about her. He nosed along her jaw as he smiled softly down at her, making her squirm and giggle. She wound her arms around her neck, indicating that she had no care to go anywhere anytime soon. The wind rustled the grasses around them, dusting Sen in a few of the dandelion seeds. 

No, a picture really couldn’t do her justice at all, Sen thought as he gazed down at Setsuna. She crossed her eyes as a dandelion seed drifted across her nose, then playfully blew it into Sen’s face. The little feathery fibers of the seed tickled his cheek as his lips teased up into a loving smile. A picture was worth a thousand words, many people said— but as they gazed into one another’s eyes, a million words passed between them that a picture couldn’t even hope to capture.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[itsthe-neo-zone]

Summer picnic - Park Jisung

[06:39PM]

He was hiding something from you, smiling to himself as he guided you down the path of the emerald fields. It was a late summers evening. Those afternoons that felt like the planet was lazing around. Waiting, just waiting.

You knew Jisung was up to something. It was intriguing but you felt the need to keep silent and stop the whining you were doing. It would eventually pull him out of the mood.

The chateau was long away in the distance by now and it felt like the space and mood was getting encompassed, intimate. Alone. There was nobody around for a 20 meter radius.

His slender fingers held their grasp over yours as you made our way to wherever it was he was going. He didn’t answer any of your questions trying as best as possible to not blurt out and ruin what he had worked on for so long. Jisung moved forward keeping his blush filled face away from your intense gaze.

“Ji, just tell me.” You murmured speeding a couple of steps to catch up to his side. You felt his hand clutch tighter against yours, smiling you twist your head to meet his gaze.

“No, it’s a surprise.” He couldn’t help himself but smile, the giddy feeling he had been building up for the past 2 days getting extremely overwhelming at this point. “We’re almost there though.” He added glancing towards you.

You were so beautiful, ethereal even. In his eyes he saw an angel in the presence. You were nothing short of breathtakingly gorgeous. It wasn’t the light makeup, or confidence or even the thigh length red floral dress you adorned. Those were additional features.

You were different. Your smile was always there, always inviting and cheerful and even though you sometimes felt self-conscious over your body, it wasn’t a carbon copy of everyone else. You had your own delicate features and a blooming stature. You were a shimmering dewdrop on a lilac in the morning sun and the luminescent sea at a sunset. A perfect image for him.

As you got closer to the final destination he sped up excited but he felt the drumming of his heart in his chest speed up. Glancing towards you, he smirked back feeling accomplished when he saw your smile and curious eyes glancing around the viridian fields.

Jisung wanted you, the desire was so inevitable and it was starting to overtake his senses. Touch, fragrance, sight and auscultate.  It was natural for his age to be so smitten with someone, Renjun and Jaemin had assured him it was okay, he was normal. Jisung wasn’t going crazy. But he felt it wasn’t just a light affection towards you. The boy was obsessed.

Unfortunately, he didn’t realise how much you’d be willing to do for him. Jisung was your everything and if he was deemed obsessed then you were bedevilled and possessed entirely by the male. And your love bloomed even further when he lead you to a large oaken tree growing right in the middle of a small embankment clearing over the small field.

The shade thrown near the roots spread to a meter radius you saw the wooden weaved basket with a medium sized blanket thrown to the floor inviting you to come closer. You beamed at the delightful view, he did this. This was his surprise for you.

“Jisung.” Your voice was laced with thick emotion as you couldn’t contain your admiration for him. He knew you had been going through a rough time recently. A small gesture like this was enough for you. You felt your heart beat faster than ever, throwing your hands around his neck you pressed your lips to his.

It was gentle, no biting or harsh movements. He captured your lips back tilting his head to get closer. You dropped the article of clothing in your hand to the ground. Threading your fingers into the dark locks at the nape of his neck.

You felt him shiver in your grasp. Letting him lead the kiss, he paused for a moment, “I love you.” Your eyes were closed, but you felt everything, he consumed your senses. The brushing of his plush warm lips as he whispered the lustful promise.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you, for this. For everything.” you whisper.

Warm gasps of air from his internal body against you. The firm hold on you as if you were about to disappear into thin air. His scent was alluring. It was Jisung. All him. The smell of peppermint and a rich chocolate with a hint of citrus zest.

You felt like you were melting. You couldn’t get any closer to him but you wanted to be even closer. Close enough to feel his heart beating. Thruming against his chest.

It sent sparks and energy bolts through every inch of your body having him around you. Jisung was the one thing that grounded you from the anxious and stressful thoughts that controlled your head but was also the one thing in your life that let you feel like you were in utopia, a higher level of existence.

As he pulled you towards the blanket he let you position yourself next to him as he prepared the placement of the food. You spent the whole afternoon talking about this and that.

His hand always had a grasp or a hold on yours. Never leaving you. You felt comfortable and loved around him. It was a strange feeling to have since you’ve never truly experienced it before.

The time spent with him drawled to the evening and continued past the sunset and through to the night. You laid on the thick supple blanket letting its velvety texture and Jisung’s embrace lull you to a gentle snooze. He pulled your cardigan over your exposed shoulders.

“That constellation is Orion.” He pointed to the cluster of strobing lights in the farthest point of the sky.

“Why is it called that?”

“It was named after the hunter in Greek mythology,”

“Oh I see, the arrow,” you murmured your sight was slowly fading away as the lights began to flicker and become blurry as you watched them.

Before you could sleep you had to let him know, you wanted to say it now.

“Jisung, I love you so much, for all that you’ve done for me.” He felt like at any moment his heart was about to erupt from all the love he held for you.

The confession you gave him just now really made him want to soar and leap into the air with happiness but he contained himself opting to lay a gentle kiss on your forehead for his response.

You smiled, finally falling into the enveloping arms of sleep. You felt safe, you knew as long as you were in his arms, with him. Nothing could ever happen to you.

@pwarkjijiji this one is for you angel! Hope you like it! 💕

[cupsofsuga]

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ ☕️} NOTE - this is in the order of the member’s obtained! thanks for the request, daisy! also, creds for idea goes to @bangtans-apollo​!!!

{ 💐} ANON ASKED - ❝ Headcanons on how the fanclub discovered each other and reacted to each other’s obsession for YN? ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

ah, the melancholic suffering of a lovelorn teenager

how he holds nothing but an eternity in the crevices of his heart

the serene sunlight, words dripped in saccharine, cloyed gestures

nothing hurts more than praying to whatever god truly exists that you’ll return the adoration but finding the fatal fate of no response

and that leaves jin now, seething with envy that could intimidate a pack of wolves

how dare the teacher not pair you up with your soulmate!? it’s just blasphemy!

someone gets to soak in the glitter of your presence, they get to bathe in the rain after a century in sunlight

all while he has to waste precious hours of his time with some plastic nobody

he has to waste time with bland, boring kim taehyung

he’s a dull star amongst a million planets, a saturated wasteland amongst an oasis of color

and how jin’s blood burns seeing that you flash that summer smile to someone who most certainly doesn’t deserve it

ditching the dinner date with his soulmate, jin is forced to work on this godforsaken project with the loner

if only you two had run away when you got the chance, relishing in each other’s warmth as he holds the privilege of looking into your eyes, which he finds resemble dewdrops held upon spider’s silk

that is the honeyed heaven he so badly craves to taste

and as he stumbles around taehyung’s adobe, the curiosity held within jin get’s the best of him as he stumbles into his bedroom

and oh god, what secrets did he uncover

your face, his lover’s face plastered all over the walls and ceiling

some even had his face punctured out of them, some taken without your consent, one’s that jin even took himself

and there’s that one sweater you once ranted to jin how you swore it vanished into thin air, and how he teased that ghost in your attic probably snatched it

if it was physically possible, there’d be steam seeping out of jin’s ears

he clutches his fists so tight, there would most likely be blood drawn; he clenches his teeth so tightly, he fears they might crack under the pressure

but, before jin turns tail, he then sees taehyung as fear swims in his irises

and then jin feels it,

a revelation, an act of generosity

❝ i think you could be useful… ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

with every breath he takes, there lies humiliation

shame, a ruthless emotion he swore he’d never live to see the depths of

the summer amongst the dark clouds, all lied on a silver platter for your supposed boyfriend to see

but there is kindness in jin’s eyes, a sliver of evil dripped with every word he speaks

and therein, we have witnessed the blooming of the “writing club,” whose only members were lovelorn kids who’ve infatuation got the best of them

with some sugar-laced words, jin had managed to maintain a room for their meetings after school, taehyung quickly ditching his art club for these fleeting moments spent with the man closest to his love

no, taehyung had never been fond of jin, but, holds undying respect for him, anyways

his heaven lies in his words, his sunlight is seen in his eyes, the fate he craves so desperately is clutched in his hands

and it’s only so long before his grip weakens, and taehyung can rob jin of his pleasures in his moment of vulnerability

but, that future must wait as it frolics in the back of taehyung’s head

he must gain the trust of your childhood best friend before he catches his infinity like a firefly in a jar

but, with that being said, taehyung doesn’t mind all the hours he spent huddled in the tree outside your house, hiding behind a canopy of leaves as he admires the dream before him

he’ll sketch your face (which he can now draw from memory) in his notepad, ethereal poetry and doodles held around your sparkling face

he’ll snap a few photos, catching the fireworks and shooting stars in the purity of the fleeting moment

to simply have the privilege to love you silently holds the light of a million stars

oh, how he loves you…

how the earth bruises your cheeks, the moon litters your skin, the stars possess your eyes and the rings of saturn held in your touch

there’s pure bliss within every heartbeat lept

and there’s only so much time before he has you all to himself

he just hopes no burden will stop him from such…

━━━ 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

the student’s that litter around these halls resemble parasites

all feeding off the others, annoying them with their deafening disunity, and all trailing behind others like burdens

but, there’s always been that one, that one that stands out like a sore thumb

bland, boring kim taehyung

a boy capable of summoning enough envy and rage within jungkook to crumble planets to nothing but ashes floating throughout the galaxy

how he denies his infatuation for you with red cheeks, but anyone with eyes can see those “adorable” dimples puncture his cheeks whenever he sees you in the halls

how he isn’t burdened by the overwhelming fate of unrequited love, drowning in his jealousy when you simply look at someone else

how he stalks in class you like a hawk would to prey, probably undressing you with his eyes like the freak he is!

how he simply exists, and how it makes jungkook churn with rage

and that leaves him now, dodging students as the race out of the school, hot on the tail of his rival

he must end him before he could potentially hold your heart in his hands

that single idea makes jungkook gag…

he hears taehyung’s voice, shoving a scoff back down his throat that could potentially jeopardize his identity

there’s another voice, too, but, jungkook assumes it’s another one of those art freaks who’s also pretentious with coincidences

then there’s your name, and it would’ve sounded like it was dripped in gold if it didn’t leave the mouth of his sworn enemy

and then he hears of this writing club, and jungkook seethes

these lowlifes get to breathe in the fragrance of those fleeting moments, which is a fate jungkook whose he is well-deserving of, not them

to simply touch the crevices of your soul carved in silk for just a mere second is a privilege

and letting these cretins possess that opportunity is simply unholy

despite holding a burning hatred for the rest of the memories, for you, jungkook would drag himself through the depths of hell

he just prays that the club members don’t pray too far under his skin

he doesn’t know if he can control himself.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

oh, y/n l/n…

an angel in the purest form, a humid june afternoon

they are a touch softer than autumn’s breeze, their word’s sharper than winter’s embrace, eyes starlit like the dreamy land of springtime, their presence like the bliss of summer and the melancholic longing after it’s demise

they hold within them the entire galaxy and namjoon can’t help but stare

but, there’s another pair of eyes

and they are burning bullet wounds into his soul with a craving to mutilate him swimming in their irises

as the bell rings its tumultuous song and deadbeat kids begin to litter the halls, namjoon is suddenly shoved against the locker by no other than the modern-day jeffrey dahmer

jeon jungkook, dust amongst a field of flowers

his sadistic pleasures and his lust for blood, the holy scent of iron that smoothes out all the creases

❝ if i catch you staring at my Y/N like that again, i’ll tear you apart limb from limb. ‘got it, dipshit? ❞

he is in all means terrifying, but, is nothing but a little boy to namjoon

time has passed, a damn near million tabs are held upon the screen all containing the history of namjoon and his family’s wealth

jin, who had been reported the incident by a fuming jungkook had found an opportunity in the depths of his teenage angst

he’ll feed into namjoon’s desire to touch you across hundreds of separating years

he’ll pray into his craving to kiss you as the naked moon sets for the final time

he’ll reach into his heart and use namjoon for his benefit

and how the rest of the members all fed off of his wealth like parasites

anything their little heart desired, they’d hold in their possession

as much as namjoon longs to deny them pleasure, he had been threatened to lose his place in the club and every inkling of access he has to you if he dared disobey

and namjoon would rather die than lose his love to the eternal night

the strange and enigmatic masterpiece, the ancient moon across a sea of stars

his violet lover has been sawed through by nostalgia, and his infatuation glows harder than a summer sunset

although jin’s intentions have a mile or two to run before they stab him in the back, namjoon still has a clear vision of his goal

and there shall be no burden before he meets his longed fate.

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

you, a flower itself, flood his brains like a tsunami to a pitiful city

you, a strawberry in winter, hold sly ways of slithering your way into the recesses of his heart once more

that leaves jung hoseok here, letting the teacher’s words fade to white noise as he doodles your name adorned with hearts on flowers in his notebook

there is distant gossip and whispers that echo from afar, which hoseok picks up due to his childlike curiosity

it begun with useless chitter-chatter, then dissolving to the melodic sound of your name which tumbles from their lips

he listens as the two boys curse the teacher for giving you a D on your exam, them mentioning this supposed ‘club’ that circled everything around you

hoseok was smart, he could raise your grade!

oh, how hoseok would just die to help you with your studies!

with a paradise sparkling in his eyes, he sparks up a conversation with the group, also known as kim namjoon and jeon jungkook

but, the doe-eyed teenager hisses at him, barking at him to ‘keep his fucking mouth shut’

he takes the hint, leaving the conversation with a silent ocean welling up in his eyes

but, this is the embodiment of hope that sits in this dull classroom

he’ll crawl around the corners of his soul till he’s enervate to retrieve what he has longed for

and that leads us up to now, as hoseok stalks to the two from a safe distance, watching as they disappear to the writing club

and just before the door closes, hoseok peeks through the crack of the door and finds the identity of kim seokjin, a boy he’s seen accompany you multiple times

the following day, while the students all stare in confusion for the small boy walking through the halls, hoseok finds him and confronts him

by the look of purified fear, this ‘writing club’ was a hushed secret, and him knowing of this secret was dangerous enough, as it is

after negotiating about how he’d contribute to your satisfaction, jin had no choice but to accept his offer

he doesn’t want this loud-mouthed kid to run up and down the halls preaching about their sins, anyways

the rest of the club members didn’t favor his arrival, all shooting looks of envy and hatred

but, there was no other choice

their fate is written in the stars and complimented with a wax steal upon an envelope.

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

opening his locker, jimin finds a taste of eden’s garden as he finds your face strung upon the wall

there’s irises, rivers, fairies, and peaches within the single picture cutout from the yearbook as he sighs dreamily at the sight

his daydream of honeyed days is quickly disrupted as his best friend, hoseok interrupts his thoughts with stars circling in his eyes

before he can find the words to scold him, hoseok begins rambling about this ‘club’ at a rate to fast for jimin to decipher

he hears tales of his dreams, a chance to taste your beauty

this most definitely sparked his undying interest, ushering his best friend to continue with his intentions to get the boy warped in this world

thus, we are taken to the night where the clock reads 3:38 AM in it’s bright, neon hues

the boys would never dream of staying up this late, especially on a tuesday night as the fear for the scolding of their parents’ echos, but, the adrenaline that seeps through their veins serves as a protection

because of the prophecy of this new club, they are rebelling

and as a new day rises and the sun shimmers in all of its celestial beauty, the boys have come up with a plan

every club needs a mission manager!

and who else would be perfect for this job no other than park jimin…? right?

well, let’s just say, despite his unreasonable, childish, and almost dangerous plans, the rest of the boys weren’t happy upon his arrival

the sighs of annoyance to his careless nature, the scoffs of envy when he speaks words of poetry about everything as little as when you made eye contact that one time 2 months ago

jimin’s contribution isn’t favored, but, if it’s for you, all 6 boys are willing to drag themselves through hell and back

every member holds an undying love for the god/goddess themself, all possessing a wild heart that they’d bled dry if you asked

and jimin is just one branch of the group who also holds an intense infatuation

the water to his parched heart, the flowering spring in a winter haze

he has found the sun as it shimmers against the snow

and nothing is as holy as this.

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

another dull day at the café, yoongi listens to his longing for spring’s voice

his hatred for this place burns bright and softly, as he dwells in the anger held within his small body

the college kids, the early morning joggers, all possessing ways of churning yoongi’s anger, one-by-one

obligated to put on a plastic smile for their sake has wars prancing through his head

but then, there’s you

oh, and those lively eyes he craves to gaze into for eternity and the soft furrow in your brow when you stare at the menu

he is mesmerized and listens to the songs of summer as he drowns in your stare

you haven’t taken notice to the hearts that swirl within his eyes as you order, unfortunately, and therefore leave a boy longing for a taste of the sun

during this fit of a daydream, 6 boys stumble in, all conversing at abnormally obnoxious levels

yoongi has to shove a scoff back down his throat and bring a halt to the urge to roll his eyes and dresses himself in the facade

as they all order and then continue their chatter elsewhere, yoongi can resume his illusions about your sparkled presence

whilst in the process of finishing a cappuccino, he hears the sugary melody of your name

he freezes, then concludes he must be hallucinating, resuming the process of the drink in his hands

after all, spending hours upon hours in this sacred place causes his mind to go hazy at times

the lilied waters of your eyes, skin like roses in the evening

you are so, so very loved by the boy at the café

starting up the hot chocolate with “extra sugar,” he hears it once more

does he need to stretch out his sleeping schedule or was this real?

were they truly speaking of you, or has he truly gone insane in the late afternoon?

peeking over his shoulder, that’s when yoongi sees it

your face was drawn upon a notepad, all fluttered hearts and empty petals around your face

the soul of the planets, the green pigment of the gardens, all held in this stranger’s arms

with determination, yoongi is required to learn more of this guest who spoke hushed tales of you

he’d do anything to know more about the star who enlightens his grey days

and now, the club is complete.