#the colors for the photoshoots were TOO GOOD

[oizysian]

Heyy bestie

Can I request a Mommy!Lizzie x fem!reader where we make plans with her for lunch but her work schedule makes her miss it, then reader gets really sad and pouty and spams her phone but Lizzie doesn’t answer. And when she finally comes home she comes back with flowers and then makes it up to us with the strap and js some lovely sex🙂‍↕️

I’ve js been in my feels lately and want mommy to make it better 🙈

Tonight | Elizabeth Olsen

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: strap use, dirty talk

Word count: 1.2k

AN: I’m sorry you’ve been in your feels. I hope this makes you feel better. (I also want mommy Lizzie to make things better.)

I looked at my phone for what felt like the hundredth time, checking to see if my girlfriend messaged me back. She was twenty minutes late already. I knew she was busy with work, but she could at least text me, right?

I sighed softly, placing my phone down on the table and finishing my drink. This wasn’t the first time I’d been stood up by her and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

I couldn’t be too angry with her though, she got worked like a dog and I’m sure it wasn’t her fault that she had no time to herself. If she wasn’t on set, she was giving an interview and if she wasn’t giving an interview, she was doing a photoshoot - there was literally just not enough time in the day for her to do it all and be with me.

I stood up from my chair and began cleaning up the unused dishes from our lunch. I didn’t know why I thought today would be different. I sighed sadly, pushing back tears as I placed my wine glass in the sink, placing the plates back in the cupboard and the forks and knives in the drawer. Hopefully she’d be home for dinner.

I picked up my phone from the table and messaged her again, hoping I’d get a text back before long. Or a phone call.

But I heard nothing. Throughout the rest of the day, I occasionally sent her a message, telling her I missed her and loved her and that I hoped she was having a good day and not working herself too hard.

Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for her to come home. I was woken up by the sound of keys jingling in the door and I rubbed my tired eyes, looking towards the front door where Lizzie was coming in from. She entered and closed the door behind her quietly, trying her best to not be too loud. What time was it?

“Hi, baby,” she greeted me softly, kneeling down next to me on the couch. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you.”

She handed me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and I teared up looking at them.

“They’re beautiful.” I sat up and took them from her. “Thank you.”

“You deserve them. I’ve been a horrible girlfriend, but I’m gonna make it up to you.”

I smiled at her, sniffling softly at her words.

“You don’t have to. Just being here with you is enough.”

“It’s not.” She said, resting her hand on my thigh. “We need to spend some time together and I’m hoping you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Her hand trailed up my thigh, soft, lingering touches just barely reaching my core. My breath hitched and I took my bottom lip between my teeth, a pink hue coloring my cheeks. It had been so long since we’d been intimate, I almost forgot what her touch felt like.

She leaned in towards me, slowly, barely touching my lips with her own, as if she was nervous to be kissing me. I kissed her back, letting her know it was okay. She smiled against me and her thumb rubbed against my mound gently, just barely touching me.

“Lizzie,” I whispered, looking up into her beautiful green eyes. “I missed you.”

“I know, dove. But, I'm here now. I’m gonna take care of you.”

She stood from her crouching position and I followed her, standing up from the couch and taking her hand, placing the flowers on the couch before letting her lead me to the bedroom.

She wasted no time in undressing us, her eager lips still capturing my own in heated kisses. Her hands caressed my hips, pulling me close as she removed our clothing. When we were both naked, she stopped to admire me, making me blush a fierce red.

“You’re so beautiful.” She whispered and I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her neck softly.

“Let me taste you.” I kissed and nipped at her, her groans egging me on further.

“Not yet.” She said as she ran her hands over the swell of my ass, grabbing at me greedily. “I wanna be inside you.”

Heat rushed down between my legs, and I could feel my slick coating my inner thighs.

She smiled down at me and led me to the bed. I climbed onto it and got comfortable while she dug through our sex toys drawer, searching for just the right strap.

She pulled out a nice, girthy pink cock, one of my favorites, and slipped it on. She stroked it a few times and I licked my lips in anticipation. She got on the bed and spread my legs, settling between them. I raised myself up on my elbows to watch her as she slapped the cock against my slit, sliding it between my folds and letting it get wet.

“I can’t wait to be inside you.” She murmured to herself, thrusting the cock up against me.

I bit my lip and moaned as she continuously hit my clit, my hips rising slightly to meet her thrusts.

When she was satisfied, she slipped the tip into my aching cunt and let out a soft groan.

“Look at that greedy pussy. You take me so well, baby.” She said under her breath, sliding into me inch by delicious inch.

“Ah, Lizzie.” I whined, my brow furrowing as I watched her.

She kept her eyes on my pussy, watching as I took her hungrily. I fell back on the pillows and grabbed the sheets underneath me, my eyes rolling back as she finally bottomed out. I felt so full of her, so deliciously full, as she slowly fucked me.

“That’s right, baby. Take mommy’s cock.”

“Unh, m-mommy,” I let out a soft whimper and she groaned, pumping in and out of me. “Harder, mommy.”

She leaned over me, kissing me roughly as her hips moved against mine rapidly. She swallowed my moans, sucking my tongue into her mouth and biting down on it gently.

She pressed her forehead against mine, gasping for air as she fucked me roughly. She couldn’t get deep enough inside me and I couldn’t get enough of her trying to reach my deepest spot.

“I love you.” She moaned softly, looking into my eyes and I nearly cried at the sound of her voice. She sounded so sincere, so passionate.

“I love you.” I said back to her, kissing her fiercely.

I bit down on her lower lip as my orgasm quickly approached. Just being close to her was getting me off. The base of the strap rubbed against my clit and pushed me over the edge.

I moaned into her mouth, wrapping my legs around her and pulling her close as I came. She didn’t even have to touch me for me to cum.

“Already, baby?” She whispered against my lips and I nodded sheepishly.

She let out a soft chuckle, slowing her thrusts as I came down from my high.

“Can I taste you now?” I asked softly, wanting so desperately to please her.

“Tonight is about you.” She kissed me again and my heart swelled with love. “I’m gonna take care of you all night.”

[thoughtsforsoob]

where you get married - txt

a/n: i've been in serious domestic hours lately. i just wanna get married ands have babies and other stuff :( idk why but i just rlly wanna find the right person already. anyways, please enjoy this. im going to make it as fluffy as possible.

yeonjun

beach wedding!!! i know hes this really cool guy but you begged him for a beach wedding and he gave in immediately. he found a private beach to hold the wedding at and you get to use it the whole night. the ceremony is cute and tropical themed, lot's of colorful pastels in the deocorations. then, the part he was most ecited for, the party! the party was on the beach and it was honeslty really cool. it was all tropical themed and you had a little bar and a dj and everything. yeonjun and you first had to go around and thank the guests and when you were done, he drags you out to the dance area and you two dance the night away. he deicates a song to you and sings (the boys might jump in also and sing with him because they're sweethearts).

soobin

wedding in japan is all i can say. i get the sense that japan is a place that soobin really loves and he can onyl hope that you share the love with him of this place. you two pick the spring to get married. you find a venue with lot's of cherry blossoms and you have a nice little ceremony. everything is really sweet and cute. you two have a photoshoot right after. you change into a few outfits. you wear the weddit clothes, your cultures traditional clothes, korean traditional clothes and finally, cute little kimonos to match the setting. after the shoot, the party starts. it was a cute party hall and the main event, dancing and karaoke. it's unconventional but you two love the wedding. after said event, you spend 2 weeks together, roaming tokyo.

beomgyu

beomgyu want's something small but not underplayed. he loves the idea of something in a garden. i know beomgyu is the silly, nerdy gamer type but something about a garden is just so pretty to him. you two decide on a small reception with little sweets and tea. the part that ensues afterward as absolutely insane. all of your friends and family are there and everyone is drinking/having a good time. i think beomgyu is a bit of a drinker so this would be really fun for him. the contrast between the ceremony/reception and the party is insane but you both have a lot of fun during it.

taehyun

he wants a small affair. it is was completely up to him, he would just have a small ceremony at the city hall or something like that (ik it's probably different in Korea). you two ultimately do just have a small court ceremony but you have a nice little party with just some friends afterwards. you bring everyone over to your home and just have some fun. he also urges you to wear something comfortable, rather than a big dress. you agree to this and pick something cute and small. he picks something simple too, wanting to look good for you.

huening kai

he seems like a family oriented type of guy and that leads me to believe that he would want a whole big wedding. therefore, he and you plan a big extravogent wedding in a big fancy hall. he also makes sure there are a lot of people presents, of course if you're okay with it too. he loves participating in planning but always takes into account your opinion. it's both your big days. he also loves non-traditional korean stuff at his wedding. lot's of loud music and dancing and fun activities. if you're not korean too, he would def want to embrace your culture too with any music or food or traditions you want to partake in.

[aclowntiny]

Hi! First of all, belated congrats on the 800 followers! 🥰🥰

Can you pls do how ateez would react to you calling them pretty boy? would they find it funny, get a bit emotional, be confused..

Thank you! ❤️

No, thank YOU 🥰 Ooh I can SO see some of the reactions already, truly a full spectrum here 😆 let’s get this 🍞! Warning: a bit suggestive in two, super silly in another 🤡

Ateez When You Call Them ‘Pretty Boy’

Hongjoong

You’d asked if it was a good day to pay a visit to the studio, and it was. Grabbing Hongjoong’s coffee order for him, your favorite for yourself, and an extra little treat to split, you swung by to see the hardworking man you adored.

“How’s it going, pretty boy?”

Your words fell out affectionate, honeyed as your eyes were when they fell upon your love.

“Good, beautiful.” Hongjoong replied instantly, but you can see the way his face ducks out of your view with a wide, shy smile.

“Good,” you repeated, “I brought you some caffeine and sugar to keep you going.”

“First I’m pretty, now this? No wonder I thought I was dreaming when you walked in,” Hongjoong replied, leaning over to plant a kiss on your forehead.

Swinging open the door with sugar coating your words and gaze as you had, you couldn’t help the flush you felt creep across your cheeks when it was handed right back to you. “Oh, stop it,” you waved off his compliment.

“You started it,” the love of your life shook his head and smiled, pulling you down into his lap, arms snaking around you, “so let me keep it going, hm?”

“Ok, pretty boy.” You couldn’t see Hongjoong without twisting, but as you rested your hand against his cheek you could feel warmth, smiling with satisfaction.

Seonghwa

“I-I don’t know, (y/n), what do you think?” Seonghwa was trying on a new outfit, something similar to a photoshoot ensemble he’d be modeling, and if his tight posture was anything to go off of confidence wasn’t running high.

Not that you could understand why- his body proportions, intense eyes, skill at owning a concept, all of them blew you away. “Are you kidding?” You waved an arm over him as he stood beneath a corporate dressing room spotlight. “You look amazing in that! You’re so tall and handsome they’ll beg you to switch to modeling. I know you’re feeling shy about the crop too, but there’s no reason to, pretty boy.”

With a glance down, Seonghwa repeated your words shyly.

Pride colored your smile as you took a step closer. “Beautiful man.”

“(Y/n), stop it,” he chided sheepishly, but all that did was encourage you.

“Why, scared of the truth?” Your hands found the collar of his top, tugged you closer in.

His ears were red. “No, I just…I do really appreciate it. Sometimes I worry my body could be better or that I won’t work the concept well or… I don’t know.”

“We all feel that way, hun, but trust me when I say you’re stunning, ok?”

Seonghwa’s eyes returned to yours, pink still dusting his cheeks as he smiled at you, your hands still on his chest. “Well, if I’m stunning, then you’re positively celestial.”

Celestial? Alright, then it was your turn to blush as Seonghwa pulled you into a quick, messy hug before disappearing back behind the black dressing room curtain.

Yunho

You crawled on top of Yunho where he lay flat, one hand propping up his head.

“Joining me?”

“If I may,” you teased, hovering above him in a rooting splay of limbs.

“Anytime,” he remarked, the hand not resting behind his head finding the small of your back and gently coaxing you all the way down, “you’re my favorite blanket, you know.”

“And you’re my favorite pillow.” You breathed in response before leaning in for a kiss, one Yunho deepened immediately, sending you gasping into his parted lips and fixing him with a wide-eyed smile of disbelief as you pulled slowly apart. “Little warning next time, pretty boy?”

The teasing glint in your eyes was contagious, it seemed, twinkling in Yunho’s as well. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “What did you call me?”

No beating around the bush, not if that was how he was playing it. “Pretty boy,” you repeated with a smirk of your own, one hand sassily supporting your chin.

Before you knew it, Yunho’s hands had encircled your hips and he slid out from beneath you, taking your place as the one hovering over. The bed creaked beneath each shift, the newfound pressure of his elbows.

“Call me that one more time, I dare you.”

You dared.

Yeosang

“Do you mind grabbing me a water while you’re up?” Those words came from Yeosang, your boyfriend, as he reclined on the dorm couch, a long day of work settling into his bones. Even in a somewhat tired state, he was gorgeous, his jawline accented by the way his head tilted back against the vertical cushions.

From the kitchen, you looked upon him fondly, not even tearing your eyes away to pop open the refrigerator and produce the requested bottle, your fingers closing around a familiar cold and plucking it forth. You made your way back to the living room with anticipation glimmering in your eyes.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

At those words, Yeosang sat up. “What?”

“I said whatever you say, pre-”

“No, I heard you, I just…” He tilted his head like a cat, lifting a giggle from you. “I don’t know how to take that.” Yeosang’s face was serenely blank, only the tiniest hint of a furrow across his brow.

“Take it as a compliment. Or would you prefer ‘handsome man’ next time?” You ask, leaning an arm on the edge of the couch, head ducking closer to his.

Looking satisfied, Yeosang nods, a little smile playing on his lips. “That’s right.”

“Alright,” you tease, playfully swatting him, “getting a little bit cocky, are we, pretty boy?”

“I thought we agreed on-” You cut him off by presing your lips on his.

San

Faintest strands of light filtered into the room through the blinds, but they were not nearly enough to pierce the fluttering lids of your content eyes. San lay at your side, pressed just about as close as humanly possible to you, his nose gently nuzzling into your neck as if he could breathe you in.

His arm was thrown around you, your legs tangled in a mess of pooling pajama fabric upon the mattress.

“(y/n)?” Something about the way the little rays struck his shining hair, the utter content in his voice, his dark eyes peering upon you, had your heart soaring.

“Yes, pretty boy?” You replied before even thinking about it, the first sweet words that came to you rolling forth. He gave pause, lips parted soundlessly as his gaze softened even more- if that was possible.

Eyes shining, San broke into the widest of smiles, adorable dimples revealing themselves as he wrapped both hands around you. “You- you really think-”

An involuntary giggle escaped you at his surprise, the heart-fluttering way he clung to you, but your response came as immediately as the endearment itself. “Of course.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how beautiful you are to me,” San replied, tone soaring with emotion, “but this moment right here is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get. Thank you…just for being you. I love you, (y/n).”

Your gaze shyly flitted between the sheets and San’s loving eyes as you smiled. “I love you, too, pretty boy.”

Mingi

The two of you are play-fighting, just halfway to having a fake wrestling match when you land a soft “blow” on his chest. “Take that, pretty boy!”

“Pretty boy? Coming from the most beautiful?”

At that point he’s frozen, you’re frozen, both of you are just staring at each other. Mingi’s ears have gotten a bit red. And all at once everything in you gives into the flush of his words, your head falling shyly onto his chest.

“Hey, don’t get shy on me now,” he says, tilting your head up with a finger under your chin.

“Ok,” you agree, leaning forward to connect your lips, smiling as Mingi’s arms wrap around you.

You lower your joined bodies down, and the moment you separate, Mini giving you a lovestruck grin, you press a hand to his chest, lightly pinning him down. “I won.”

“Nope, you kissed me,” Mingi argues, leaning his forehead against yours, “so I’d say I won.”

Wooyoung

In all honesty, you thought you were being sexy. Wooyoung and you were tossing banter back and forth, then you crossed your arms stubbornly and hit him with the holy grail of corny fanfic flirts: “Oh yeah, what’s it to you, pretty boy?”

His eyes widen, though, and soften. “You think I’m pretty?”

Of course the first thought crossing your mind is to clarify, to object on the grounds of be more turned on, but as you fix your gaze on him Wooyoung looks so…enamored? Overjoyed? You just can’t kill his enthusiasm because hey, he’s not wrong in the slightest.

“Of course I do,” you agree, banter almost entirely forgotten now in place of a more earnest tone, “you’re surprised?”

“I guess a little,” he replies, sliding over to your side to kiss your cheek, “but I’m happy. Someone as beautiful as you really thinks I’m pretty too!”

Jongho

How had it even started? Someone teased someone, you were sure, but nearly all your thoughts had faded, your entire being focused into the pumping of your legs as you ran from Jongho’s chase, a mad little laugh escaping you as you rounded a tight corner.

Venturing a swivel of your head, you saw Jongho bearing quickly upon you. Curse his soccer legs, the man was a fast runner. Speed would not be your method of victory.

Evasion, then. Eyeing the kitchen, you sprang up onto the counter like a cat, folding your legs as you scooted into the corner where cabinets met just enough distance above the smooth surface for you to compact into. Folding your legs into a froglike crouch, you smirked at Jongho as he barreled into the kitchen after you. “What are you going to do now, pretty boy?”

The moment the words reverberated from you, Jongho’s nose was wrinkling in apparent disgust. “Pretty boy? Oh, that is it.”

Without warning, he scooped you back off the counter and into his arms, holding your back to his chest as you protested. “Why do you have to be so strong?”

“I thought you loved it,” he replied, breath warm against your ear with each of his teasing words. You could feel his heartbeat against your back from all the running.

“I do, but I also like winning,” you pouted.

“Too bad,” Jongho chuckled as he spun you around into a kiss.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

CAKE FOR A DEAD MAN (I)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER II

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst, problems with food & image, mentions of stalking, unwanted gifts, death, violence, gore, blood, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Color, as most would say, is one of the best aspects of sight. It allows such a myriad of emotions to be expressed—even felt. Red reminds us of passion; navy for elegance and a certain mystique. Not only seen but processed on such a deeper level. Refractions of light that explode into the retina, rod and cone cells that send signals to the brain to help detect that phenomenon like a gift of evolution. 

But when you can’t see any of that—color—who’s to explain what the red of the roses actually looks like above a deep shade of gray? That navy blue looks even darker, too. Closer to black. Light purple becomes the same hue as the curtains your mother hangs on the windows, but you can’t tell if that’s really purple or not. How can it be anything other than slate? People tell you it is…at least, those who’ve already met their partners. Their soulmates. 

But there’s little hope for you on that front, really.

You wave to the photographer, calling out a broken Russian goodbye as he smiles warmly at you, nodding his head in your direction before watching you walk out of the studio room’s doors. A large gaggle of other finely-clad women surrounds you on the way to the changing rooms. 

Even with three-and-a-half years of living in this northern country, your mastery of the native language starts and ends with simple pleasantries.

The modeling agency was packed today and you still had so much to do. You stuff down your internal list of scheduled fittings, meetings, and more booked photoshoots that extend into the chilled evening of Yekaterinburg, Russia. There was just so little time. 

Gray hallways and white overhead lights meet your eyes between blinks, potted plants boring and drab. If you could see the shades in between the leaves you’d know you would find them beautiful, but like this…well, they’re just sad.

You shake your head and shuffle to the back of the group, throwing tiny smiles to the kind, and stunning, women who you’ve had little real conversation with. One kisses you on the cheek and pats your shoulder, and you laugh brightly before pulling to the rear, face heating.

“The bastard is finally dead!” The familiar voice causes you to freeze with one heeled foot in the air—fingers picking at the strap of your silk dress absentmindedly before it, too, stills. They were always forcing you into silk with feathered accent pieces of intricate detail. Like a bird, or, Seraph, more precisely. 

Blinking in surprise, you turn around just in time to lock onto the drained shades that make up Alyona Arkadyevna Solovyova before she grips your shoulders harshly. 

Her collarbone-length hair swishes heavily, but it’s not as violent as the smile on her sharp face. 

“Finally, little Солнышко! This is perfect news. The bastard is dead!” Alyona’s English is very good, and of course, it would be—when she was younger she dreamed of being an English teacher. That was before she realized she was just about the most attractive woman of her generation. The harsh Russian accent still bleeds through.

You laugh and grip her long, pale, arms; seeing her in a blouse and pencil skirt as you tilt your head, asking, “Christ, Alyona, give me a warning next time. If I rip anything I’m in deep shit.” 

“Gah,” Your friend waves a hand and releases you, tiny eyes creasing, “forget about that—did you not hear me the first time? My father, Seraph, listen to me! He is finally dead! It happened just this morning but I only got word ten minutes ago.” She laughs, throwing her hands up, and you hide your amused exasperation, limbs tired but it won’t stop you from appreciating your friend’s enthusiasm. Alyona squeals, “A train hit him!”

You cringe internally, face pulling taunt. “Oh,” your chest sputters as you clear your throat, “that’s, uh, that’s…great?”

“Of course it is!” Hands capture your cheeks, squishing as you worry about the state of your makeup. Alyona speaks brightly, “We need to celebrate, Солнышко. Come.”

Before you can protest she’s dragging you away from the other women and the direction of the changing rooms, all had stopped and were listening intently from behind; nosey. Everyone in the Allurement Modeling Agency building, AMA for short, just had that way about them—your business was their business and vice versa. 

And Alyona had no problem airing out her grievances with her estranged father to the choir. She lived for drama.

“Aly,” You huff a soft breath at her and her bobbing hair. She said it was blonde and you had no other option but to believe her. Not yellow-blonde, she had specified. Ice-blonde. “I can’t go out in company property. Plus, I have a photoshoot for Chanel in under an hour. The photographer needs me to be ready.”

But it seems your concerns fall on deaf ears and you can’t help but chuckle and grin at your friend's lack of care about work. She herself was a model, but the entire company halted when she said it should. 

You were truly surprised they hadn’t fired her yet. 

“And I’m sure Chanel has an absolutely hideous dress for you, my Seraph.” Ashen eyes turn back to stare at you, and once she realizes you wouldn’t fight her, her grip releases. “Some Медовик will do you good before the vultures close in, yes? Let us hope they don’t shackle you to those damning lace lingerie sets over cake.” 

Your head tilts with a short sigh, and you walk beside the woman in your clacking heels. The sound of the authentic honey cake seemed to itself to coat your insides with a lust for it—dripping layers of plush gray sponge with pale cream. Your mouth waters. 

“I’m only eating half a piece.” You settle slowly, though you hate your own words as your stomach rolls with hunger. Some time outside will do you good, anyway. Perhaps you’ll learn to photosynthesize like a plant. “I still have to be able to fit into those fabric contraptions, you know.”

Alyona squeals and loops her arm in yours easily, bright teeth in a grin like a cat. Ever one to run into objects and lacking a general ability to walk in a straight line, the support from Alyona was much appreciated. Her help with lending an arm went far, especially for you. 

Your heart warms with soft care.

“I’ll take it! We can split one.” When you both make it to the front of the building, having grabbed your jackets and purses on the way there, you come to three familiar faces while chatting with Alyona about both of your upcoming bookings. 

“I was under the impression you had the day filled,” Petya speaks, heavy accent like stone. The clean-shaven man in his late thirties was built and wearing a dark suit, the tallest out of the other two—Aleksandr and Yefim—who both wear similar outfits. They were resting in the front seating area of AMA as they’d been doing for weeks already, waiting for you to come and go like escorts.

Well, bodyguards, to be more precise. Yours.

You smile politely to them while Yefim sends one back with his boyish charm and dimples. “On break. We’re off to get some Medovik down the street. I can pay for you if you’d want a piece.” 

“Of course, the three will have to tag along, hm?” Alyona huffs, staring blandly as you both slow to a stop near the large white entrance, colored as if it was Heaven’s gates. Your friend had said coloring around this building was rare. Whites and grays. Green chairs, apparently. “I’m just ecstatic.” 

Petya didn’t like you, and, you assumed, Aleksandr didn’t either. With the ladder, his sharp face was always too blank to tell; body tight and unwelcoming with weasel-like eyes. Petya was simpler, blatantly more outward with his distaste.

“Not a smart idea. This isn’t a game to play, девушка.” Alyona’s face tightens, and you swiftly placate her with a squeeze to her bicep. You level Petya with a tilt of your head and a calm look. 

“What harm could a bite to eat do? It won’t cost you your life.” You chuckle smoothly. “Let me get you all something—it’s nearly noon, I’m sure you’re all hungry.”

“I could eat,” Yefim eases in, hands resting in his pockets as he stares at you. His accent was calmer than the others, and his face softer. Out of all of them, you liked him best. 

Your eyes rest on Yefim with a thankful expression. He smirks and nods. Aleksandr, as always, says nothing beyond a small scoff and a look around the room with shifting feet. 

When the tallest of the group does nothing to push back his sneer and heavy glare, you hum under your breath as you expect the words before they rush from his sharp mouth.

“I will have to speak to your mother about this.” The accent makes him sound so stiff—like a statue. A man built up of gravel and snow; concrete in his veins instead of blood. 

“Oh, yes,” Alyona mutters, “the Consul herself.” 

Your nose moves in a sigh, but you ease the situation with a simple, “Do whatever you need to, Petya. I know it’s your job and I’m thankful regardless, but we’ll be back in less than an hour. It’s no big deal.” You pause, plastering on an innocent look. “We’re hungry.”

 For whatever reason you always envisioned Petya with dark eyes—blacks more deep than the clothes they put Alyona in to off-set your given whites when you two are fitted together. But the man’s eyes were so painfully light it made you not want to stare into them. 

Petya grunts and continues to glare, working his jaw. After a moment he lets off a large huff and shakes his head in disapproval.

“Half-an-hour. No more.” 

Alyona manhandles you out the door quickly, growling, “I do not know how you can stand this, Seraph. Bullshit, all of it.” 

“It’s only until everything goes back to normal,” you reason, hearing three sets of footsteps behind you as the guards follow into the chilled air of Yekaterinburg. There was no reason to take a car, everything was within walking distance of one another in this dense city populated by over one million people. “My mother’s worried is all. I’m not going to make their lives harder while they’re only doing what they’re told to do.” 

Light eyes dart to your face, your friend’s hand guiding you along the concrete with a dim concern. “I do not like all of this, Солнышко. It’s been months…Are the gifts still coming?”

Your expression tightens, lips going stiff. Alyona notices and changes the subject for now.

“Ah, but what am I doing—I’m ruining the celebration! Come, come, we will talk about my engagement to Nikifor while we eat.” 

Nikifor, her soulmate. The one who brought her color and music with his performance at a nightclub two years ago; the only thing standing in the way of their marriage was Alyona’s strict father. Something about the man wanting someone with higher standing than a musician for his famous daughter. 

“How is he?” You ask, blinking away the thought of finally being able to see color for the first time and how that must feel. A piece of you would always be envious of that. 

Alyona must have blushed because she always tilts her nose lower when she does. You smile and chuckle under your breath. 

“Wonderful,” is all she offers, but the giddy grin on her lips is knowledge enough. 

You both make it to the small bakery at the end of the long street, heels clicking and cheeks chilled. People had turned to look at you, gaping at the two models still in their expensive clothes and attempting to take pictures on their phones. All were strong-armed by the three men close behind you who bark things in Russian. 

Alyona opens the door of the bakery for you and you accidentally knock your shoulder into the frame, giving a sheepish smile before carefully walking to your regular corner table. Your tall friend goes to order while you take your seat with a sigh, Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim all shuffling in and sending glances to you; looking over the interior with sharp and calculating eyes. 

It’s like they think the sky’s going to fall, you surmise, twitching your lips their way. They’ve been here before with me, do they still not trust it?

Back when things had been less serious they’d allowed you to go where you wished with them—parks, for walks, stores—now it was only work and home. As if you didn’t already feel so trapped. 

“You boys can pick what you want,” you call to them softly. “My treat.”

“On the job,” is all Petya grunts before he takes his normal seat at the table closest to the door; everything in his bright sight. Your hand lightly tightens on the table, but you keep your expression placid. 

You’d tried to get him to lighten up, Aleksandr too, but the two weren’t as open to you as Yefim. There was a blatant distrust of Westerners here, even if you had given up your citizenship to move where your mother works in the Consulate building of this very city. 

While she was still employed by the American government, that didn’t stand in any sense with you. But on top of you being a famous model, your mother was well-known, regardless, and that ultimately fell back on you. 

Yefim’s gray eyes flickered to a case of Bird Milk Cake with a hidden longing as he grasped the back of his chair and slid into it—floorboards creaking loudly. You notice and chuckle under your breath, cheeks heating at the sight as the man’s gaze moves to you and blinks in surprise. He quickly averts his gaze and clears his throat, fixing the collar of his dress shirt.

You’d buy him a piece before you left; maybe kiss his cheek just to see him go all blurry-eyed. He certainly was adorable.

“The baker’s boy is staring again,” Alyona’s voice snaps into your head, and you peer at your friend’s face, startled. 

“What?” You ask as a plate is set in the middle of the table holding a single piece of Medovik. Your mouth fills with saliva, fingers immediately moving like a starved dog to grab a fork and cut into the layers; you shovel it into your mouth before you hiss to pace yourself. 

You chew slowly, swallow, and give Alyona a confused look.

She slides you an unimpressed frown. “The boy. At the front.”

“He’s probably gaping at you,” you take another bite, rubbing at your cheek with your free hand as people walking by the front window peek in with wide eyes; your men glare and move their chairs as the ground squeaks again. 

Your friend scoffs and mutters in Russian, shaking her head. Her hand waves quickly, barking, “Look!” 

Rolling your eyes with a small smile, you look over and dab your face with a napkin before you get locked into a staring match with the dark eyes of the man up-front. 

He wears an apron, head a mess of curls, and his upper arms stained with flour. You blink and pause, wondering if…perhaps…A pause, a sickly hope in your chest…but nothing happens and the contact is broken when he ducks his head before looking at the counter. 

Gritting your teeth, you focus back on your cake and shove aside the sinking feeling in your chest. 

Idiot, you criticize yourself. Now why would you think that would work?

“Nothing, then?” Alyona clicks her tongue and takes up her own fork. “Do not fret, we will find him eventually, Seraph.”

“It’s not like I would know.” The air goes a temperature warmer—bodies stilling. 

While soulmate colorblindness was simply the reality of life, diagnosed colorblindness was still a curse that couldn’t be solved. If you ever saw your soulmate…you wouldn’t even know it. 

All because of that stupid accident. 

You act unbothered by the shift in the conversation and sigh. “You said you wanted to talk about your engagement,” your words remind the woman and she sets off into a tangent about the dress and the location after a moment of quiet concern. A church, she explained, the big one down the road where they’ll be a few days after the civil ceremony and the outer city venue. 

Alyona is only twenty, but you know that it’s incredibly common here to get married this early. Listening, you offer input here and there, but as it always does, the topic falls back to you as you eat the slice of cake dedicated to a dead man. 

Your knife-driven problem. 

The gifts. 

Already, you begin feeling uncomfortable.

“Aly,” you try to grumble, resisting the urge to eat the entire piece of Медовик as you put your utensil down. Your hand jerks over the table and you glare down at it in annoyance, ignoring the tensed nerves. “It’s not important—”

“How many more pieces of jewelry has he sent, hm? Letters?” The woman shivers and rubs at her arms. “It is horrendous behavior. Total fuck-up. And the fact that no one has caught him? Gah!”  

Your spine straightens itself, eyes sliding to the people gawking outside the window and seeing the multiple faces, shuffling bodies that pile next to each other like sardines in a can. 

“I just don’t want to think about it, okay?” You shake your head, turning away as a pit forms in your gut; realizing the fragility of your psyche when you think about the fact that anyone outside could be the source of your problem. The stalker. “If it’s just the gifts I can deal with them—the letters I never even read. If I ignore it they’ll stop eventually. All of this can be one big bad dream.” 

Your hand continues to shake on the table, not exactly in your realm of control just as the inability to walk in a straight line is. It was no wonder why they never let you do runway shows, you think sarcastically. You’d be stuck in a photographer’s room for the rest of your career.

Alyona pushes a strand of her hair out of her face. 

“Seraph…you know it does not work like that.” Of course you did, but asking for help was never your strong suit. And your mother had already given you three well-trained bodyguards to escort you to and from work—that was more than enough protection. 

When you think of the expensive parcels that had been dropped at AMA’s front desk you had to restrain the honey cake coming back up your gullet. All of them had been expensive; pieces you could afford on a model's pension but still wildly elegant to even touch much less own in multitude. Gold bracelets inlay with black opal and sapphire, necklaces with Tanzanite, and rings of ruby, your mother had told you this when you had brought them to her off of only seeing washed-out tones on your part. 

You never showed anyone the letters; they lived in a lockbox under the bed in your apartment. Concerningly, lately the ‘presents’ had been losing the plot. Random bits of glass and shiny items—a slow deterioration but somehow even more scary. 

Even the older women at the front desk were softening the usual sneers they wore when you walked in every day, no longer chiding you in Russian they know you can’t understand. The way they seemed pitiful rubbed you the wrong way.

You pull your jacket closer to you and rub a hand slowly along your thigh in a soothing gesture. Aly pulls her brows in. 

“I want to help you, little Солнышко, but I don’t think this is something I can fix with my womanly charms.” Your lips release a snort, tiny chuckles hitting the air. 

Alyona joins you before silence once again lapses. 

“...Do you feel alright?” Your friend asks honestly. Worry was plain on her face. 

You smile, but your lungs tighten in your chest while your heart acts like a dancer and lightly skips beats. “By next month,” your hand shakes over your thigh, “all of this will be in the past. No one could keep this up forever. I just have to…wait it out. It’s only the gifts, I can live with that—jewelry isn’t hurting anybody except his wallet.” 

The woman narrows her eyes at you and frowns, but it’s not long before she goes back to her half of the Медовик and takes a bite with a moan of enjoyment. You rarely lied, so you supposed she had no trouble believing you.

If only you could fraud yourself like that.

“Quite a wealthy bastard, though, no?” Alyona slyly pokes fun and you blink quickly. 

“Aly!” 

“I am just saying!” 

You press your hand to your lips to hide your loud laugh, Yefim looking over with a certain airiness to his expression before Aleksandr jerks his shoulder to face him back forward. The two glare at each other as Petya stares violently at the front door—daring those outside to try and come in and ask for a picture. 

While you hadn’t come back to this bakery in a while, the three men always seemed to pick the exact same table; the one with the perfect view of everything going on near the door. While it was a small distance away, it allowed for quick action in any direction. 

You blink away as the wooden boards under the bodyguards’ table creak again, loud enough to cause Alyona to frown in that direction. Petya sends an annoyed look down and scowls. 

“How do you know he’s not just stealing them,” you bring back the conversation, smirking. “You know? Maybe he’s a,” your voice lowers an octave in fake secrecy and Aly’s eyes roll, amused, “jewel thief.”

“God above,” the woman huffs. “That would be the twist.”

The both of you joked and picked fun, but that half an hour went past quickly, and soon it was time to get back to the agency so you could change again. The photographer couldn’t take pictures of air and play it off as you with a smile and a nervous stutter. 

As you stand you stare long at the cases of baked goods, licking the remnants of cream off your lips 

“We can buy another, Seraph,” Aly suggests, fixing her coat. You shake your head immediately. 

“No, no, I’ve already had enough sugar. I had two muffins for breakfast. Chocolate.” Your face pulls into a cringe at the words. “Cheat day.” 

Alyona’s lips go tighter, but she says nothing as her hair is puffed out of her face. She out of everyone knows how demanding modeling can be—your entire life is dictated by two things: calories, and appointments. 

You turn to Yefim with his wavy hair and his soft, dimpled, smile; casual eyes. Not your soulmate, based on his lack of reaction the first time you had met, but in that time you’d grown a tiny crush on the man, admittingly. He was kind and treated you with respect. Capable and reliable—how could you ask for more than that? 

“Yefim?” Your voice calls out, a smile on your lips. The man looks over and blinks in surprise. He clears his throat, stuttering as he shifts in his seat. The wood tilts slightly under him and he steadies himself on the edge of the table.

“Да, Ma’am?” 

Restraining a giggle, you cock your head as Alyona snorts.

“Do you want a slice of Bird Milk Cake?” Petya slides you a blank look and Aleksandr taps his fingers to the table. You poke fun, “For when you’re on break, of course.” 

Yefim’s eyes sparkle in their colorless state, a handsome smile taking his lips back along his face. He makes a move to stand up, floorboards squealing loudly as weight is lessened. 

“I would be in your debt—”

The world explodes into a slate-gray blaze of heat and hellfire. 

Your body is thrown back before you can even begin to understand that you’re in danger, panic completely bypassed for a total blank sensation of confusion. Spine slapping into the glass of the window, your form is hurled by a vast boom out of the bakery entirely before it slams to the concrete multiple feet away. 

You slide, rolling in a mess of limbs and ripped silk. For a good moment, you have no idea what just transpired, confusedly lifting your head from the ground and blinking below you as everything rings. Your hand grips the side of your head, the thick liquid seeping in between your fingers as you peel it back and look with shaky vision. 

Blackened blood is coated along your palm, slipping along your wrist as you tilt your hand up in horrified uncertainty. 

Everything comes back in a millisecond of screaming and running feet; like a switch being flipped. You snap your head back to what remains of the bakery as blood slides down your temple. 

“A-Alyona?!” Heels sliding, you stand but stumble back down just as quickly, hands slapping against the ground as you raggedly cough more, chest burning from the force at which you’d been thrown. 

What the hell had just happened? An explosion? 

There was little left of the bakery beside the front door, smoke billowing out of the broken windows as gray flames spark with the familiar sound of burning material—a sharp burn is taken into your nostrils. 

Dragging an arm forward, you grasp something warm and wet in an attempt to get up again. You look to the side and immediately scream at what you see.

Yefim’s upper body was completely fine besides the burns and the lack of his hair, the peeling flesh…it was the absence of the entire lower body that struck you with waves of horror. You slam a hand to your lips and wail, slipping back on kicking legs as tears well in your tear ducts.

Guts were leaking over the concrete, and the dark, gaping, wound spread a fast puddle out around the sputtering that made his chest look like it was moving. Eyes flutter, lashes flapping quickly. 

He looked confused, and that was perhaps the worst part of it. 

Yefim died only half a man, his entrails pooling out of his ribcage, only twenty seconds after you’d asked him if he wanted a piece of cake. Your fingers hide the loud sobs as you stare into this blank expression, hand shaking so bad that it hits your nose. 

“I…I,” you stutter, shapes and flashes rushing back and forth at the sides of your vision. Pressure holds at your left shoulder. 

“Seraph!” The sentence falls off into feminine Russian cursing and screaming, a grip shaking you back and forth, urging you to listen. 

There are wails and the roar of cars, but you don’t have to be given a speech to know the truth about the toll as the fire burns hotter and the blood runs faster. Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim are dead. They had been sitting on top of something that had triggered when Yefim had released weight from it. 

The creaky floorboards. 

“Seraph!” Alyona tries again, grabbing you under the shoulders and dragging you away from the corpse as bystanders’ phones flash with pictures being taken. There’s just so much screaming. “Seraph, please, we need to move! The fire is spreading!”

They had been sitting right on top of it. But…but they always sat there…they…they were always…

In the corner of your eye, a dark phantom looms across the street as the first sirens of the police cars race down the road; a burning silhouette of black mist and ashen smoke.

As the bakery burns and the corpse of Yefim grows cold, it slips away into the forming crowd.

TAGS:

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[leahwllmsn]

happy august😔🤘

happy august indeed… you can have this barely finished august pt.2 😶

‘tis the damn season

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me

The last time Alessia heard your name was during your last match at the Emirates after you decided that you were leaving Arsenal. Jonas called out your name once the match ended and there you were, a bright smile and an expression full of relief, as you made your way around the stadium to wave goodbye to everyone.

Alessia remembered it so vividly; the girl of her dreams, all dressed up in her favourite color.

Alessia was sure she fell in love with the color red even more after you.

Now, two years later, you were on the other side of the world. You didn’t keep in touch—why would you? You two were never friends. We were just fuck buddies, Alessia finally told Lotte a few months after you left to the NWSL. It didn’t come as a shock to Lotte, especially since she claimed that she often saw you exit Alessia’s house or the subtle marks around Alessia’s neck even though her boyfriend wasn’t around.

Alessia was sad and mopey and her heart longed for you and she didn’t know how she let it all go. That was mainly why Alessia packed her bags and moved away from London, anything to escape the place that held so many memories of you.

Georgia was waiting for her in Munich, welcoming Alessia with open arms and allowing her to crash on her couch until Alessia found a place. And after a few weeks of sleeping on a crappy couch (no offense to Georgia), Alessia finally found a place not too far away. It wasn’t as good as her place in London, but it was enough for her.

Looking around her flat, Alessia realized that despite you never stepping foot there, Alessia could still see traces of you around and Alessia figured that must be the universe’s way of making her pay for breaking the heart of the sweetest girl Alessia had ever met. Alessia’s hoodie that you once said was your favourite laid askew on the couch. The autographed Luke Combs CD you bought for her was hung on the wall of the living room, along with a painting that Alessia had no idea who it was by—only that it was your favourite artist. And the only picture you both took together was framed and placed on the nightstand next to Alessia’s bed so it was always the first thing she saw when she woke up.

Despite the million traces of you around, Alessia didn’t know what you were up to, none of your mutual friends were brave enough to bring you up.

So it was a surprise that after two years, she finally heard your name again on a Friday night.

She had a photoshoot with Adidas, apparently the photographer adored you. James couldn’t stop talking about you, listing all the great qualities you had (like Alessia didn’t know them by heart already), and offhandedly mentioning how this Adidas campaign will include a couple of footballers—one of them being you.

Alessia couldn’t help but wonder if James talked about her to you too. She couldn’t help but wonder if your heart stopped at the mention of her name, like she did with yours.

Alessia couldn’t help but wonder if the reminder of her weighed heavy on your heart, because she knew the further James talked about you, the more Alessia wanted to rip her chest open at how suffocating it all felt.

-

That night Alessia decided to finally look at your Instagram page. It was a miracle that you didn’t block her.

Your picture was of you smiling, your hair in a loose braid, you were glowing and you were still the prettiest girl Alessia had ever seen.

Her hand was itching to type up a ‘Hello’, to ask how you were. But Alessia knew better than to do something so stupid—something so selfish.

And as she was about to close the app, a picture caught her eye.

Of course you had moved on. It would be crazy that someone as amazing as you didn’t have a million people lining up for you.

You moved on. That was good. Alessia couldn’t possibly take away your happiness once again.

Alessia wondered where you would be today if she chose to stay that day. If Alessia didn’t leave you all alone when you were begging her to stay.

Maybe you would both still be in London together, maybe you would be right there next to her, sleeping soundly in your bed together, your arms draped around Alessia’s stomach as she watched some reality show on the TV.

Shaking the thoughts away, Alessia immediately put her phone away and willed herself to sleep.

Alessia dreamt of waking up to your long hair against the pillow next to hers. The disappointment in her chest when she woke up alone made her long for something that had always been out of reach.

[wolfiesmoon]

I NEED MORE CONTENT WITH PRANKSTER YUU AND VIL😍

reader is gender neutral and is a silly prankster

ofc anything for my slavic friendo 🤭 yall get special treatment fr

i am still genuinely blown away by how well recieved that body swap fic of mine was, i've never gotten that many comments on a fic of mine before

(and how well recieved i was into the twst fandom in general, srsly guys thanks for the support💕)

You are in a silly mood today. But then again, when are you not?

You feel like causing a bit of trouble to someone, but all the fun options have already been exhausted and you doubt they'd fall for your tricks twice in a row.

However, you still do have one person you can pull a prank on, and that's Vil Schoenheit. Normally, you'd give him a special pass which lets him bypass your pranks because he's extra special to you.

But what's the fun in that? Sometimes even he deserves to be messed with a little. Also, wouldn't it be kind of unfair if Vil was the only one spared from your little tricks?

That settles it, you're sneaking into Pomefiore tonight.

You knew Vil would be out at about 7 pm, busy with a photoshoot. He told you himself. Beginner mistake.

You're already cooking up a funny prank to pull. It's an expensive one, but his reaction will be worth the empty wallet. You can always work a few shifts at the Mostro lounge to make the money back.

Once 7 pm hit, you quietly snuck into Pomefiore, trying your damn hardest to sneak into Vil's room without getting caught.

"What are you doing here?" A very familiar voice stopped you in your tracks just as you were about to reach the door to Vil's room. And you were so close, too.

"Good evening to you too, Epel." You greeted him, slightly irked by the instant interrogation. He quickly corrected himself, greeting you back with a slight stutter.

"I just realised I forgot something in Vil's room." This actually wasn't a bad excuse at all since you often visit Vil and Epel knows that. You mostly just let him experiment on you with makeup or let him talk about his passions. Which is always a pleasure.

"Why do you have a backpack, then?" Epel glanced at the backpack which was hanging off your shoulder. He didn't mean to doubt you, but even he's been a victim to your pranks before. You're being really suspicious, but then again, it feels like you're always planning something.

"They're books, and thick ones too. They'd be difficult to carry with my hands." You shrugged, subtly showing the conversation is over as you placed your hand on the doorknob.

Of course, that part about the books was a lie. Your backpack was filled with "skincare products". They looked exactly like Vil's skincare, but really, all the bottles were filled with mayonnaise.

It's very convenient that mayo is coloured moderately like skincare products, and if it wasn't, you made sure to color match it with dye. You even tried replicating the original smell on some of them. Buying all that skincare from Sam was truly eye opening to just how expensive Vil's shiny skin is.

You're going to swap out his actual skincare with your counterfeit mayo skincare. You would pour out the contents of the original bottles and simply refill them but you have a feeling you'd never escape Vil's wrath if you did that and that's the one thing you definitely do not want to happen.

You placed the mayo skincare on his vanity table, carefully replacing each cream and balm one by one exactly as they were placed originally. Ohohoho, this is going to be great.

You put Vil's actual skincare back in your backpack and left Pomefiore with a sense of accomplishment. Oh, you wish you could see his initial reaction directly.

.

"Care to explain what these are?" Vil lifted one of his creams out of his bag, sat across from you in the Pomefiore lounge.

"They're uhhh... your skincare creams?" You acted innocent, like you had no clue why he was taking that tone with you.

"I know it was you. Epel told me he saw you in Pomefiore acting suspicious yesterday." He pressed you further, serious expression on his face. Ohohoho, you suddenly feel like you're in a detective movie.

You tried not to let the satisfaction on your face show. "Huh? I was simply taking back the magical history book I left in your room. What does your facial cream have to do with it?"

"I am not here to play this game with you. What did you do with my skincare?" He did not look amused by your excuses in the least.

"Hehehehe, I might or might not have replaced it with mayonnaise." You grinned evilly at him.

"You-" he seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "I knew you switched it out with something, but mayonnaise? Really? Why do you do these things?" He knew you knew that mayonnaise was his least favourite food. And he also knew of your affinity for pranks and jokes, but it seems he's gotten a bit too comfortable with not being their victim. Just how long have you been planning this? (One day.)

"Becaaaause, it's funny. Oh man, I wish I could've seen your face when you first applied it." you snorted, imagining his expression. His face is always such a joy to look at, but you imagine it must have been especially expressive in that moment. Your snort developed into hearty laughter.

"I for one do not find it as amusing as you do." he crossed his legs, looking at you with an expression that demanded seriousness. If you weren't so comfortable around him, you would have immediately apologised and bowed gracefully. His presence sure is strong.

You tried your best to stop laughing so he wouldn't actually kick you out of Pomefiore, but it was hard. Whenever you thought you had calmed down and tried looking him in the eyes, it was right back to laughter.

After about a minute of this, Vil seemingly gave up on stopping you, expression softening slightly.

"You should know by now how important skincare is to me. Having to miss out on it this morning was a horrible experience. Which, speaking of... just what did you do to the original contents of my products?" he looked incredibly horrified at the thought of you simply throwing away the contents.

"Oh, I, uh...." you acted nervous on purpose to make him think you're confirming his fears. His eyes widened slightly and he leaned forward in the fancy lounge chair.

"...Put the original tubes and containers away in Ramshackle dorm and bought new ones to refill with mayo." he took a visible sigh of relief. His products live another day.

"Didn't that hurt your wallet?" he asked.

"Yeah, a lot. But it was worth it." you shrugged, smiling at him.

"Well, I suppose you're quite a dedicated person, too. I didn't peg you as one initially." you really are a dedicated prankster. In some aspects, he respects the commitment. In others, he thinks you were kind of stupid for spending so much money just to annoy him.

"Always have been, pookie bear, always have been." you jokingly blew a kiss at him.

He cleared his throat, cheeks dusting pink. How ungraceful.

"I like you when you're angry." you blurted out after a few seconds of silence.

"...You're strange." he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Hahahaha, I knowwww. It's just, like... when you're angry with me for pulling a silly prank on you, it feels different. Your face becomes all expressive and stuff. Oh, and also, it's like, really hot." you recall watching a few movies which he acted in and you felt all giddy when he got angry playing the hot villain. As much as you know he dislikes being typecast, you always simp for him quite excessively when he plays a villain.

"Then why have you only pulled one prank on me so far?" he ignored that last comment after a few moments of consideration. He supposes the pranks would lose their effect if you did them too much, but if you really get that much enjoyement out of his misery, then why have you waited so long?

"Oh, that's because you get a special no-prank pass. You get it since I love y-" you paused.

"I realise I've said too much... I mean, uhhh, that was a prank! Got you! Hahahaha!" Suddenly, you wanted to remove yourself from Pomefiore, so you did just that. You quickly left the dorm without saying goodbye. You cringed at yourself for how unnatural and forced that laughter sounded.

He blinked a few times at the sudden end of the conversation and then fell back on the lounge chair.

"That little... Oh, your real goal is to make me lose my mind, isn't it..." Vil pressed his fingers against his forehead, mumbling that to himself before going to sort out some paperwork. He's wasted far too much time dealing with you anyways.

He denied any accusations from Rook about his cheeks being more pink than before.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 1: Your perfect life

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W.C.: 2.6k

Summary: Your life sounds perfect: you live with a perfect man, you live in your dream house, you do the job you love, you don't miss anything, except love and passion.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, reader is a photographer, reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to, unspecified age gap, Joel and reader are two cheaters, for a while. Smut, use of pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected PiV but the first time, creampies, comeplay, oral (both f and m recieving), exhibitionism, size kink, personal use of an unspecified sex toy. No outbreak here. Let me know if I missed anything!

Before to leave, this is a prologue of the main character and her situation, hope you like it...

Masterlist

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

The alarm clock rings and you open your eyes, smiling, "Good morning," you mumble, stretching an arm toward your shoulders, but the cold sheets behind you make you realize that Patrick has been up for a while already. You turn belly-up to the ceiling and think about your next photoshoot and smile. You love your job. You are a photographer and yours is not just a job, it has been a passion since you were a little girl.

You get out of bed and stretch with a whimper, barefoot you walk to the bathroom whose light automatically turns on, you get into your beautiful shower with glass doors and blue and light blue tiles, you shower and then you get out, you wrap yourself in a soft blue towel matching the bathroom walls and then you dry your hair. You put some makeup and then smile at yourself in the mirror with a satisfied air. You choose light-colored jeans, a light-colored T-shirt and your beautiful sneakers as your outfit. You walk out of your bedroom, make your way down the small hallway and down the stairs happy to be living this new day.

"Babe," you call out to your Patrick, but Patrick does not answer, he's usually in his office and works in smart working, but today he is not there, you go to the kitchen and there you find your beloved pancakes and next to it a post-it with a red rose ′In the office, see you later, love you′ you smile "I love you so much too." you whisper sniffing the red rose and smiling with your eyes closed.

You are happy. Your life is perfect, you lack nothing. You have a magnificent multi-accessorised house equipped with a central home automation system, you have a garden with a swimming pool, even a small spa corner. You have a wonderful man like Patrick, he is a lawyer who looks after the interests of small local construction companies and mostly works from home apart from when he has to attend some meetings with contractors; you love him very much, you met him when you were only sixteen and it was love at first sight, you then got engaged when you turned eighteen, you took different paths, but you always supported and loved each other, you never accused each other of anything either of being too absent or too present with each other. Last but not least, you have a job you love, you are a photographer, a good photographer judging by the many positive comments you have on your site and the dozens of requests you have every day, you also had a major contract for a fashion house two years ago and since then the requests have increased, of course you haven't had major contracts like you did then, but things are going well.

You have breakfast, get your house keys, then put on your sunglasses and go out. You could take the car, but today you really want to take a walk and enjoy the sun kissing the streets of New York, you'll take some public transportation and walk around a bit, it's good for you.

You smile, you're happy-- you repeat it to yourself until you convince yourself about it for today, too.

Your smile flickers and disappears when you get on the second bus; no, you are not happy. Patrick is sweet, he is perfect, you respect him and he respects you, but can you consider it love? By now your intimate moments are reduced to once, maximum twice a month and he always comes, you on the other hand pretend, you don't want to hurt his feelings. You masturbate all the time in the hope of mitigating this oppressive feeling of yours, to fill that emptiness you feel more and more deafening. Your home is beautiful, it is a wonderful shell that cradles and pampers you for your every need, but is that enough?

But your life is perfect, it's perfect like this, you don't need to look around or look for anything else to be happy, you tell yourself.

You get to your stop and get off, next to your photo store a cafe has opened a few months ago that makes fantastic donuts, and that morning you don't give up to sweeten your thoughts and soothe your nerves. You walk in and inside there is just the bartender Jake, a young man in his mid-twenties or thirties at most, and in the far corner a gruff-looking man who was hunched over reading maybe something or maybe he's answering an email, you have no idea. The man in the corner looks up, as you suddenly lower your gaze caught out, "Um…" you turn to Jake "good morning, a latte and a Blueberry Donut," you resume keeping your eyes downcast and barely breathing, you don't even know why you're acting this way, you've met dozens of people and exchanged hundreds of glances and now you're acting like a dumb little girl newbie.

"Here, consumption here as usual?" the young man asks you politely.

You shake your head, "No, thank you, I'm busy in the store," you reply, at that moment the man you had seen earlier in the corner flanks you, he is huge, massive, has thick dark curls, an irregular beard and a dark mustache, he is leaning with his forearms on the counter and at that moment he is the one looking at you, he smiles at you as if trying to make contact, you immediately look away staring down clearing your throat in embarrass.

Jake hands you the bag and makes you pay, then you leave without giving the charming stranger a glance. You almost run into your store as if to seek refuge within those four walls. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you feel as if you've gone crazy, but what's wrong with you? You've always been a proper young woman, and now you're acting like a crazy who runs away...

Someone knocks on your door, you turn around "W - who is it?" you ask.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a voice tells you, "you forgot your cell phone on the counter at the bar."

Are you that far gone? That's great!

You open the door and you are confronted by the handsome mystery man, "Thank you." you reply, reaching out your hand as he hands you the cell phone in the palm of your hand "How did you know I was here?" you ask him doubtfully.

"I saw you fleeing here," he replies with a half-smile, "Everything okay? You seemed to be in a big hurry." he adds.

"Um…that is…I had to make a phone call," he nods "Luckily you found it, my mind is elsewhere since this morning!" you exclaim, smiling at the man with a low stare "Thank you."

"You're welcome!" he retorts "So, you own this beautiful place!" he exclaims again taking a step forward into the club, as you take one step back, he looks at you puzzled "Are you afraid of me?" he asks you.

"No," you reply, shaking your head.

"From the way you talk and the way you move, I'd say yes," he replies again "Take it easy, honey," he adds again.

Honey? How dare he?

"You and I don't know each other at all, sir!" you exclaim trying to regain control of the situation "Please, leave," you add backing away and touching with the back of your thighs the desk.

"It's okay, I'm sorry I scared you," retorts the man with his head down walking away.

You lean totally against the desk breathing deeply and realizing that you made a fool of yourself with that stranger, who knows what he must have thought of you!

The first customers and requests of the day distract you from your moment of commiseration. Luckly, you can easily forget for the moment the incident that happened. You think back about it in the evening, once you get back home, while waiting for Patrick and think that if you meet that guy again, you will have to apologize as you overreacted.

When Patrick comes home, he greets you with a big smile approaching you and taking you in his arms, you let yourself be cradled in his grip closing your eyes and thinking again that maybe with that stranger you had an overreaction since you were overthinking your relationship with your boyfriend. Patrick kisses you softly, he tastes of bourbon and sweetness, he makes you lie gently on the couch kissing your lips first, then your neck and chest still covered, you hear him moaning your name softly, while you try to restrain your thoughts, your doubts about you and him, you still want to not give up so, after all you and Patrick have been together for more than ten years, maybe it's just a little stress…

He, meanwhile, has already undressed himself and undressed you as well, without you even realizing it, he touches you between your legs, but you jerk in discomfort and pain, you are not even wet enough, you look at each other, you look at him almost with reproach, he instead has eyes full of lust, "I got it," he announces lowering his head between your legs and making them bend. Patrick has always been a disaster with oral sex, yes he makes you wet, but he's never known how to touch you in the right places in a way that makes you come, and tonight is no exception.

You are almost glad when he fills you, but not for the obvious reasons as much as for the fact that this way he will stop and embrace you and you can sleep.

It is horrible, you know that. He fills you repeatedly at an ever-increasing pace, you have yes little shivers of pleasure, but nothing that can be called really good or pleasurable, he comes a few moments later inside you. Thank God, you are on the pill to regularize your period!

You think back to when you as a young girl you would have loved to have a child by him, you remember that you wished he had blond hair like him and blue-eyed like him, but your own temper… today you think that if you had a child with Patrick, maybe you would have experienced it as a trap… that's a horrible thought too!

Patrick after intercourse, lays his head on your chest and asks "Did you like it?" and you textbook answer "Yeah, sure." then you feel him give you a kiss at your heart level and he relaxes completely, you can't sleep, you stare at the ceiling. You feel hot and a burning thought spreading inside you, is it true love?

The next day you wake up with a blanket on you and with a cup of coffee on the coffee table, you stretch out putting your feet on the floor and find Patrick's ever-present post-it note, "I'm at Black's company this morning, I'll be back tonight, love you xoxo" and the ever-present red rose next to it, you pick up the rose and smell it, but unlike yesterday you can't say I love you too, you place the red rose on the table with a long sad sigh and pick up the cup of coffee which you start sipping thoughtfully.

Your cell phone rings, it's Daisy "Hey doll!" you greet her smiling and putting her on speakerphone.

"Hi gorgeous, how are you doing? Are you already at work?" she asks you, you hear some buzz in the background so she's already around.

"No, I'm going later today. I have a request for a photoshoot for a wedding at noon," you tell her.

"Did they invite you to the party too?" she asks you.

You get up and take your phone with you continuing to talk as you head to the kitchen, "Well, I guess so, I'm their photographer, I'll have to do a complete shooting." you reply to her washing your coffee cup.

"And how are things going with Patrick?" she asks you again.

"Fine." you answer not too convinced "What's with all these questions? Did we wake up in detective mode this morning?"

Daisy laughs, "But no, silly, I'm just asking. Look, but why don't we plan a double date on Saturday? Me, you, Patrick and Jordan?"

"Fine with me, I want to hear from Patrick though."

"Oh!" you hear her snort "These men are so boring!" she exclaims making you smile.

"I know, but we love them for that too, don't we?"

"Yes…" now she's the one using a not-so-convinced tone of voice "So we'll talk about Saturday later?"

"Oh no, how silly!" you exclaim "Saturday there's the wedding, they're getting married in the morning, but the reception is in the early afternoon and then you know how these things go." you add "Sorry, my head's a bit elsewhere."

"Things always go well with Patrick, aren't they?"

"That's the second time you've asked me about Patrick, but do you know anything? So you make me worry!" you say sitting down at a stool in the kitchen.

"No, I just don't like your tone of voice very much. I mean, when we were kids and you were talking about him your voice would go up three octaves! Now it doesn't sound that way at all!"

"Well, Daisy, we were 17 when I was telling you about him and we weren't together yet, I think it's normal that I felt so much enthusiasm then for someone I were falling in love with! Things then change…"

"You mean for the worse?"

You don't answer right away as you don't know what to answer, Daisy has always been like that, a very observant girl who even by a tone of voice can tell when something is wrong and this morning is no exception.

"My friend, go to that wedding and find yourself a hunk, listen to me! If you have this tone of voice after only ten years…" continues Daisy "may I ask you a very personal question?" she adds again.

"Sure!"

"How are things in bed?" she asks.

"Let's talk closely about that, over the phone you know," you answer evasively.

"All right, then I'll meet you at the gardens in twenty minutes."

After exactly 20 minutes you and Daisy are sitting at the local coffee shop sipping good coffee, Daisy tells you about her latest purchases and fashions as if you then don't know or understand much about them, then Daisy asks you again, "So how are things in bed with Patrick?"

"Let's just say … things aren't going very well, he tries, but I don't like it."

"What? Sex or sex with Patrick?" she asks again.

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I'd say it does!"

You snort, "I dunno…I'm a little uncomfortable talking about it. He tries," you repeat, "but I can never come." you admit, as Daisy almost looks at you with bulging out eyes "Please don't look at me like that I already feel weird enough!" you add feeling really guilty about it.

"No, no, I'm sorry…it's just that I thought things were getting better, you already told me about it a year ago and I thought that in the meantime the situation had been changed in better! I didn't think things would continue to go so bad," she justifies her insistence.

You sigh sadly, "The truth is that every day I tell myself that my life is perfect, that I don't lack anything, that I am healthy, I have a good job, I have a man by my side … however, it is not enough for me, I mean, I would like more, I would like to try something again! I'm fine with Patrick, but by now we've established a flat beautiful routine, he makes me breakfast in the morning leaving me a post-it note with a rose and goes to work, I get up, wash, get dressed, have breakfast, go to work, come back, go to the pool, wait for him and…" you sigh heavily "twice a month we do it, but…" you shake your head "each time I don't feel anything but chills, but I don't feel what I felt the first few times with him."

"Oh my God." she says, shaking her head "Do you at least … I mean, do you touch yourself or not even that?" your friend asks you.

"I have a sex toy hidden in the back of my drawer, I'm ashamed of it, but…" you start to say, but Daisy's laughter and her shaking her head interrupt you "Why are you laughing?"

"At least the sex toy kept you from killing Patrick!" she exclaims.

A giggle escapes you, "Silly,"

Daisy squeezes your hand, "I can't tell you what you should do, but think about it. Seriously think about it, my friend." you curl your lips into a little grimace, "Well, I hope at least something happens at this wedding! I mean, maybe you either find a toy boy or maybe someone really nice to have fun with or maybe still something to shake up this your perfect boring routine." she says spelling the last five words.

"Dummy, I'm going to work, not to hook up," you remind her.

"Well, never say never." she tells you with a mischievous look that makes you smile and shake your head, your friend is just crazy.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Either the owners of this 1983 home in Arlington, TX really like green, or they got a deal on some paint. 3bds, 3ba, asking $385K.

Well, if you don't like it, it's only paint. But, there's a lot of it, they even did the ceilings. You can't see the detail, though, b/c it's painted solid green.

It looks like they were into Chinese style, so I wouldn't expect all the green. There's a brick fireplace. Looks like they were dismantling the place, then kind of put some back for the photoshoot. There's a pitched, vaulted ceiling in this room.

Well, the kitchen's a good size, but it's definitely dated. That design on the cabinet doors is a dead giveaway. Plus, the style of lighting - that box hides fluorescent tubes. And, the counters are laminate.

The almond colored sink was all the rage in the 80s, too.

Kitchen dining area with a brick feature wall.

Nice size family room.

Look at that- is it a kitchenette with a wine rack?

The primary bedroom is a good size and has a tray ceiling.

This is nice- a shower and a linen closet.

Bd. #2 is a decent size.

Larger 3pc. bath.

Bd. #3 is also a good size. This is a nice little house for the price.

The rear entrance is a sun room.

It opens to a deck with a pergola.

10,367 sq ft lot, so there's plenty of room.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3601-Pelican-Ct-Arlington-TX-76016/29102436_zpid/

[libraford]

I will sometimes complain that I don't make much money and someone who is very well-meaning will advise me to 'learn to code.'

That's like telling someone to 'learn to draw an anatomically correct hand.'

I'm pretty good at drawing hands because I drew throughout high school, did art programs in college, and continued to draw consistently as an adult- so I developed a knack for drawing complicated things.

There are a lot of people who cannot draw hands. It doesn't make them bad artists, it just means that they didn't focus on the same things as I did. And if they focused on drawing hands, maybe they'd get pretty good at it, too.

But also maybe they wouldn't! Some people just don't! Like they can study and sketch the bone structure and the guidelines and the forms to hell and back but turning it into a hand just isn't happening.

That's me with code. I know enough html to hotlink some text and turn it into fun colors. I tried to learn some code in college because we were told that it would be required of us in our professional lives, but I did not get very far. Its not because I'm lazy, or that I had a bad teacher, or that I don't WANT to- my brain just does not do numbers the way that coders do numbers.

I watch my photography mentor in one of her zoom meetings rattle off coding terms and I'm jealous. My brain can't do that. She watches me sketch out compositions and maps for photoshoots from memory and she's jealous. I watch my girlfriend cut an old prom dress into pieces and sew it back together into a costume and I'm jealous. She sees me dance in it and she's jealous.

Like I understand that this is the direction of the world- that coding is a very important skill that pays well because its in demand (or is it? I've had so many coding friends get laid off in the past year that it makes me nervous) but I don't see the point in learning a skill that I know will frustrate me, that I will not be good at, and that I will inevitably be the first to be let go if I manage to get a job in the field.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.5

Coke Paul is just so pretty

What is the switching glasses supposed to mean in the penny lane video? Any thoughts?

In this interview, Paul seconds John's “go on forever” comment from a few months ago. They really did so well when they were living together, didn't they?

Okay, let's look at the difference in Paul's trips. His first ever trip with Tara Browne and he's just concerned that his sleeves are dirty and just mildly looking through a book of pictures. VS with John? The “I know.” “I know.” The “emperor of the universe” thing? Raving about it to everyone who would listen? Having to leave multiple times because it was scary how tightly they were bonding?

Their songwriting partnership is beyond insane. It's superhuman, it really is. Their abilities, their connection. And Cyn and Terry just reading. Just completely nonplussed. This was very every-day, monotonous stuff for them. Unfathomable. 

That song will always get me, though. “what do I do when my love is away?” “Obviously move my best friend in to take her place and then write a timeless classic with him about how it.”

Astrid: At first I did wonder if the really cared about people's feelings and people's friendship. Maybe this doc's whole thesis is “John and Paul's love for each other was so big they didn't have room for any kind feeling toward anyone else.”

The Pepper photoshoot is insane to me. Like more insane than the David Bailey one. Change my mind. You can't.

John tells an interviewer, "Only now am I beginning to realize many of the things I should have known years ago. I'm getting to understand my own feelings." Were follow-up questions just not invented yet??!! What things have you just learned, John? What feelings?

Never forget Linda took these. She must've been somewhat aware of how annoying this man was going to be about John from the start. And she still went after him. That's how good his . . . Nevermind.

"a decisive moment in the history of Western civilization" Well done, babies. 

I love smug Paul in general, and I especially love when he's smug about John. That “me and the badass bitch I pulled by being autistic” look. But literally. 

Gosh the Greece trip looks so beautiful. Idyllic. Paradisiacal. All of the beautiful people are just so blissful and in love. Sigh. (Every time I tried to take a screenshot of it it was too awful. Peter Jackson should clean it up.)

What are everyone's thoughts about the cause of Brian's death? I really liked what Vivek Tiwary said on AKOM. He knew he was taking a dangerous amount of drugs and he was depressed. But he wouldn't have just left so suddenly without leaving a will or setting things in order for the Beatles business. Anyway, no matter the cause, his death is the beginning of the end for the Beatles.  

All those quotes and pictures about the “intensity” between Paul and Brian are fascinating. “Obviously adored” “overcompensate” “little worries” What does it all mean? Was Brian in love with Paul in the end like he had been in love with John in the beginning? Or did he just feel bad because he knew it was unfair to Paul how in love he was with John? 

Wait, Brian was hospitalized for s*icide attempts in 66? Really? Confirmed? I knew he was in the hospital, but didn't know it was due to s*icide. 

Paul's hand at the small of John's back here, helping him onto the bus. It's so tender, so customary. They took such good care of each other.

Interviewer talking about MMT: If I can't see it in color, I'm going to send it back. ... :/

They're directing something and as Paul starts to walk away, so does John. But not because he wants to. He's looking around almost frantically. He has no choice in the matter. Only one person gets to control their legs at a time, and right now it's Paul's turn. 

Look how fucking ecstatic he is. I guarantee John isn't saying anything that monumental but look at those eyes. He's done for. Gone.

Interviewer: just get a tape recorder and you and Paul and the others just start gabbing. John: well, we've got a lot of that lying around the house, actually. Me: First of all “the house?” “the house?” Just casual. Like “our house” Like it's just common knowledge that they've been married and living together since they were fifteen. Second of all, give us the tapes already!! Who has them? Paul? 

All of these quotes from the Hunter Davies biography are just so normal. They're all so normal. It's fine. I'm fine. And here's my tin hat coming on again (and yeah I believe John loved George and Ringo immensely) but I think sometimes in these quotes, when John and Cyn are saying "the Beatles" they kind of mean "Paul . . . And George and Ringo". John himself actually says as much in the seventies, that when he says "the Beatles" he might just mean Paul, or just him and Paul. And there are countless times when Paul or John will start out saying "the others" and end up using just one name in a sentence. Idk this doc makes me such a truther I swear I'm not always this crazy.

And John's self soothing, reassuring refrain playing over all of it, “nothing's gonna change my world.” Right after Paul and Jane get engaged? Someone stab me in the heart, it would hurt less. And this is just the anticipation of the next part. Can I even handle part two?

Have some happy screenshots to bolster us.

[jinisnuggets]

Hey dear, please can I have a Sim Jake x idol!male!reader who is gothic thank u 🖤

༊*·˚ 𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒔��𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕

ᴾᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᴮᵒʸᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ! ᴶᵃᵏᵉ ˣ ⁸ᵗʰ ᴹᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ! ᴳᵒᵗʰⁱᶜ! ᴹᵃˡᵉ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᴳᵉⁿʳᵉ: ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

ᵂᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ¹.⁴ᵏ

ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ˢᵉᵐⁱ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ᵃˡˡ ᴱⁿʰʸᵖᵉⁿ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉᵉˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸ/ⁿ, ᵈⁱˢᶜᵘˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ˢᵗᵉᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᶻᵒⁿᵉ.

ˢʸⁿᵒᵖˢⁱˢ: ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒ ˢʰᵒᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᶜʰᵉᵈᵘˡᵉˢ, ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒⁿᵛⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ʷᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵒʳˢ ʰᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢᵘⁱᵗ ʸᵒᵘ.

ᴬ/ⁿ: ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍ, ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜ. ᴺᵉᵛᵉʳᵗʰᵉˡᵉˢˢ ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ⁱᵗ.

“Okay, Y/n you're up next.” A voice said behind you.

It was Jungwon, your leader and main dancer who had debuted in the same group as you.

Before participating in I-Land you had been recruited by the company staff and became a trainee under HYBE Labels. You hadn't been there long before participating in the survival show, and you ended up ranking fairly high, ending at the final rank of 2nd place.

Being a fan favorite and one of the idols with the most fangirls barely mattered to you. You only enjoyed the company of your members and became fond of making music. Particularly enjoying the act of dancing and performing alongside the members of Enhypen.

Today’s schedule was a photoshoot for an upcoming magazine that was particularly aimed towards young adults. But for sure anyone who happened to be a fan of the group and stumbled upon it would for sure purchase it. That was without a doubt.

You came up to the front, the black clothes complimenting the color of your hair.

Niki walked up to you, one of the members you were particularly close with.

“I bet you requested that attire didn't you?” He said teasingly, to which you simply nodded, looking over to the man who would be assisting you in helping your shoot go smoothly.

“It would only make sense wouldn't it?” You smirked, knowing he'd react indifferently to that.

“Right, right. Either way dark colors look good on you. So I'd say your fashion suits you, it's unique after all.” He smiled, catching you to mutter a small ‘thank you’ in response. Not a lot of people complimented you, so you genuinely liked it when someone paid attention to that aspect of yours

“Y/n!!” a loud voice yelled from behind, practically jumping over your shoulders and hugging you from behind.

Oh of course you would know who this was-

“Jake Hyung-! Y/n is about to have his photoshoot, you're going to mess up his hair!” Sunoo yelled from the other room, most definitely having his hair done due to the sound of the hair dryer running.

You turned around and looked at Jake, or in other words: your boyfriend. A bit confused on what he needed you fully turned your body to face him and scratched the side of your cheek.

It hadn't been long since you two had started dating so you were still a bit nervous around him.

“I'm assuming there's something you must have to tell me…?” You muttered in a low voice, chuckling slightly at the sight of your boyfriend smiling brightly at you.

“I wanna take you out for dinner later, it doesn't have to be anything too expensive but we should go shopping for new clothes after this shoot.” He beamed, making you flustered a bit before hearing your name be called from behind.

“Okay, I'll make sure to keep it in mind.” You smiled back, seeing him wave at you before making an encouraging fist.

Sunghoon came out of his room, drying his hair due to the water usage in his pictures and going to sit down with the others at the table, “Finally Y/n’s turn?”

“Yeah, he's handsome.” Heeseung said, leaning his cheek against his fist as he sighed. Ever since I-Land took place Heeseung had always admired you, which was a huge honor. Not only were you in his words ‘one of the most handsome men he'd ever seen,’ but you were also talented. Especially having only had limited time as a trainee in the company, you were a recent yet a threat to most of the others training at the company

Jay stared at you blankly before shaking his head and snapping himself back into reality, “I feel like I get hypnotized every time I look at him. His color scheme is just so unique and creative that you just can't help but space out if you look at him a second too long.”

“Right? He's so pretty.” Sunoo added, crossing his arms and rocking his chair back and forth.

Heeseung turned over to face Jake and teasingly nudged him on the arm, “Tell us your secrets. How do you attract such beautiful men?” He said, winking the moment Jake turned to look at him.

“Pure luck I guess.”

_____

Jake ran through the aisles, picking out every piece of clothing that he thought would look good on you, black or not.

He was particularly insisting on a plain white T-shirt, which he claimed, 'would look good on you.' However, since it wasn't your regular go to, you found yourself rejecting the actual process of trying it on. Let alone buying it.

“Y/n, it won't hurt to put on a white shirt. White compliments black am I right?” He smiled, making you look up at him and cross your arms in a form of an ‘x’

He frowned, looking over and spotting a black leather jacket which would combine with the shirt he had picked out.

“How about you pair it with this?” He said half enthusiastically, half defeated.

Being your boyfriend, he wanted to see you wear more variety of colors, especially those he thought you'd look good with. There had only been two occasions when you wore a color beside black, and that was only because it was a track where the outfits wouldn't match if one was of a darker scheme.

You always requested a full on dark outfit, you liked it that way and of course most stylists tried to respect that desire of yours. After all it was your form of representation, anything dark was considered a trend created by you and your unique sense of fashion.

White was one of the colors he so very badly wanted to see on you. Not only that but he also wished to see you wear the traditional blue jeans, any time you bought a pair they'd be black or gray, that was that and they'd be no-one changing your mind.

But of course, Jake being Jake thought that it was worth a shot.

“Look, I appreciate the consideration but I don't think I want to-”

Jake sighed lightly, not letting you finish your sentence before he silently turned around and walked back to the clothing section

You looked at him, sighing in relief that you finally managed to convince him and he'd be leaving to put the clothes away-

“What if we paired it with these pants?” He yelled enthusiastically.

“What!?”

In the end, you ended up putting on the outfit he picked out for you. You didn't particularly dislike it, however it just felt unusual.

“I don't really know if I like this..” you muttered as he fixed up a couple sides and smiled back at you.

“For me you look great. I'd appreciate it if you wore this to dinner tonight.”

“I don't think I'll be confident if I wore this.” You muttered, looking down at the jacket and pants.

“It's not a bad outfit, but it's just not for me.”

He frowned, looking up at you as he took the basket from his arm and handed it over to you.

“Check over these as well.”

This time, the basket was full of dark clothes, mostly containing hoodies and slightly oversized jeans that could be easily adjusted with a belt, preferably your favorite types of clothing.

You tried them on and there was no need to say that you definitely prefered the new chosen clothes better; however, Jake insisted on buying the previous outfit for you and you just couldn't bring yourself to convince him otherwise.

Back at home, organizing your newly bought clothes and putting them in their designated areas. You turned back to look at the brighter outfit which would look out of place in your normal everyday closet, you couldn't bring yourself to put it on whenever you had been getting ready for your casual dinner date with your boyfriend.

You really wanted to sacrifice all your regular clothing for this new outfit which you would most likely only ever wear once, however…

“Why aren't you wearing the outfit I got you!!??” Jake yelled, immediately catching you off guard as you just stared blankly at your lover.

“I unfortunately couldn't bring myself to put it on, however I did put on a pair of the new hoodie and pants you got me.”

Jake stared at you, he was unable to comprehend what he was seeing. You smiled knowingly as he just stared, sighing and shaking his head in his palms.

“Alright then, if that's what makes you comfortable.” he said, approaching you slowly and leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for understanding.” You smiled, seeing him nod gently as he caressed your shoulders. “I can't force you at the end of the day. You're still my handsome boyfriend no matter what you decide to wear.” He teased, making you chuckle lightly.

“Let's go inside now- I'm hungry.”

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

Astarion x Tav

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

request: for @aristenfromwarsaw

Fangtastic days of our lives

➹summary: a comforting day/evening in the life of Astarion and his love Aristen after post-game settling down, takes an unexpected turn as Astarion while enjoying his new found life and love, sees something of interest…

➹pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Aristen by @aristenfromwarsaw)

➹content/tags: fluff, comfort, romance, smuty flirting, fun, slice of life, little tiny bit of angst and guilt

➹word count: 5,036

➹cameos: @evander-jane Devana Lysander @alpydk Ragnar @goromimii @pinkberrytea (by order)

➹a/n: another belated birthday present for @aristenfromwarsaw  Thank you very much for all the great photoshoots you always did for me, just like that. Such things really fill my heart with joy. I hope you like it. Thank you for trusting me with your Tav Aristen. I take writing other OCs really serious, because an OC is very personal thing and it is way harder to get them in character. I used the infos/backstory you gave me once about Aristen for the best I could.

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

Fangtastic days of our lives

Teak, mahogany, oakwood, dried tobacco with the hidden essence of vanilla. From somewhere the sweetness of honey and roasted nutmeg.

These were impressions of antique wood, boiling kettles, clanging beer mugs and laughing voices that filled the Elfsong tavern.

It was like a honey-colored, subterranean, starless sea.

A sea of ​​people, scents, voices and music.

A sea of ​​life that would envelop the coming evening when the sun would have completely disappeared, making way for the aurora again after the starry night.

Astarion was acutely aware of his surroundings. Perception meant survival.

But not today…not anymore.

He could simply explore and enjoy his surroundings while he waited for his beloved:

Aristen the storm sorceress and former daughter of Bhaal. She was able to walk in the sun and as a vampire spawn he had to wait until the sun had made the rays that were fatal to him disappear.

That didn't matter to Astarion. He was used to the night.

But he never wanted to go back to that cold, lonely life.

The Sorceress, along with the other companions, had freed him from slavery once and for all. But it was she alone who had given him back the vision of his eyes, of his entire senses. Astarion could sit in the tavern and just be, taking in the surroundings of life.

No more looking for victims. No more fear. Never again.

The Elfsong Tavern was full of life and he was part of it.

So after hundreds of years, Astarion could finally taste life again. See it. Hearing it with his pointy ears and feeling and smelling it warmly with the scent of pumpkin, butterscotch and spicy beer.

A quite pretty bard with white freckly tattoos on her face and braided crimson hair beneath her Tiefling horns played the lyre on the Elfsong stage. Astarion noticed dagger-shaped earrings on her pointed ears. The Avernus fire of her origins blazed in her blue eyes as she sang:

“Empty kisses, shallow words,

Fiery passion only hurts

When the sorrow takes an oblivion hint

Will you cure and begone with the wind…”

Astarion continued to look around while the sadly whispering voice reached his elf ears.

“I hope someone sings a song like that for me too. Such expressions of love really manage to make me weak,” sighed a tall black-haired woman, whose face bore at least as many tales of adventure as freckles.

"Me too. But I really hope that the ballad has a happy ending,” replied a long-haired beauty at her table. The human woman's wavy, light hair framed a gentle face with captivating blue eyes.

“Oh you heard that? Oh no! ", the adventuress, ashamed, put her hands on her head with her side-braided hair and covered cringing with embarrassment one of the green eyes. "I should stop talking loudly to myself."

The other woman laughed a little and her wavy hair swayed on the shoulders of the long, light dress with floral embroidery: “It’s all good. I won’t tell anyone else.”

She winked briefly.

“But tell me…” she took her hands away from her face with the little different eyes, “…you’re not from Baldur’s Gate either, right? You also speak with a different accent than me.”

"Correct. I come from the East..."

“What did she say? Sêlune guide me?”

Astarion was distracted by an almost desperate voice that sounded at least as concentrated and angry as it was beer-soaked.

He saw a barbarian sitting at the next table, holding his beer mug almost too tightly.

The raised dark blonde hair did not distract from the piercings and black war paint, which Lae'zel would certainly have approved of.

“Okay, can I memorize this Sêlune prayer or not?” he muttered to himself and downed the beer in one gulp.

Astarion had seen him before and that evening he had stared at Shadowheart the whole time. Was the barbarian building up – or drinking up - the courage to speak to Shadowheart next time?

The vampire was distracted from the barbarian when a pale woman walked past his table accompanied by a brown-haired man. He noticed them because they both had scars on their faces. But no, that wasn't it at all. Something else drew his attention to them...they smelled somehow, almost reeked of...swamp? No magic.

That same hidden scent of feymagic that came from the black haired adventuress with the freckles.

The woman's pale face was friendly, almost cheerful. She enjoyed the music and the sad ballad. Did she know the feelings and sad love that the Tiefling woman sang about?

Astarion was all the more struck by the face of the dark-clothed man with the scarred hands who accompanied her: he was rigid and joyless and his eyes had an almost malicious shimmer. He didn't seem to suit her. He walked rigidly like an aristocrat or a trained soldier, or was he rigid because of the blade - that was clearly visible to the Rogue - that he wore under his clothes?

The man's gaze fell on the bard's dagger earrings. But not only the brown-haired human looked at the earrings, but also a white-skinned, tall elf who walked behind him. Astarion didn't know what was more noticeable: his large deadly sword, the long white hair, the black tattoos on his face, or...or the earrings in the shape of a dagger that hung from his ears.

He nodded almost imperceptibly to the bard and she returned his nod briefly.

Frowning, Astarion averted his gaze and looked around the taproom.

Many of the guests listened attentively to the ballad. Couples in love held each other tightly and some wiped a tear from their face.

“…in the dark of the night I see your tears

Rubies glisten full of pain

Rage and misery

Don’t get lost in brandy, bergamot and rosemary”

The ballad finished gently and the bard stood up.

"Thanks! And now for the bard duet!”

With a wave of her hand, she invited her partner onto the stage.

Wild white hair adorned the scarred drow face. It looked like survival for Astarion.

She could be young and old at the same time, that's how it was always with the elves. Young pretty faces and centuries behind them. Sorrow, suffering, joy. Everything was possible.

The narrow waist with the subsequent curved hips and thighs with short pants was adorned with a weapon belt with a sword and a flute.

The skilled hand whirled out a shiny silver flute and the duo began to play:

„Two bards do the trick, because bards do it better

Drow or Tiefling, it doesn’t matter

Shiny white hair, or wagging tail

Their persuasion will never fail“

They quickly changed the melancholic mood and the silver flute had a captivating sound, as if it were a homage to a goddess.

“One plays the flute, the other smashes lutes

Buy us a drink and we’ll tell you who is who“

A Tiefling whose rosé colored hair matched her white pink frilly clothing cheered enthusiastically to the tavern song.

Astarion heard her applaud with a giggling laugh. Cute little laughs with a sweet smile upon her light face.

It was that kind of sweet laugh that told the vampire how innocent, unspoiled, kind and naive the person was.

Yes, the delicate Tiefling woman was a sweet, innocent thing, Astarion could tell that with just a sideways glance of his red eyes. The sweet and naive kind of girl that immediately fell for him. Who he easily ensnared and seduced for Cazador. Or was she one of the people he would have avoided because they were so naive...innocent, undeserving of it? He would probably have avoided her if possible because such a sweet, lovely person didn't deserve to fall victim to the vampires.

Astarion closed his eyes briefly and grimaced at the emerging memories that he immediately wanted to repress.

Thanks to his beloved Aristen, he no longer had to do this.

He was free.

Cazador dead.

All of Baldur's Gate saved, saved from the Empire of the Netherbrain and the Mind Flayers.

Yes, thanks to the blonde adventuress whose fate was forever intertwined with his and all her other companions, he had escaped his fate as a slave. Their courage and their determination, with the help of the other fighters, allowed him to defeat Cazador.

But not only that, the storm sorceress had also given him love and patience. And the confidence to be better than Cazador. He didn't need blood-soaked, soul-eating power to be safe, to be worth anything.

Astarion would never have to hurt innocent people against his will again.

All thanks to her.

And yet Aristen did not consider herself to be good, nor to be lovable.

She loathed herself for her actions as a born Bhaalspawn, which she only dimly remembered. No one could hate her more than she hates herself.

And perhaps it was even worse for her, imagining every day what atrocities she had committed in the name of the God of Murder instead of knowing for sure.

She didn't see herself as a lovable hero, a savior. Astarion wished so much that she could see herself through his eyes just once. Then she would finally forgive herself.

The problem was that the sarcastic vampire had never said that to her and perhaps never would. There would always be something gnawing inside him, at his battered heart, that would prevent him from casually revealing his innermost, deepest feelings. What if he did lose her to someone else one day?  If it would not be an arrow or observer to steal her from him? How could he then pretend that his vain heart had not been destroyed for all eternity?

Darkness crossed Astarion's face at all the thoughts and he shook his head with his white curls to drive them away.

Once again he let his gaze wander over the audience, while his pointy elven ears only casually listened to the singing of the bards. It was only thanks to his beloved Aristen that he was able to recognize the diversity of the guests gathered. To be recognized again.

It had once been a faceless mass. At some point, after all the years of slavery under Cazador, the people in the taverns had become nothing more than a uniform mush to him. Victims, cattle like sheep, to his master. Criminals who hurt him and whom he hurt in return and they became victims of the vampire lord.

Dark, blank faces.

Without eyes, without soul. Just like Astarion himself had felt.

But after Aristen came into his life - with the craziest tentacle adventure of his life - everything had gradually changed.

First he recognized her blue eyes, then her face. The smile of her lips plagued by guilt and bloody ghosts of the past. The same smile as his own.

Then he saw all the faces, the people, their stories and lives again.

He saw the colors. The differences and the similarities. He heard the voices, the laughter, the music. He noticed the scents and smells again. Astarion saw joy and life again.

A scent that stood out from the rest of the tavern's smells suddenly tickled Astarion's nose.

Orchid drifted discreetly from the front door.

A slightly tickling shiver ran over the tips of his elf ears, while Astarion was already peering towards the door with large, round eyes.

Like the true epiphany she was, a blonde woman made her way through the elven song. Her appearance truly stood out from the rest of the tavern's audience:

Her delicately pinned hair and a ladylike, sweeping blue dress made her truly look like a lady of name and rank.

Astarion smiled as he looked at Aristen's appearance.

She always made an effort to look chic and beautiful, no matter what the circumstances. Like a true lady who belonged in a ballroom and not a tavern.

A ballroom, not a bhaalroom.

But Aristen loved all facets of life and also sat in the meadow under a tree in the forest with her fancy dress on.

If Astarion had his way, then very soon she would be pressed into the grass beneath him with the dress rumpled.

He chuckled dirtyly to himself as he couldn't help but think of that thought. And before he even thought about the first visit to his grave together, he shook his head and pushed it all away from his white curls.

"Darling..." Astarion stood up after Aristen made her way to him, having spotted him with a smile beaming with joy, "...you give me all sorts of ideas as always."

“What do you mean?” the high elf asked in surprise and blinked in confusion because she couldn’t follow him.

“Nevermind little love,” Astarion grinned mischievously and briefly kissed her delicate hand in greeting. He gently stroked Aristen's hand again as he slowly lowered it.

“The sun has already set enough for you to go out, Astarion,” his lover informed him. She would pick him up when it was safe for him outside.

"I've already run errands from a few merchants," Aristen spoke as the two left the tavern.

"Nice. Then we can now buy the rest together. Have you got everything so far?” asked Astarion.

The blonde nodded as they stepped outside.

Astarion sucked the air outside the elfsong into his lungs. Had breathing changed since he became a vampire? After all, he was undead.

Astarion didn't know. He couldn't remember, it had been too long.

In addition, the past no longer counted - smiling, he glanced furtively at Aristen who was carrying the basket with the purchases - only the present and the future counted.

“Yes, I did the grocery shopping that wasn’t of interest to you,” the blonde laughed and winked knowingly. “There was wonderful blossom honey, I couldn't resist,” enthused the sorceress, rolling her eyes heavenly at the thought of it and licking her lips in anticipation of the taste of the honey.

“Then I can taste it from your lips and tongue,” Astarion whispered seductively.

"What?"

“Oh, nothing…” the pale elf just grinned again.

His pointed ears were suddenly tickled by the brush of her lips as she leaned in very close to him.

“I heard you very well, my dear,” she whispered to him, her blue eyes sparkling meaningfully at him after she leaned back and gave him a knowing smile.

The vampire laughed. It was a serious laugh. It went from its sonorous, seductive, dirty murmur to a deep rumble before dying out in a high-pitched spike.

“I saw such a beautiful pair of earrings in the window at the Glitter Gala,” sighed Aristen languidly after she continued the story.

“So why didn’t you buy it, darling?”

Aristen shook her head: “Because it’s not necessary. I prefer to save our money for important things. After all, magical artifacts are expensive and the most important thing is that we find something that makes you immune to the sun.”

Yes, that was the ambition and current mission of Aristen and Astarion: to find a way for the vampire spawn to walk in the sun again.

Their friends also kept their ears and eyes open.

Gale read every book that might contain useful information.

Shadowheart, as well as Lae'zel on her travels through the astral planes, always sent them messages when they heard about mysterious artifacts.

And Halsin and Jaheira also reached out to all their acquaintances from near and far.

"If you hadn't used so much of our gold to rebuild the city and help its people, then you could afford any jewelry you wanted," Astarion nudged her with his shoulder and winked knowingly. The slightly accusatory tone was just an act.

“You know I wanted to try to somehow make amends for my actions when I was under Bhaal's control. This will never work, I know that. I can't bring back the people I killed. But I can at least try to help those left behind. It's too little. It’s no consolation…but at least it’s something.”

There was sadness in the blonde's voice. The look in her blue eyes was sincere before they slid slightly to the ground.

Astarion didn't like that, so he decided to cover up the whole thing: "I don't know what you're doing with this penance and compensation anyway."

He casually folded his arms behind his head and sounded as indifferent as he could.

“But…” he grinned playfully at the blonde Sorceress, “we could visit The Counting House again with Minsc. Then we have enough money to play benefactors and buy jewelry and beautiful clothes.”

Aristen raised an eyebrow with an amused grin: "You want to volunteer to do something with Minsc, really?"

“Now that you mention it…argh…better not. You may find him amusing, but he's always bursting in to chatter about his hamster at the most inopportune times. The guard almost caught me picking the lock of the Tabernacle when he suddenly stood loudly behind me, screaming my name and his hug almost broke every bone in my body.”

“What did you want at the Stormshore Tabernacle outside of opening hours?” Aristen asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing!” Astarion quickly dismissed the topic. Too fast.

“What’s next on the list for today?”

“We really have to go to the Devil's Fee. It has finally opened since the devastating battle against the Netherbrain and the reprocessing. If there are special artifacts or information about them anywhere, it’s there!”

Astarion nodded eagerly and the two elves walked quickly through the streets of Baldur's Gate.

"Oh no! No no no!” Helsik shouted from afar as her eyes saw Aristen.

The Sorceress blinked in confusion at the violent reaction and she looked around to see if anyone else was behind her, as the shopkeeper thought she might be.

“Not you!”

"I? But…"

“Nothing but!” Helsik cut her off. “After last time, I already told you that it was too hot to be seen with you and that the store was off limits for now. After the fuss you caused with your little friend and the black-haired fuzzy head.”

Astarion grinned briefly. He knew exactly who the saleswoman was talking about. After all, they had learned of Bhaal's daughter's past and how she had been involved in the Grand Design.

“I have new business partners, so I don’t need loud attention, after all, hell operates quietly.”

“We don’t want to cause any problems, I swear!”

The vampire let his eyes wander over the lavish and devilishly mysterious display while Aristen soothed Helsik.

“We just want to buy an artifact or information. Nothing improper, nothing complicated, nothing dangerous. Just good old Mammon.”

“Child, you will never have as much gold as I want from you so that I can burn my fingers again because of you.”

"Are you sure? I'll pay any price...whether it's gold or otherwise. We're just looking for a way to break the vampire curse of being vulnerable to the sun. Please."

Helsik laughed briefly, compassionately, not maliciously: “Deary, at the Devil’s Fee we don’t break curses, it’s more about the other way. That should be clear to you from the name.”

“My Love…” Astarion slowly tore his eyes away from the display cases and stood next to Aristen again, “…let me talk to her. I think I can convince them better with less…emotional involvement based on old stories.”

“Are you sure?” Aristen asked, unconvinced.

“Of course, baby…” he was already pushed the Sorceress toward the exit, “…you go do the other errands in the meantime and leave this to me.”

Aristen left the devilish business and made her way to the large square of the lower city wall. She visited the arms dealers and her thoughts continued to dwell on the fact that if even devils couldn't find a way to free Astarion from his curse, who would?

She would never give up hope. Anyway, Helsik was probably right: if it was about help, then hell wouldn't be a good negotiating partner.

Maybe they should trust in nature, magic and clerics. The gods may not have heard Astarion then, but perhaps they could now request divine intervention?

The vampire could walk in the light of the Moon Maiden, perhaps Dame Aylin and Shadowheart could ask even more of Sêlune. Maybe she could expand her moonlight.

Perhaps…

“STOP IMMEDIATELY!”

Aristen was snapped out of her thoughts and the blacksmith who was stationed across from Sorcerous Sundries just handed her back Astarion's freshly sharpened dagger.

“COME BACK IMMEDIATELY!”

From the direction of the Devil's fee came rumbling, loud voices and, above all, lightning and sparks.

“Stop the criminal scum!” shouted a city guard. “Subject, let him stand still!”

“Where for?”

“That way!”

“Or rather there?”

“I thought I saw something in that direction…”

“Then I here, you there,” the steel armored guards rumbled.

The clatter of steel armor slowly faded from the blonde Sorceress's ears, but a perfume that differed from her own scent of orchid and rose reached her nose.

Aristen smelled cherries, musk, palmarosa, black pepper and…

“Does this belong to you, little mouse?”

…sulfur.

Raphael's slightly tanned complexion stood before her. His brown hair was done to perfection with meticulous work, as were his clothes. Large, sparkling brown eyes regarded her, both sublime and mischievous.

The devil in human disguise had the white-haired vampire in tow, holding him by the collar like a naughty schoolboy.

"Raphael..."

“So you still know my name. Ah…very good. Tell the wizard of yours that too. Hopefully he’s still looking for my crown?”

Aristen nodded: “We defeat the brain. The crown will then be at your disposal. That’s how it was settled.”

“Excuse me…” the vampire groused

The devil released Astarion, who grumbled and moved his shoulders.

“Stealing from a shop that has connections straight to hell, very very naughty.”

As was his style, Raphael moved his hands theatrically while his voice whispered mellifluously. The reprimand was more than just played as amusing.

“Anyway, you were there in vain. There is nothing to buy there that could solve the vampire's little “problem”. Otherwise they would all be walking around here freely in the sunlight. Or not?”

The devil made a sweeping gesture and looked around ostentatiously before laughing.

“I'll talk to Helsik and smooth things over, after all you don't sleep well in unmade beds like in clover. But tell your magician that it is my crown. When he finds it, he has agreed to hand it over to me immediately. Not to Mystra and he certainly shouldn’t get the foolish idea of ​​using it himself.”

“He is not my magician,” Aristen clarified briefly, “Gale belongs to no one but himself. Mystra also has nothing to command him.”

“Does he see it that way too? Or does he like to be walked on a leash? He always just does what others tell him. After all, his own decisions are the stupidest I've ever seen...and I've literally seen it all."

“You mean as stupid as wanting to rule the crown of Karsus?”

“Haha…careful, little mouse,” laughed Raphael. “Just make sure I get the crown as quickly as possible.”

“When Gale finds it, you get the crown. That was the deal. We stick to that. But you'll have to be patient. It wasn't intended that the crown and the stones would be lost again, but it was hard to prevent it when the Netherbrain fell into the sea during the fight."

“I'm surprised you're so relaxed about this. You can't put me on a leash as easily as you can put the vampire spawn on a leash. Or was it rather the other way around and you Astarion put the former Bhaalspawn on a docile short leash?”

Mischief sparkled in the brown eyes of the human-shaped Cambion. There was a subtle, biting, malicious provocation in his words, which he spoke with a sonorous purr, as always.

Astarion's face contorted a little and the vampire barely suppressed a roll of his ruby-colored eyes. For a moment he seemed like a disgruntled cat.

"I think I liked you better when you just rhymed all the time," Astarion replied sassy.

Raphael laughed briefly, unimpressed: “Whatever. Less dawdling and making long fingers, but more diving for the crown,” reprimanded the devil with a raised eyebrow.

The devil wrinkled his nose slightly at the vampire spawn before turning back to Aristen and giving her his full attention.

“By the way, greetings from your fiery friend Karlach and her rapier-wielding colleague Wyll Ravengard.”

“Why are you ordering greetings from Karlach and Wyll? Have you met them?”

“Well, those two made themselves quite a name all around Avernus,” Raphael smiled in his smug way, “furthermore, I greatly welcome their actions against Zariel’s forces.”

He made one of his swinging hand movements with his manicured fingers: “I would like to invite you all to my House of Hope to linger, relax and chat. So you can catch up. You know, the Crown of Karsus is the key that grants you access. And until that happens…fare thee well, little mouse. I hope I will see you soon, knocking on the door of my house.”

As was his style, Raphael bowed expansively and his scent of leather, cedar, lily, rose, oud, vanilla and sandalwood disappeared into a swirl of sparks and sulphur.

“He hasn’t forgotten his flair for great performances. I don't know whether I should admire it or whether he's starting to get on my nerves with it," Astarion sighed briefly before straightening his shoulders and straightening his doublet with a quick tug.

"Anyways..." the vampire turned to another topic, "...I think it would be a good idea if we get out of the immediate area while the city guards are wandering around here."

The elf touched Aristen's elbow to encourage her to leave.

“What did you want to take from the store anyway, in the first place?” Aristen wanted to know from Astarion, curious and skeptical.

“Well…” he started to press and scratched the back of his white curls, “…I saw something…”

"And what was so terribly interesting that you would risk to be arrested by the Flaming Fist?"

“Well...it reminded me of you...and...I thought you should have it. But Helsik is really a cutthroat bitch with exorbitant prices.”

Aristen smiled good-naturedly: “Oh Astarion…”

“However…here…”

The vampire held out a white silk scarf to the storm sorceress.

Aristen's eyes widened. You could see from the shimmer and the way the fabric fell that it wasn't just silk that was woven there. It was definitely the weave itself and more that was at work there. Depending on how it fell and how you moved it, a golden blue shimmered.

“The scarf reminded me of the one you told me about. You know, the scarf with your name on it that you were found wearing as a baby in the Bhaal Temple. It’s one of the few memories you have left.”

The vampire took out a borealis blue thread from his pocket and began to embroider “Aristen” into the scarf.

“I wanted you to have something that you could never lose, that could never be destroyed, that had your name on it. Because if something ever happened again that made you forget...that made you forget yourself, at least you would always have your name with you. Then you know that you are Aristen. Not the daughter of the murder god. Not the chosen one of Bhaal. No Bhaalspawn. Just you. You are Aristen.”

The vampire began to embroider an “&” sign into the scarf.

“And well…” Astarion began to shuffle uncomfortably again and focused entirely on his work so that he didn’t have to look his lover in the eyes, “…if you ever forget something again, then you’ll know that we belong together. I don't want you to ever forget me. And so you also always carry my name with you.”

The vampire finished his work and the white scarf now embroidered with new memories read: "Aristen & Astarion"

“There is nothing in the world that would ever make me forget you, Astarion,” the high elf spoke softly.

She closed the distance between the two of them and kissed Astarion. The elf slowly closed his eyes as their lips met. His cool, hers warm. He felt her breathing life into him as they kissed.

"Thank you so much," the blonde said after they pulled away from each other, "you can't imagine how much this means to me. I love you, Astarion."

Aristen held the silky, white and blue scarf in her hands, stroked the pale elf's blue embroidery and smiled. "I think this used to be the color of your eyes too."

She smiled softly, as soft as the silky fabric of the scarf felt on her soft hands. Hands too soft for the crimes they had probably committed earlier in the name of Bhaal. In a previous life.

Aristen raised her eyes, which were also blue, and caught Astarion by surprise. Speechless.

That rarely happened.

Very rarely did the vampire find himself without words.

“Ah, I…” he took a breath to say something, but he lacked a suitable response, so he could only hold his breath, taken aback.

The gentle look in his lover's eyes and her words had triggered something in Astarion that he still couldn't handle: affection, sincere love.

Towards him and in his own heart.

The white-haired vampire exhaled and smiled just as gently at his beloved Aristen.

He reached out his cool hand to her and placed it against her rosy cheek. The blonde nestled herself a little in the vampire's hand and her gaze lingered lovingly in Astarion's now ruby-colored eyes.

“You never stop surprising me,” his whispering voice sounded sincere and just as genuine was the smile he continued to give her.

It was a smile that acknowledged how happy he was, partly surprised, partly just realizing that he wasn't really surprised anymore. And perhaps that was what surprised Astarion the most.

It was a day like any other.

A day like any other.

One day in the rest of their life.

Their life together.

And it was beautiful.

And he would never want it any other way.

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

➹a/n: i just gave my own Tav Saulus a little cameo guest appearance  😉 in the style of AU I also inserted aristenfromwarsaws other OC Devana, like a little, what are all the other tavs doing when not being the main character

the great Tavs of my lovely mutuals also did a tiny cameo:

Nala Hartwick of @evander-jane

Thomas Rosewood and Nana of @alpydk

Lovely Vierith of @goromimii jamming with my Saulus, best bardic duo

Mavka of @pinkberrytea

I hope I did the slice of life good justice and you all could taste, feel, smell, hear the life through all the description of scents, etc.

[milksuu]

HIIII omg im in love w ur writing !! if it’s not too much to ask, can i request heartsteel aphelios and his s/o who also happens to be an idol?? maybe something where he finds them stressing about a song not being good enough or just general stress?? ty in advance!!

❥ prompt: Being an idol came with all the stresses one could imagine. Autograph signings, photo shoots, and general press interviews. That was your life. Day in and day out. At some point, something had to break. But Aphelio's was there to pick up the pieces. ❥ content/warnings: hurt/comfort, panic attack, angst, fluff ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel aphelios/ f!reader

Your life was scheduled. Rigid. Kept in a little black book. In the right-back pocket of your manager's steam pressed pants. Anything that went outside the borders of those pages, was irrelevant. Nothing else mattered.

And a lot of times, you thought you didn't matter. Your manager would remind you, quite often. That you were just another pretty face. With just another pretty voice. With just another idol cookie-cutter personality. Easily replaceable. Easily forgotten. No matter how many hit singles topped the charts. No matter how many brand deals you signed. No matter how many venues sold out. If that black book disappeared, you would go along with it.

But when you met Aphelios. You felt it. How important you actually were.

It was a comical meet-cute. There was a mix up in dressing-rooms at one photoshoot, where multiple artists attended. You found it odd when you saw the make-up artist open their color palette. Mostly darker colors, which wasn't on brand for your aesthetic. Still, you didn't question it. To not be labeled a difficult artist, you went along with anything and everything.

It wasn't until Aphelio's knocked on your dressing-room door. And when you opened it. Wow. How pretty. With all that glitter pink lip-gloss, peach summer cheek blush, and gorgeous lash extending mascara. Then there was you; dark lipstick, pale cover foundation, and heavy eye-liner on your bottom lid. He explained the situation by taking a lip-stick and writing on his arm. You couldn't stop laughing ever since.

It was only a miracle that you were somehow able to convince your manager to set up a collab with Aphelios. If it involved work and profit, it was marked inside the little black book. If that's what it took. You would work yourself to death. Even just to spend a fraction of time with him.

And yet. How did it turn out like this? There you were, inside the recording booth at Riot Studios. Your hands crinkling the lyric sheet Aphelios gave to you. Written specially for you to sing. But you were trembling, your voice trapped inside you. Your heart pounded so loud it hurt your chest and head. Your breathes? Where did they go?

Your dizzy eyes darted upward. Behind the booth glass, you saw Aphelios raised in his seat. A look of worry spreading through his features.

Bang! You flinched. Your manager slammed that little black book against the glass. Yelling at you to sing—to stop wasting everyone's damn time. Bang! You're going to be replaced. Bang! You're going to be forgotten. You! Don't! Matter!

The banging stopped. You stared wide-eyed. Aphelios snatached that little black book. Page by page, he tore it to shreds. Tossing the pieces at your manager, and tossing the book on the ground. His voice silent, but you heard him. So loud. So clear. A strong and beautiful voice. It was the strength you needed to not collapse.

Before any physical confrontation transpired, Aphelios pressed a specific button underneath the panel. Shortly after, two security guards dragged your manager, red-faced and swearing out the door.

Aphelios hurried inside the booth with you. You reached a trembling hand to him, stumbling into his arms with utter exhaustion. He caught you in his embrace, bringing you into the safety of his chest. You heard his heart sing. Felt it beating against your cheek, reaching for you too. Thank God. Hot tears pricked the corners of your eyes. That little black book was gone. But you were still here. You mattered.

And you mattered so much to Aphelios. He made some text calls, contacted a couple of important people, and pulled some strings. He arranged your new manager to be his sister, Alune. Who was more than happy to work with you. From then on, your days were filled with Aphelio's, Alune, and the rest of Heartsteel. Your most precious musical family.

an: bruhhh the life an idol, especially if you have a poopy manager must be hell. so stressful. ty for you req. anon. got me in the feels a bit here.

[cherrysoojins]

👢 𓂂 ⟢ 💡 ♡

female reader x ateez hongjoong

multi talented! hongjoong x makeup artist! reader

suggestive themes, minors dni, swearing, abuse of power, hongjoong is a model & ceo, reader has very conflicted feelings, kind of enemies to lovers esk, JUST A DRABBLE NO PT. 2

— being a makeup artist for your original company was great. you loved being on the move and meeting new clients everyday. but that came to an end when you met kim hongjoong.

being a makeup artist for multiple different idols, artists, models, meant that you were always on the move. always having another schedule after the one you just completed, packing your supplies and moving into the truck you and your other team of makeup artists you’re working with that day and moving to the next location.

point of the matter is, you’re always on the move.

until you couldn’t be.

you loved your job how it was. you almost always had something to do, you were always busy, and it was refreshing to get home after a long day and rest your tired eyes and wrist feeling accomplished.

but after years of such a schedule, it all shifted the second you met the famous model, kim hongjoong. a versatile and a well sought out man in the modeling world. from modeling for every big name within the fashion industry, to being his own model for his own genderless clothing line and his own ceo– kim hongjoong was a great man.

a great man who you would think wouldn’t fire his makeup artist that had been with him for years at the sight of you, who got the opportunity to fill in for the poor woman since she had just given birth and was looking for a temporary replacement for her two months off, only to get a text from kim hongjoong’s manager saying she has been laid off from her job.

you did get a lengthy message from her, but you and her did figure it out since you also hated the fact she was let off in such a douchey way.

and even more so the fact that kim hongjoong called your own company, persuading them into transferring you into his company, and of course they said yes. it was kim hongjoong who was asking. you and the woman both found a common enemy in kim hongjoong, therefore your guys’ feud didn’t last too long.

however, the days of long hours and constant moving around to different places in seoul, changed. instead of meeting new customers every three hours, you are limited just to kim hongjoong all the time. every hour of the day you were scheduled to work, it was now only to touch up hongjoong’s makeup and prepare him for photoshoots.

the allure you had was something kim hongjoong couldn’t ignore. not only were you pretty, you were good at your job, had a good personality, absolutely loved to do makeup and always gave good results, and did he mention you were pretty? it was only a matter of time before another model or celebrity swept you under their wings, hongjoong had to make sure he did it first. he couldn’t lose a gem like you and he made that very clear every time you were working on him.

with a hand holding a brush, the other resting on his shoulders as the softness of the brush swiped across his lips, flushing them a soft red color, he held his hands on your hips and had a small little smile on his lips. a victory smile for the fact he was able to win the battle of touching you, even though you tried hard to tell him to keep his hands to himself.

“do you ever worry about your image?” you asked him honestly, a frown of slight annoyance on your face, eyes shifting from his lips you were coloring to his eyes that were already staring you down.

“something as simple as being in love with my makeup artist won’t hurt my image.” he told you confidently, shooting you a wide toothed grin that had you rolling your eyes.

love. he threw the word around so carelessly, unashamed about it even though he’s hardly known you for five months. people are all different when it comes to love, so you’re always unsure if the male actually did love you or if he was messing with your feelings. but you were definitely sure he held some sort of romantic feelings for you, a crush, maybe. but love? can a man as great as him really love you? and nonetheless, fall for you that fast?

you, however, didn’t know how you felt towards kim hongjoong. he was one, your boss. two, the man who pulled you was from the job you loved dearly because he wanted you. and three, annoying and maybe a little too confident for his own good.

you had so many different emotions towards him, you could never settle on one. sometimes you really did look up to him– an inclusive man who treats everyone fairly, no matter if they’re below him in fame, money, anything. to him, everyone is just a human who walks this earth with him, and for that, he treats them like such. like humans and not worthless bugs under his feet.

but other times he was annoying. on a rare day off both of you have, he shows up to your house and drags you around seoul, going to small cafes, thrift stores or insanely expensive stores where he buys you an outfit that your eyes linger on for a moment too long despite you telling him to stop. or he brings you back to his workshop and just talks to you while he works on a completely new piece of clothing for his fashion line. in the eyes of others, that sounds like a dream. but in the eyes of you, you had every reason to be slightly annoyed at the man for overworking you because he refused to hire another makeup artist besides you, and then proceeding to make you accompany him even on your days off.

“you sure? you know how your fans are.” you told him, a small smirk perking up on the left side of your lips before you frowned again, pulling away from him and shifting your upper body to the side to search through your makeup bag for your next item, his hands staying firmly on your hips.

“are you insulting them? how mean of you.” he chided, pouting his painted cherry lips but accompanied it with a shrug.

you didn’t respond, grabbing a glitter palette in your hand and leaning back over him, dabbing the glitter onto your hand and gesturing for him to close his eyes, tapping the shimmer onto his eyelids, looking back at the reference photo on the vanity to the side of you two to make sure you were doing alright.

“i like you.” he told you casually, and having heard it more than one million times, you hummed, pressing a little harder on his eye as you patted the glitter onto it. he groaned at the action, pulling his head away and glaring at you, pinching the sides of your hips which made you flinch and pull away.

“i know,” you said softly, reaching an arm to dig around your makeup bag once more.

“and i want to kiss you.” he responded.

“i know.”

“and hold you.”

“i know.”

“and bend you over and fuck you against that vanity.” he gestured lazily with his hand to the vanity your makeup bag was on that you were digging in, eyes slowly turning to look at him.

“um…” you responded differently that time, looking back at him with narrowed eyes. how was he so comfortable saying such things in public?

you’re pretty sure you saw the hairdresser that was a little bit behind him organizing her things give you two a little glance. but you also have to remember, it’s kim hongjoong. if someone says anything about him that’s remotely personal or bad, he can ruin their lives. basically, the man can say whatever he wants because he can ultimately get away with it every time.

hongjoong, being the ever so confident man just smiled and began to stand up, for just a mere moment, he loomed above you. not by much, though. for as confident as he was, he was just a tad bit shorter than the average male– meaning you and him were literally the same height. the only reason he intimidated you was because of how powerful he genuinely is.

“done?” he simply asked with a smile, tilting his head to the side and unzipping the golden vest he was adorned in for the photoshoot, exposing his abs to you entirely to the point where you had to look away.

“yeah,” you said, gulping as you closed your makeup bag. in reality, there was a small amount of eyeshadow you were supposed to do, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be near this many any longer, despite the aching feeling in your hands from straining them to not reach out and touch his slightly chiseled body.

the man in front of you caught a whiff of it, however. a slight twitch of your hands at your side gave you away. hongjoong leaned down slightly, not even bothering to look around and see if anyone was watching, bringing his mouth to your ear and pressing against it, his hand going around and clenching one of your wrists and bring your hand up to touch his chest.

a sudden gasp escaped from you, trying to jerk back but he wouldn’t let you.

“i’ll get this shoot done quickly, clear this place out,” he whispered to you, letting your hand explore every crook and crevice of his abs, controlling your hand himself. “then i’ll fuck you against this vanity.”

kim hongjoong was a powerful man who took your job that you enjoyed away from you, constantly took up your free time and off days over and over again.

and you would probably let him do it again.

not proofread, no part 2 😝 (unless i suddenly get inspo and the time)

[look-at-the-soul]

The Photoshoot - Part 50

Cillian Murphy series 2014, 2015

I’m sorry for not posting this sooner! Sometimes time flies and when I realize it’s boom 🤯 a month went by… but my love for these two will always make me enjoy the most for each part. And I can’t believe this story reached part 50!!?!! Like how ?

Ps. Happy birthday Cill 💙✨

Word count: 3,628

Cillian waved at the crew team as they left him in front of his hotel. As it got chiller, he shivered and walked into the small convinience store to get a bottle of water, strolling through the aisles, he found a stuffed duck and immediately thought of Scout, he loved ducks. As he walked past some people, he was aware of the glances and deep down he knew the reason.

The infamous Thomas Shelby haircut.

“Hello you.” He greeted his wife after answering his phone.

“Hey baby, how have you been?” Yael’s voice spread softly to his heart.

“Missing you like crazy.” He admitted realizing he probably sounded corny.

“Well I miss you more.”

Cillian placed the phone between his shoulder and cheek to grab something.

“Give me a sec.” He managed to make it to the register balancing the items in his arms and politely asked the cashier if she could cut the tag from the stuffed animal.

“What was that?” Yael chuckled softly.

“I’m buying some stuff.” He put his wallet in his back pocket and made it out of the store. “How’s it going? How are you ladies doing?”

“I took Mum to a yoga class and then we had breakfast at this cute little café and more ladies stuff.” She explained and he could easily imagine her playing with one of her curls with a beautiful smile on her lips.

“Oh tell me more about that girls stuff.” He stopped at the red light, checking the signal to cross the street.

“We’re getting manis and pedis later.” He loved hearing her laugh. “And oh! Yesterday when we were walking, we found an antiques shop…”

“Oh shit.” He interrupted in a playful tone.”

“Stop it.” She giggled.

“And what gorgeous rare-to-find item did you discover this time?” Cillian asked not being able to stop the smile from growing in his lips. He knew Yael too damn well.

“A painting.” Yael replied shyly. “And I immediately fell in love with it.” She rushed to explain to cover for her excitement.

Cillian laughed, seeing already the scene in his mind. His wife had a weakness for antiques, but he had to admit she had a good taste.

“It’s beautiful and the frame it’s the original, took me a while to properly clean it.” She continued.

“I bet you didn’t stop until getting it hanged.”

“Actually I didn’t, still trying to decide what’s the right place.” He heard Scout barking in the background. “How’s the scouting going?”

“Grand, grand… later we’re going somewhere else, we need some scenes by the river and the caravans look fucking phenomenal.” He explained.

The project was around the corner and he tensed his shoulders involuntarily at the thought of embarking once more into the character’s chaos.

“I can’t wait to see everything up.”

“Alright baby, I’ll let you go to your pedi time, call you later.” Cillian told her that he love her and walked into the store trying to keep a low profile.

He needed to pick up the gift he ordered for Yael.

***

“Mrs. Lieberman, Mrs. Murphy welcome.” The social worker asked them to take their seats. “Let’s see,” she seemed to focus on a sheet before her, the desk had a pile of folders and papers organized with colorful post it. “I understand you traveled for this appointment.”

“Yes, my home is in London.” Isla crossed her leg. “But right now I’m staying with my daughter.”

“I see.”

It was hard to tell anything from Mrs. O’Brien’s expression. Her lips were in a tight line and Yael always felt uneasy, not knowing if she was sharing too much or if she shouldn’t have said that.

“Would you like to tell me about your family and the dynamic you share?”

As Isla went on to talk about her children, talked about how they traveled frequently to be together as much as they could and then she shared a small snippet of a birthday party she held for one of her grandchildren.

“So how would an adoption blend into this? How do you feel about that?”

Although the question was meant to set anyone back and make you question yourself, Isla managed to pull a great comeback.

“Do you mean if I’d love that children less because it’s not biologically my grandchild?” She asked openly and when she saw the social worker nod, she went on. “My husband picked me up from the ground when I was at my lowest point emotionally and economically, for months I saw my daughter struggling with physical therapy to recover from the accident and surgery after surgery and not only that, he took my children as his own and loved us unconditionally, the same goes for our grandchildren. He never made one single comment about not being linked by blood or sharing DNA with any of them, I wouldn’t know how to love Yael and Cillian’s child any other way.”

Yael had to fight back the tears that formed in her eyes. There it was, the woman who always inspired her, opening her heart to say just what she thought.

“To me,” Isla continued. “It’s not about sharing the same genetics… it’s something deeper than that, it’s about choosing to love, care and protect for another human being without waiting anything in return and I know this takes a lot of time and steps but I can assure you my daughter and her husband will be the most loving parents if you give them the chance.”

Quietly, Yael excused herself and walked out of the office, she wasn’t needed there anyways. Emotions were suffocating her and it was impossible to prevent it. Perhaps it was the fact that Cillian was away, or her Mother’s words that touched her heart. But either way, she needed a break, to keep her guard down and trust the process and its own time. But who was she trying to fool? It was damn hard and sometimes it felt like it would never happen.

“This has been extremely hard for my daughter, the process is wearing her out, but I understand this is not like going to the grocery shop and picking a kid. I know it takes time and you’ve to follow protocols and forms, but trust me, she’s the most loving person I know and motherhood has always been her biggest dream.”

“We cannot base the approval on that Mrs. Lieberman, we need to check background, records, psychology tests… we’re talking about a vulnerable child’s life.”

Isla nodded, not wanting to upset the social worker.

“May I ask how long does it takes to finalize?”

The social worker shuddered. “It can be months… even years.”

Isla’s heart shattered by the statement. She wanted to keep a positive spirit, but the time frame wasn’t very helpful.

“That long? And there’s nothing you can do?”

The social worker shook her head. “We’ve to complete each step.”

“But there are so many kids in orphanages.” She had seen it first hand, since the following day she arrived, they went to give away the books Yael bought for the children, spent hours there reading to them. It was bittersweet, but she was grateful for sharing a moment like that with her daughter.

Yael wasn’t doing it just to look good for the adoption process, she was doing it because she learned it filled her heart and soul, because she wanted to make those kids happy.

“I just wish you get everything you need to approve their adoption, they’re eager to welcome their child into their happy little family.”

“We want nothing but the very same.”

Ending the meeting, Isla went to search for her daughter. Her heart beating faster, she just wanted the best for Yael and Cillian.

“There you’re sweetie, shall we go somewhere?”

“Yes, I need some fresh air.” Yael helped her put in her coat and the pair went to the parking lot.

“I probably shouldn’t have stormed off like that.” Yael regretted her reaction.

“Don’t worry about that, the interview was meant to be just for me, and this is draining.”

“But they seem to be monitoring everything, every little thing you do and say.” Yael waited for her green light to take a turn.

“I know you and you’re probably tired of hearing this, but try to take this one step at the time, be patient. I’m sure the reward is around the corner.”

Yael knew her mother’s words were filled with the best intentions, but it was just like telling someone grieving to not feel sad about losing someone they love.

“Let’s focus on something else sweetheart, let’s go to clear our heads for a bit.” Isla proposed, worried about her daughter, she wanted to do something to cheer her up.

“Yeah, we’ve the appointment at the salon already.”

“Yes, that’s a wonderful idea.”

Yael took a deep breath. “I don’t want to tell Cill about this just yet. He needs to focus on his next project and this isn’t exactly a major step or something that tells me we’re getting good news soon.”

Yael took a U turn at the next available exit, following the instructions in the GPS.

As she was driving, her phone started ringing and Cillian’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hey handsome, I was thinking of you.”

“I got a notification marked as urgent that you left somewhere, are you alright?”

“Yeah, we just finished the interview with the social worker and I’m taking Mum for a walk. It’s the app I downloaded for you, it keeps you updated of where am I and stuff like that.”

“Oh so I can spy on you?” He joked and made Isla chuckled. “How did it go?”

Yael took a deep breath before answering her husband. “I hope well.”

“I’m sure of it.” He offered through the phone. “Why don’t you go to the movies to shake it off?” Cillian proposed.

Yael gasped at the suggestion. “That’s a great idea!”

“Yeah.” He added thinking how it had been a while since they went out. Lately he had been focusing on the script and nothing else, he felt bad because as he was getting more and more engrossed on the role, he started to grow apart from his wife. And although she never pointed it out, now that her mother was around, he was noticing the difference.

She was so supportive of each of his projects and with the adoption process, he wanted to make sure they were still connected.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking… why don’t start planning a holiday during Christmas? Or by the time I finish filming? Let’s go wherever you want, hmm?”

“Oh that’s really nice!” Isla agreed, noticing the smile on her daughter’s lips.

“I’d love that.” A few days away just the two of them? Yael was already looking forward to it.

“Alright, it’s settled then, I’m heading to the set now, let me know when you get home.”

“Will do.” Telling Cillian, she loved him, Yael hang up.

“He’s amazing.” Isla expressed, getting out of the car, as they arrived at the salon.

“I can’t wait for that holiday already, I feel like he’s been rehearsing since forever.”

She wanted nothing but have a good rest and not worry about anything else.

“Hello, welcome.” A woman greeted them and asked if they had an appointment.

Yael left her purse by a chair and started checking the nail colors options.

“You look so much alike!” The woman pointed at Isla and Yael in shock. “It’s like you did copy-paste.”

Yael blushed, she was so used to get those kind of reactions, specially now that her mother was sporting her natural curls freely.

Another woman at the salon pointed out the same in awe.

“Thanks. We hear that a lot.” Yael chuckled.

“So who’s Isla?” A kind smile appeared on her face just as a woman that was getting a haircut turned from her chair.

“That’d be me.” Yael’s mother replied waving her hand.

“Isla?” The woman turned around to face. “Isla is that you?”

“Barbara?” Her mother asked cautiously.

Yael looked the exchange with confusion.

“Oh my God I can’t believe it’s you!” Isla covered her mouth with her hands.

As the two women moved to closer to hug, Yael stared at the scene trying to understand the story behind their familiarity.

“It’s been what? A lifetime.” Isla continued.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you, but after all this time, you still look the same.”

Then, Isla looked around, noticing her daughter’s stare. “Goodness! Let me introduce you to my daughter, Yael, she’s my youngest.”

“Nice to meet you.” Yael greeted the woman.

“She’s Barbara, I used to babysit her and her sister. I was in my early 20’s.” Isla explained her daughter. “And one day, I never saw you again.”

“She looks just like you.” Barbara admitted. “You knew they took us to a government facility?”

Isla gasped in shock. “So it was true.”

“After a few months, someone adopted my sister and I never saw her again, she was only five years old back then, I waited but when I turned eighteen they kicked me out.” Barbara explained.

“You never saw her again?” Isla asked, her heart breaking in the process.

“No, I’ve been searching for her for so many years with no luck.”

“Uhm excuse me? We’ve a full agenda, could we continue while you catch up?” The hairstylist pointed at Bárbara’s wet hair.

“Sorry! Yes.” She stretched her arm towards Isla. “Mind if we go somewhere after we’re done here?”

Isla nodded, feeling like a knot installed in her stomach.

***

Cillian stood in the middle of Arley Hall mesmerized. The place was magnetic, beautiful and oozed this old vibe mansion in every corner.

“What do you think?” Steven asked, standing next to him.

“It’s amazing.” He turned around and moved away just as some crew walked past them with some furniture.

“They’re closing it to the public while we’re filming.” Steven stood there watching everything with his hands on his hips and a smile on his face.

“Are we filming everywhere?” Cillian crossed his arms imagining the scenes in this place, it was a luxury property and according to the script this was Tommy’s ultimate dream house, where he officially kick off and gets what he always wanted.

His ambitions finally materializing, his dreams becoming a reality.

Oh, but the price Tommy would have to pay…

Cillian wandered around. He learned it had been once the home of a wealthy family, it was spacious, the view to the garden was fantastic, part of the house included a cellar, and the second floor was as incredible as the first one, but for the upstairs part, they had constructed a replica on one of the sets.

As he kept walking, he arrived at the kitchen area one floor below, he had never seen something like that, it was rustic and had a huge pantry and an area where they kept the meat stored.

It was a dream, he was practically drooling over it. It was so easy to get lost and imagine how everything would look as soon as the crew got it ready for filming. Walking around, he ended in the dining room, a couple of important scenes would be filmed there.

“I think this needs something else, but I don’t know what.” Steven joined him.

It oozed luxury, it was elegant. The chandeliers sparkled, curtains with fabric that looked so expensive. Cillian imagined the kind of life the previous owners carried before it was purchased as wedding venue and a place open to the public to visit.

“A painting.” Cillian suggested casually. “A huge arse portrait.”

Steven turned around to stare at Cillian, eyes wide open as the realization hit him hard and fast.

“Yes, right there in the back of the main seat.”

Cillian nodded, hands hiding inside his pockets. It was involuntary, but it was part of the essence of his character. He couldn’t help it.

“Can your wife be in charge?”

He nodded quietly.

“Give her a call.”

But he didn’t need to do so. Because his phone started ringing in that very moment and it was Yael.

“Hello beautiful, I was just about to call you.”

“You’ve to sit down, you’re not going to believe this.” Yael started off. She sounded like there was something important she wanted to tell him.

“What’s the matter? Is everything fine?” Quietly he decided to take a walk outside, away from someone listening.

”Mum and I were at the salon, right? So when they call her name, this woman immediately recognized Mum and went to greet her, they chat for a bit. Long story short my Mum used to babysit Barbara -the woman-, when they were younger but one day she and her sister were taken away and she never saw them again.”

Cillian listened carefully, waiting for his wife to tell him the full story.

“Barbara is the Director of the child services office.” She explained him, his heart started beating faster. “She took us to her office, took a look at our records, studies, everything,” Cillian heard her taking a deep breath, “babe, it turns out we were in some kind of blacklist.”

Silence filled the call, Cillian inhaled deeply. “Why?”

“This is horrible but… have you noticed how celebrities go to places like Nigeria or Africa to adopt?”

Cillian kicked a rock he found on his way, processing that piece of information. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know about the adoption process over there, but apparently it’s easier, no questions asked and overnight, they’ve a child, we’ll thanks to that, the kind of surroundings to these celebrities lifestyle they practically catalogued us in that list so we’d never ever get the adoption finalized.” Yael’s words came out rushed.

Cillian felt a vein in his temple pulsing. “Are you telling me because I’m an actor, they practically rejected our application without telling us?”

The realization of his own words made his heart sink to the ground. Not getting the chance to move forward with the adoption process and his wife’s sadness was his fault?

Misery took over him.

“Hold on, I know what you’re thinking.” Yael interrupted his thoughts. “Not everything is as bad as it seems, this woman, Barbara she told us, basically… she’s going to help us! I asked her what do we’ve to do in order to be out of the blacklist and she gave me hope Cill, she explained us a lot of things no one told us about and I understand the reasons why they just can’t give kids to whoever starts a process, but she said literally I know your Mother, and she was always kind to me and my sister, she gave us food when we had nothing, she shared her clothes with us too, I can imagine the kind of daughter she raised.”

Emotion took over her voice, it was impossible not to feel everything right in the surface.

“How are we so sure that they won’t make it harder because of what I do for a living?” He was still processing the impact his career had, never thought it would be a negative reason in the adoption.

“She assured us she’d take our case personally.”

Despite Yael’s words, Cillian still felt doubtful now. Feeling guilty that he was the reason of not being able to adopt a child.

“So what are we supposed to do now? We’ve been begging them for the interviews.”

Yael had been calling almost daily to get the appointments, and now he was able to understand why the process had been so hard, they were trying to push them back.

“Barbara told me she’d give me a call, but I guess we’ve to wait to hear the next steps.”

When her mother told her what the social worked mentioned during her interview, Yael felt deflated. Hearing the process could take years to finalize shattered her heart. But now there was a new chance to move things forward with Barbara behind their case.

Cillian stared into the huge garden, not paying attention to anything in particular.

“Are you still there?” His wife’s voice made him snap back into reality.

“Yeah… just thinking.”

He really wanted to feel her new enthusiasm and positivism, but he also couldn’t help but feel worried, what if they have to face new challenges in the process, all this bureaucracy because of his job? He wasn’t sure to be able to deal with the guilt of knowing that because of him the process could be harder or take longer than usual because he needs to prove that he isn’t like most of Hollywood stars.

This whole thing was a roller coaster, sometimes it was Yael the one feeling down, now it was his turn while she had her hopes up. He hated to admit it but it was draining.

“If you hear anything back, call me yeah? Or text me.” He added after a few seconds, not wanting to drag her down because of his attitude.

“Absolutely.”

“Listen, Steven wants to do some photos, so I think I’m going to change my flight… your Mum is already flying back, why don’t you come with her?”

Yael took her time, to consider her options. “How many days?”

“Just a couple, to get a few photos done.”

“Okay, let me organize my planner and see how can I reorganize the things I’ve scheduled and also I need someone to look after Scout.”

“I’ll call my brother, don’t worry.” He went on walking again, sitting on the edge of the fountain. “I really want to see you.”

She wanted the same, needed to feel him close.

Tag list: @lyarr24 @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan

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[xotaemintol]

𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙸 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙷𝙾 𝚇 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 (𝙵𝙴𝙼) 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁: “𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙽-𝙱”

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Plot: After teasing Minho while he was out, he comes home and takes what he's been thinking about all day. (Mostly just smut though, this is the plot that implied but there is really only smut)

PRONOUNS USED: None, heavy implications of reader being female, terms like ‘good girl’ and ‘princess’ used.

TWS: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), poly relationships, mentioning of sex with more than one person, vulgar language, creampie/breeding, sight nipple play, and multiple orgasms (2 fem receiving)

WORD COUNT: 3334

<<𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑, 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝙱𝚢 𝚁𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊...>>

As you crawl onto the bed your heart pounds with excitement, the way Minho’s eyes followed your body made you anticipate what he'd do when he finally got his hands on you. You roll over and lay on your back, looking up at him you smile and bite your lip. “Aren't you cute?” He teased as he put his hand on his belt, “If I didn't know any better, I'd assume you were trying to seduce me.” You spread your legs a little and shrug your shoulders, “Maybe,” you said. Although you were the one teasing him, the way Minho looked you up and down made you throb, he had just gotten home from a photoshoot and you decided that it would be a good idea to take pictures of your own to send to him while he was out. Needless to say, it had him itching to get home and see the real thing.

Minho was more than pleased to see you dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown and a pair of equally as thin underwear, the sight of your brown skin against the Pearl colored silk material made his mind run wild, and the sight of your legs spreading and the soft fabric sliding up to your stomach, exposing your smooth thighs made his heart rate speed up. As he looked at you he thought to himself that he'd go crazy if he didn't touch you, so he did, as he took off his belt and threw his black blazer aside he joined you on the soft bed. The way he kissed you showed just how badly he wanted you, his hands were restless against your body, sliding under your nightgown with ease as his tongue rolled around with yours.

Your back arched as he groped your breasts, palming them slowly. Your breathing speeds up, and you become breathless as he pulls away and begins kissing the side of your neck, he trailed down from your jaw to your neck, making his way down to your slightly exposed shoulders. The feeling of his soft lips on your skin made your body burn, and the throbbing between your legs became so strong that you couldn't stop yourself from squeezing them together to create some sort of friction, his slow and careful teasing was driving you mad. Completely pushing the thin fabric up Minho takes one of your erect nipples into his mouth while softly rolling the other between the pad of his thumb and index finger, you gasp and put your hand in his hair, and tingles form on your skin making you shiver at the pleasurable sensation.

“Mhmm...Minho...” You moan lowly as he looks up at you, the feeling of his tongue rolling and tracing around your nipple makes them almost painfully hard, but in a way that makes you feel even wetter. “You sound so excited,” He says before switching his attention to the other, he makes sure to pay close attention to your body, taking note of the way your body trembles just a little with every flick of his tongue, the sounds of your heavy breathing make him want to please you even more. Finally, he takes his attention away from your now sensitive nipples and begins kissing down your stomach, leaving wet open mouth kisses between your breasts and on your stomach as he makes his way down to your lower waist. The cold air on your wet nipples makes you shiver, but the sight of Minho between your legs makes you feel ten times more sensitive from the arousal.

“Are you okay Princess?” He asks, “It's not too much already is it?” But as he slowly removes your underwear, you can tell that he'd like it if you were already so turned on from just kissing him and being toyed with that you couldn't handle it. You shake your head though, biting your lip as the soft underwear roll and slide down your thighs, “Good, I wouldn't want you to tap out early.” You curse to yourself, rolling your eyes as you get a vivid memory of the last time you had to tap out, the thought makes every second of your underwear coming down feel like torture, you just want him to take them off already. “Minho...” You whine, he looks at you with a cheeky grin, completely stopped leaving your underwear right above your knees. “What?” He asks as he kisses right above your pussy, “You can't wait?”

Your eyes flutter closed as he licks up from your pelvis to your stomach, “Just be patient for me baby, I'll give you what you deserve.” His soothing and comforting voice makes you buzz with excitement, and you smile a little. Even when teasing you Minho has always been a sweetheart, “Just lay back for me, and relax.” You follow his instruction, take a deep breath, and lay all the way down on your back, “Good girl.” Finally, he removes your underwear completely, tossing them to the other side of the bed without care. You don't usually feel shy when you're with him, out of the five of them, Minho, Jonghyun, and Jinki have always been the three you've never struggled with shyness with, and it's not to say that Taemin and Kibum don't make you feel relaxed, you love the time you spend with all of them equally. For some reason though, the way his eyes feel on your exposed body makes you want to close your legs and look away.

It was like he could tell too, that shy look on your face was one only you showed when you were with all of them, the way he softly caresses your legs and kisses your inner thighs with a tenderness that makes your heart melt tells you that he can see how you feel. “You're so pretty,” he says while continuing to kiss all over your soft skin, “Do you know how pretty you are baby?” You inhale deeply as he inches closer to your pussy, you don't even bother responding since you feel too wrapped up in him to even think of how to respond. You can feel his soft breaths on your wet core, it sends chills down your spine, and when he finally licks up the wet folds you let out a heavily sexual sigh, “Oh my god...” You bite the inside of your lip as you wait for more, you don't have to wait for long though, in second Minho’s tongue is diving between your lips.

He licks up and down making sure to cover every inch of your pussy before he focuses on your clit, he swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, closing his eyes as he practically latches his mouth around it. You gasp for air while gripping the covers, breathing heavily with occasionally loud moans slipping out as you try your hardest not to completely fall apart at the seams, but Minho wanted you to do exactly that, so, he pushed your legs back and moved down to your now dripping slit. The moment you felt his tongue slip inside of you it felt impossible to keep your voice down, your legs shake as you throw your head back and press your hips into the mattress, and your back arches as your toes curl. The sound of your heaven-like moans fuels him more making him drive his tongue as deep as he possibly could inside of you.

The feeling made you scream, “So...So good!” You could never get enough of this feeling, but it was making you crave more, and that feeling of warmth beginning to form in your lower stomach told you that you were getting close already it doubles as he snakes his arm around your thighs and rubs your clit with his thumb. You almost scream from the feeling, his movements quicken as your voice becomes louder, a clear indication to him that you were getting close, the feeling of his tongue inside of you and his thumb against your clit makes your vision blur, you curse loudly as your hips uncontrollably buck against his face. “M-Minho! I'm...I...Im so close!” You cry out, gripping the covers so hard that you could feel your nails through them. He didn't stop for a second, he kept going, speeding up the movement of his thumb and putting his all into the way he moved his tongue inside of you.

The feeling drives you wild and a coil forms in your stomach, tightening so much that it felt like it was going to snap, your breathing becomes uneven and frantic as you moan loudly, and chills flow over from the tip of your spine to the back of your neck, you're entire body feels stimulated as he goes even faster, and when he applies just a little pressure with his thumb to your clit the coil finally unravels. A wave of intense pleasure washes over your body as you cum into his mouth, your clit throbs, and your body spasms, you fall almost silent beside the sound of a few deep gasps. Finally, he pulls away, licking up all of your arousals, but he leaves his thumb on your clit, rubbing it as he pushes you through your intense orgasm.

“Such a good girl,” he says, “you look so pretty cumming for me baby,” his praises make your brain feel like soup, and as he kisses the side of your neck you almost explode. “My pretty girl...” He whispers in a low tone, his voice making you whimper, “You taste so good...wanna see?” You nod your head right away, pouting as he grabs your face with his dry hand. As he kisses you he pulls his other hand away from your sensitive clit, focusing completely on kissing you. The taste of yourself on his lips and tongue doesn't faze you one bit as you roll his tongue around with yours, in fact, it only excites you more. You weakly wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, soft breaths, and moans escape both your mouths as you struggle to feel him more. He could feel you becoming impatient as you tried to rub yourself against him, it made him smile as he pulled away.

“Calm down baby, I'll give you more,” He pulls away from you and leans back on his legs, “Just wait.” His voice sounds lower, it lingers in your head as you watch him remove his shirt and throw it to the side. You fight the urge to run your hands all over his toned body, licking your lips at the sight, you follow his hands as he slowly trails them down his abs to tease you. You unintentionally spread your legs as you watch him discard his belt, you could already see how hard he was through the black dress pants, and when he finally removed them you almost moaned at the sight of a small wet spot at the tip of the large bulge in his pants. “You look like you could eat me alive,” You look up at his face and smile a little, “I could,” You respond in a cheeky tone. He shook his head with a grin as he started to get up to grab a condom, but you stop him.

“Can we do it without one?” You look up at him with a devilish grin too cute to ignore, “Please?” You know that you don't have to beg him to go raw, you've never had to beg any of them to, they are all more than happy to fill you up, but they all agree that no one is ready for a child and you do too, but you've always loved the feeling of them cumming inside of you. “You're going back on the pill,” He joins you back on the bed as you giggle, happy that he was quick to agree. As he positions himself between your legs he takes off his underwear and throws them aside the same as yours, the sight of his cock standing proudly makes you throb. A small bead of precum drips down his thick shaft, it makes your mouth water, his dick is so pretty, with eight inches, a few pretty veins, a thick shaft that matches his tan skin, and a tip that matches the color of his lips, Minho’s cock would make anyone devote themselves completely to being nothing more than a hole.

“Are you ready for me baby?” You nod your head, desperate to feel him inside of you, but he doesn't give in to that easily, instead, he puts his fingers in his mouth and slowly presses them against your already slick opening, you hold your breath as two of his thick digits slowly enter you. There is little to no stretch at all, you could thank Kibum for that, “Should I add one more?” You nod, despite your many sessions with Minho, he always asks questions, and he makes sure to take note of every reaction so he can provide the best and the most pleasure possible. As he slips a third finger in you wince just a little, but the pain quickly fades, as he moves his fingers in and out of you slowly you begin to moan softly, enjoying the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, I need to be inside of you.”

You bite your lip as he removes his fingers, Minho lines himself up with your hole and rubs himself against you, teasing you for just a second before finally slipping inside. As just the head of his cock slides inside you gasp and brace yourself, looking him in his eyes as he slowly fills you with his length. When he finally bottoms out inside of you, both of you stay completely still, breathing heavily as you stare into each other's eyes. Every inch of him fills you, your walls engulf him with so much warmth that he could melt, the sexual look in your eyes makes him shiver and bite his lip. You feel like heaven. “Is it okay?” You nod, letting him know that it didn't hurt at all, as soon as you did you could see something in him snap. Right away he grabs your hips and pulls you closer before beginning to slowly thrust inside of you, his cock drags against your walls so heavily that it makes your whole body tense up from the pleasure.

Minho grunts and folds your legs down to your chest, rolling his hips perfectly and hitting your G-spot with ease, you immediately became a mess. Moaning loudly underneath him as you threw your head back into the pillows, your eyes rolled back and your toes curled, you couldn't form a thought if you tried, all you could do was feel. “Fuck, you...you feel so good...” His moans make your stomach swirl with heat, your whole body melts as you cry out in pleasure. “Oh! Oh god! Minho! Oh fuck!” You cover your mouth and grip the pillow behind your head, he takes your lewd reactions as a sign to go faster and when he does you lose it. Your body trembles uncontrollably as you leak onto the covers, your walls convulse around him and throb. As he continues to build up to a faster speed you turn your head from side to side, arching your back.

“Whose my pretty girl?” Minho moves your legs to his shoulders and leans down to kiss you, “Huh? Who's my pretty baby?” You whimper helplessly as you pout while looking up at him, the blurry sight of him staring back at you with a wickedly sexual grin and half-lidded eyes is intoxicating. “You sound so good to me baby, you like being fucked like this?” You nod your empty head, as you cry out “That's right, you love this dick, don't you? You love it when I fuck you, say it baby, tell me how much you love it.” You scream in pleasure and throw your head back, babbling nonsense about how much you love the feeling of him inside of you, “so good...so so good...feels like...so oh fuck...so deep...I love it! I love it so much! Oh god, Minho! So fuck...so yes!” Your words slur as you become drunk off the feeling of him, he lets your legs fall to the sides of his hips and grabs your face.

As he kisses you he moans into your mouth, trying his hardest not to break from the mind-splitting pleasure, but as you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist he can't stop himself from moaning out loudly, his voice cracks as he pants. “Shit...You...Oh fuck...” His eyes roll back and he bites his lip, slamming into you harder, knocking the air out of your lungs with every thrust, you go completely silent as he fucks himself into you as deep as he possibly could, the sound of your skin slapping together and your wetness spreading fills the room, creating almost pornographic sounds. “M-Minho! Oh fuck! Oh my god!” You gasp and look up at him with desperation in your eyes, tingles rush down his spine and his head feels almost empty. Looking into your eyes as you soak him makes him struggle to keep his composure, and when your eyes roll back it becomes impossible.

“You're so...fuck...you're so pretty...so pretty...” He pants as he goes even faster, you could tell he was getting close from the way his thrusts became messy and wild, but he wasn't going to cum alone, so he slipped his hand between your thighs and began massaging your still-sensitive clit with his fingers, kissing you sloppily as you both moaned into each other's mouths, as you tighten around him and hold him tighter your nails dig into his back even more. As he pulls away he bites down on your bottom lip lightly causing you to let out a soft moan before going down to your breasts, latching his mouth onto one, and moving his fingers even faster, he could feel his stomach tightening and with every movement, he became more and more stimulated. “F-Fuck! So good!” You push against his shoulder but continue to trap him with your legs, “I-I...gonna cum...fuck so close!”

That was all he had to hear, as soon as he heard this Minho quicken his fingers and pulled your hips closer to his body, he pulled your legs up so they were straight against his chest and held them there as he pounded into you like a madman. Your body felt like it was on cloud nine and as you look up at him and try to catch a glimpse of him, you feel that same intense wave of pleasure crash over you. Before you could even tell what was happening, you come undone around him, the feeling of you cumming breaks him. With only a soft grunt as a warning Minho presses his body against yours after letting your legs go and cums inside of you, the head of his cock bumps against your cervix as he fills you up with his warm cum. The feeling makes you want to cry, it feels so good.

As he moans into your ear your hips buck into his, and as you both slowly come down he stays completely still. Allowing you to recover, you stay like this for a second, until you finally feel as if you could make a coherent sentence, “Fuck that was amazing,” He chuckled a little as he slowly pulled out of you, the feeling of both your excitement dripping out of you makes you shiver a little, “Let's get you cleaned up, I'll ask Jinki to bring a plan b.”