#{black feathers fall - ic}

[magnusmodig]

FOR MUSES WHO CAN'T OPEN UP / @hypnoticallycaucasian / ACCEPTING ╰┈➤ "You're full of secrets."

𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 his companion , brow furrowed as a deep frown drew his features taut. AT LEAST , FOR A MOMENT. then , like the dawn , another easy grin replaced it , THOUGH IT DID NOT REACH HIS EYES. there was a short , weighted pause before thor prompted him , searching for answer.

❝  well , i suppose everyone is a little bit. what makes you say that? ❞

[hyukascampfire]

𝓐T 𝓢WA𝓝 𝓛AKE ﹐､﹒ c.bg ˏˋ੭ꠥ ¸ˎ

as both equals and opposites, white swan and black swan, it is paramount that you and choi beomgyu do not touch. the curse of your natures did not even make exception for incidental brushes. that was never an issue for you—not until the day the prince took it upon himself to break every rule you’d ever known. ⋆˛ ˛

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

⸉⋆ ᧔ 🦢᧓ ･ 10.3k

𝒫airings ˒ black swan prince!beomgyu 𝓍 white swan princess!reader

𝒢 ‎⍪ smut ˒ fantasy ˒ forbidden romance

𝒲arnings ˒ smut, angst and longing, unprotected sex, lots of teasing, jealousy…, yearning and yearning, he cums on her, theyre both desperate, pathetically in love!beomgyu, shes all he wants, virgin!reader, loss of innocence, he talks her through it, he gets a little whiny… hmm i can’t remember if i’m missing anything. this is not proofread!! i’m gonna nap first.

✎୭ ashlynn's note @hmusunoo … baby you did your big one with this. i can not explain to you how excited i’ve been for this one. this is absolutely my favorite. it’s just so me, u know me so well and i think we should kiss. THANK U!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Around you, mist and delicate flurries sit over white, fluffy blankets. Where it sits over the lake, it turns the horizon of the lake’s expanse into an obscured uncertainty. If you hadn’t spent so much time right here, you might think that it goes on forever. 

It’s a beautiful, clear winter’s morning. Sparkling air wraps you in sweet and crisp tendrils, every breath to your lungs almost bitingly fresh. But in all its lightness, your chest only feels heavier. You had hoped that coming here would be a little, momentary respite. The air is so free around you, though, the weight doesn’t float away with it—it just leaves nothing but the feeling for you to contend with. No skittish wildlife rustle the foliage, and a thin film holds the crystalline lake from lapping at the bank. It seems that not even the wind moves. Just you.  

It’s not your tears that you hide here. Sadness is a soft, gentle thing; an acceptable thing for a Lady like yourself to indulge in. It’s what the people expect of their princess. The demure and always prim White Swan. Always correct, always just how you should be. 

Your tears are more like scalding, molten licks of fire than the slow, darling tears that are expected of you, though. They’re angry. It clashes up against the walls you’ve built up within yourself, against the role you’ve assumed. 

That’s why you’ve come here. Coarser emotions are unbecoming of you, and it’d be a shame to feel them in front of others. It’s a shame that you’re letting yourself feel it now, even. You summon a thin sigh, funneling up all the tangy bitterness on your tongue to let it fall out into the air before you. 

It doesn’t do much for you, really. This—feeling like this, so beyond the reach of your usual ways to shove down ugliness—is unfamiliar. Your entire life has been this, why do you struggle with it now? In the center of you, mingling with that anger, it’s as though a blackness blooms. Like a wretched flowering of some invasive plume, or perhaps the floating of inky black feathers through your bloodstream, you feel painted dark and unpleasant. 

Holding the dappled fur of your shawl closer, you decide to watch chunks of crystal white ice float on the water’s surface. Or maybe the on-and-off snowflakes that float down around you. Even tracing the lengths of barren branches, lined with white fluff so still and serene, with your eyes. Anything but delving into what that tainted tug inside is, or what it might mean about you.  

Snow crunches, or maybe a branch shifting, beckons your attention. But the foliage isn’t too thick, and trees are sparse around the lake, and there is always some small winged creature fluttering between branches out here. So, you brush it off. 

A tingling about your person, some sort of whispering premonition, whisps and tugs just around your person. You straighten up at another thick step crunching in the snow from behind you. This time, you can’t explain it away.  

A figure greets you. Dark, raven strands of silken hair fallen over eyes of the same, his skin so stark against it, black shoulder cloak on his shoulder flowing like velvet water against his billowing sleeves all ruffled and enamoring. He glitters like the frost, twinkling silver threads and black crystals sewn in to catch the light and make a show of him. Standing there, looking at you, he doesn’t look caught or frozen. 

But you are. Wholly still, all of you like a sculpture of frost, you gawk right at him. You’d never interacted with the prince, the black swan. Never even seen him. It was never in the cards. Fear like ice curls clawed fingers over your heart and grasps it.  

All your life, grand warnings of terrible things of him and what might happen should the two of you ever touch fell from the mouths of those around you. It was the constitution of who the two of you are—born to be the balance to each other, never to touch. Just an incidental brushing of fingers meant turning the world’s balance over on its head. They told you that the world would begin to fray at the seams, reality would warp, and that it’d be all your fault. And they also told you plenty about who the prince was as a person, too. Not only do you fear him for the curse of your nature, but also for all the nasty things you’ve heard of him. This, meeting him, was a thing of your deepest-cutting nightmares. 

And, there, he stands in front of you. 

“What are you doing out here crying?” Beomgyu says, curious eyes darting over your face. Under his gaze, you’re not sure how to feel. But you feel every last bit of it, regardless. 

You wipe at your cheek, where he must’ve seen the wet streaks glistening in the light. Summoning some poise up from where you keep it in handy, you say, “It’s no matter. I was just looking out on the snow.” You fix up your hair and your dress.  

The prince frowns, studying your face once again. Utterly unconvinced by what he finds there, he gestures toward you. “You’ve been crying, princess,” he says. “I didn’t think that lying was in the cards for you.” 

Lying? Not in the cards for you? Lying is all you do. You lie to yourself and to others more than you are honest. “Maybe, but I’m well,” you say, and then you lift the soft skirts of your dress to step without treading it in the snow. “Really, I ought to get home before the snowfall gets heavier. It was lovely seeing you.” You try and make sure to keep a good and proper distance from him as you make for where you arrived here from. 

Beomgyu reaches out for you, only pulling back from grabbing your arm at a frighteningly slim realization. “Wait,” he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he realizes what he’d almost just done. “You don’t have to leave. Why is it that you cry?” 

He’d almost touched you. That close—you’d come that close to tragedy in only the first moments of your meeting. Your heart pumps out sizzling, frantic energy that has you looking at him wide-eyed and shaken. “I think you and I both are the most aware why it’s best that I leave,” you tell him, keeping it curt. You hold your arms to you.  

Strong brows knitting, he shakes his head and stakes some big steps back. The snow, sat powdery and calf-high on the ground, creaks beneath them. “I’ll stay back here,” he says. “Just don’t go. Won’t you entertain me? It’s a gentleman’s duty to help a weeping Lady.” 

You falter. The words might have you blushing and offering him a modest thank you, but the way he says it—it’s rather taunting. It’s taunting in a way that gets right up under your skin and ruffles your feathers. “And why does it bother you so?” you ask him, arching a dainty brow. You’re not even sure why he’s come out here in the first place. This is the one place that you ordain your own. It seems that not even here can you be totally alone. “They’ll have a fit if they know I was here with you.” 

The prince, with his clear, ethereal features cracking into a wicked amusement that you’re not sure how to digest, says, “Perhaps they will.” He tilts his head at you, wispy strands of hair moving over his shadowed eyes with it. “But, princess, that’s the fun in it. That they will admonish you for it. Is that why you’re crying?” 

Fun? Nothing about what your people, your parents, might do should they find that you’d not only been near but spoken to the black swan, is fun. You level him wary eyes. And, though sense tugs at your feet and asks you to get going, you do not. You do not know why. 

“I think it is.” He’s got an obnoxious tilt to his lips. “I think that’s why you cry.” 

A scoff, an abrasive and distasteful sound coming from you, falls out from your mouth. There’s that awful imprudence and temerity that you’ve heard of the black swan—everything you ought not to be. “You seem the type to know everything,” you say. 

He laughs, delighted. “Is that snark?” 

Pursing your lips as though confused, you spin spiced threads of patronization into your voice. “Not snark,” you say. “Just an observation.” 

 “Hmm.” Beomgyu slides his hands into his pockets to warm his hands. “Might I make an observation about you, princess?” 

There’s interest written all over his face—you know he’s playing some sort of game. You also know that you shouldn’t indulge him in it. Still, you do. A slight raising of your brow, or maybe the interest twinkling in your eyes, too, tells him to go on. 

“I think that you are too dutiful for your own good,” he says.  

In a slight, testy step, he inches closer. Not so close that you worry, but the two of you are not even supposed to be in the same room. Anything is too close. You mirror it with a step back. “You don’t know me,” you say. Against your better judgement, though, your lips twitch into a soft smile. The kind of smile that is insistent, no matter how you refuse it. “So, I believe your wonderings to be entirely groundless.” 

Hair blowing gently in the wisps of a winter wind and his nose and cheeks gone pink, he says, “Oh, princess. Hardly. I think we know a great deal about each other.” 

Well, that’s true enough. All your life you heard of him and your curse. You’re sure it was no different for him, no matter your differences. “And what do you know about me?” you ask.  

Beomgyu’s laugh falls out in a white puff of curling frost. “I know it’s been arranged that you’ll marry a superior Lord,” he says. He observes you. “Am I right?” 

So fast, just with that, lightness falls from your face. You hadn’t wanted to be reminded. Your feet itch to be off, so that you can feel it elsewhere. Not here; not in front of him. Leveling yourself so that your voice doesn’t come out as stilted as you feel, you say, “Yeah. You are.” 

With his eyes narrowing on you, he says, “You know, it’s weird. I’ve never seen a girl excited to be wedded look like that when it’s brought up.” 

You reign in your face and shake your head. “I am perfectly excited. It’s a blessing to be married into such a family.” As much as you smooth over the furrowing of your brows, or make your expression pleasant, it’s not so easy to tame the picking of your fingers. 

Anything other than excited, you might be. But absolutely not that. In fact, you are beyond yourself with anger, and you have nowhere to go with it. It bubbles hot just under your skin and demands a release that you cannot give. 

Being who you are, it’s been a truth you’ve known your whole life. Someday, you were going to be offered like a shiny, silver pawn to the highest bidder. And you, as the world’s white swan, are quite the enticing thing to own. You thought you’d banished the hope for a union of love right where you’d left the sense of self behind: years ago. The time’s come now, but you aren’t as at peace with it as you should be. No matter how hard you try, you are more human than you’d like to be, and far too human to be what the world expects you to be. 

If you’re going to be frank with yourself: you do not want to marry him. Living as something bought, expected to live forever as this mellowed out, poised version of yourself by the side of some man who you don’t even know or love... Of any fate you might be made to live, you think that this one is the worst. 

Beomgyu begins working on taking off his jacket, a white and pretty thing with thick, winter fabric. He offers it to you. “You don’t have to lie to me about it. Maybe them, but not me.” 

You look between him and his offering hand—his perfect features that are so elegant, and yet, there’s a wildness to him in those hard black eyes. If you didn’t already know so much about him, you might still be able to see the untamed in him. Who couldn’t? He wears it plainly; without remorse. You’re not sure how to interact with it, but, in a way, you envy him. 

Reaching out, you accept the jacket from his hand. Tentatively, with great care so as to avoid touch, but you do.  

It’s nice and soft against your frost-kissed shoulders. But it’s not enough to fix the bite against the skin on your face, so you trudge through the snow over to the sparse tree line, where the trunks might protect you better from it than the flat expanse of the lake’s surface. You press your back to a tree, and he mirrors it on the tree opposite to you. Looking over the great lake, so very serene. It twinkles with an ice film like sugar crystals atop its surface. “I guess I’m just... scared,” you say. The words come out soft and uncertain. 

He nods. Listening. So, you continue. “I don’t even know him. I haven’t spoken to my betrothed once. Maybe I’ll get to know him, and maybe he won’t be bad, but...” 

“But he’s not who you want,” Beomgyu says. “Not who you love.” 

Licking your winter-chapped lips, you eye him for a moment. You nod slowly and say, “...Yeah. I suppose it’s selfish, but...” 

Ignited, Beomgyu pushes off the tree to say, “Selfish? You give your whole life to being their saint. Maybe they think they do, but they don’t own you.” 

You, not us. Frowning, you ask him, “Are you not set for some marriage of convenience?” Marrying is different as a woman, but you don’t doubt that the prince’s family intends to strengthen alliances by offering his marriage up to some optimistic, lesser family with a daughter to bargain the way yours has done with you. Every last girl and boy born as you two have been—destined to a life bigger than yourself, a force in the world as much as you are a person—have lived just the same. All of them. Each incarnation of the white swan, and you’re sure every black swan too. The people of this world paint you as embodiments of balance and life, but use you more like power plays. Even your own parents. You were born from your mother all the same as all your siblings, but as much as it aches to admit it, you are not their child. In the back of your throat, hurt and bare anger wells up thick. 

He half laughs, half scoffs. “They could try. It doesn’t matter to me. They’d have to kill me before I do their bidding. Is it our fault that we were born this?” he says. “I’m going to live my life how I want, no matter what.” 

You tuck your hands into your sides, where they warm between the jacket and your body heat. His words and how he looks at your lives, it’s everything you’re not. Sense of self and determination to live for more than just your predetermined role—while you’d surrendered it all, he lives thrashing and fighting against it. A product of your mirrored and opposite natures.  

“Why?” you say, teeth chattering a bit under the cold’s caress. “You have a girl in mind?” 

That sounds nice. Being so hopefully devoted to someone, and them to you, that you might war against destiny for it. The thought only nurses hurt somewhere deep in your chest, though. Not for you. Never for you. You could be the prettiest on this Earth, the kindest, the most disciplined, or the least even. Still, that would never be yours. You know that, so why does it taste so bitter?  

A quick look, something new, passes over him. In his eyes, you see it. He looks at you for a long minute, the morning so quiet that nothing but tranquility hangs in the air for a moment, and then finally says, “Yeah. Something like that.”  

Entirely intrigued, you ask, “Who? Is she a Lady?” 

Beomgyu nods his head, that strange look lingering. “Of sorts,” he answers, crossing his arms over his chest to lean back into the bark. “And your betrothed? Some well-off Lord?” 

A smile ghosts over your mouth. “Probably. I haven’t a clue who it is; but I’m sure he’s got enough coin to spare, if my parents settled on him.” 

The lines of his face gone playful, he says, “Not possibly more well-off than me.” 

Your nose crinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say. A husband with money is nice. You can’t pretend that you don’t think of that, especially that none of your family’s wealth belongs to you, nor will it follow you into your marriage. Your heart revolts regardless.  

Shrugging after a few beats of silent considering, he turns his attention on the lake. His face turned like that, you admire the straight slope of his nose and his eyelashes as they flutter with his heavy eyes. Like the rest of him, his side profile is a contradiction. Strong and noble, but elegant like hewn from marble. It’s perfect. With all the talk in your ears, you’d pictured something far off from the youthful, wry man stood before you. Why you’d come to imagine him brutish, you’re not sure; he’s as much swan as you. Different and mirrored all the same. 

“I used to come here all the time,” he says. 

“Here? To the lake?” You perk up. This had been your hideaway as a girl; where you’d come at times like this when you needed to bury something away. You thought it’d been just yours. “I wonder how we never ran into each other. I used to do the same. I guess, I still do.” 

When his eyes fall back on you, they’re softer. More deep brown than black, but maybe it’s because you’re closer now. He says, “Well, I came here once or twice on my own, maybe when I was five. I didn’t really start coming back until I saw you. You were crying, all snotty, and throwing bread out for some ducks.” 

Your face twists up, maybe at the memory or maybe with confusion. It seems like if he’d really come here so often, and had even seen you here, you’d have noticed. “You must have thought I was weird,” you say, the words coming out around a shiver.  

“Maybe,” he says through a wry smile that’s cracked over his lips. “But mostly, I just wished I could talk to you.” 

He’d watched you, because he couldn’t approach you? You were under the impression that the prince had never cared for the rules, not even one so paramount as that. But, it seems that his brashness came to him later. He stands in front of you now, doesn’t he? Maybe it was just that innocent trust that, as children, you levy out to those arounds you. Especially toward adults; and all of those had preached over moments like this. You imagine a young, curious Beomgyu, hiding himself away between bushes, itching to approach or play with you. But he never did; you hadn’t the slightest clue he’d even been there until now. Could you two have been friends, if not for the curse? 

“You never came out,” you say. “Or introduced yourself?” It’s all you can really think. 

His mouth twitches. “Would you have stayed?” 

No. Then, you don’t think you would’ve. Even now, you’re stricken with the innate fear of touching him, no matter how surprised you are at how different he is. Different from what they said he’d be. You think you would’ve darted, should you have known who he was. For some reason, that makes your heart ache. A dark ebbing wave of ache that you are unfamiliar with. 

A slight knowing smile danced over his features, eyes gone to sweet crescents that turn them, usually so dark, into something rounded. Not so abrasive. He tilts his head off to one side and says, “You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?” 

Cheeks long been numb, you answer, “An hour. Maybe and a half?” 

“I’ll walk you home.” 

You grimace. Arriving with him by your side, the man you quite literally were not supposed to even speak with, is the very last thing you should do. An awful idea. “I wouldn’t bother you. It’s probably not the best idea to show up after disappearing, with a man by my side. Especially not as a to-be-married woman,” you say. “But, thank you. Really.” 

He knows what you really mean, though. A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Alright,” he says. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

As he begins to turn, making for wherever he’d come here from, you call out to him. “Hey, wait. Your jacket.” You pull it off your shoulders and joust it out at him. Against your skin which it had warmed, the air is bitterly cold. 

“Keep it, princess,” he says, giving you a parting nod. “Get home warm.” 

❆

Today, you are to give your hand to a man that you do not know.

In the air, the rich nuttiness of fire-toasted chestnuts dance and mingle with the roar of chatter. Hundreds of familiar and unfamiliar faces line long tables with runners decorated by platters of plump, sugar-dusted plums and fruit pies. They’ve all come in their winter’s best—whites and reds and luxurious furs lining thick, velvety fabrics or embroidered with sparkling threads and studded with crystals that twinkle in the low firelight. It’s warm and lovely and all just for you. 

But, you don’t feel any of that. All you feel is a heavy belly. Each smile you tug over your mouth feels like dead weight. You’re familiar with this—putting on the act. Smiling in faces that you know will turn around and have something else to say about you, pretending like you don’t know that it’s all false sweetness. You’d been trained in noble propriety since you could walk and talk. 

But, considering that they’ve all come here to shower you with gifts and lovely words for a marriage in which they could really not care about beyond how they make it a profit, it’s all a bit more sour. 

You’ve met your promised. The man you’re supposed to wed and spend the entirety of your life beside. You spoke with him for... what, two minutes? Two very awkward, very awful minutes. What should you have to say to each other? You’re meeting for the first time today. At your engagement feast. It’s a real conscious effort to not take your lip into your mouth and gnaw, or to not fuss over your hair, or honestly anything that might show these people that you are anything but pleased. 

So, you relent to their gaudy pleasantries. You listen to them tell you that it’s such a blessing to be married to a man of high society—and a wealthy one, too. They tell you that they knew your marriage would bring a great dowry; that all the white swans have. That they were watching and expecting it. All you hear is the dripping of greed; all you see is hungry eyes and fingers crossed behind backs. 

You relent to it until your stomach is sick and wrought with it. And then, the older lady ahead of you singing praises of your beauty, of how she wishes her daughter might catch the eye of a husband as advantageous as yours, does something out of the ordinary. Her eyes drift behind you, her snooty, pinched features twisting up into something new. You follow her gaze. 

Dark and beautiful and his eyes trained right on you, the black swan prince stands beside you. He’s lazed, a heavy cup of some thick, spiced and wintery drink in one hand, as he does. In the clear light of morning, he’d looked so out of place. But here, soft and hard planes of his face illustrated by the flickering orange firelight, he looks so right. 

You blink. And then blink again. Never once had Beomgyu made any sort of appearance at any hosted thing by your family. You just stand in place for a moment, registering his presence.

“You look lovely, princess,” he says. His eyes fall up and down you. The way he says it—it’s liquid smooth, but it’s taunting in a way. “The perfect image of a bride-to-be.”

He can’t be here. He can’t be here at all. When you look to the side, the woman is already gone. You have no doubt in your mind that she’s whispering in somebody’s ear right now.

“Prince,” you say, gritting your teeth while also dipping into an elegant curtsy. 

“Do you feel that way?” He raises his eyebrows at you, his gaze heavy with underlying tension. “A perfect bride? Happy?”

Making the conscious decision to not look around you, because you can already feel the burning interest of the eyes that you’ll find on you, you say, “I do. Isn’t this quite the feast?”

“I told you that you don’t have to lie to me, princess.”

You shouldn’t even be standing here talking to him. They’re all watching. Stepping back to cut conversation with something witty, you stop in the onslaught of a chorus of surrounding gasps.

Beomgyu had reached out to grab you, and only stopped himself short the same way he had the first time you met him. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he brings his hand down, curling the fingers as if to wash away the urge to reach out.

He’s closer now, too. His breath smells sickly sweet with the liqueur he drinks. A sarcastic grin over his lips, he says, “Did he pay for all this?”

You do a dance of give and take. You step back, and he meets it with a step toward you, all the way until you find yourselves in a quieter corner. “He did sponsor the feast, yes.”

“Well, isn’t that just great,” he says, voice carrying over the many layered sounds of the gathering. “And that makes you happy? You feel fulfilled by that? Is that the purpose of the lovely white swan?”

You’re not sure what he’s getting at, or why your marriage is any of his business. For some reason, though, despite those rational thoughts, some faraway memory whispers that it makes every bit of sense. “He is a lovely man.”

Barking a laugh, Beomgyu says, “Don’t make me laugh. You don’t believe that, no matter how many times you tell it to yourself.”

You curl your fingers into the obnoxious, glittering material of your dress. “Seriously, what makes you so sure?” you say. “What makes you so sure you know? This is good for me. This is the way things are supposed to go. Not everybody in this world can get away with serving only themselves and doing whatever they want. Maybe it works for you, but not for the rest of us. I’m glad your life is fun, though. Really.” 

His face doesn’t sharpen into offence, though you brace for him to. You’ve never spoken to anybody like that. Ever. Shaking his head, raven locks glowing warm around the edges, he says, “Because I know. I know. Are you listening to me? You don’t have to lie to me.”

Balking at him, you don’t know how to answer. That was nowhere near the answer you were expecting from the prince, known and notorious for his chaos and fire.

“I am listening,” you say, keeping your voice measured. Thick emotion slips through the seams. “Honesty has never done me any good. This is going to happen; all honesty is going to do is hurt me. So, I’m sorry.”

His mouth opens to fire something back, but you don’t hear it. Somebody digs their fingers into your upper arm, dragging you without a word away from your conversation. You stumble, letting them take you without a fuss. This was to be expected. You shouldn’t look back. If today was already going to be the last day you ever see him, it certainly is now that you’ve been caught not only in touching distance to him, but making conversation with him.

Tossing a self-betraying glace over your shoulder, you find his figure. Hand in pocket and his lips turned down, he watches you go.

You wish you wouldn’t have. You have no explanation for the emptiness it casts into your chest.

❆

Recently, you’ve been crying so much. You might believe that it’s because you’ve been letting yourself feel freely, but you don’t feel free.

Your palms are soaked against your cheeks, face fallen into them as you shudder with it. Their words pin and scrape in your head, forcing you to contend with them before bouncing off the walls and you hear them again and again until your stomach has gone sick. Your parents had given you an earful. That’s been your whole life; you can handle that. The moment you saw him there, intending to speak to you, you’d prepared for it. Instead, it was their contempt and sneering faces that bleed your heart like this. 

In this life, you are alone. Totally, wholly alone. Who you are—your role in life—is not the blessing they claim it to be. Is it selfish to ask to be understood? For somebody to just understand, without your pleading or begging?

Maybe. It feels that way, anyway.

“Why is it that I always find you crying?”

His voice freezes you to where you sit sprawled on your floor. Spinning to him, you say, “What are you doing?”

Beomgyu shrugs, as though he hasn’t snuck his way into your room. “I felt bad for getting you dragged off. Wanted to come see how you’re doing.”

Maybe his insisting on being around you should be annoying, but right now… You think you appreciate the company, even from the forbidden likes of him. “You can’t be here,” you hiss. “How did you get in? They’ll… if they find you here…”

His boots squeak against the polished flooring as he approaches you, and then settles down on the floor with you. The fire flickering behind him, his back to it, casts an orange light around the edges of his figure. He looks terribly inviting, like this: strewn on the floor, no holier or better than you, his face not sickly sweet nor cold and devoid of love, and his eyes curious to know how you feel. 

“I don’t care what they’ll do to me. I want to see you.” He tugs his jacket off, letting it fall on the dirty floor. Improper for a prince, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. That’s who he’s always been—that’s the one thing that was entirely true out of all the things you heard about him. “Who the hell cares about their approval? We don’t need it.”

You know what he means by they and we. Only a few days ago, you’d still believed that Beomgyu was other; that he was your total opposite, and that you should fear his darkness for all your lightness. All it’s taken is being around him the once or twice that you’ve been able to for you to realize the falsity that drips from that. When you’re around him, your soul, feathery and wispy in your chest and your veins and all the rest of you that constitutes you beyond what is physical, tugs. It’s impossible to ignore—it consumes you. Where your soul longs for him around the edges, like torn and searching for what’s been lost, you feel stuff that is beyond yourself.

Rather than your opposite, you think that Beomgyu is your other half. You think that they’ve gotten it all wrong. 

“How do you do it?” you say, back up against a white, whorling table leg. “How do you not care? I don’t understand.”

Inky eyes shining, he says, “I did. When I was young, I believed everything they told me. It’s hard not to, when it’s all you hear. Them, telling us that our purpose is to surrender ourselves to be something Saint-like. But when you catch one lie, you begin to catch the others, too. I saw their excuses and reasonings peel. Princess, it’s all lies. Everything you know is lies.” He says it with such conviction. Each and every word reaches down into that part of yourself that is missing something. “We’re not their Saints. That’s never been our purpose. I hate that shit; I hate that they’ve made you think that this is all you’re for. Marrying him? Never doing anything, because you’re scared of what it’ll mean for you? It’s not fucking fair.” He pushes himself closer to you. Now, your criss crossed knees are so close that a stray move might mean the world’s end. This time, you don’t panic. There’s no room for that among the swarm of your other thoughts. “So, of course I don’t give a shit about what they tell me to do. I’m going to live this life the way that it’s supposed to be. I wish that you could join me.”

“This life?” you blurt. It’s the one thought that appears clear to you, so it’s what comes out. Frowning, you add, “What lies?”

Deadpanned and as though he’s not delivering something that changes the world’s fabric around you, Beomgyu says, “There is no curse. There’s never been a curse.”

Your room is silent for a few moments, and then you shake your head and laugh. “How would you know that?” you say, nose wrinkling. If you don’t laugh, you’ll begin to actually consider the possibility of that. Just the very surface of the notion makes you nauseous. You couldn’t handle exploring the thought deeper. 

Beomgyu doesn’t laugh along with you. “The curse is a lie, and everything that comes with it. All of it is just excuses or justification for the hate for the other people. The whole reason that they ever decided on it was because of their hate. Maybe to the people alive now, it’s not a lie. But that’s what it started as.” His face, dark and soft as he reads your face, twists up. “Of course, we can touch. We are two halves of a whole. There is you in me, and I in you. Do you not feel it? The tug? That’s it. The black swan and the white swan were never meant to be apart and opposite. We are meant to be together. We’re meant to be the only ones that understand each other. It’s us against the world, princess.”

Your ears ring with the pierce of each word cascading out from his mouth. “Beomgyu, I don’t understand. That doesn’t… Make sense. How?” He can’t just make claims about that. Not something like this. It’s not fair.

“I know it’s hard to believe, princess. It’s all you’re ever made to believe. But you have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

Tongue darting out to wet your lips and your fingers stilling where you fuss at the fabric of your chemise, you take a good look at him. Roaming over his features, the contradiction in them and the strange familiarity that constitutes him no matter the fact that you’ve only just met, you consider it. Everything he says is absurd, and it does go against everything you’ve ever known. You should turn your nose up at him for even suggesting it; should suspect that he only has some sort of plan to coax you into bringing the world’s end.

But, you do. You trust him beyond explanation, as though intrinsically.

You nod slowly, holding his eyes in yours. “But I don’t understand,” you say. “How do you know?”

He smiles ruefully. “I saw something—had a dream when I was young. I saw us, in every last lifetime. We have lived again and again, as we are, in so many different ways. But the one thing that was always there was that they couldn’t keep us away from each other.”

The world does a few spins around you. Lightheaded, you try to stay up under the oppressive gravity of that. You want to stick your head in the ground and shake your head and yell no, but that deep tugging that has plagued you beginning the moment you’d met him, and all the emptiness before it, tells you yes. 

How poetic is that? How tragic? You, two souls born to be one, made to live apart at the interests of the world around you. Made to do it across every lifetime, and yet, in each you meet. In each, the twinkling thread of fate prevails nevertheless. 

“Do they all love?”

That soft smile still playing on his lips, his cheek to his knee as he looks at you with the veneration of somebody who might’ve loved you in a thousand lifetimes before, and perhaps in this one, too. “No. Some of us were secret lovers, but so many of those lived how you do for the entirety of their life. Halved,” he says. “And never did any of them touch.”

Heart fluttering with wings in your chest, you say, “So, how do you know that the curse is a lie? If it’s never been done before?”

“Let me show you,” he says. “That I can touch you.”

All the blood in your body pulls back. You trust him; you do. But is trust enough to risk a touch that could be the end of the world? Is trust enough to be so selfish to do so? 

Seeing you blanch, Beomgyu’s eyes go glassy. “Please,” he says, voice breaking as if to touch you might mean more than just proving something to you. As if the weight of everything he’s ever wanted rests on the back of it working—that if this works, and the world does not fall apart around you, then he can love you how he does, and how he had so many times before. Inevitably. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Beomgyu,” you say, looking between his eyes and the twitch of his hand as it itches to touch you. “I don’t… I’m scared.” Your voice drops to nothing more than a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he says, bringing that longing hand up. Your heart jumps when he raises up by your face. “You can be selfish this once. I want to see you do something because you want to, not because it’s what you think others might want.”

Your throat burns and tightens. Every last sparkling bit of your being longs to lean into his touch—to do what you two have wanted to do so many times before, and finally bring your souls back together. “What if it happens?” you ask, your eyes soft and true like an animal turning its soft underbelly to receive affection.

“Then let it,” he says. “At least we would have touched. Just this once.”

Gritting your teeth and swallowing hard, your belly does itself up into knots. You don’t answer him, but your quiet speaks enough. His hand hovers beside your face with the weight of the world in it.

The first touch of the white swan and the black swan happens in a gentle cupping of your cheek. And, the world does fall down around you. The walls melt, air leaves, and the seams of everything that’s even been good or true are ripped out and sewn with something new and beautiful. It’s as explosive and cosmic as you imagined it, but it is not terrifying. It’s lovely.

Your breaths shudder, your lungs trembling as you look into his eyes and realize what this means.

“Fuck,” is all Beomgyu breathes. It looks as though that it’s all he can manage. His touch grows more solid as the both of you realize that the both of you are still very much here, and so is the world. Thumb pad grazing over the softness of your cheek, his throat bobs with a swallow. You think that if you were to press your hand over your chest, you might feel it thudding there to the same thunderous rhythm that yours beats to.

So, you do. Because you can touch him. His heart sings beneath your palm, even through fabric and flesh. You can’t help the wobbling of your lip and the hot tears that spill out past your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

The second touching is the bringing together of your lips. His mouth is soft and hard against yours, contradictory as the rest of him. He brings his other hand up to hold your face into his kiss. It’s not sweet and slow—it’s as ground-rumbling as the kiss between intertwined souls coming together after an eternity of being away. Each nip and lick and clash of teeth are like the claps of thunder of the storm that will end the world, his hand sliding up the back of your neck to card his fingers through the hair at the back of your head like the claws of a beast sent to ensure its end.

And, maybe Beomgyu is the beast that has come to end the world. You wonder how he’d waited so long to bring the truth to you, or if he was torn about ever telling you. What changed things, after so many years of him watching you from afar? Your engagement? Perhaps that’s what that drink in his hand had been: a thing to forget with.

It hadn’t worked. As he kisses you for all the lifetimes in which you couldn’t, you know that he couldn’t have accepted that and moved on. Of all the black swans that have lived and passed, Beomgyu must be the most stubborn and strong-willed. That’s why, out of every single life, this is the first that you touch. He would take the world on, or play with the existence of it, for this. Just for you. All for you—you’d found somebody who will do something just for you. Curling your fingers into the front of his tunic just over his chest, you pour the fire of that revelation into your kiss.

He roams his hands all over you, mapping your shape. You kiss and kiss, lips tugging and twisting against each other, and still it isn’t enough. Bracing a splayed palm over your lower back, he does not stop kissing you even as he lays you back onto the ground. The flooring is cold against your burning body. He supports his weight on one hand beside your head and straddles your hips to do nothing but run his fingers through your hair and just kiss you. 

Only when your lungs are too hungry to ignore does he free your mouth. His soft black hair dangles over his starry eyes as he looks down at you with them. Lips swollen and smeared with you, his chest heaves. Bringing his free hand up, he wipes your wet cheek.

“Oh my god,” you say, breathless. “Beomgyu.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, he laughs. “I like when you call me that. I think I want to make you scream it—scream it until they come breaking down your doors and see that we are each other's. Until your fiancé hears it.”

Body bursting at the seams at the prospect, you nod frantically and dip your face into his neck to dust starry kisses there, too. He shudders. “I want it so bad. Can you please?”

“Of course I can. I’m going to make love to you, okay?” He pushes off you, crawling back so that he’s sat squatted just before your knees as you pin them together. “Open your legs, princess. Show me how pretty you are—I’ve waited so long for it.” He pats on the outer side of your knee.

Thrill spiraling up from between your thighs like sparks, you oblige slowly. You let your legs fall open for him, and choke on your own heart as he begins to slowly work your dress up the expanse of your legs, and then your thighs, baring to him the plush and unseen skin there. He eats it up wildly, his eyes gone ravenous and even blacker.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say, voice trill and unsure. “I don’t know what to do.”

A wicked grin cracks over his features. “I know, princess.” The fabric bunches at your thighs, now. You tremble with the stifling anticipation. “I’m going to take care of you. It’s going to feel so good—I’m gonna make you feel so good. I have so many things I want to do to you. Lifetimes of things I want to make you feel.”

Doe-eyed and laying your trust in his hands, your thighs twitch and you nod. He reveals your cunt at last, finally catching the glistening sight of it for the very first time. And, he does not disappoint. The look that washes over his face—the twitching of his lips, the tightening of his jaw in a flickering muscle, and the fire razing your cunt in his eyes—is something so dreamlike, but lucid nonetheless.

“You just lay down and let me help you. Treat you how a princess should be treated.” He works on his pants, silver belt clinking and then loosening, and then he’s just as exposed as you when his length pops free. It’s hard already, tall and pretty like the rest of him, but pink and obscene at the tip. He leaks from the little slit at the top. “Look at you. You look like you want to taste it,” he says, laughing while collecting the liquid to pump himself a few times. “Next time, baby. I’d love to see the proper mouth of the world’s princess choking on my cock.”

The air is cold against the mess between your legs. It sends a chill up your spine—or maybe that was the crudeness of his words. You suppose you should’ve expected nothing less from him. When he goes to climb back over you and line himself up with you, your thighs twitch and try to snap shut.

He pins your hip to the floor. “Don’t be shy, baby. I wanna see that pretty pussy. It’s not fair to hide it from me.”

“Sorry,” you say, cheeks burning.

Taking that hand and sliding it up behind the back of one of your knees, pressing that thigh up to your torso, he laughs a teasing laugh down at you. “Don’t say sorry,” he says. He holds his length adjacent to your slit and then begins to slip up and down the length of it. “Just let me fuck you. I need it so bad.” He hisses in tandem with you. The drags of his length, harder than how you thought a cock might feel, is like undiluted liquor. “I can’t believe this… shit, princess. I’m about to fuck you. I thought I was going to have to sit here and watch you by his side.” 

You take your lip into your teeth when he pushes in. It stretches. You bring your hand up to cup the back of his neck and the other to dig into his tunic, mewling softly.

“It’s okay, princess. Hold on to me, you can take it, right? You cunt was built for me. Everything about you was made for me. Your heart, your pretty hands for me to hold, your sex, all of it. Do you feel how I fit right into you? How I was made to?”

You do. When he finally is balls-deep, his cock nestles exactly where it should. Not an inch too deep or an inch too scarce. The two of you were sculpted by something holy, fit just for each other. “Yes,” you breathe.

He can’t even linger sitting still  in you. He begins pulling himself out, all the way until the tip of him threatens to pop out lewdly, before shoving back in right up against that spot. He doesn’t even have to search for it. Head falling into your chest, he licks and bites. “The taste of you,” he says. Then, he presses his tall nose right over that spot in your neck where your heart’s gone wild. “The smell of you.” Wincing, he lays into you with more vigor, hips slapping against your skin. “The feel of you. You drive me up the fucking walls. How was I ever supposed to live without this?” he says. “I refuse.”

Your belly begins to tighten in a way that you’ve never known. Tears prick the corner of your ears, clinging to him as he fucks you into the floor like he’ll never have to opportunity to have you like this again. The wood cradles your back and the back of your hips, receiving each of his thrusts. You curl your toes and will back the lewd cries that threaten to spill over with each.

His voice is taut and wobbly. “Feels good, huh? I know. It feels… so good.” Dropping your thigh to cup your face, he says, “Cry. Cry for me. I said I wanted you to scream.”

Face burning and squirming against the hardwood behind you, you shake your head. “I can’t, gyu…”

“Yes you can,” he says, face twitching. “I want you to start letting it out, or I’m gonna stop. Do you want me to stop?”

Covering your face, with the back of a forearm, you grit your teeth through each punctual and yet sloppy grind up into you. Your bodies sweat and meld, and you’re sure that anybody walking by your quarters would know just by the hollow smacks of skin and grunts that you’re fucking a man. You, an engaged woman, are letting the prince turn your brain inside out.

But, there is nothing you want less than for him to stop. So, you let your mouth drop open and allow the sweet mewls to come with each rut.

“There we go. Louder.” He braces himself, digging his feet into the floor, and then he really starts driving into you. Sparks fly in your belly—each yellow and glowing and scalding. “Do I need to fuck you harder? C’mon, louder, princess.”

Thighs squeezing his hips so tight that they ache, you squirm. You struggle against your sounds—turning from sweet moans and mewls, you groan and gasp and your voice breaks. Each collision of your bodies breaks your sounds.

Curling your fingers into his silken hair, you grit out, “H—hoooh fuck, Beomgyu, Beomgyu, I feel… like…”

Bangs sticky and his eyes growing wilder, he knows something you don’t. The knowing, taunting grin on his mouth says enough. “Let it happen. Don’t fight it.  Just stay—stay right there, and I’ll give it to you. No running from it; it’s gonna feel so good.” His muscles go taut, and he doubles down on his efforts, panting through his nose and his neck sheened. He drops his head into your chest. “Fuck. Fuckkkk, I love you so much, princess. Thank you—thank you, so much.”

You don’t know why he’s thanking you. You don’t have the cognitive function to worry about that. Your mind has gone to two things: the growls and whines that rumble and tear from his chest, and the frightening tightness that only goes more dangerous. Your chest tightens—it feels as though, if he feeds that hungry beast gnawing deep down in your belly with any more of what he’s doing now, it will snap and take you down in its wake. Warbled cries crawling up your throat, you arch your back up into his chest to try and dig your hips into the floor, away from the bliss and the power of it.

“No,” he says, cursing. “No—don’t run from it. Don’t… Baby, please take what I’m giving you. It’s gonna be alright.”

Pushing back on the dark throes of the tide as it creeps up over your shoulders and sends shocks through your body, the hair on the back of your neck rising with the effort, you choke. Beomgyu takes a hand down the seam of your bodies and rolls your aching clit. They’re succinct and intentional—pressure right on the sensitive underside, sending your belly rippling as he pairs it with a few more sharp, more meaningful thrusts.

You see white. It’s white and hot. You are the sun, beaming and writhing like stardust. You curve off the floor once more, raking nails down the lengths of his back. Are you even making sound? You don’t know; you can’t hear it past the ringing piercing sharp in your ears. You shake beneath him, cunt gripping him frantically with flutters of your walls. 

He grunts, voice strained and shaking as he begins to follow his own release.  “Holy shit—look at you. You’re so f-filthy. So pretty, cumming on me.”

You bare each brush of his cock against your still twisting walls, trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your thighs jump and your toes curl, and it’s all too much, but not enough. He needs to come tumbling over the edge right along with you—if he comes with you, it doesn’t seem so hard. You chant his name, smooth voice gone hoarse.

Stilling inside you, he whines, “Shi—it.” A war wages behind his eyes for a long second before he slips his cock from you with a wet, squelching pop, strings of your release breaking as he lays his cock on your belly. His stomach goes tight, and with one last slide of his length, slick with your mess and staining your belly, his cock jumps. He shoots all over your skin, pretty glistening spurts like ribbons a milky white. 

He sits back on his haunches, slowly rubbing himself off to give you some more and come down. Your room is quiet now, aside from your heaving chests and the buzz of something new in the air. Letting his head fall back, wet strands of spiky black hair dangle around his neck, a bead of sweat catching light as it rolls down it.

“Feel okay?” he says, looking down on you with softened eyes. He pulls cloth from his pocket, unfolding the fine fabric, and he wipes himself off your belly.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, leaning into the palm he cups your cheek with. “I’m okay.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The world didn’t explode, did it?” he says.

You share a stolen laugh with him, feeling every last honey wave receding from the spot between your thighs. The world hadn’t ended, and yet, in every way, it had. Savoring the abated rises and falls of his chest and the content sagging of his shoulders, your belly tightens anew. 

What happens now, when everything else has been a lie? When you don’t believe that you can survive that lie for any longer?

❆

So many hands work on you. One of your ladies in waiting laces you up in the back, and another works on your hair even while you stand, and one bounces a wintry, snow-kissed rouge over the plush of your cheeks. 

Yesterday, your world changed. And today, you’re expected to go on living in it.

When Beomgyu slipped out from your room last night after hours of holding each other under the covers, indulging in your ability to touch, you let your heart crack in two. You shouldn’t have. Why had you let yourself think that it was going to end up anything other than like this? You, getting prettied up to be sent away with your expecting husband, and the dreams you’d let build up to the clouds in the prince’s arms all shattered on the floor at your feet.

What else can you do? Loving Beomgyu freely is out of the question. Your parents would laugh right in your face, or maybe lock you away and make even more sure that you never get to see him again.

You try to burn the image of his eyes into your memory. Black, big and round and cunning all the while. You commit the broadness of his shoulders, and the pretty straight line of his nose in profile, and the pink plushness of his lips, and the little freckles you’d discovered yesterday, and the sound of his voice in your ear, and the feel of his touch on your skin, too.

“We’ll leave you until it’s time to come collect you,” a Lady says, bowing at the waist to you as the others finish up, tying the fastening of your dress up quick and sprinkling their final touches over you before following her out.

Your room goes utterly quiet. More quiet than it’s ever felt.

Dragging your limbs over to your bed, you let yourself fall onto it despite all the care they’d taken to get your skirts right. Resting your cheek to your palm, you let your eyes fall closed as you memorize the feel of your own bed, too.

When you flutter them open, there’s something peeking out from the pillow across from you. You furrow your brows and reach for it.

The paper is folded up with haste, torn from the edge of somewhere else and scribbled on with a quick hand. How long has that been there, without you noticing? Pushing yourself up from the bed, careful to at least maintain the smoothness of your hair, you unfold it.

ℳ𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝓉 𝒮𝑤𝑎𝑛 ℒ𝑎𝑘𝑒. 

Your soul comes back to life and seeps through your bloodstream. Sitting there for a few moments, idle at the largeness of what you’re about to do, you loose a breath. 

And then, you curl your hand around it, shove yourself up in a flurry of white, crystalline skirts, and you go.

The curious faces of the palace hands you pass do not stop you, nor does the morning’s bite as you find your way outside, nor does the almost-slip over ice, and absolutely nothing else stops you as you run. Is he still going to be there when you make it?

God, please let him be there. Don’t let this be almost.

Fists full of the abrasive fabric of your skirts and darting by barren bushes and trees, you do not stop until you clear the little tree line and the lake stands vast and frosty ahead of you.

When Beomgyu spots you, and you spot his figure against the background of the lake crisp in the morning, the sweet cooing of the birds and the rest of the bustle falls away. None of it compares.

“You came,” he says, dragging his feet through the snow until he’s right in front of you, his features elegant once more in the clear morning haze. “I didn’t think you would.”

You reach up to dust away snowflakes resting on his hair. It’s an excuse to touch him—that’s all you find yourself wanting to do, now. Brows pinching, you say, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… was scared.”

“No, no, I came,” you say, feeling now the bare expanse of your arms. You run your hands up and down them. Heart in atrophy all the while feeling full just being here with him, you add, “Why did you want to meet here?”

The world is serene for a few long moments as he just looks at you, his gaze searching. “Don’t marry him. Don’t leave with him.”

You know where he’s going with this already. Letting your dress fall from your hands, the one they’d fashioned you in to do exactly that, you say, “And do what?”

“Be with me. Marry me. Be my wife,” he says, the lines of his face solemn. “Let’s elope and find a corner of the world that’s just ours, so that we will never have to hear another word from them again. Let’s just… be together. Finally.”

Chest swelling with something so hopeful that it’s painful,  reality comes with its pin point and pop it. “Is that really what you want? You’ll take me, even though I’m promised to somebody else?”

His lip curls as though the thought were detestable. “What the fuck is a dowry to this? To the approval of the fates? The world could try snuff that fact out with whatever they’ll try, and a man could offer your parents a dowry of all its money, and still, you’d be mine. No matter what, our souls belong to each other.” His hand is frozen against your cheek. He’s been out here waiting for you for so long. “I’d take you, promised to another man. I’d take you no matter how you are; in a thousand different lives, I’d have you each time.”

That’s all you need to hear: that you are cherished for more than just your nature, but for yourself. That he loves you unendingly and undyingly, and all you have to do is leave by his side. You’ve already left it all behind—thrown any attachment to the wind, because truly, what is that to this? You don’t know where you’ll go, and you think Beomgyu hasn’t a clue either. But you’ll find that somewhere together. 

Together, your half sings. His answers with a thrilling beat.

“This time,” he says, eyes blazing with conviction. You know he feels the tug, too. “We got it right.”

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note MY SHAYLAAAAA. MY SHAYLAAAAAAA!

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[honeytonedhottie]

honeys it girl magazine october edition!!⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the october catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

HOW TO HAVE THE MOST DOLLY SLUMBER PARTY EVER ;

when i think of the month of october i think of GLAMOROUS parties. and that incorporates girly slumber parties, halloween parties, a LOT of parties. SOO the kind of party that i wanted to focus on in this month's catalogue is slumber parties.

to throw a successful slumber party we first need a plan. make sure that u have refreshments, entertainment, invitations and all of that planned. if u wanna have a SUPER cute slumber party have a theme. some theme ideas can be

♡ victoria's secret (V.S. pj's, lingerie, everyone wears a V.S. robe etc)♡ 2000's ♡ movie based pajamas♡ a color scheme (black and pink is my fave)

and we can't have our girls being bored at our slumber party can we? make sure that u plan fun activities like having a fashion show (playing dress up) playing dress to impress or video games like that, baking sweet treats, karaoke, dolling each other up ETC. for refreshments you could do a snack bar or make mocktails, you could even do a milkshake station!

THE VICTORIA'S SECRET FASHION SHOW 2024 ANALYSIS ;

🧁 anok yai’s floral number (she’s literally blooming, she looks like a FLOWER. her hair is giving barbie dolll and ultimately she had my favorite look of the whole entire night. the WINGSSS, the shoes everything just goes together beautifully.)

🧁 gigi hadid (she looks like a lavender princess fairy and it looks amazing on her. but PLEASEE why the slick hair?? when i think victorias secret im thinking of bouncy voluminous hair. i LOVE her wings though. they're so big and over the top and i love it)

🧁 imaan hamman (also goes with lisa and anok yai in my top three favorite looks of the night. its so simple but in my opinion her look gives the victorias secret that we all know and love the most.)

🧁 alex consani (i rly rly love baby blue on her, again, please bring back bouncy voluminous hair. and i kinda wish they gave her fluffier wings.)

🧁 lisa’s black lacy number (def one of my favorites on the whole runway. i wish she had black lacy wings instead of the structured ones but easily one of my favorites)

🧁 maty fall (the silk, the feathers, chefs KISS. in his case i think the minimal wings look the prettiest because her outfit is fuller, the delicate wings complement it beautifully.)

OCTOBER BODYCARE, MAKEUP AND FRAGRANCE FAVORITES ;

body care : hello kitty strawberry oat milk body balm from creme, vanilla creme brûlée body lotion from hempz (this one smells like HEAVEN), and fresh cream by philosophy. i rly loved the nyx marshmallow primer and for fragrance the soft and dreamy scent from victorias secret PINK (it just gives me so much nostalgia around this season 💗🍬)

DRESS TO IMPRESS NEW UPDATE ;

dress to impress is every hottie's favorite game, and when DTI dropped its halloween update, everyone including myself was so super STOKED about it. there are new codes and SO many new possibilities unlocked. speaking of codes…💬🎀

❤︎ CH00P1E_1S_B4CK (boots, jacket and skirt)

❤︎ UMOYAE (skater dress)

❤︎ D1ORST4R (star purse and hair bow)

❤︎ S3M_0W3N_Y4Y (axe weapon)

OCTOBER IT GIRL ACTIVITIES ;

like i said in the first section of this month's magazine, i associate october with PARTIES and ik a lot of us are going to halloween parties so i just wanted to share some rules of thumb especially if its ur first party, on how to have fun while also being safe.

make sure that u have a designated driver at all times

don't overdo it with the drinks, thats never hot

make sure u have ice cold water to sip on, on the car ride home

be careful, make sure that drinks are poured in front of u or you get them yourself

dont party by yourself GO WITH A FRIEND U TRUST AND STICK TOGETHER

and of course have fun 🍭 this year im dressing up as the white rabbit from alice in wonderland so im super excited to look cute and have fun with my friends

if partying is not ur thing there are SO many fun things that you can do this october. for example binge watching october movies, or doing fall related activities like we talked about in last month's section. some movies that i love to watch in october are

♡ jennifer's body

♡ ginger snaps

♡ scream

♡ the love witch

i dont usually watch things that are too scary which is why my list is so short 😭 i get scared rly easily so i try and watch movies that aren't SO scary but if you like that there are some rly good ones out there.

WHATS MY HOROSCOPE? (OCTOBER 27-31)

♡ for virgo, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 brings an unexpected opportunity to your financial realm and a boost of confidence as it allows you to showcase your talents. a surprising gift of abundance arrives! jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, prompting you to review your long-term goals over the next five months.

♡ for aries, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse brings change to your relationships. unstable connections will be tested while authentic bonds will be strengthened. look for opportunities in love. jupiter stations retrograde on the ninth, traveling backward through the sign of gemini and your communication sector. between now and february 2025, you’re invited to explore the ways in which you connect with others. explore a variety of ways to express your mind. jupiter loves to facilitate growth, even when retrograde, making this a profound time to learn quickly.

♡ for taurus, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 awakens your mind, body, and soul! touching down in your sector of self-care, the eclipse offers the opportunity to embrace a new cycle of health and wellness. your skills will receive a boost. jupiter stations retrograde on the ninth in your zone of money and resources, challenging you to explore a new approach to the material world over the next five months.

♡ for gemini, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse brings change to your romantic life. an empowering new cycle begins that encourages you to embrace pleasure and distance yourself from people or situations that no longer bring authentic joy. this is a time to prioritize what truly makes you happy. jupiter stations retrograde in your sign on the ninth, urging you to reinvent yourself over the next five months.

♡ for cancer, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 lands in your zone of intuition and brings a new cycle of emotional strength. this eclipse could bring unexpected changes to your environment, so be sure to honor your comfort and security. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini and your zone of rest on the ninth, inviting you to relax over the next five months.

♡ for leo, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your communication zone, setting off a new cycle of connection. unexpected information emerges that inspires you to action. jupiter stations retrograde in your friendship sector on the ninth. over the next five months, consider ways you can strengthen your bonds with others.

♡ for libra, on october 2, a powerful eclipse in your sign brings surprising new beginnings! personal revelations provide fresh excitement for the future. as you walk a new path, remember how powerful you are. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to learn through experience over the next five months.

♡ for scorpio, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse touches down in your zone of rest, encouraging surrender and relaxation. through soul-searching, this eclipse could bring forth a much-needed spiritual awakening. the energy is also creative and imaginative. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to embrace transformation over the next five months.

♡ for sagittarius, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your zone of friendship and hope, inspiring faith for the future. expect surprising information in your social circles! an exciting new collaboration could be in the works. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini and your relationship realm on the ninth, encouraging you to explore your role in your closest connections over the next five months.

♡ for capricorn, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse awakens your career zone, encouraging you to step into your power! an unexpected opportunity to showcase your gifts emerges, and important people are noticing your strengths. surprises related to your career could open new pathways to success. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, prompting you to explore new self-care practices over the next five months.

♡ for aquarius, on october 2, the libra solar eclipse activates your sector of adventure, eliciting excitement! you could be taking an unexpected trip or seizing an opportunity to broaden your horizons. knowledge is power, and this eclipse could provide surprising information that helps you expand. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, encouraging you to explore your creative side over the next five months.

♡ for pisces, the libra solar eclipse on october 2 brings major transformation in your realm of money and intimacy! unexpected changes open new doors of opportunity, and while this is exciting, it requires you to face your shadow and abandon fear. a surprising, magical moment of abundance emerges. jupiter stations retrograde in gemini on the ninth, inviting you to rest and embrace comfort over the next five months.

[hopesworlld]

sam monroe catches you masterbating !

( mean!sam, use of vibrator, fingering, degradation, spanking, mentioned sex )

a small whine fell from your lips as you buried your fingers deeper into your sopping hole, gasping as you curled your fingers, prodding at that spongey spot inside of you that made your toes curl. you twisted slightly, spreading your legs wider as you forced your fingers down to the hilt, chasing that phantom release that curled at your spine.

“fuck,” you hissed, head falling back against your pillow, grinding your hips against your fingers, trying to replicate the feeling of someone else buried there, fingers or cock you didn’t care. you missed feeling full, achingly so as they drove deep inside of you and left you a babbling mess. you rolled on your side, throwing open your bedside drawer and pulling out your little bullet vibrator. you turned it on, speeding it up and pressing it against your clit. a screech falling from your lips as you jerked helplessly, body sent into overdrive by the vibrations and you came quickly, cum coating your fingers and squelching sickly.

you rolled over, heavy breaths falling from your lips as you switched the toy off and dropping it down when you heard clapping coming from the door way. your head whipped round, eyes meeting sam monroe’s, your brother best friend, and the boy who had fucked you so good over a month ago that nothing else had compared since.

“good show, babe, came a little to quickly if you ask me though,” he snickered, dark hair falling over his forehead in waves, eyes lined with thick black liner that made his blue eyes almost luminous.

“what the fuck, sam?” you hissed, grabbing your blankets and yanking them up to cover yourself.

“don’t you fucking dare,” sam snapped, crossing the room in seconds and grabbing the blanket from you, “sluts don’t need to cover up,” he said, tossing the blanket to the ground and grasping your thighs, spreading them open so that he could see the mess of slick that coated your inner thighs and welled from your pussy, weeping helplessly as he leaned down. you could feel his breath against you, ice cold against your swollen clit.

“sam,” you breathed weakly as he reached out, touch feather light as it trailed from your sopping hole to your clit, not enough to stimulate you, but enough to make you gasp, hips twitching.

“no,” sam hissed, removing his hand and slapping your thigh harshly, “you think i’m gonna play with this pathetic little pussy, look at it crying for me, so needy and wet. fucking pathetic,” he spat, “if you wanted something you should have called me, instead you got off with that little toy,” he said, glaring hatefully at the vibrator beside you.

“s’not the same,” you whimpered, “didn’t feel like you,” you pouted at him but sam simply shook his head.

“still used it didn’t you, saw you cum all over your self like a bitch in heat, squirming and moaning,” he scolded and your heart pounded.

“i… you weren’t…” you tried to say but same cut you off, hand coming up and grasping your cheeks, pinching them harshly.

“so you ask,” he grit out, “you pick up the phone and beg for me, beg for my hands, my cock and if you are a good girl you get them. but you weren’t a good girl where you, babe,” he frowned sympathetically.

“please,” you whined, words slurred by sam’s grasp on your cheeks.

“no,” sam growled, “you wanna cum again, you can use that stupid fucking toy and if you put on a good enough show maybe i’ll give you a treat,” he said, pulling back and seating himself at the chair beside your dresser with raised brows. “go on,” and who were you to disappoint.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

he’s such a cunt and i love him sm 🫶🏻

[concreteangel92]

'Tis The Season

Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Warnings: bondage, shibari rope play, ice play, dom/sub relationship, praise kink, sensation play, oral (female receiving) slight edging but not much

It feels so nice to be able to get something uploaded haha I have so much of my own writing/requests to catch up on which I’m hoping to get everything finished soon! I hope you all enjoy this in the meantime 🖤

Permanent taglist: @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @w0manof-flesh44 @dream-machine-love @thisbicc @amelia-acero @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @tosoundlessdarkistare @ichoosetenderomens @hurricanesfollowyou

Individual Tags: @leneisback @concretejunglefm @dsireland86

Let me know if you wish to be added to my permanent Noah taglist 🖤

MASTERLIST

Your body was laid bare across your shared bed, your skin being illuminated by the multicoloured Christmas lights wrapped shibari style around your chest and your arms were pulled and tied to the bed posts.

Noah had tied you up so well that your movements were extremely limited. Now normally of course, you both had proper bondage rope for an evening such as this, but tis the season after all.

You felt your chest rise and fall with the anticipation, your sight had been taken from you with the black silk mask over your eyes, but you could feel that his eyes were on you.

“You look absolutely breathtaking baby”

You heard him move around the bed, his presence feeling closer until you felt a dip on the mattress next to you and then you felt the feather light touch of his fingers across your cheek running gently down onto your neck in a gentle possessive grip.

“My very own little Christmas present”

You could feel your chest rising up and down faster as you waited for him to begin, his words going straight to your core.

“You ready to be my personal toy angel? I just love making you my little play thing, especially when you look so good being all tied up for me”

Your thighs clenched at his words, your own voice barely above a whisper as you responded.

“Yes”

You felt him move slightly and heard the sound of something clinking next to you on the bedside table, you wondered what he’d brought in but you soon realised when you felt an ice cube run across your lips gently making you part them in surprise and feeling the cool drips of water enter your mouth.

A gasp then fell from your lips as you felt the ice glide along your collarbone, causing a shiver to run through your body.

You felt Noah bring the ice down towards your chest, feeling a water trail being left in its wake. You moaned when he started to circle your nipples, instantly feeling a cold chill that seemed to warm your body up.

“You should see the colours reflected on your skin right now on the water baby, it’s beautiful, you’re so beautiful”

Your heart swelled within your chest, his praise was always next level compared to anyone you’d ever been with before.

You felt the cube glide down your stomach when he’d finished on your chest making your muscles contract under his touch, the sensation was like nothing you’d felt before. The cold cube was causing you to have goosebumps appear all over your skin and the heat to build between your legs.

“Noah…”

His name rolled off your tongue as you felt the cube go lower and you felt his body shifting so he could get a better angle.

He hummed in response but you didn’t say anything more, you were too lost in the feelings coursing through you.

The sensation of the ice running across your lower stomach caused your hips to twitch upwards and another cold shiver through your body. You knew where he was headed.

“You’re melting the ice baby, are you that worked up already?”

You felt him lean across and heard him pick up another cube.

Your body was hot, you felt so turned on and he’d barely done anything to you.

You then felt Noah spread your thighs apart gently, the anticipation causing you to tug on the lights, hearing them groan under the pressure.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece, my very own work of art, all laid out on display for me”

The next thing you felt was Noah lying down on the bed as he settled himself between your thighs and hooked one of his arms around your leg to hold you down.

“Let’s cool you down a bit yeah?”

A choked groan left your lips as you felt Noah run his tongue, with the cube, across your folds for the first time.

“Shit!”

The feeling of the cold on your hot core was beautifully contradicting. It was almost a painful feeling to have such a cold sensation down there.

Noah then placed the cube in between his fingers and was running it around your inner thighs and outer lips, his mouth ghosting feather kisses on your lower abdomen, never going exactly where you craved him the most.

“Noah please…”

He continued slowly running the cube around you, leaving water marks behind and he lifted his head up.

“Yes angel?”

You could hear the smug smirk on his face, if there was one thing he loved, it was teasing and edging you.

You gripped onto the lights around your wrists, desperately wishing you could grip onto his hair instead.

“Please….don’t tease me”

He chuckled.

“Feeling a bit desperate are we baby?”

You went to respond but the feeling of his fingers suddenly spreading your lips apart and his cold tongue entering you and drawing out your arousal slick and wet from between your folds made your head fall back against the pillows with a loud, choked out moan.

“Oh my go…”

Your words were caught in your throat as Noah was then like a starved man. He continued to eat you out mercilessly, the ice had long since melted under the warmth of his tongue and your own heat. His tongue went up to your clit and you felt his inked fingers slip inside to stroke your walls in a come hither motion, his tongue flat while he shook his head vigorously, your thighs shaking uncontrollably around him as his arms wrapped and pinned you down.

The sound of your own wetness hit your ears as his rhythm never let up, you felt your body tense beautifully before you felt yourself snap and cry out as your orgasm hit you hard, you back arching off the bed and the lights stretched from the bed posts as you pulled down on them.

As you felt your body go limp on the mattress and you tried to catch your breath, you felt Noah’s fingers slip the blindfold off your head, his cocky smile being the first thing you saw, his chin glistening sinfully under the lights.

“You still with me angel?”

You smiled.

“Just…..fancy taking these off me yet?”

You pulled on the wires gently to gesture to what you meant and you watched as Noah ran a finger across his chin, gathering your arousal before sucking it into his mouth.

“And why would I want to do that?”

You looked down at your body and admired the multicoloured glow across your skin before you looked back up at Noah.

“Time to see if you’ve been naughty or nice this year baby”

[trashmouth-richie]

I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…

Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.

*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.

OH MY LOVE.

hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.

18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.

**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤

<1k

send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)

Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant. 

Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out. 

“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”  

One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month. 

Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.

You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock? 

Eddie was naked.

Pale-moon colored ass on display. 

Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding. 

His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.

Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them. 

Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep. 

And then you hear it. 

A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat. 

Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures. 

Oh—fuck.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend. 

Jesus.

Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob. 

Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP. 

The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it. 

Fuck.

Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut. 

Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT

With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.

What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time. 

Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth. 

You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical. 

A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?

It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates. 

Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria? 

The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk. 

How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin. 

The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate. 

You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment. 

Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown. 

You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear. 

“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead. 

You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop. 

Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet. 

“We need to talk.” 

part two

steve tied up

[naffeclipse]

Little Chicks

Penguin!Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm so excited to share this fic! The lovely @pluck-heartstrings requested a continuation of Cardinal Instincts with a mix of fluff and typical Orca Eclipse with some angst/backstory for the harpy reader! I also enjoy writing baby sirens Sun and Moon as well <3

Content Warning for mentions of death and angst.

———

Tiny flukes flip along the ocean’s surface. You watch the siren young closely, perched on the edge of the ice with your winged arms folded tightly against you. Though you’ve grown used to how the orca siren tests the babes’ abilities, your heart flutters nonetheless whenever one sinks a little too deep below the surface without acquiring a deep enough breath and you must swallow back a squawk of fear when the other gives anxious, tired chirps after swimming for a moment too long.

But Eclipse is there, scooping the little ones into his hands, and if they refuse to calm, he presses them into your lap and allows the familiar, comforting touch of your plumage to soothe them.

Your siren young, you remember. Emotion thickens in your throat as Sun flips his tail, flashing cream and golden colors. The orca siren child struggles across the shallow water in the half-submerged alcove. Moon’s teeth gnash together as he whines. Eclipse chirrs gently, encouraging the children as if they were of his own blood. It still surprises you that they are not, with their eyes each containing at least one yellow or scarlet hue. The brothers share a blue color to their gaze, however, and confirm that they are twins.

The icy alcove sheltering them from the harsher, direct light outside is comfortable. Though it’s far from your natural habitat of flat icy plains with plenty of diving holes into the water, you’ve dared to settle into this home.

Eclipse courts you still, and though you both share the work of caring for the siren young, he makes it clear with a flash of his hungry eyes that you are the only mate for him. The only one who will raise Sun and Moon with him.

You watch him now, while the boys occupy his attention. His sleek, black and white form dipped in deep red and dark orange is lethal in every capacity. He is the apex predator of the seas. His body is lithe with toned, sleek muscle. His jaws split wide into a maw full of shark-like teeth. Yet, his claws curl carefully over Moon while he lifts him back to the surface, and the soft sounds of the babe’s sputtering pull your muscles taut, insisting you dive after the babe. 

An instinct within understands how easily Eclipse’s natural weapons can turn on you, could rip you apart to feed his young, but then Sun is squeaking in anger. Eclipse turns to him quickly. He rumbles a soothing hum while holding Moon in the crook of his arm and gathering Sun in his other hand. His gentleness is always at the ready for his adoptive children. Your heart softens.

The siren lifts his eyes to you. In the light that refracts from the ocean surface and icy walls, his gaze glows brighter, hungrier. A shiver falls down your spine. How naturally your body remembers your place in the food chain. He closes the distance. His dorsal fin arches high behind him while strong, smooth motions of his tail push him until he’s looming over you on the shelf of ice you reside on.

A pulse starts in your throat. You gaze up at him, small and easily devoured, but he leans closer to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. The thick feathers covering your body ruffle under his persistent touch. A soft squawk escapes your mouth at the graze of his teeth over your sensitive, vulnerable throat.

“Sun and Moon must be getting hungry,” you breathe, fighting the heat that longs to stain your fluffy cheeks.

“They’ve worked up an appetite,” he agrees over the sharp squeaks and chirps of their demands. “They’re getting stronger.”

And hungrier, you note. Eclipse has been a provider, killing and retrieving meals of squid and other soft meat for the boys to tear apart with their nubby teeth. Eclipse explained to you once that these milk teeth will fall out once the boys have grown enough and will be replaced by sharper, more capable incisors. 

It might have scared other harpies like yourself to know these children who depend on you for food and warmth will soon become as capable and dangerous as Eclipse, but only a swell of pride fills you with the thought. They will become strong. They will thrive and no one will ever harm them. A gentle need to watch them flourish propels you to open your arms.

“When will you hunt for food?” you ask softly. Your dainty clawed fingers brush gently against the squirming, wet forms of Sun and Moon held in the crook of Eclipse’s arms.

A low grumble, deep and chilling, rolls through the orca siren and into you. You still when this jaws nears your lips. The press of his forceful kiss pushes you back slightly, and you give an indignant squeak under his mouth, tasting you like he may or may not sample the flesh hidden under your feathers.

“I’ll go now, birdie,” he murmurs. “I won’t keep Sun and Moon hungry. Wait here for me.”

He draws back to capture your gaze with his own. The intensity of his eyes, one red, one yellow, pierces you with the strength of the sun. A desire to look away, to shrink from underneath his power nearly takes you, but he growls softly.

“Be good, birdie.”

“I will,” you answer, then immediately flush. 

He nods smugly then presses a kiss to your cheek. You close your eyes though you are no less attuned to the sharp squeaks of protest of being slightly squashed between yours and his exchanges of fondness.

“Eclipse,” you mumble against his mouth, “The babies.”

A chortle escapes from his wicked jaws as he parts from you. At least, he eases Moon then Sun into your arms. The most natural embrace overtakes you as you cradle the precious siren young, though they are steadily growing, becoming just a little bigger for your arms than a regular chick might have been. It doesn’t matter to you. They are slick, warm, and safe.

Sun chirps soften into babbling chatter, his wide eyes beautiful and bright. On your other arm, Moon turns against your chest. His little nubby fingers grasp your feathers, clenching and unclenching, as his mouth roams for milk he will not find here.

“It’s alright, little chicks,” you coo at your children. “Your bellies will be filled shortly.”

You spare a glance at Eclipse, prodding him with a look but he lingers on the edge of the ice shelf. You lift your head, curious.

“They’re hungry,” you remind.

“I know, birdie.” His gaze slips into something like snowmelt as if he finds you simply adorable. “You’re beautiful. I simply had to admire how you take care of them.”

Your mouth opens but silence tumbles out. 

He flashes a wicked grin to your dismay. Pushing off of the ice shelf, the orca siren dives out of the alcove and leaves you simmering with pink heat. Your words fail on your tongue, but there is little you can say to the orca siren who has decided to make you his.

You are unable to resist sinking softly in the after waves of his boldness and courting gestures. A small pile of beautiful stones and gems has piled in the far corner of the ice shelf. Tokens of his love. Each beautiful pebble made you believe he couldn’t find a better one, and each time, he has proven you wrong. 

Pebbles are for building nests for a chick. To accept a pebble is to build towards a future, to prepare for the young that will come once two penguin harpies agree to be mates.

You press the memory of a small nest and a tiny, new life away from your thoughts. A nibble along your fingers draws your attention. Gazing down at Moon gnawing his nubby teeth along your hand, you smile. You gently free your fingers and stroke his head, sliding along the deep midnight blue appendage that falls down his head. The small bulb at the end is frilly and yellow. 

“Oh, my darling,” you murmur in a soft voice. You slip back along the ice shelf, waddling carefully to not slip with the babes in your arms before gently rearranging them to rest in your lap. Wrapping your winged arms around them, they will stay warm.

A sharp squeak turns your head towards Sun. Hunger rips through him loud and clear. You laugh gently as he begins wiggling, impatiently and restlessly. His sharp, golden, and white gold fins crowning his head twist importantly with the jerks of his head.

“I know, my love, I know,” you softly cup his cheek and pull him closer to your chest, holding him to keep him from slipping away. “Your father is getting you squid. Patience, Sun.”

The high-pitched demanding chirp that falls from him squeezes your heart. He is far too loud, too excited, and you laugh. Softly taking Moon against you as well, you lean back against the alcove wall and try to hum. They adore when Eclipse sings to them, but his vocal cords are powerful and entwined with magic. Yours are too strained and, in a word, unfit for a lullaby. The best you can give them is your warmth and protection. 

Your adoptive children.

Your mind drifts to a distant echo of sharp chirps. Insistent, hungry, and then, silent. 

A slow collapse shuts away your throat. Your hum cuts short.

The memory takes you like an ocean wave, pushing you down, deeper and deeper until you can no longer breathe.

Your chick was so small. He was beautiful. He chirped fiercely. Then he did not make a sound at all.

Shoulders heaving, your breath becomes ragged. It scrapes out of your throat. Your chest tightens. Tiny bodies squirm in your arms, little fingers sinking into your plumage and grip tightly, demanding attention, but your vision is far, far away, lost on an empty ice plain dusted in snow.

You held your little chick in your arms. He didn’t move. Your mate told you to let him go.

You couldn’t. You didn’t, not until your mate pried him from your hands and forced you to leave him, to let the snow bury him and the ice creep over him until he was cradled in the Antarctic cold forever. He has to be warm. You were keeping him warm.

What did you do wrong?

No one answered. 

A splash echoes in the distance. Wiggling bodies attempt to crawl away from you, eager chirps filling the air, but your vision is blurred over ice and water. A deep, abysmal voice calls out. You don’t answer.

You hold tighter to Sun and Moon, clinging to them. Their tiny voices grow louder as they fill with hunger. 

Another wash of water echoes throughout the alcove, and then a shadow looms over you. Something wet splats just a few inches onto the ice shelf. Then, a low rumble and claws crack the ice, dragging over the uneven terrain.

A hand falls on your shoulder. Claws threaten to sink into your flesh.

“Birdie, what’s wrong?”

A gasp wretches from you. You blink, staring up at the looming orca siren. His eyes blaze, searching for threats and wounds, but only finding you unlocking your fierce grip from Sun and Moon. The babies gleefully slip away from you. Their wiggling tails flip and flap, and Eclipse watches them carefully before pinning you with his stare again.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he demands, growling with an abysmal darkness.

“No,” you gasp, “No, the babies—they need to eat.”

Eclipse hovers. When did he pull himself onto the ice? His tail sweeps along the cold terrain, his flukes curling to form a barrier between you and the water. You want to shrink. You want to bow your head and swim away—it wouldn’t be so different from when the colony decided you couldn’t stay any longer. 

A mush pile of chomped squid lies near Eclipse’s side fin. The siren young cry out. Slowly, Eclipse takes Moon, then Sun, setting them down by the food so they can begin tearing the soft flesh apart in their young moths. Securing them in the bow of his tail, he turns back to you.

“Birdie, tell me what is going on. I will make it right.” His clawed hands cup your face. You want to fall back, push him away until you can escape.

You can’t leave. Even wandering, you were trapped with what you’ve done.

Fear and shame form into a fine, frozen layer within you. You can’t look at Eclipse. His hand insists, pushing you by the chin until you're locked under his gaze again. 

“Be good, birdie. Tell me so I might rip apart whatever is causing you such pain,” he insists, snarling just under his breath. You tremble and touch his arm.

“I,” you gasp and it wheezes through you. Your throat closes up. You look once to Sun and Moon devouring their meal, unaware of their harpy parent dissolving into sea foam. “I was driven from my colony.” 

Something snaps within you. A great and terrible acceptance. A truth so ugly and rotten, you have no hope of holding its broken bones.

Eclipse’s jaw slackens. Teeth no longer bared, he slowly tilts his head.

“Why?” his eyes narrow.

He’ll know now you are unfit. He won’t have you raising his babies. You won’t hold Sun and Moon again.

You close your eyes and whisper, “I tried to steal another’s chick.”

Eclipse’s thumb slowly brushes along the fluff covering your cheek. 

“Go on,” he says in a shockingly gentle and low voice, as if you needed a lullaby in the dark of night, “Tell me, birdie. It’s alright.”

You quake. Opening your eyes slowly, you are filled with Eclipse’s soft gaze. His attention is fierce, ever sharp, but when he holds you, everything else falls to the wayside. 

A rattling breath fills your lungs.

“My baby,” your voice cracks. Eclipse’s gaze widens. “My poor baby died. He was so small… I don’t know why.”

“Such things can happen,” he says so firmly, you long to believe him, “It’s not kind, but little ones simply don’t endure by no fault of their own nor yours.”

“Eclipse, wait,” you grasp onto him tighter. He is your last island in the sea of your grief. He doesn’t understand.

“What of your mate?” he asks instead, his teeth glint.

“He left me,” you say quietly. A fact you have accepted long ago. Whenever you looked at him, you only felt the same grief again. “After my—our chick died, he left.”

Eclipse dips his head in the slightest, not exactly pleased, but reassured, in some way. You don’t know what to make of his expression.

“Then what became of you?” he asks in his growling cords.

You quake. 

“I don’t know why I did it. I just couldn’t stand it. Everyone with their chicks, hearing their little cries. I was alone,” you pull in a breathless gasp, “I didn’t stop myself. One little chick was unattended, for just a moment. Her mother was looking away. I wasn’t thinking at all. I just did it—I swooped in and stole the babe.”

Eclipse rumbles deep within his chest. You glance anxiously at Sun and Moon. Sounds escape Sun even as he chews vigorously. Moon is quiet, slurping down a tentacle. Eclipse draws a black-bone claw down your cheek, returning your attention to him.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

“I tried to feed her, but she refused to take any food from my mouth.” A strained sound, like a sob, escapes your throat. Eclipse hushes you softly, stroking the back of your feathered head. “She was crying—I told her I was her momma but she wouldn’t stop.”

The tiny babe was not your own, though just as small and hungry and fierce. The chirps were just a little off. They weren’t your babe’s.

Your heart twists. How could you ever have your little chick back? How could you try and replace one by taking from another? You were selfish and mad. You were trying to force another mother to go through what you just had.

“She wasn’t yours,” Eclipse answers simply, as if he might understand wanting something so terribly, and doing awful things to have it, but not being able to keep it.

You hold his gaze, wetness blurring your vision.

“It was cruel of me.” You shudder again. “They caught me. The colony decided I could no longer be a part of them. They sent me away. I could never return.”

Eclipse is silent for several heartbeats. You sit, heavy with shame and grief. His flukes brush against the little ones eating. A small complaint of being bothered during their meal rises in a sharp squeak. You glance over them, wishing to pull Sun and Moon into your arms again. What if you can never hold them again?

“That’s why you were waddling alone.” Eclipse sweeps a claw down your temple, almost touching your eye. Your eyelids flutter, and a great fear takes over you. Does he not want you anymore? Has he decided you will make a better meal than a parent?

“I still don’t know why I did it,” you mumble. You felt mad. You still feel unstable with loss and emptiness. You could only take and take to try and fill up the gaping place left within you. The baby you love so dearly was gone without a whimper.

And now two little sirens need your care. They are so beautiful and precious. Your heart bobs within you for longing to tend to them.

“You wanted your child back,” Eclipse hums. Your eyes lift to him, stained with tears. “You love your child. Now you have two little ones who need you. And you have been a beautiful mother to them.”

Stunned into silence, you blink. “You… you still want me?”

Eclipse chortles, looking at you as if you were simply precious.

“I have already chosen you as my mate. I have witnessed how tenderly you tend to Sun and Moon. I will have no one else but you, birdie.” He leans in and kisses your tear-wet cheeks. Your feathers ruffle underneath his affection. “Breathe, and when you are ready, you will hold our children again.”

Our children.

You cling tightly to Eclipse for one moment. His eyes widen. Leaning up, you lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth and smear salty tears on his maw unwittingly. You hope he doesn’t mind. All the while, he holds very, very still.

“They’re my little chicks,” you whisper.

“They are,” he rasps softly. Eclipse holds you until the Sun and Moon finish eating. Their cries of attention are answered as the orca siren scoops them up, one by one, and places them in your arms.

Your family.

[cheekynoz]

THE ADVENTURES OF CORA AND LAW

Part 20

In the treehouse, Dawn Island

Luffy: "...So that's why they should put ice cream in the water!"

Ace: "But you wouldn't be able to get it anyway, because you can't swim??"

Luffy: "Oh yeah! Why can't they put it somewhere I can get it?!"

Ace: "There's not- No one's putting ice cream anywhere you're the one talking about it???"

Sabo: Standing on the ground, shouting up at the treehouse. "Hey! One of our traps caught a really big black bird! I can see the black feathers!!!"

----------------

Law: Standing on the ground, looking up at Cora trapped in a net. "How did you even fall for that?! The net was just, on the ground, not even covered up by any leaves?! How am I supposed to get you down?!"

Cora: "I got distracted by a butterfly!"

Pt 19 -> Pt 20 -> Pt 21

(Masterlist)

[neptunescore]

hi pooks! can you write for brocedes with the random word hotel 🙈 lysm mwah mwah congrats on 600!!

Prompt word: Hotel | Pairing: Brocedes

The scene in front of him is breathtakingly beautiful.

A cacophony of blues, pinks and reds that intertwine and blur into each other, casting hues of gold into the sea as it begins it’s slow embrace of the sun.

Nico could stay here forever — watch the honeyed sunlight melt into deep waters till there's nothing left, and then wait right there as a new day passes and the cycle starts all over again — endless.

He shifts a little; his back sore from the uncomfortably-shaped balcony chair he's seated on, he knows Lewis is going to be cross with him later, is probably going to lecture him about self-care and what not, but the world champion is too tired to care about anything right now — let alone Lewis’ weird protectiveness over his health.

Nico sighs, he missed Lewis.

For all his infatuation with the sight before him, the blonde haired man would give it up in an instant if it meant having Lewis by his side again — the slow dance of blues and pinks and reds may take his breath away; but the soft golden-brown of Lewis’ skin, the infinite black of Lewis’ eyes, that— that left him with no air at all.

He’d been cooped up in this hotel room for a week now, lazily shifting between the bed and the balcony — an occasional trip outside sometimes; walking down streets shaded by never-ending trees, sitting on benches wrapped in leafy vines as he licked drops of melted ice-cream off his fingers.

Nico never wanted to leave. Wanted to spend the rest of his life like this. Didn’t even want to think about the plane ticket he’d placed in the bedside drawer.

A quiet ruffling draws the man out of his thoughts, blue eyes moving upwards as he tries to find the perpetrator of the noise.

There are two birds a few metres in front of him, brown feathers brushing against white ones, their wings stretched out and tense while loose talons tear against the clouds surrounding them. There is something wrong with the white one, it’s left wing crooked and bent, yet—

Oh. Nico’s eyes crinkle, lips curling softly. What a wonder it is, he thinks — watching where the brown sparrow had placed itself. To live. Right below the lower left side of it’s counterpart’s body. To love. Holding up the extra weight that the other could not.

“Man, what are you doing?”

The retired driver looks behind him, musings of wings and feathers vanishing immediately as a pout falls on his lips, “I missed you.”

“Nico-” A chuckle, I was gone for ten minutes.”

Nico sniffs haughtily, “ten minutes too long,” he frowns.

“Babe! I literally asked you if you wanted to come with me!”

“Yes. Well-”

“Oh shut up and come inside before the food gets cold. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’re sitting on that chair again.”

Nico rolls his eyes, pulling himself up and arching his back as he steps inside — groaning in pleasure as he feels a few satisfactory pops, “I want a hug.”

“Oh my god, you are so clingy.”

Yet there are arms wrapping around him instantly, blanketing him in a cocoon of warmth and love that he lets himself melt into.

“You okay, babe?” Lewis asks quietly. And Nico can feel the sincerity, the care; he can already feel the tears forming, can’t really believe that he has this now — will have this forever. Maybe.

“You won’t leave me when we go back home, will you? When the season starts? I won’t be on the grid anymore.”

“Oh Nico. I’m not going to leave you ever,” Lewis murmurs into his hair, “I know I can’t change the past few years, but that's never going to happen again, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” A nod, beaded braids brushing against the skin of his face, “Never again.”

Dark lips graze against his closed eyes. Nico’s grip on Lewis’ sweater tightens, a sudden lightness in his chest.

Liv!!! Finally done with this for you, and honestly, I just had to do fluff bc I have read way too much angst abt them😔✋🏽. I hope this matched ur expectations, meri jaan💗 ALSO, in the time it took me to write this, I gained a 100 (A HUNDRED😵‍💫🤭) more followers!! So the happiness just keeps going<3

I have also just given up on finding aesthetically matching pics of the drivers😭 (I scoured pinterest for an hour bfr ending up on nico's YouTube vids and taking ss's from there🙂🔫)

ANWAY, FEEL FREE TO DROP BY WHENEVER POOKS (this goes to all of you)🫶🏼😘

Divider creds to @cafekitsune as always♡

Rules and details☆°•~

[atarathegreat]

It's Cold

December was always freezing in Tokyo, the only people who never really felt it being those lucky enough to have warm quirks. You always thought it was strange to see people in tank tops and shorts all year round, a few even keeping their quirks activated while they walked through the deep snow on the cold concrete. No one could complain, the warmth was melting the freezing flakes and leaving the sidewalks safe to trek on.

No one appreciated it more than you did, however. Your quirk was never meant to keep you warm or even, really, be all that useful. The setback of winter never kept you from your daily walks and visiting the coffee shop, the clear sidewalks always made it better. You always kept two cylinders of salt in your backpack, sprinkling it where you walked to keep the snow from sticking, because even with quirks people could slip and fall. Also in your bag, next to a couple bottles of water and pain killers, was a box of Hot Handz, mittens, and a fairly packed first aid kit. Being prepared in the super powered world was important, even if you were mostly prepped with regular items.

You pulled your thick jacket a little closer as you smiled to those you passed. The wind was biting and making your cheeks pink and making your teeth rattle together, you assumed it made for a very scary smile. Why else was no one smiling back?

"Whoa!" A small, too small, patch of ice made your heel twist and send you falling backward. Closing your eyes, you braced for the impact that never came, instead a red feather tickled your nose as smooth laughter poured down on you. "Easy, kid, the snow will get ya' out here." Pro hero Hawks was perched upon the wide street light, his thicker winter outfit doing little to keep him warm, if you had to guess from his matching pink cheeks and the way his wings shivered.

A smile tugged at your lips as you kicked to dislodge the ice, "Thank you!"

He didn't need thanks, it was his job to help people. Sure, it wasn't like you were in danger from anything but a busted tailbone, but he was a hero. You waved up at him, pouring a small amount of salt in the area before continuing on. Hawks watched you with confusion. Why was a civilian doing a task that the city was already getting paid to do? He shrugged, crouching to keep himself warm while he kept watch for the next hour or so.

Espresso and coffee beans is the smell that welcomed you. Wrapped you in the softest blanket and kissed your head before passing you a nice pastry. Few patrons turned to see who had let in a small amount of the cold, even fewer seeming to care about your arrival. The barista smiled and greeted you, asking if you'd like your normal order. "Can I also get a strawberry strudel, a warm black coffee with a couple packets of creamer, and two cans of the iced coffee?" You dug in your bag for your wallet as the girl rang up your order. Typically you would sit and watch the snowflakes fall on the big window overlooking the street, but today you made other plans.

So you tucked the strudel and cans of coffee in your bag, carrying the two tall and hot cups in your hands. It would tweak your morning routine, but you felt that it was worth it, even if it only brought a smile to someone's face.

"Hawks, sir!" You called up to the feathery man, motioning to the cup in your hands, "Care for a cup?"

He landed easily next to you, making you happier in your decision to bring him something warm when you heard his teeth clacking together. You passed him his cup, pulling your bag around, "I also got you a strawberry strudel, some iced coffees and here is some creamer, just in case you don't like black coffee."

Hawks tilted his head as you passed him everything, "You don't have to buy things for heroes, kid. We're practically made of money." And yet, you only shrugged at him, "This saves you time!"

As much as he wanted to argue that you shouldn't spend money on him, you were right. You had saved him time that he could now use doing his job or taking his break. "Thanks. What's your name?" Hawks pulled the cardboard sleeve off the cup, writing a small thank you on it before passing it back to you, "Cool name, take care, okay?"

You waited until you were a fair distance away and replaced the sleeve on your cup with the one the hero had written on. It was a sweet gesture that you had done for a hero, one that Hawks would tell to everyone at the agency for days upon days, especially when you made it a frequent part of your routine.

Everyday, without fail, you would walk under him with a bright smile and a wave, returning within the hour and passing him a warm coffee and a strudel, he liked his coffee black so you didn't need to buy creamer packets. One his day off he stood against the light post, casual clothes under an incredibly thick winter coat. He wasn't really sure why he cared so much to see you walk by, but the idea of you not smiling at him made him...upset? He didn't know, but he wanted to see you smile.

"Hey, hey!" He stepped forward as you walked up, "What's up, kid?"

You smiled, passing him a Hot Handz, "It's getting colder these days, so I'm trying to stay active!"

Any hero could admire that, especially from a person like you. Someone who fought to be kind to everyone, or maybe you were just kind by nature and didn't realize that people were assholes. "You into walks that much, huh?" Hawks held a wing over your head to keep the falling ice from collecting in your hair. He narrowed his eyes as your shrugged, "It's always just been a part of my routine."

"Fair enough. Can't say I enjoy the cold weather any more than the next guy." Hawks smirked. For a pro hero, you thought, he sure was normal. Or as normal as a man with wings could be. "So why aren't you on your light this morning?" You asked. He looked over at you, shaking his wing a little to get rid of the accumulating snow, "Day off, didn't want you to miss me."

He wanted to play it off perfectly. To have you, a complete stranger, know that you made his heart nearly explode with your kindness, that he looked forward to your daily smile, that he liked your face and the pink that the cold put on your cheeks. Now that he'd heard you laugh, heard your sweet giggle, he was smitten. "You'll be joining me at the coffee shop then this morning?" You asked, looking up and noticing your new shelter, "I know I sure could use the warmth of the shop this morning."

For the first time, everyone stared as you opened the door. The little bell chimed, giving you away, of course, but it was the hero at your side that really made them watch you. To your relief, the barista greeted you as usual. Hawks followed you up to the counter, leaning carefully across it and staring at you as you ordered the same thing as every other morning, just not to-go. "Finally taking a break?" The girl smiled at you, ringing up the order despite knowing the price off the top of her head. Your laughter made the mans wings fluff, only slightly, "Might as well, huh? Nothing wrong with sitting, and it's his day off so I don't have to hurry back."

Before you could pay, Hawks was shoving a card into the chip reader and giving you a cheeky smile, "You pay every other day, can't have you paying today. What kind of man would I be?"

He swore that the barista sighed, or swooned, whatever he caught the end of. Hawks was aware that he was an accidental womanizer, sometimes he was able to use it to his advantage, PR and fans and such. But you didn't seem to be jailed by his charms. You didn't react when his fingers brushed yours handing you the cup, you didn't react when he tucked your chair under you, you didn't even react when he placed his shoe snuggly against yours. You just kept talking about your routine, how you enjoyed the mornings when they were warmer and how bringing him coffee every morning was a nice addition. Just the simple act of bringing him coffee seemed to be enough for you. Did you really have no interest in the hero?

"So, why'd you get me the coffee that first day?" Hawks asked.

You perked up, "You looked cold, and if you were going to be perched on that street light all day then you needed something warm."

A small smirk spread over his lips and he leaned back in his chair, "How thoughtful of you. I'll just say it before I make a fool of myself,"

Hawks took your hand and pulled you closer to him over the table, "I think I like you."

Whatever pink hue the cold had granted you blended in with the new redness he was plastering across your cheeks. A hero liked you? What had you done aside from gifting him coffee? It was the least you thought you could do, seeing as he was always watching over that stretch of road where you walked.

"Say something, yeah?" Hawks squeezed your hand.

"Oh! Oh, uhm..." You stared down into your coffee, your reflection looking startled, "I didn't expect that..."

he chuckled, "Let this be a date? See how ya' carry through?"

December was always freezing in Tokyo, the only people who never really felt it being those lucky enough to have warm quirks. And now you, blushing and smiling as warmth spread through your limbs.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Child Support

Shroud: Meow! (Jumps up onto Blake’s bed and sits on Blake’s stomach) MeooooooooOoOow!

Blake: Ugh! Alright! Alright! I'm up! Just get your fluffy butt off of me. I swear. You've put on some weight recently, and it's making those ice picks you call legs dig deeper than normal.

Shroud: (hops off the bed and licks her paw nonchalantly before following Blake to the kitchen)

Blake: (puts a kettle of water on the stove and starts getting Shroud's breakfast ready. She glances at the sleek, black feline waiting patiently, amber eyes falling on the slight barrel in her belly) I don't know if you even need this. (cracks open can of wet catfood) You're getting chubby.

Shroud: (meows indignantly and visually huffs)

*Ding-Dong*

Blake: (Raises an eyebrow, glances at the apartment door, and back at Shroud) Did you invite someone over?

Shroud: (eyes glued to the bowl of food) Prrrrrrrrr.

Blake: (rolls eyes and places the cat's food bowl on the specialty feeding mat before answering the door) Hello?

Yang: (standing in the hallway confidently in a pair of orange cargo pants and white tank top, an absolute unit of a fluffy ginger tabby tucked under her arm) Hey! I'm Yang! Your new neighbor from down the hall. And this is Ember.

Ember: (purring contently as he's being carried around like a bag of feed)

Blake: Oh. Um. Hello. (Mentally: Oh, fuck! My new neighbor is hot!) My name is Blake.

Yang: Blake! Nice ta meetcha. Soooo... This is going to sound strange, but does a little black cat live here? Maybe female type?

Blake: (blinks and glances back into the apartment at Shroud eating peacefully) Y-Yes.... Why?

Yang: (shuffles and laughs awkwardly) Well, you see. A couple of weeks ago, I was out in the back courtyard with Ember here and got distracted. When I saw him next, he was...well...he was mounted up on a black cat. I tried to break them up, but she got away and scaled the fire escapes to a balcony on this side of the complex.

Blake: .....Mounted up?

Yang: They were fucking.

Blake: (jaw drops as she stares at the Goliath tabby and back at her substantially smaller black cat) Shroud! You little whore. I thought you were fixed! Is that why you're getting fat?

Shroud: (licks her chops before trotting over to the door) Meow.

Yang: Yeah, I thought Ember was neutered, too. He never sprayed or scratched at furniture or was ever aggressive!

Blake: (groans and covers her eyes) I'm more wondering how that miniature tiger of yours didn't smother her. No offense.

Yang: None taken. He's a big boy. (Whips Ember around so he's cradled in her arms but is still spilling over)

Blake: (sighs) Well, thank you for letting me know I have to deal with kittens in the coming months. I thought she was just getting fat.

Yang: Oh! There's more! (Slings Ember over her shoulder like a feather boa, reaches towards the wall, and pulls out a 50-pound bag of kitten food) Child support!

Blake: Oh, my. (Takes the bag with some difficulty) Um. Thank you. I appreciate it.

Yang: No problem! It's the least I can do considering my boy (pats Ember's side with solid thuds) got your little lady pregnant. (Reaches down and scritches Shroud under the chin)

Blake: (shocked)

Yang: So, I was thinking maybe we could check in with each other every once in a while? For the kittens! I'm willing to help.

Blake: (trying not to stare at Yang’s muscles) Right! For the kittens! That would be nice! Thank you.

Yang: Don't mention it! But I'll get out of your hair. My apartment is just down the hall, third door on the left, if you or Little Mama need anything. See ya around, Blake!

Blake: I'll see you around (closes the door and stares at Shroud in disbelief) You had to get knocked up by a damn near domesticated tiger whose owner is also a blonde bombshell?

Shroud: Meow (purrs and rubs up against Blake’s legs)

Blake: (sighs and picks up Shroud before moving to the couch) Let's get you a vet appointment.

Yang: (quickly sprints back to her apartment, locks the door, and holds Ember up to eye level) You just had to knock up the pretty little black cat who just so happens to have a hot owner, didn't you?

Ember: Mow

Yang: I am not a disaster!

[magnusmodig]

╰┈➤  storm prompts / @mischiefmodig / accepting !

" You're soaking wet... "

𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 now stood completely drenched from the winter rains was hardly an unfounded occurrence. mighty grip held fast to the blue , wooden beams of the province foyers. with one foot dangling over the open air where the second story of the seaside villa dropped off and the residential courtyards began. the red of thor's cape stuck to his waist , sodden fabric clinging to leather and the bend of thor's knee. golden hair now dark from the rain plastered messily upon the head craned up towards the sky , watching the grey swirl of clouds that crowded the atmosphere , racing atop wind currents that blew from far elsewhere.

something despondent darkened the eye of the storm's beholder , dulled into a sullen fog beneath a deeply furrowed brow. ( a slow blink. a twist of torso. from one balcony's end to the other the brother's eyes met , and the fog cleared. )

❝  worried i shall lose my grip , are you? ❞ thor asked , nodding towards the beam in hand. of course he didn't truly mean a word , for mortal or not , that thor should climb to the most precarious of places was hardly new. that thor should bask in the rain... even less of a surprise. with the slightest hint of unabashed impishness did thor allow his weight to shift away from the balcony's edge , precariously perched by the secure placement of one foot and the tips of his fingers.

then as the rain picked up , thor dropped , streaming red as he landed upon his feet with a thump and a splash of pooling puddles. ( never mind the slight shock of pain that bolted up his nerves from the impact. ) he crossed the courtyard , and from down below beckoned the prince who so often hid himself away in the rafters and secret places. ❝  perhaps instead of wasting away brooding you ought to join me , brother. ❞

[maracujatangerine]

93. Firelight

CW: institutional slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation, box boy universe

The snow glittered in the moonlight. It lay undisturbed and soft like a feather down duvet all over the lawn, the trees, and the roofs of the other houses. Brutus looked despondently out the window, then paced across the room and looked out at the same view from a slightly different angle.

Master and Mistress had just left the house in a haze of sparkly red dress, fine, dark grey suit, fragrant perfume and red-bottomed heels clattering against the wooden floors.

”Down, boy! I won’t need you tonight.” Master had told him. ”This is the sort of party that will have their own security.” He’d added, with a smiling glance at Mistress Cecilia, who was adjusting an errant strand of her up-do in the floor-length hall mirror.

And then they were gone…

And Brutus worried. As usual.

The guard dog tried to convince himself that his Master knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself from restlessly wandering from room to room in the huge apartment.

As he was staring out yet another window, multicoloured lights from the Christmas tree falling over his face, Absalom silent-footedly appeared next to his elbow.

Today, the romantic wore a white shirt, marine trousers and a bow-tie in midnight-blue silk. A sapphire mounted in silver spilled down from his collar, catching the light in undersea reflections.

“Make a fire.” He said.

Brutus started at the unexpected request.

”But… But Master and Mistress just left. Did they really ask for a fire?”

Absalom stared out the window, then slowly turned his head to look at Brutus. Blue eyes meeting dark brown. Smooth, glossy brown hair like a waterfall framing his pale face.

”Make a fire for me.” Absalom clarified. His facial expression neutral, his voice toneless, but there was something in his eyes that hinted of this being a very heartfelt desire indeed.

Brutus was going to refuse. To tell the pet that he could do it himself, if he wanted to risk their owners’ anger. True, they had not forbidden the pets from making a fire, but they had never told them to do so either. It was hardly worth the risk, the room was warm enough already. But that hint of something stopped him.

Instead, Brutus gave a curt nod and turned to kneel in front of the fireplace. It was the guard dog’s task to make sure the firewood rack was filled, and he did it diligently.

The wood was dry, Brutus had already prepared smaller pieces of wood and strips of bitch bark in a basket next to the rack. It was quick work to build a neat staple of pieces of wood, with the kindling and bark in the centre. He could not deny a small sense of satisfaction as he lit the match and watched the yellow and orange flames eagerly catch in the firewood. Brutus carefully fed some smaller pieces of wood to the fire, guarding its progress. When he was satisfied the fire was well established, he tidied up the leftover kindling and put the matches back on their designated place.

Just as the guard dog got to his feet, Absalom came in through the door. He carried a silver tray, his back as straight and his movements as elegant as if he was serving their owners. On the tray was two thick glass cups filled with steaming wine that gleamed a deep ruby red in the firelight. There was also a plate with gingerbread cookies decorated with white icing in shapes of hearts and snowflakes.

With a flourish, Absalom held out the tray to Brutus. The large man just stared at him quizzically.

”Don’t worry, darling.” Absalom said. ”There are lots of leftovers from their get-together on Wednesday. They will never know.”

Brutus still hesitated. Their eyes met. Absalom smiled, just a little. Brutus nervously pulled a hand through his black hair, but finally took the proffered cup.

The romantic gracefully sank down in front of the fireplace, placing the silver tray with the cookies on the floor. He took a drink and cradled the warm glass cup in both hands. Brutus sat down next to him and sipped his drink cautiously.

The mulled wine was warm, and sweet, and strong. The taste and scent of it filling his senses. It was rare that Brutus tasted anything like it, and for a moment, he was completely absorbed.

When he glanced over at Absalom, the other pet was looking into the flames. The orange firelight reflecting in his eyes. His face was impassive, his breathing calm, but silent tears were streaming down his cheeks.

Brutus watched him with astonishment. He’d never seen Absalom show emotion in any way like this before. The guard dog wanted to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. Absalom’s quick wit could scratch like cat’s claws, if he was displeased.

He couldn’t just ignore it, either.

Slowly, Brutus reached out and laid his muscular hand on the pet’s thin shoulder. Absalom stiffened. For a second, Brutus thought the romantic might whip around to hit him.

Then, Absalom raised his own hand, thin and pale in comparison, and put it on top of Brutus’ hand on his shoulder. For a moment, they sat together and just watched the fire.

*

Fun Facts:

To drink warm, spiced wine has a long history, even the ancient Romans and Greeks did it. There are different versions of mulled wine across the world. In the Nordic countries, we drink glögg. It is a quite sweet version of mulled wine that most often is served with almonds and raisins.

Tag List Part 1:

@cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[pininghermit]

Alucard Dating Trevor's Cousin

Genre: Fluff

Summary: A Belmont falling in love with a non human?

AN: enjoy :)

Afterlife audiences

Lisa: Aww its giving enemies to lovers 🙏🏻

Dracula: in a state of constant homeostasis I would take Lisa's word on that.

Living world audiences-

Trevor: She uses a whip. And not for right reasons. (Face palms)

Sypha elbowing Trevor in the ribs: They're a good match glares at her husband

A Belmont chasing vampires? Old news in both Transylvania and the afterlife. It was a destiny the Belmont clan had shouldered for centuries, a duty to shield Transylvania from the encroaching darkness.

But that duty, Trevor grumbled to himself, never included courting a dhampir from the House of Dracula.

Specifically, the only surviving member who just happened to be the prophesied savior with hair like spun gold.

Trevor watched, aghast, as you, the oddball of the Belmont clan, leaned in towards Alucard, the aforementioned dhampir, with a line so cheesy it could curdle milk.

"[Name], let's get you back to the forge," a very flustered Trevor pushed you back into the your smithy before you could spew any more black mail material.

"Why is he taken?" you whispered loudly in his ear, just as Alucard's head snapped in your direction, a single eyebrow raised in amusement.

Trevor wanted to crawl under his workbench. "Repair my dagger before I stab you with a dull one," he muttered, shoving you towards the forge and uselessly trying to manhandle the heavy wooden door shut. "And for the love of garlic, keep it professional!"

You, of course, just grinned that impish grin that both infuriated and strangely charmed him. "Professional? Where's the fun in that, fellow Belmont?" With a wink, you disappeared into the depths of the forge, leaving Trevor to face a potentially bemused Alucard alone.

Alucard's mouth barely formed a sound before Trevor glared back at him.

"Not a word!"

"Not a word, Alucard." The ale lover declared. Leaving the bemused dhampir chuckling by himself.

Alucard's mouth quirked into a barely-there smile as he looked up from his tea. "A smith with so much time to spare must not be that good of a smith," he remarked, his voice dry but his amusement evident. His gaze flicked to the fistful of marbles you held, a question hanging in the air.

"From where?" he asked, already knowing the answer was irrelevant. These were just the latest trinkets you'd woven into his life – a slingshot you'd found, a peculiar feather, a chipped clay figurine. He kept every one, tucked away in a hidden drawer that no one else ever touched.

Satisfied with the chosen marble, you met his eyes with a playful challenge. "Whatever shall blacksmiths ruined by the virtue of love do?" you inquired, your voice dripping with mock despair.

He snorted, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. "Are you reading those sappy romance novels again?" It was a struggle, but Alucard managed to maintain a semblance of seriousness despite the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Undeterred by his amusement, you revealed another book from your ever-present satchel. "Just browsing, Alucard," you said with a wink. "Expanding my horizons, you see. One can't rely solely on the thrill of forge and gruff warriors."

"Somehow," he began, his voice a low murmur, "it always comes as a wonder how you find those… treasures in the Belmont library."

Either you have taken over the task of expanding the library or fierce Belmont clan had always had a predisposition for sappy romance novels.

Alucard's first love had been a cold, unforgiving winter. Betrayal, sharp as a blizzard wind, had shattered his heart into a million pieces. He had retreated into himself, a fortress of ice and solitude.

His second love was a fleeting spring, a succubus who reveled in the sting of manipulation. Her touch was sweet fire, but the flame died as quickly as the coins exchanged in stolen nights.

Yet, his third love was Summer. You were his summer. Heat of forge, clang of metals, unabashed laughter and corny love confessions. Summer heat that melted his frozen heart and evaporated the maddening poison of spring.

Your love, a gentle force like a bird's flight, had chased away the lingering poison of his foolish choices.

You were his third love, the one who stayed. And unlike the fleeting seasons of his past.

[ghostchems]

This would fuck me up so much soooo

5. looking at the mirror but the reflection isn't. looking. at. you.

With Terzo and you know I like it spicy 😊😊

a man after midnight - terzo x f!reader

a/n: so many warnings. this is super smut. 18+, mdni. this absolutely ran away from me!!! i feel like i have lost my mind but i hope you all enjoy :) 2.4k words. ao3 link.

You got back from work later than you’d liked, past midnight and far past your usual bedtime. There’s still chocolate syrup stuck to your arm as you hop into the shower, to clean that off and whatever else has stuck to you. The water is warm, falling over your delicate skin, cleansing you of the smell of ice cream and chocolate, and all the feeling contributed to work. It’s your time now, even though you will most likely just fall asleep after your shower.

Your apartment is covered in shadows and darkness, with the light in your bathroom dim and flickering and just one other desk lamp illuminated in your bedroom. The moon is hidden and the sky is starless tonight, an omen to those who notice… but you haven’t. Your brain is preoccupied with how much sleep you’ll be able to get before having to return to work. 

The shower is a quick one, not wanting to take more time away from sleep, and you step out onto the cold tile floor while wrapping your towel around you. Your mind slips for a moment, thinking about nothing in particular as you brush your teeth. When your gaze falls to the mirror, you notice your eyes don’t meet your own. Mirror you has toothpaste foaming from her mouth and is staring at the door to the bathroom.

You quickly spit out the toothpaste and look back up at the mirror but she hasn’t changed. Unease starts to crawl up your spine, shivering in your towel. The room becomes cold, the vapor from the shower dissipating and the condensation on the mirror starts to turn to frost. You open the medicine cabinet and slam it shut only to find the same image. This time her eyes flicker to stare into yours, then raises her finger to point toward the door. 

There is nowhere to go but out; you drop your towel and rush toward the door, nearly slipping multiple times. You reach the door and the lights go out, leaving you in complete darkness. Your fingers curl around the frame of the door and you peek through it. There’s nothing you can see. You slowly slip through the door, taking anxious baby steps forward. You’re telling yourself that your exhaustion is playing tricks on you, that all you need is to get into bed and shut your eyes and whatever is going on will sort itself out. 

The second you’re through the door the room comes roaring to life with black candles lining the walls glowing with green flames. You cover yourself with your arms and hands, trying to press your thighs together so you’re not exposed once your eyes fall to the bed and you realize there is a man here. He eyes you up and down, his white eye glowing green as his lips twitch into a grin. His fingers raise dramatically and he snaps them. In a blink of an eye your body is suddenly expertly wrapped up in a lush towel along with your damp hair. 

“Don’t look so surprised, carissima. You summoned me.” He stretches out on your bed, propping his head up his hand as he waggles his brows. “A man after midnight, no?” He uses his spare hand to feather through his raven hair with some strands falling into his face. His face paint cuts through the green light, highlighting the white parts of his face and making his piercing eyes stand out against his black eye paint. 

“The… the Abba song?” Your high-pitched voice cuts through the air, your face twisting in confusion. A wave of warmth washes over you, the most comfortable warmth you’ve ever felt, and you take a step toward him, your feet having a mind of their own.

“You have a need and I’m here to fill it.” He clicks his tongue and smiles, your eyes falling to his fangs. “Come, carissima.” He pats the empty side of the bed and you immediately feel a rush of arousal explode through you, your cheeks growing hot and your breath catching in your throat. You can’t stop yourself from doing what he asks as if he is controlling you or maybe he is just impossible to resist. Still, you are apprehensive while you sit down, clutching your towel and maintaining some distance between you — which he quickly closes in on. You swear a second ago he was wearing a black button down shirt but now he’s shirtless and you take in the fine, dark hair that covers his chest.

“Work, work, work, sleep, sleep, sleep. You need some excitement in your life, bella.” He growls huskily as he brings one of his hands to your face to cup your cheek. The ache between your thighs only grows while his thumb strokes your cheek gently. You should be smacking him away from you but you find yourself disarmed by him. It’s only now that you’re so close to him that you can see the sharp horns poking out from his forehead.

“What are you?” You sound flirty and it shocks you. It’s like he’s in your mind controlling your feelings and how you react to him. He slides his finger from his cheek to your lips, ghosting it lightly across the soft skin. You feel your heart pound in your ears and you press your thighs tightly together. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He slips his finger into your mouth and presses down on your tongue, eliciting a deep, unintentional moan from you. “Call me Terzo, carissima. And please, no more questions, eh? We are wasting valuable time.” Terzo purrs and leans in, his lips brushing against your cheek. His kisses are soft and open, carefully making his way down your cheek as they grow more feverish. 

You don’t stop him. His free hand rests on your shoulder and slides down to toy with the top of your towel as he reaches your neck, his teeth and tongue nipping and sucking along the tender flesh. Everything melts away from you, all thought and all concerns, just as he carefully tugs at your towel, slipping his hand down the front of it. His hand and mouth are impossibly hot, warming your skin and sending heat straight to your core. Terzo focuses on your collarbone, humming as he mouths along it, trailing wet kisses. He reaches up and grabs at the towel on your head, freeing you damp hair.

“Mostriciattola, you are so beautiful.” He murmurs as he lifts his head up, mismatched eyes gazing into yours. You’re speechless, your lips parted but nothing leaving them as you wet them with your tongue. Terzo groans and presses his chin against yours, both of your mouths open before he descends on it. His tongue sweeps inside your mouth, tasting you and meeting your own tongue, taking his sweet time in skimming over every inch of you. You can feel your breath being taken away by him, your mind growing hazy and the ache between your thighs growing more intense. 

“I know how to please you. I’ve seen your darkest desires, belleza.” He purrs and forcefully pushes you onto your back. Your towel falls from you, his smooth hands cupping your breasts. He rolls them between his fingers and then pinches both of them at the same time, the jolt of pain and pleasure making you whimper. “You need some attention, si?” Terzo grins, showing off his teeth before he dips down, his hot breath skimming your breast. You squirm beneath him as you whine, watching him through half-lidded eyes. He chuckled quietly before flitting his tongue across your pebbled nipple. “Don’t youuuuu?” Terzo teases, tilting his head to peer up at you with a wicked grin. 

“I do.” You whine as your body trembles. “I do, oh god, I do.” He growls in response before sealing his lips around your nipple, laving his tongue across the pebbled flesh. Your hand falls to his sleek hair, your eyes fluttering shut as hushed moans spill from your lips. Terzo pulls off of your nipple slowly then moves to the other, giving it the same attention. You feel yourself dripping between your legs and the coiling tension in your abdomen only grows. He starts to move lower, his lips and tongue teasing down your stomach, his teeth scraping against your hip bones hard enough to make you squeak. Terzo then settles himself between your legs, deep, rumbling breaths pushing past his lips as half lidded eyes flicker up to your face and then down to your sex.

He leans down and kisses at the inside of your thighs, his sharp nails stroking at your legs. It’s slow and sensual, his fingertips heating up your skin and his lips gently massaging. He gives a shuddered breath as his mouth hovers over your sex, unable to hold back a groan once his tongue meets your slick folds. Terzo wraps his arms around your legs and buries his face between them, his nose pressed firm against your clit and his mouth devouring you. Your fingers knot in his hair, your hips rolling in time with his tongue against you. The taste of you on his tongue makes him moan, the vibrations of the sound reverberating through you as he continues his slow pace of working against your folds. 

His mouth is intoxicating. Never have you felt this insane from getting eaten out. Terzo’s movements grow more sloppy, his tongue fluttering along you before focusing on your clit. He seals his lips around it, sucking and gliding his tongue across it. Your hips jerk and you cry out, your abdomen tensing with each lick. His fingers push against your entrance, teasing and applying just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm. He pushes them in to his knuckles, giving a pleased grunt at how easily they slipped inside. Terzo curls them again and again against that spot deep inside you, sucking on your clit in perfect rhythm as screams rip from your throat, your hips stuttering and jerking from the sudden overstimulation. 

The pleasure is too much for you. Your body shakes and shudders, your nails digging into his scalp as you start to feel yourself become overtaken. A choked sob leaves your lips and you cum around his fingers, your eyes rolling back as your head hits the soft bed. He doesn’t stop though, his fingers still working you over and over again. Terzo pulls his mouth off of your swollen clit and rests his chin on your hip, wild eyes staring up at you as he continues curling his perfect fingers inside. 

“One more for me, belleza.” He sounds so nonchalant, so unworried, while your senses are on fire. You can’t bring yourself to speak, only sounds of desperation and thrill leaving your lips. Your hips writhe and twitch, and you let go of his hair only to grab onto the sheets as your gut tightens and your vision blurs. The tension snaps and you cum again. You can hardly feel your legs and your head feels light, your vision coming back only to see him smirking above you. You roll your eyes at him but are still unable to speak, instead catching your breath as you start to relax against the bed.

“Oh, I’m not done yet, mostriciattola.” He hisses and undoes his slacks, his perfect cock falling out of them. Before you can respond, his one hand curls around your throat, nails digging into your neck as he squeezes. You give a surprised yelp and then a scream once he slams his cock inside you. Terzo’s hips piston into you, his teeth bared as he snarls low in his throat. His eyes look like they’re glowing and the nails pressing into your neck feel impossibly sharp, threatening to break the skin. One of your hands clutches his wrist while the other grasps his forearm. You’re only able to gasp and give deep moans, his cock massaging your inner walls relentlessly. 

You feel like you’re dead on arrival, unable to even stand a chance against his monstrous cock. Your abs tense and you struggle to breath against his grip on your throat. His perfect hair is messy and he looks positively devilish as he squeezes your throat even tighter. You gasp for air, the combination of the lack of oxygen and the way his cock mercilessly fucks into you sending you over the edge. There are tears in your eyes as you cum and the orgasm is delicious. He quickly lets go of your throat and lowers himself on top of you, his hands curling behind your shoulders as he drives himself home. His hips snapping, his eyes boring into yours as he growls, so extremely focused on chasing his own release. You grab onto him and meet his hips with each thrust, and he can’t help but give a surprised groan, his lips hovering just over yours.

“Oh, sathanas.” Terzo hisses and buries his face in your neck, ragged breaths and low moans filling your ear. His thrusts slow to a stop and he stays there on top of you for what feels like a long while. You don’t know what else to do so you rest your hands on his back, hesitating for just a moment before you start to rub at it. He stiffens and then melts into the touch, closing his eyes while he catches his breath.

Suddenly, the green flames go out, the candles disappear and the lighting returns back to normal. In a blink of an eye he’s dressed in his silk black dress shirt and slacks, and you’re in a matching royal purple pajama set. 

“You’re leaving?”

“Ah, si. I’ve completed my assignment, carissima.” He smiles cheekily. 

“You could stay.” This creature had just been inside you but you still sound shy and a blush creeps up your cheeks. 

“You’re serious?”

“Well, yeah.” You are surprised by how unsure he looks as if no one has ever asked him to stay the night. Maybe it wasn’t part of his typical summoning but surely one person had to have asked, right? You cross your legs on the bed and start to mess with some of the covers. “You don’t have to… but you could stay.” 

Terzo eyes wander up and down your figure then focuses in on your face, his brows knit together. Something is going on behind his eyes, like he is thinking and overthinking about something. He ends up giving a deep sigh, as if he’s given up, and dives into the bed next to you, his arms immediately finding you and pulling you in close.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you have a little bit of a crush on me, mostriciattola.” 

[ashbeneviento]

Alkaloids of a Lady

Donna Beneviento x Fem!reader. Slow burn, will contain smut at some point, tags will be updated. Reader is named but only title/Last name! Contains 1st and 2nd chapter. No beta reader, sorry for any grammar mistakes! Thanks for reading :)

Chapter One

As fast as the good of the day came so did the bad. You had been sitting in this chair for so long sweat was making your thighs stick. You squirm at the uncomfortable sensation and refrain from audibly announcing your boredom.

A cough from the other side of the room catches your attention, a cocky and greasy man who gives you a seductive wink the second you make eye contact with him. Feeling the knot twist in your stomach you quickly avert your eyes back to the goddess who still isn’t finished with her speech.

There you were, the only Lady who wasn’t given Mother Miranda’s dark gift, sitting in the middle of all five of them. Six if you counted the little pest supposedly named Angie, all because you needed the cults help. Miranda kept her most devout followers in constant stress with you. They despised their Mother’s grace towards you..to them, you were just as low as a common villager despite your status.

A status that you were born into, not blessed with by a stroke of luck. Miranda promised no harm to your family as long as you respected her status as goddess, and so the village has lived under dual rule for centuries. For whatever reason this caused her lords a piculiar revirily with you, like playing a game that wasn’t done all at once. One that you didn’t know they were playing, too.

It wasn’t unusual that you’d find yourself here either, joining meetings was mandatory and you had to keep up the act. Dissect the cult of the black god, act as a devout follower. Learn their weaknesses. Formulate the plan to eradicate.

But even you were getting restless as Miranda kept up the same spiel. Her plans never change, she never acts out of her facade. It made you antsy. You need to see them all fall in your lifetime. You would make your ancestors proud by being the one to take it all for yourselves.

You saw the perfect opportunity much to your mothers dismay due to your condition. Having any sort of ailment was like a moth to a flame with Miranda you’ve noticed. Once you had convinced her that you were so devoted, so desperate you would sacrifice yourself to her dark gift you had succeeded further than any Acheron before you. No, you mustn’t stop now. Not when you were so clo-….

“Lady Acheron?”

The sound of the goddess’s voice startles you out of your thoughts, causing an eruption of laughter from that same greasy man from earlier. He’s quickly berated by the monolith of a woman Lady Dimitrescu who stares down at you as she does, but not because she cared about you.

“Enough, Karl..” Miranda hisses, siliencing the both of them as she steps down from her stage, walking towards you with a surprisingly feather light step for a predator.

“Wait ails you little bird? Are you feeling alright?” She asks in a sickingly sweet voice that leaves honey on your own. You hated the blatant infantilizion in front of the others. Her sharp nail guards feel like ice as she grips your face awaiting your answer, staring down at you with those equally icey eyes.

“Just feeling more sickly today than usual, Mother” you lie effortlessly to her, making her give in to your plan unknowingly with that practiced tremble in your tone.

“I know little bird..” she whispers, turning your head side to side in her grip, “That will all be over after tonight”

Despite being part of the plan, you were still very nervous. To be truthful you didn’t think this far ahead, only because you really couldn’t if you tried.

The dark gift affected each Lord differently. Many other subjects have fallen to it, dying before they even start mutating. Your chances of survival will be a hit or a miss, but the opportunities you could take if you lived outweighed all of it.

So you give her a shy smile and nod your head, clasping to her forearm in a facade of comfort and gratitude.

It should have stopped there. Your plan had been running smoothly right up until this moment when a huge wall comes crashing down in front of it’s path due to a certain Lord.

“She is not loyal, Mother.”

Everyone in the room turned their heads to the raspy voice rarely heard outside the lips of her rotten doll, who seemed more preoccupied with the strings on her tiny dress instead of conversation.

“I beg your pardon, Donna?” Miranda asks with a hint of annoyance in her tone, angry at her youngest freak for ruining the moment with her new experiment.

The phantom woman doesn’t budge for a moment until she gets the strength to turn her head towards you.

“Lady Acheron has not been truthful with you, Mother. Nor to all of us..our great family” Lady Beneviento says in a ghostly manner, making your skin crawl as your nails dig into the arms of your chair. Was it possible she found evidence on you? You were always so careful…there’s no way. Unless she used those evil mind tricks to-…

“Do you take me for a fool, Donna?” Miranda snaps, making both Donna and yourself scoot backwards into your chairs.

“The Acherons have been devoted to our great family for centuries, Child. They have no reason to stab our backs.” Miranda says as she turns to face you, expecting you to confirm her statement as true. If only you didn’t hesitate..

White eyes widen as her claws dig into your cheeks before pushing you away, catching your suspicious reaction and finding it worthy of investigating.

Much to your dismay however, was the way she planned on carrying it out.

You were to live, indefinitely, with the Lord who just upped herself on your hit list.

Chapter two

Two full weeks had passed since and you have yet to have the opportunity to investigate Lady Beneviento. Not only did this set back your plan of getting the dark gift, but now you were being watched like a..well, a crow. You suspect your family has since declared you dead, still believing you received it and not making it. Not like you could exactly tell them seeing as you had no way to contact them or anyone else here.

You did feel like life has ended however as you wandered down the same hallway you just came from. Realizing you were under a hallucination the third time around this never ending maze, your eyes make contact with the same painting on the wall with a sigh. But you were bored, and unfortunately lonely, so you kept walking regardless of the consequences.

Getting used to Lady Beneviento’s powers was a challenge at first. You were trained for this though, and soon was able to think clearly even in a intoxicated state by the third night. But something was different about this one, you could feel it as you walk towards the new doors along your path, a strange melody coming from behind them.

Pressing your ear up to the dark wood you hear someone who had yet to appear in your hallucinations. The one causing them.

You make the mistake of leaning too hard against the door making it creak from its old age, causing dream Donna to gasp and freeze in her tracks as you fall into the room.

“What are you doing in here?! Get out!” The phantom lady hisses at you, pointing at you as if her finger was a knife.

You stumble a little as you regain your composure, feeling a bit of confidence in knowing she wasn’t really there as you take a deep breath.

“I would if I could, but you won’t let me out of my own head. You should be the one to get. out” you snarl through clenched teeth, tilting your head to the side mockingly as you approach her.

She quickly shuffles around the desk, putting a barrier between the two of you. You squint at that, feeling geniune fear coming from her as you stop walking.

A hallucination wouldn’t do that, they know they can’t actually be harmed..

“You’re really here.. aren’t you?” You ask quietly, feeling an unwelcome feeling in your chest.

She hesitates to nod her head, her shoulders dropping in a form of relief. You’re terrified to be alone with the real her because she could interrogate you, prove herself to Miranda that she was right about you.. a traitor. All your hard work would be for nothing.

But the constant isolation in this house has made you grow wary. The need for companionship gnawed it’s jagged teeth into the back of your neck. And besides, you could turn this in your favor as well if you played the cards right..

“Please don’t make me go under again..” You ask in a practiced breathy tremble, giving her your best heartbroken expression.

Her feet shift against the floor as her chest moves off balance, her hand gripping onto the chair with white knuckles before taking a seat in it.

Why are you so nervous, Lady Beneviento? You note in your head, keeping up the facade by sitting in the chair opposite of her. She fidgets with the end of her veil, an uneasy silence falling between the two of you alone in that room.

It at least gave you time to scan said room, noting that it looked like an office and a workshop. You shiver a little upon seeing the various doll and mannequin parts hanging from the ceiling, and instead refocus on your target.

“I’m sorry..” Her gentle rasp disrupts the quiet, making you flinch in your seat.

“I’m not used to..guests” she finishes, speech being broken from little use.

“You mean you’re not used to guests living” you correct her in a wave of spite, immediately regretting your decision when her veiled head tilts.

“I thought it wasn’t an issue per our family’s contract what I do with my guests, Lady Acheron. I see that it strikes a nerve with you, why is that?” she asks darkly, leaning forward across the desk like a cat ready to pounce. It made your stomach churn but you kept calm despite your slip up.

Instead you opt for the more sympathetic approach, letting the tears flood your eyes and lowering your eyes to your lap so they fall.

“I’m just scared..I don’t understand why you’re doing this when I need help. I devote myself to Mother Miranda since birth, and yet you all still despise me. And now I’m stuck here with you knowing that you hate me and I feel so alone..” you ramble on between sobs, feeling too in character when your own words hurt to speak.

You hadn’t registered her hand had slipped on top of yours until you move it to wipe your eyes, making you both gasp and sit back into your chairs.

Why would she..

“I’m sorry…” she mutters, folding her hands into her lap instead.

“I just.. I do not hate you. I am not like my siblings” she whispers, but it’s loud enough for you to hear.

Surely this was just a mind trick, she was known for them after all. Right?

“You do not hate me, yet you lied to Mother Miranda and ruined my chances of being cured” you say plainly, mimicking her by folding your hands into your lap.

“You knew you didn’t have evidence on me, but you did it anyway. Why?” You ask, noticing all her physical tells of nervousness and she thinks of an answer.

Which card would she pull next in this little game?

“You wouldn’t be cured” The phantom woman rasps under her veil, her voice not matching her nervous body language.

“What?” You snap back at her, but she doesn’t flinch and that worries you. She’s being serious…

“You think you know me, don’t you? You think you have the cult all figured out. You plan on eliminating us” she continues, her tone increasing in volume making sweat dampen your palms. If this is how you’ll get answers then so be it.

“…But you don’t know what you’re really up against. You will die the second you try anything and that is not only a promise it is a warning” Donna growls as she leans closer again. You can almost feel her gaze under that dark fabric.

“The cadou is not stable. It’s unreliable and she knows it. You would either die from it, or you would die for it. Once you survive you will be indebted to it. To her.”

The last of her words crack, and you get the feeling she’s talking about her own experience to solidify her warning. You know you shouldn’t trust her, but you want to. You don’t know why, but you crave to.

She could give you everything you needed to know, but there was another desire in you because of it. The latter shattered a great deal of how you felt about the lords and their ties Mother Miranda..

“So what do you suppose I do, hm? Because either way I will die. My illness is only getting worse, Lady Beneviento. You worship the ground Mother Miranda touches just as we all do, yet you benefit the most from it. I’m starting to wonder if you worry your status will lessen if I join the ranks..” you scoff, egging her on to slip up on accident if she was lying.

“I won’t let her hurt another!” She screams as her hands hit the desk, making you jump back deep into your chair at the sudden outburst.

“W-what..” you gasp but she interrupts,

“We were so close.. so close” she groans to herself, putting her hands up to her head as if it pained her.

“What do you mean?” You ask a little more clearly, watching her pace back and forth behind the desk as you heart beats rapidly in your chest.

“We had it all planned out. She has become too powerful.. she could care less about us..” She rants as she paces.

“The night we planned to kill her was thwarted all because of a baby. Instead of going to the chapel for our meeting, she had flew off to welcome the brat into the world. Bless it or whatever myth you humans believe her to do..” she rasps before pointing a finger down at you.

“You were born sick. She knew you were the perfect vessel for her true daughter. We couldn’t interfere with you..she worried we would let it slip” she continues, letting out a small laugh of disbelief once she realizes she did exactly that, and that made you feel ill.

The Lords wanted Miranda dead. They didn’t want you around because they knew what their leader wanted to do to you, and if she succeeded she would be even more dangerous to them. Harder for them to defeat.

“We want her dead, too..” you whisper, feeling exposed the second her head turns towards you again. An unnerving silence falls back between the two of you before the air shifts into something far worse.

Was she really on your side,

Or was it all a mind trick?

***notes**

I’m not sure if I like how I fleshed the characters out just yet, unfortunately without my meds my work tends to be more scattered :( let me know what you think! Is Donna telling the truth? What’s your theories about readers “illness”?