#I absolutely do not like golden jewelry I'm sorry

[a-swiss-and-a-spaniard]

Thanks for the tag @rafasbiscuits !!

hot shower or cold shower // texting or calling // earbuds or headphones // paperback or hardcover // matte or gel // 12 hour clock or 24hour clock // blue or green // sunsets or sunrises // tulips or orchids // candlelight or moonlight // sci-fi or horror // pen or pencils // pandas or koalas // gold or silver // sneakers or boots // denim jacket or leather jacket // pink or purple // chocolate or sour candy // drive-in movie theatre or the cinema // pastel colours or neutral earth tones // lemonade or fruit juice // past or future // constellations or aurora borealis

Tagging some people that have probably already been tagged but hey @janesurlife , @bluskype , @tam-is-blogging , @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou or anyone who wants to do it!

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Say my Name, As if it’s Drowning in the Tide - Jayce x Reader (Chapter 2/End)

Summary: But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

Pairing: Jayce x Reader Modern AU, one-sided Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 8.2K

Warning: Explicit

Tags: Hate Sex, Emotional Roleplay, One-sided Attraction, Switch!Jayce, Rough Sex, Biting, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Female receiving), Eating Out, Angst, First Time, Vaginal Sex, Size Kink, Jayce Has A Big Dick, Self-Hate, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Crying

Notes: A LITTLE LATE BUT AS PROMISED, I’m publishing the ending to this fic before the end of January (and the beginning of my surprise Valentine’s Day event 👀). This one is gonna be quite the emotional ride, so better strap in, fellas (PS: I SWEAR I love Jayce with all my heart I just love toying with his heart because I’m a monster)

(Chapter 1)

“Do you want to know what Viktor likes or not? Because I haven't told you anything about what he wants in bed.”

‘Fuck you’, you wish you could spit back at Jayce. ‘What would you even know about what anyone wants in bed, you pathetic two-pump loser?’

It's extremely tempting, if only to see his face go crimson in frustration and embarrassment again, but you know his fragile little ego might not survive it. And no matter how much you'd like to deny it, he's right: you do want to know about what Viktor likes.

You want to know every single thing about Viktor so badly, it hurts.

You've fallen for him in the same way a forest fire burns: slowly, and then all at once, overwhelming, relentless, all-consuming. It's gotten almost painful to be near him in the last few months, your stomach contorting angrily whenever he gives you a witty smile or laughs at your idiotic banter. The desire for him to look at you, and only you, is searing your skin a little more each passing day; so much so that you wonder if there will be anything left of you but ashes by the time you muster the courage to confess.

And God, do you want to: the need to tell him how you feel has become a constant itch that's as painful as it’s unending. All it would take to quench these all-consuming flames are three little words, three measly syllables, a laughable eight letters.

Yet you just can’t say them.

Because underneath all the bravado you're always putting on, you're nothing more than a hypocrite, who is absolutely terrified of hearing his answer. Of seeing nothing but compassionate pity in those soothing golden eyes of his, a gentle ‘I'm sorry’ forming on his lips, and burning you alive once and for all.

So, you wait for a sign from Viktor: a word, a touch, anything that would make the risk of confessing more bearable. As a born engineer, you've always been pragmatic and logical to a fault; you simply won’t jeopardize your relationship with him based on insignificant data and hopeful speculations. Maybe it's nothing more than a spineless justification to let yourself wither away, but it's the best you, and your burning little heart, can do.

After all, something is comforting about staying in the unknown— in that state of limbo where there's no real acknowledgment of the nature of your feelings, or his. But the fire that is Viktor is relentless, ever burning, and it consumes you inch by inch, growing every minute you spend with him working side by side at the Academy.

It worsens more each time he remembers insignificant details about you: how you like a touch of extra cinnamon in your morning latte, how much you hate seeing your middle name used in the lab's paperwork, how you always fidget with your jewelry when you're stressed— little habits and quirks he somehow never misses or fails to offer a helping hand with.

You've been in love before, but never like this; and you doubt you ever will again. Viktor is the type of person you can only meet once in your life, a shooting star that graces the human eye every thousand years, just to disappear the second you look away, before you ever get the chance to tell it it's beautiful.

And then, there's Jayce.

Jayce, who looks nothing like Viktor, with his muscular frame, perfectly symmetrical smile, and sun-kissed skin.

Jayce, who is nothing like Viktor, with his annoyingly booming voice, total lack of social awareness, and oversized ego. Whose very presence signifies, at best, an incoming headache, and at worst, endless screaming matches and arguments over the most minor details.

Things hadn't always been that way with him. There had been admiration, at first, back when you had been accepted as dean Cecil B. Heimmerdinger’s newest pupil, and the fourth member of his elite team of post-graduates. He had more than his fair share of accolades for a man in his mid-twenties: many of his papers were cited in the highest calibre of academic journals, and he had a list of awards and scholarships almost as long as your arm. You had truly believed you would learn a lot from him.

It barely took a week with him for all your naive and bright-eyed delusions to come crashing down. Behind the pretty face and the accomplishments was nothing but arrogance and disregard for all the discipline you valued. It all came so maddeningly easy to him— school, work, looks—like effort was beneath him, or even worse, completely foreign to him.

He hadn’t been shy with his interest in you for a second, either. Between the corny pickup lines and the obvious stares at the meat of your thighs, Jayce hadn’t been quite subtle; but you had no endearment for men like him. A pretty boy whose grandiose romantic gestures were clearly an attempt to quickly get into your pants, only to leave you behind the moment your novelty had worn off. The type to take everything for granted, including women’s affection, and to never have heard a single ‘no’ in their life.

There was no way you were going to fall for it.

Yet the more drily you rejected his advances, the more Jayce seemed interested in you. It had to simply be the novelty of someone finally rejecting him and seeing his true nature that fascinated him. But it wasn’t love that he felt for you; it couldn't be.

People like him could love no one but themselves.

He would glance at you with desperate puppy eyes whenever he thought you weren’t looking, a shiny toy out of his reach. Every now and then, on one of his trashed design drafts, you’d find tiny pencilled sketches of your face with a surprising level of accuracy. He clearly took some pleasure in arguing with you over everything and nothing, and you'd lie if you said that you never got some enjoyment out of that dynamic.

You had let his resolve weaken you once, and only once, early into your arrival at the lab, and long before you had developed any feelings for the then much more reserved Viktor.

And it had been a mistake.

—

Those first few months had been gruelling for you: as the newest recruit, you did much more dull and tedious paperwork than any practical or creative assignments in the lab. It was hard, and the long hours of staring at nothing but the bright blue light of your computer screen made you dizzy; but you wouldn't have exchanged it for the world.

You had earned your place here by never being complacent, by refusing to see any task as below you or too difficult to accomplish. You had been a diligent student under the harshest of conditions throughout your life, and you would continue reaching higher and higher by working hard, and always proving your worth.

One day soon, you’d be standing at the very top of it all, with your wildest dreams accomplished; and it would be with the knowledge that you had made it there entirely of your own merit.

You had been surprised and apprehensive to see an email from Professor Heimerdinger that morning, requesting that you pass by his office. Heimerdinger was very much not the type to plan out discussions, preferring to randomly pop in and out of the lab to hold impromptu, casual meetings, so the atypically formal message had made you feel uneasy.

You were under the impression you had integrated into the program quite well, and that you had begun nicely bonding with your two lab partners. Although you had had strong reservations about Jayce and his attitude, and were still extremely on the fence about your opinion of him, his puppy-like charm had started to wear you out, and you had agreed to go get coffee with him during that weekend.

You had made it very clear it wasn't a romantic encounter, but a team-bonding exercise: an occasion for him to prove some of your unfavourable impressions of him wrong. Then, maybe, and only maybe, you'd consider the idea of a date with him; but he didn't need to know that yet, lest he’d let it go to his head.

For now, your focus was only on your appointment with Heimerdinger, and the anxious knot in the pit of your stomach.

You knocked on his door gently before coming in, finding the short, older man perched on top of a small ladder, nose-deep in one of the many books that lined every inch of the walls. The countless volumes adorned his office like multicoloured bricks, giving a cozy, yet slightly claustrophobic feel to the small room.

“You asked to see me, professor ?” you cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice to appear more composed.

Heimerdinger raised his head in surprise, likely so entranced in the huge textbook that dwarfed his small frame that he hadn’t heard you come into his literary fortress—or even remembered he had scheduled a meeting with you.

“Ah, yes, dear girl, come on in and take a seat!” he exclaimed, closing the book with a loud ‘thwack’. He struggled a bit to place it back on one of the shelves as you sat to face his desk, eyeing his precarious position wearily. He, thankfully, managed to make his way down the creaking ladder without incident, landing on his feet with a slight wobble.

“The great, dangerous heights one has to reach to gain knowledge,” he mumbled pensively, a chubby hand running through his wild tuft of dusty blonde hair. “One would think that with twenty years of service here, the finance department could afford to invest in a less perilous stepping stool.”

He made his way to the other side of the desk, settling comfortably in his pillowy chair. He adjusted his thick, round glasses, his expression indecipherable behind the imposing white mustache that covered most of his lower face.

You immediately let yourself fear the worst, your firm conviction that you had been doing well since your arrival crumbling like a house of cards.

“Have I been performing… below your expectations, sir?” you asked abruptly, the anxious ball in your stomach tightening on itself.

Heimerdinger cocked his head to the side in confusion, frowning, his thick eyebrows shifting down like two fuzzy caterpillars.

“Now why would you say such a silly thing? You’ve been going above and beyond, from everything I’ve seen and heard,” he complimented with a reassuring smile. He gave you a sly wink, and you felt your shoulders relax, the tension leaving your body like a puff of smoke. “I have an eye for exceptionally talented people. I wouldn't have recruited you if I hadn’t been wholeheartedly convinced of your capacities.”

“Thank you, sir,” you exhaled, releasing a sharp breath you hadn't realized you were holding. So it was all a misunderstanding then. Everything was alright. “May I ask why you’ve requested to see me this morning, then?”

Heimerdinger only hummed as an answer, opening one of his desk's drawers and digging through a visibly messy pile of documents. “Aha!” he exclaimed, pulling out a single sheet of paper with a flourish, and handing it to you with no further explanation.

You grabbed it carefully, quickly looking it over with growing confusion: the bold title only stated your name, next to the words PROJECT TRANSFER.

“Here you go, all signed and completed,” Heimerdinger added with a casual wave of the hand. “I would have simply sent it to you by email, but protocol requires you to sign it in front of me. You know how bureaucrats get,” he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

The more snippets you caught of the document, the less you understood. ‘Personal request made by the student to be discharged from desk work duty for the Wyatt Project — Approved by team supervisor — Reason for request: Lack of affinity with the project and given tasks — Signatures of department head, team supervisor, and concerned student below’.

“I’m sorry, what… is this?” you asked slowly in hesitation.

The Wyatt project had been the most tiresome and dull assignment you had been given as of yet at the Academy, and although you often complained about it in your off time, you had never made any sort of official demand to be transferred from it.

“The discharge paper for the Wyatt project,” the older man explained, seemingly surprised by your lack of enthusiasm or recognition. “I was told you didn’t enjoy the busy work much and would prefer a change of pace. I’ll be putting you on the assignment corrections for the undergrads, which should be much simpler and less time-consuming.”

Your mind began racing chaotically, attempting to puzzle how a few unserious, nitpicky rants could have possibly made their way as an official demand to the dean himself. You barely registered the empathic nod he gave you as he cleared his voice, a sparkle of something akin to remorse in his eyes.

“Perhaps I was requesting a lot of you for your very first semester here, with an assignment as advanced as this. My apologies, dear girl. But do know this transfer is a rare exception, and I will require more receptiveness from you for future tasks.”

The slight pitying look he gave you made you feel like throwing up.

You'd disappointed him.

You had failed the expectations of the man who took a chance on you as his youngest pupil, and you weren't even aware of how you had done it.

“I—I mean yes, the Wyatt project is a lot of busy work, but I never—who told you I asked to be taken out?” you managed to stutter.

Who? Who could have possibly gone so out of their way to ruin the reliable and efficient reputation you were working so hard to build here? Your mind came up blank, reviewing the few people you might have said anything to, and not finding a single one who would so blatantly jeopardize your fragile new position.

“Why, Jayce,” Heimerdinger said as if it was entirely obvious. “As your team leader, he gives me monthly reports of the status of each project you're involved with. He was quite adamant about putting you off the Wyatt and onto an easier project.”

A flash of understanding crossed his face at the sight of your decomposing expression.

“Has… Jayce not discussed this with you?”

No. No, he hadn’t.

You barely remembered the walk out of Heimerdinger's office after that, fuelled only by a mixture of incomprehension and betrayal. With each step, it shifted into something much stronger, a fury burning from your core directed not only at him, but at yourself.

You slammed the door of the lab open, the plexiglass banging against the frame with a dull thud:

“How fucking dare you?!”

Jayce was thankfully alone in the lab, but even if Viktor had been here, you weren't sure you would have managed to control the outpour of anger. The man looked up from his notes in surprise:

“Woah—wait—excuse me?” Jayce stammered, visibly more confused than insulted.

“Who do you think you are to decide what I can do or not?!” you seethed, barreling rapidly towards him. “How dare you go around asking things in my name to our supervisor?”

He got up from his chair hurridly, eyes wide, raising his hands in a placating gesture as if you were a wild animal ready to attack.

"Relax, I really have no idea—" he started hastily, only to stop mid-sentence as realization dawned on him. His brows knit together in confusion. "Wait... is this about the Wyatt project?”

"What else could it possibly be about?!" you yelled, your voice slicing through the silence of the empty lab. Under different circumstances—if this wasn't about your entire career here—you might have remembered that your outburst could easily carry into the corridor, reaching the ears of other students, and even possibly teachers. But blind frustration consumed you, eclipsed only by the raw, aching sense of betrayal you felt towards him.

“But you’ve been telling me and Viktor for weeks how much you hate it,” Jayce argued, frowning, his lips reducing into a thin line. He was genuinely perplexed, like the very concept that he hadn’t done you a service wasn't registering in his mind. “You’re the one who said you wished you could do more work in the lab with us!”

“So you went over my head and told the fucking head of the department I was too lazy to complete the work he gave me?” you retorted without missing a beat. You hadn't realized how close you had gotten to him, your balled fists barely a foot away from his increasingly punchable face. You could smell the artificial scent of body spray off him, and you wrinkled your nose in disgust. “Do you have any idea how unreliable and ungrateful that makes me look as the new girl?! I haven’t even had this position for six months!”

Understanding slowly dawned across his face, and his expression softened, regret pooling in his chartreuse eyes.

"I was just trying to help, I didn't—" he began, his voice gentle and remorseful, but you weren't even close to being done with him.

“Help?” you spat, the word dripping with venom. “Help how? By making me look like I don’t want to work hard? Like I'm a spoiled brat who goes on dates with her team supervisor to get easy jobs? What, do you think I slept my way up here?”

“I’d never—I thought you felt too shy to talk to Heimerdinger, I just wanted to give you a hand as my junior! How is that a bad thing?!” he protested, frustration creeping into his voice.

“It's a bad thing because it means you don't fucking believe in me!” you shot back.

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, willing them gone and clinging to what little pride you had left.

“It means you think I'm too weak or too stupid to do the same work you and Viktor did when you started. That I'm not even enough of an adult to handle my own shit—that I need some random guy at work to baby me!”

He flinched at the harshness of your words, the hurt on his face unmistakable. His mouth opened as if to speak up again, eyes carrying the wounded look of a kicked puppy, but you didn’t let him, refusing to let his charm ever fool you again.

“I don't care if it's because I'm younger than you, or because I'm a woman, or because you think I'm attractive,” you snapped. “I'm staying on the Wyatt project until it's completed, like I signed up to. I won't let you mess up everything I've worked so hard for.”

You took a step back, your feelings too overwhelming to stand staring at him a minute longer. Your instinct about Jayce—that he was as spoiled as he was self-righteous— had been correct from the start, yet you felt no pride in that knowledge; there was only the bitter taste of disappointment.

Your voice was sharp and unforgiving when you spoke up again:

“Do me a favour. Next time you want to help, don’t.

—

And yet, here you are now, in a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere, butt naked in a cramped shower with him, the feeling of his tepid cum still lingering on your thigh.

Jayce Talis wants to help again, and you’d be an absolute fool to accept, or to give him more ground than you already have.

But things are different, this time.

You want his help. You need his help.

You know better now than to believe he feels anything resembling real affection for you. His obsession isn’t love: it’s a fixation born from entitlement, from the relentless need to possess what he’s been denied. You’re nothing more than a challenge, the one girl who refuses to fall for the Academy’s golden boy, and that only makes him want you more. But once he’s had his victory, once this game is over, the thrill will fade, and he’ll lose all interest in pretending he ever cared.

So what’s the harm in saying yes, then? It’s not like either of you will come out of this with any hurt feelings. It’s the same as back then, with him taking you for the easy fool he can be a knight in shining armour for, solving your issues like the great man he is. But at least, this time, he’s had the decency to ask you, first.

"Fine, whatever," you finally grumble, your gaze snapping back to his. A flicker of something unreadable passes through his expression, but you ignore it. It doesn't matter to you, just as you won’t matter to him. "What’s next, Talis?”

—

The issue is that Jayce really hasn't thought that far ahead.

His first and main goal was to distract you from how he had been so stupidly eager, he came without your hands ever even touching his cock. But now, he needs to come up with a next step—fast—before you see right through his bluff and realize he knows far less about Viktor’s sex life than he has so confidently let on.

To his credit, Viktor has always been intensely private about his personal life, even with his closest friends. In all their years of partnership, he had never once introduced Jayce to a girlfriend or boyfriend; never even hinted at a crush, or a stranger who might be something more. No matter how many times Jayce had prodded and teased him in their younger years, Viktor had never let anything slip.

But there is one thing, a small, passing remark, that Jayce does remember.

Back in their very first year together at the Academy, unravelling the enigma that was Viktor had been one of Jayce’s greatest challenges. The man revealed very little about himself and it seemed like science and logic were the sole foundations of his world, an unwavering structure built on nothing but reason and precision.

But every now and then, Viktor would do or say something so entirely unexpected, it shattered any understanding Jayce thought he had of him.

One of those moments had been Viktor’s quiet but undeniable fascination with the arts.

Jayce remembers a particular night, one that has somehow stayed in the back of his mind since. Sitting beside Viktor in the dim glow of the Academy’s theater, watching a play neither of them had particularly planned to see, he had expected boredom, maybe even a few sarcastic quips. Instead, Viktor had been captivated. His sharp eyes, usually so calculating while they worked in the lab, were alight with something softer, something close to wonder, as if he were seeing an entirely new world unfold before him.

"Do you not think it's nice? The music of someone's voice," Viktor had hummed afterward, his tone distant, contemplative, like he was still half-lost in the echoes of the performance.

Jayce had shrugged, stretching his legs out lazily in the cramped theatre seat. Art had never really been his thing—too abstract, too confusing. "I don’t know," he replied casually, "AI is getting pretty good at mimicking it."

Viktor had turned his head slightly, casting Jayce a look that was equal parts amused and disappointed, as if he couldn’t decide whether the comment was genuinely naive or just tragically shortsighted.

Viktor had merely tutted in disapproval, shaking his head. "The human soul, Jayce. The emotions, the passion, the sorrow—that is what a voice carries. We may build a thousand algorithms that reproduce it, down to the subtlest change in tone or pitch… but it will always be missing that.”

Jayce had gone quiet after that, letting the conversation die in the soft hum of the crowd leaving the theater. He didn’t get it then; maybe he does now.

“Voices,” Jayce blurts out, the thought snapping into place like a last-minute save. “Viktor likes hearing people’s voices. I think it’s because of how personal they are to everyone? Something about that just… makes him happy.”

He’s grasping at straws now, but it’s something, and that’s already better than staying silent with his mouth agape like an idiot.

“Maybe, um—maybe you could practice what you’d say to him? The kind of sounds you’d make?” His pulse stutters, but before he can stop himself. “I-I think he’d probably want to eat you out.”

It’s a blatant, bold-faced lie. A shot in the dark dressed up as certainty.

Because that’s not what Viktor said. That’s not even remotely what Viktor said.

It’s what Jayce wants to do.

But he’s already in too deep, tangled in his own bullshit with no way to back out. If he’s going to lie, he might as well be a little selfish about it.

You glare at him with that sharp, dissecting stare, the kind that strips away pretense and weighs his words like they’re under the lens of a microscope. Even though you’re shorter than him, there’s no mistaking who’s in control here; the balance of power tilts undeniably in your favour, and you have him fully, wholly under your thumb.

And he knows it, knows it from the tension in his own shoulders, from the way his lips uncontrollably twitch, from the slight tremor in his voice. He would do anything for this, for you, and he’s not foolish enough to think it doesn’t show. But this moment isn’t about him—not about how much he wants you, or how much he’d give to close the remaining space between your bodies.

It’s about you, and how much you want Viktor.

Jayce already knows your answer before it even leaves your lips.

“Alright. Just…”

You hesitate for just a second, as if there's something else you want to say; a glimpse of uncharacteristic doubt flashes across your face. But it vanishes just as quickly as it came, swallowed by that effortless, burning confidence. Whatever words you might have had for him go up in smoke.

"Forget it. Get on your knees."

Jayce certainly doesn’t need to be told twice.

It’s almost embarrassing how fast he drops, the wet tile beneath him offering no grace. He nearly slips twice as he contorts his broad frame awkwardly, trying to find a stable position. The cramped width of the glass panels press against his shoulders, making his movements all the more difficult.

You tsk at him, unimpressed and visibly growing impatient. The glare you send down his way is all the incentive he needs to stop fumbling and settle as best he can, even as the mosaic tiles dig uncomfortably into his knees.

One of your hands settles on his head, slightly brushing the damp strands of dark hair, and he leans into the touch; it's probably the closest thing to praise he's ever gotten from you.

"Don’t make me regret this," you warn him.

He grins, throwing you a wink with far more cockiness than he actually feels. "Regret is my middle name, baby."

Before you can shoot back a biting remark, his hands are on your hips, firm and certain, pulling you flush against his face. The heat of his breath ghosts over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

If this had been different, if it had been real, he would have taken his time. He would have traced every detail of your body with his hands, his lips, his tongue, committing every inch to memory like something sacred. He would have worshipped you slowly, methodically, with the kind of reverence you deserve.

But that's not the case.

Instead, he opts for savagely peppering your inner thighs with warm, rough kisses, just barely letting his teeth graze your skin. You hum in approval, the hand on his scalp petting him like a puppy. The rush of confidence that goes through his body is indescribable, and he makes the bites more insistent, leaving burn-like marks on your skin.

You tug at his hair, just enough to be insistent, but not enough to hurt. For once, he understands you immediately, without you uttering a single word. It’s a little strange —almost ironic— that conversations with you always spiral into arguments, yet here, without speaking at all, you're both in perfect sync.

He obeys the silent command and moves his mouth where you’re guiding him, never pausing the messy, open-mouth kisses against your lower body. It's no surprise that your pussy is as pretty and warm as the rest of you. The hair has been recently trimmed but has grown just enough to tickle against his face as he buries his face comfortably between your legs.

You twitch in his grip the second his tongue touches your folds, but you don't let out a sound. He’s not about to be beaten so easily, though: he gives a strong, assured lick against your clit, and this time you can't suppress a small moan:

“Ah…”

Oh, and God, it's an addictive sound, one that he yearns to hear again, immediately. He copies his movement once, twice, thrice, dizzy off the little vulnerable pants you make under your breath. He's like a starved man, lapping at the fresh water from the shower on your skin just to catch a hint of your juices.

“Hngh-” you inhale sharply when his tongue probes your hole. Your grip on his hair tightens, fingers tangling deeper as you pull him closer. It’s probably just instinct, a mechanical reaction to the rush of pleasure sparking through you; but for a split second, the pressure of your touch feels intentional. Like you want him. And that foolish, aching thought makes his poor little heart clench when you speak again:

“V-Viktor!”

A single word from you, just one name, and reality crashes back down on him like a tidal wave.

He freezes, his tongue flat against your clit, and the warmth of the moment vanishes in an instant, replaced by something sharp and unforgiving. The water hitting his exposed skin from the showerhead suddenly feels ice-cold, seeping into his bones.

This isn’t right. He knows it. And he’s certain you do, too.

But you’ve both chosen this.

You’re as guilty as he is, using him just as much as he’s using you. It’s a pathetic, hollow imitation of the intimacy he truly craves, the kind where your fingers intertwine with his without hesitation, where your voice murmurs words of love meant only for him, where your eyes remain wide open and locked into his.

But there’s no coming back from having tasted you. A single bite of the forbidden fruit, and he’s undone: his sense of judgment shattered, his pride discarded, his dignity crumbling beneath your touch. If this is all you’re willing to give him, if he’s nothing more than a placeholder for someone else—so be it.

He’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’ll offer, no matter how empty. No matter who it’s really meant for.

You let out another wonton moan when he shifts again, his teeth lightly scrapping your clit, and he lets himself wonder what you're imagining behind those closed eyes.

Granted, the who isn’t much of a mystery; that part is painfully obvious. But how?

How does it play out in your head? Is it tender and slow, filled with whispered confessions and gentle touches? Or is it something desperate, something raw, something that strips you down to nothing but need? Against his better judgment and all common sense, he can’t help speculating.

Viktor would probably not enjoy staying on his knees for very long; maybe you're picturing yourself laying in bed with him, his face nestled snuggly between the meat of your thighs. You’d have a smile on your lips, your sparkling eyes wide open, eager to take in every second of the moment. Viktor would probably chuckle at your eagerness, amused by the contrast of how firm and unyielding you are with everyone else, yet how effortlessly you melt in his presence.

“Viktor, please… please…!” you almost beg as he fucks you on his tongue, your hips rhythmically moving along to his pace, moans raw and unfiltered, forgetting about the thin walls and your likely disgruntled neighbours with how lost you are in your fantasy.

Jealousy begins to rear its ugly head in the pit of his stomach, a dangerous thing to start feeling during something that’s supposed to be pure make-believe. But no matter how hard he tries to swallow it down, it lingers, festering beneath the surface.

He can’t help it, spoiled brat that he is. He always wants more. Nothing is ever enough.

His childish ego whispers that he’s the one making you squirm under his touch, that for all your longing, for all the thoughts clouding your mind, he’s the one here. He’s the one touching you, drawing those needy sounds from your lips.

It's his name you should be saying.

He's gotten hard again, the touch of your skin blending with the smell of your body, the sharp taste of your wetness making his head spin. He's humping the air like a dog in heat, aching for any sort of relief. He wants to stay between your legs for as long as humanly possible, let you use him, but he's not sure how much longer he can handle hearing someone else’s name over, and over again.

He manages to pull away from the vice-like grip of your thighs, mouth coated with your juices. He looks up at you, standing above him like a goddess, surrounded by a halo of water from the showerhead.

"I really, really need you right now, baby," he breathes out, voice raw with desperation. He knows he should have some dignity left, some shred of self-respect; but it's all long gone. At this point, he doesn't care what you think of him anymore, not when he’s fallen this low. “Can I please fuck you right here?”

Your eyes flutter open, slow and reluctant, like it physically pains you to be pulled from whatever reverie you were lost in. For a moment, you just look at him, considering his expression, the firm grip on his head easing slightly.

“I…” you start hesitantly. There it is again, just like earlier: something uncertain in your gaze, lost, vulnerable. It’s jarring, unsettling in a way he can’t quite name. It doesn’t belong there, not in your eyes—eyes that are usually so bright, so sure and unwavering.

"Bed. Viktor wouldn't be comfortable here," you mumble under your breath, refusing to meet his eyes. "And don’t call me baby."

Jayce exhales a shaky sigh of relief. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t tease—just moves.

He scrambles to his feet so fast he nearly slips again, catching himself just in time. With a sharp nudge of his elbow, he shuts off the faucet before effortlessly scooping you up from the wet tiles. You yelp in protest, but he ignores it, already carrying you out of the bathroom, his grip firm yet careful.

The second your back hits the mattress, he’s gone, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes to his backpack; balance has never been his forte, but you’ve rendered him so unsteady his legs feel like jello. His hands fumble through the numerous pockets, almost frantic.

Socks, phone, extra boxers, sunglasses, toothbrush, toothpaste—

There!

He raises the lone condom triumphantly into the air, presenting it like a grand prize, his grin wide with victory.

You don’t look half as impressed.

"Do you seriously bring that with you everywhere you go?" you remark drily, one brow arching in clear contempt.

Ah, right. For a moment, in the heat of it all, he had almost forgotten that you really hate him.

“Can we keep the insults for after I'm done fucking you?” he groans, his arm falling in defeat. Yet, despite the frustration laced in his voice, there’s something oddly familiar about this, something comforting. The push and pull, the sharp edges of your words clashing against his: it’s a unique rhythm, a dynamic that belongs to the two of you alone; one that Viktor will never experience.

The idea makes him happier than it should.

You let out a dramatic sigh in response, waving a dismissive hand as if to say ‘whatever’.

He climbs over you, his body still sopping wet, water trailing down his skin and seeping into the sheets beneath you both. Droplets fall from his hair onto yours, cool against the lingering heat of your skin. The bed is going to be disgustingly damp later, and you will certainly complain and blame him for it, but he can’t bring himself to care about it right now.

The sight of his fully hard cock resting on your inner thigh makes his throat dry almost instantly. Jayce is more than aware he’s well endowed, and he hasn’t shied away from using it as a selling argument for flirting before; but this is so very different. His size dwarfs your cunt, like a little toy underneath him; the realization that he's going to get so deep inside of you that you'll never be able to fully get rid of him is enough to break whatever hesitation he might have still had.

He glances up at you with a cocky grin, expecting you to eye his arguably imposing member with some anticipation, only to find that you're looking away, gaze lost somewhere in the printed forest of the peeling wallpaper.

He clears his throat, and you turn back towards him, expression distant, maybe even cold.

“Want me to, um… prep you a bit?” he asks. He knows you’re soaking wet, he's made quite sure of that, but the thickness of his cock has usually required him to use a few fingers with his previous partners.

You seem disinterested, barely sparing him a look:

“I don't care. Just do it, Talis.”

The absurdity of the fact that you’re still using his last name after he’s eaten you out—and right before he screws you—would be comical if it wasn’t so deeply sad. He tears the plastic wrapper open, rolling the condom on himself without another word. He aligns his member with your entrance, just barely spreading your folds with his dick, before you interrupt him with a firm hand on his bicep.

The look you give him is full of something unspoken, heavy with meaning he can’t quite grasp—or maybe just refuses to.

"Just… be gentle,” you ask stiffly, like you doubt he’s even capable of it. “Like Viktor would."

That last part splinters something inside him, shatters a piece of his heart he thought had accepted he would never be the one you’d want.

For a second, everything blurs. The floodgate cracks open, and with it, the jealousy he thought he had under control surges forward, unrestrained and bitter.

Because Viktor. Always Viktor.

And never him.

He pushes in without replying, groaning at the resistance his tip is already facing. It takes a bit more force, but the head of his cock finally passes through the ring of muscle, and he's able to slowly and fully sheathe himself in, your wetness making the slide easier.

“Fuck- fuck, you're tight,” he sputters, the words falling out of him without his control. “You're so fucking tight, princess.”

Maybe it’s just that he hasn’t gotten laid in too long, but he doesn’t think he's ever been inside someone who feels this snug around him, like you were made for him. You’re walls are fluttering around him, squeezing him so firmly it’s as if your pussy is forbidding him from leaving. It's heavenly, and he stays still for a moment, just to carve in his memory the exact way you’re clenching around his cock.

A quick glance at your face tells him everything he needs to know: your eyes are squeezed shut, your brows furrowed deeply, likely lost in a world where he isn’t the one above you. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re picturing him instead, rewriting reality with Viktor’s touch, Viktor’s voice, Viktor’s presence.

That’s fine. Perfectly fine.

Because by the time he’s done, by the time he gives it to you just right—hard enough, deep enough, good enough—he’ll make sure the only name you’re screaming is Jayce.

He starts pulling out before sharply shoving himself back in, and you let out an absolutely broken cry. There. As a sound that's for no one else but him.

He repeats the motion, again and again, the sharp feeling of your nails digging into his back making all thought incoherent. Your cries are driving him insane, raw and oversensitive, and he pounds into you harder with the knowledge Jayce Talis is the one tearing them out from your throat.

He looks down where your bodies meet, drunk off the idea of seeing his fat cock plunging into you, but he freezes.

There's blood.

It's not much, just a little red that has tinted some of your combined juices, but it's there, a stark contrast against your skin.

He opens and closes his mouth in incomprehension; he had been harsh, and hungry, yes, but you should have been wet enough to take him with only a slight burn, a nice feeling of fullness. How?

He looks at you in panic: your eyes are still sealed shut, but unshed tears have pooled in their corners, your lips stuck in a thin line.

You’re crying.

It’s so silent, so light, that he hadn't even heard it despite your proximity, despite him being quite literally inside of you. He’s staring at you, dumbfounded—the tightness, the blood, the tears—as the math begins to add up very unpleasantly in his head.

"Wait, are you—" he starts, voice laced with panicked disbelief.

You don’t answer.

Instead, you turn your face away, hiding it behind the crook of your arm, ever the prideful one. But he sees it anyway, the telltale tremble of your bottom lip.

And just like that, every ounce of his frustration, every drop of jealousy, vanishes in an instant. What’s left is something colder, heavier—realization.

You're a virgin.

His stomach twists. "I'm sorry, I—I had no idea—" he stammers, his mind racing to catch up. "Did I hurt you? Oh my god, yeah, I did. Do you want to stop? I’m so sorry—"

The words tumble out in a frantic rush, hands hovering over you like he doesn’t know where they should be—whether to comfort, to retreat, or to hold you close.

He moves to pull out, but you make a pained hissing sound, grabbing his arm to keep him in place.

You stay silent, breathing haggard, clinging to him like a buoy in a storm. Your fingers dig into his skin painfully, but you still refuse to meet his gaze.

Jayce swallows thickly, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Carefully, he slides a hand beneath your head, lifting it just enough to keep you from sinking further into yourself. With the other, he brushes away a few damp strands of hair stuck to your clammy forehead. You don’t speak, and neither does he.

There’s nothing he can say right now that wouldn’t feel meaningless.

Your eyes eventually open, and the few tears you had been holding back finally spill down your cheeks. He catches them with the pad of his finger, wiping them away as gently as he can.

You’re so still in his arms it scares him. Fragile in a way he’s never seen before. Like a doll he’s played too rough with, beautiful, limp, and oh so breakable. Not meant for the big, clumsy, uncalculated hands of someone like him, but rather, for a gentle and precise touch.

Meant for hands like Viktor’s.

The thought cuts deep, a jagged wound of self-loathing splitting open inside him. Jayce has never hated himself more than in this moment.

"I'm fine," you murmur at last, your voice steadier than he expected. "It’s not like I haven’t done anything before, I'm not a prude, just… not this."

You pause, exhaling slowly before finally admitting the words you’ve been trying to say all along. "I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want to look like a clueless idiot if Viktor ever… wants me."

Jayce’s chest aches at how small your voice sounds, at the quiet vulnerability you’re letting slip through the cracks after being so closed off to him for almost three years.

Why do you always say you’re fine when you aren’t? Why won’t you ever let me help? Why can’t you admit you’re scared?

"Viktor would never think you're an idiot," he breathes. "He’d think you’re the smartest girl in the entire world."

You hesitate: “…Yeah?”

"Yeah," he confirms without missing a beat. Then, with a faint smile, he can’t help but add, teasing, "Maybe just a little too thick-headed for your own good."

A weak but genuine laugh escapes your lips, lightening the weight between you, the tension slowly washing away, the tide receding just enough to let you both breathe.

"Big words from someone who compliments himself in the mirror, Jayce," you shoot back with a smirk, eyes glinting with a flicker of mischief. “And it’s not like you’re that big, anyway.”

He huffs out a laugh in disbelief: “Are you seriously pulling that card right now?”

You snort in reply, unable to hold your smile back.

It’s all so absurd, so fucked, tangled in emotions he doesn’t fully understand. But here you are, smiling at him—teasing, but genuine. A fragile thread of connection woven between sarcasm and chaos.

And then it hits him.

You’ve finally said his name.

Not in anger. Not in passing. Not as part of some joke.

Just his name, wrapped in laughter, soft around the edges.

It’s not exactly in the way he’s craved, not in the way that would make this his; but still, his name has left your lips with a real smile, with your eyes looking at nothing but him. Despite everything, it settles something deep inside him, filling the hollow space that’s been eating him alive.

It makes him feel whole.

"I’ll be fine," you tell him again, voice back to the one he knows and adores. "Just… a little slower, alright?"

Jayce exhales, nodding, his grip on you instinctively firming— not possessive, not demanding. Just there. An anchor for you, as much as it is for himself. He’s going to make sure you’re actually fine for once.

“Yeah. Of course,” he promises, but more than that, it carries the weight of a vow, something unspoken yet deeply solemn, something true.

If he’s water, then you are fire, never defeated, blazing brightly with something that could consume him whole. Maybe that’s why he lets himself drown in you—because it’s the only way he can hold onto something that he was never meant to touch.

You will always burn him, and he will always yield to the sound of his name on your lips.

🌸 Taglist Darlings 🌸: @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan, , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth , @raynoway , @just1cefor4ll , @apexie100

Tip a Coffee ☕: ko-fi.com/lefruitdelapassion

[irkimatsu]

Can you do a husk x fem reader where she’s also a cat demon (no wings, just cat) yet she’s the epitome of “golden retriever” As if her personality was golden, she’s extroverted and caring and so so bubbly (even more so than Charlie). But then one night, crying is heard from her room and husk hears it and she’s insecure of her body because of how skinny she is?? She has curves yes but that doesn’t make her feel better at all and she’s always comparing herself to others and how she could be better!! It’s just overall angst with fluff please :( 🙏

(Live laugh love you sm !!)

Okay, so, first off, a confession - I am, uh. Not skinny. I am far from skinny, and not only that, I'm in the business of taking skinny characters and chunking them up. Have you seen some of my posts about Overlord Husk?

All that to say that I'm not used to writing skinny characters, and "skinny character insecure about their body" is an absolutely foreign concept to me. I tried my best, though, and I hope I hit the notes with this that you needed!

About 1.5 words. Primarily SFW but Husk gets a little handsy toward the end. One-sided Husk/Angel from Angel's side, but Angel's graceful about it, there's no ship bashing here, I still love Angel and he's still one of Husk's best friends.

---

“Husky!”

Husk has barely made it into the hotel lobby, and you’re already clinging to him, your tail wagging furiously.

The tail wagging is strange for your species; you’d reincarnated in hell as a gray tabby cat, a creature known for being moody, standoffish, even a little prissy. But that wasn’t who you were in life, and it’s not how you are in death, either. Husk realized it immediately upon meeting you, and at first he wasn’t a fan of your wild energy, but you managed to grow on the old man’s heart soon enough. He appreciated how young you could make him feel, and how much you reminded him that the best years of his life weren’t as far gone as he thought.

“Hey, hey!” he says, laughing, a far cry from the Husk who would have snapped at you to get off of him a few months ago. “I missed you too, babe!” He gently hugs you back, giving you a couple pats on the back before stepping away. At first you would have been hurt by the lack of enthusiasm, but now you realize that he’s simply not comfortable with too much PDA. He’s perfectly affectionate behind closed doors, and that’s what really matters.

“Damn, I need to find someone who pounces me like that when I get home!” Angel says with a laugh. Shopping bags dangle from all four of his arms, and he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses you don’t think you’ve seen on him before.

“Did you guys enjoy your boys’ day out?” you ask.

“Sure did!” Husk says as he holds up his own, much smaller shopping bag. “Had as much fun as you can when you’re clothes shopping with Angel for three hours, anyway.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like me showing off outfits for ya,” Angel teases as he sways his hips. “I know you were staring at my ass in every pair of shorts I tried on.”

“What ass?” Husk shoots back with a smile. “Don’t lie to me, you’re flat as the fuckin’ bartop.”

“Hm? I’m sorry, and whose flat ass has been on the cover of every adult magazine in hell, again?” Angel says, swaying his hips further.

“Hey, if the people want flat twinks, then good for them.” Husk returns his attention to you, and sticks his hand in the paper shopping bag. “That shop was real nice, though. I found a couple things for myself, and got you a little somethin’, too.” He digs around for a bit, before pulling out a small jewelry box and handing it to you. “Here. For my golden girl.”

You open the box and gasp at the sight of a golden choker encrusted with diamonds. “Husk! How much was this?!”

“Enough to be worth it,” is all the information he’ll give. “Mind if I put it on you?”

“Go ahead!”

He takes the box back and walks behind you. His claws graze your skin as he fastens the choker around your neck, and your skin prickles.

While he’s behind you, you’re still facing Angel. You bear no ill-will toward the porn star; you admire his confidence, and you know he’s been a good friend to Husk since long before you got here. For as much as they tease each other, Husk does genuinely seem to care about Angel and enjoy his outings with him; he wouldn’t have gone on that shopping trip if he didn’t enjoy the company at least a little, you’re sure. He hasn’t been subtle about his crush on Husk, but he’s also conceded his loss to you with grace, which only makes you appreciate him further. It’s not like Angel can’t provide any competition. Who would turn down the opportunity to date a famous porn star? You’re not even into his works, but even you admit that he’s gorgeous, with his slender build and strong legs.

You’re not built like him at all. He’s skinny in a way he works hard for, making sure every part of his body is proportioned just right for his admirers. He’s not just skinny, he’s healthy, and he glows from it.

Meanwhile, Husk is gently rubbing your bony shoulders, and you can’t help but wonder how he feels about the hard lumps beneath his palms.

“Turn around so I can see it?” he asks. You comply, and he responds with wide eyes and a whistle. “Beautiful.”

You’re not sure if you’re in the right headspace to accept the compliment. “Thanks,” you say anyway.

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking to Husk and Angel about their outing, and trying not to look at Angel too much.

—

Why are you crying about this? This is so stupid. Husk chose you, didn’t he? He met Angel first; if that was what he really wanted, they would have gotten together before you even showed up, wouldn’t they?

So why are you hiding under your blanket, sobbing and clutching your shoulders and wishing you looked like him?

A gentle rapping noise interrupts your self-pity. “Babe? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine!” you call back, despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That didn’t sound fine.” Damn him and his ability to read people. That’s what you get for dating someone who doesn’t like backing down from someone who’s clearly in denial about their own feelings. How dare he care about you like this?

(You’re glad he cares about you. You just wish he’d let you have that denial.)

“I’ll be right there,” you say, knowing he won’t leave now that he’s heard you crying. You untangle yourself from the blanket cocoon you’ve been hiding in, and you go to open the door for him.

“You look like shit,” Husk says as he closes the door behind him. Not the most romantic greeting, but he’s not wrong; your fur is stained with tears, and your makeup is running. Not a good look. “Come here.” He takes your hand, leads you to the bed, and sits you both on the edge of it. “Talk to me.”

You take a few deep breaths to make sure you won’t start sobbing mid-sentence. “Husk? Am I too skinny?”

Husk stares at you, dumbfounded. “Babe. Everyone in this hotel is built like a fucking twig.”

“Yeah, on purpose!” you say. “They don’t have bones sticking out, or sunken faces… they don’t look fucking starved.”

Husk still seems dumbfounded. “Have you looked at me recently?”

You don’t mind giving him a look. His soft fur, unintentionally tousled in such a perfect way, with tufts on his shoulders and chest that are so wonderful to tug. His yellow eyes that currently burn with sarcasm, but that can gaze at you so softly when the mood is right. His generous heart; it’s not something you can see, but you always feel it when you look at him. Whether it’s the choker you still feel around your neck or the time he always gives you no matter the hour of the day, you know he could never feel like he’s given you enough.

“You don’t think I look awful, do you?” Husk says. “You could tell me if you did. I ain’t under any delusion that I’m winning any beauty contests.”

“You look great, Husk!” you insist. “I’ve thought you were handsome ever since I got here.”

“Yeah? You don’t think I look like a withered corpse because I’m regularly too drunk to remember to eat?”

“No!” you say, horrified. “Why would I ever think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he says with a shrug. “I take shitty care of myself, I ain’t denying it. At least you’re tryin’. That’s just what your body looks like. That ain’t your problem.”

“But still…” You pull your legs up to the bed and hug them. “I wish I looked like Angel sometimes… he really likes you, you know.”

Husk snorts. “Yeah. I kinda guessed.”

“You could have been with him before I even got here. Why would you choose me over a gorgeous celebrity like him?”

“You’ve got a certain charm that he doesn’t have. I still like the guy a lot, but we’re just friends. He’s not as kind hearted as you, and he doesn’t appreciate quiet nights in like you do. He needs someone who can keep up with him… and I need someone who can slow down with me. Someone like you.”

At least he loves your personality…

“Plus…” Husk wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said he had a flat ass.”

“Husk!” you squeal, his touch tickling your skin.

“Can I be a gross old man for a second?” he says with a smirk. “Because I love curves. Hips and ass are the best. Gives me something to squeeze.” Both of his arms are around you now, and he’s holding you close. “Sure, he’s perfect by some standards, but he ain’t my type. You, on the other hand…” He kisses your forehead and gently strokes your hair. “Don’t change based on what you think I want, okay, doll? I love you just like this.

Comparin’ yourself to others won’t get you anywhere. Just trust that I’m with you because I wanna be.”

[crownedtargaryen]

ahhh yay!!

i would like to request something for modern!bran if that’s okay🙏🏻

i was thinking maybe modern!bran with goth reader?

like just headcanons or an imagine, whatever you’d like

you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to :)

lipstick. modern!bran headcanons

MASTERLIST pairing: modern!bran x goth!reader (a/n): I'm so sorry this is so short! Being goth has a lot of different types in that aesthetic, so I tried to generalize and keep it as unspecific as I could! (this Bran goes with this headcanon post I did of him) all notes are appreciated. tag list: @thethreeeyed-raven @howyouloveyourdragon @hopelesswritergall @fairysluna @clairacassidy @ad-astra-again @its-actually-minicika

SFW

• Bran loves you so much

• he ADORES when you sit on his lap and you do his makeup

• though, he's SUUUCH a pain to put makeup on

• he's always laughing and moving, trying to lean in and kiss you

• you have to yell at him, giving him a small smack as he cackles

• "what? can I not have a kiss?" he'll feign innocence that'll make you roll your eyes

• black cat and golden retriever

• he loves letting you dress him up in gothic themed clothing, so proud of any and all outfits you give him

• posts pics of you. over dressed gothic partner with the underdressed basic gamer

• he loves to bring you on his streams, the chat LOVVVES you

• he'll do "partner picks my aesthetic" streams with you, just adoring how excited you get in contrast to your darker more standoffish look

• def looks a bit strange seeing you side by side, but he doesn't care. ur his pfp on EVERYTHING and loves the way you present yourself

• def been called a discord mod with his kitten which has plagued your day to day life where he will jokingly call you kitten

• "that's a lot of talk for my discord kitten," he'll tease, knowing how frustrated it makes you.

does NOT shut up about how he wants to do beastboy x raven

ORR BATMAN X CAT WOMAN he’s OBSESSEDDD

def will call you emo for your aesthetic, laughs so hard when you’re get a bit angry with him

“hey! don’t be mad, maybe i like emos.” he’ll coo, just making you huff then kiss him to shut him up

def will let your paint his nails shades of black and grey, wears that shit with pride

LOVES it when you put on dark lipstick and kiss all over his face. he’s done that smudged lipstick tiktok so many times 👀

even though you’re the more intimidating outer shell of the relationship, bro will fight god for you

someone says shit about your aesthetic, calls you emo or says something harsh, he’s ON IT.

only he’s allowed to poke fun at his partner. someone says shit?

lets just say he’s almost killed a few people

forces you to teach him how to use a wax seal

he’ll nag you for hours, and you finally teach him and he’s over the moon

then one day, he’ll show up with a parchment letter that he’s tea stained for you. you honestly don’t believe it at first

bran didn’t SEEM like the type to do this, but gods he DID IT HE WROTE YOU A GOTHIC PARCHMENT LETTER QUILL AND INK AND EVERYTHING??!!

He LIVES to make you smile with gifts like that

constantly bugging you about what new clothes or shoes you want, what jewelry you may like, what antique gothic trinkets you think are beautiful

then within days they’re in ur hands and you just are like “oh.”

HE LOOOVES taking you to museums of antique medieval gothic resorts

he loves to hear you talk about them, grinning at your excitement and passions and how beautiful you look when you talk so much you run out of breath and have to sharply inhale before continuing

after taking you to the museum he’ll take you on a romantic moonlit picnic with only candles he brought and distant street lights illuminating you both

and he’ll softly go

“i love you…” pause. “even though you’re kind of emo.” then break into a cackle and beg you not to get up and leave

NSFW

• absolutely loves how your black makeup runs down your face when he tails the fuck out of you

• he loves the sight of your hair scattered across the bed as he pins you down, mascara running down your cheeks as you cry in pleasure

• he loves when you have dark lipstick on and kiss all over his body. gladly takes pictures of it and posts it on his private twitter

• usually after sex his face is covered in dark lipstick smudged over his swollen lips and flushed cheeks

• he loves ripping your dark thigh highs apart, immediately delving in your goods with the thin cloth RIPPED APART so easily.

• sometimes gets frustrated because of the layers to your outfits

• he's a switch, loves when you dom him and leave him a begging crying mess with lipstick marks on his thighs and hardened buds on his chest

will never ever stop joking about “you love dark things? let me make some dark ass marks on that pretty little neck.” while he growls and pulls you onto his lap with a cheeky grin

[missterious-figure]

I'm in love with your birdy-boys.

Sun's colors are everything that's nice in the world. They capture and mesmerize me, I could just look at him for hours. I'm absolutely in love. His cheeky smile and expression have struck me.

Moon is pretty much like Sun in terms of jaw-dropping appearance, but I especially love his golden hues and mischievous behavior. His red eyes and long head feathers with the little bell are a sight to behold. Absolutely gorgeous.

Eclipse... I'll be honest with you, I do not have many words to describe the feeling he invokes in me. He's as beautiful as they come. His darker palette with the black and the bronze make me think of a sunset a lot, and just as the sunset, I can look at him thousands of times and still think it's as breathtaking as the first time. The feathers adorning his head are a work of art, and his eyes burn like fire. I love him so very much.

They all look like they're wearing the most beautiful and intricate jewelry, especially around their necks. They all look like something that you should not be able to admire. Something too beautiful and otherworldly to be seen by mortal eyes.

They all strike me as important and imponent, especially eclipse, that I don't know why but looks bigger and mightier.

In conclusion, I love them.

Thank you so much for creating them and sharing them, I can't wait to see more.

(I'm so sorry for the long message, and absolutely no pressure to respond or to make more, I just really love this au and their designs and wish to see and to read more and more because it absolutely deserves the attention)

Have a wonderful day!

AAAAAAAAA!! I DON'T- WHAT?- HUH?- I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY?! THANK YOU!! I'M HAPPY THAT YOU LOVE MY BOYS AND THE WINE AND FEATHERS AU!!! AAAAAAAAAA!!!

[hkval]

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 - 𝘫𝘣𝘣 (1)

bucky barnes x f!reader

series masterlist

includes: fluff

Y/N practically jumped when she turned her head to the side, seeing someone from her the corner of her eye. He turned his entire body with his head when staring at the girl. She stared at him as light hit him from the soft light of the moon. He had defined, sharp features with a quiet strength that emanated from him. He had medium-long length hair that looked perfectly styled and fit him so well. And his eyes, oh god, his eyes, they were a piercing blue that seemed to glint in the light of the stars. But, the way he stared at her practically made her weak.

"Hey? Um, I'm Y/N!" She gleamed happily.

"Bucky."

Her smile then faded when he seemed bored and extremely uninterested. Y/N then nodded at him and turned her head back to admire the stars that shined so brightly at this time of night.

Bucky nearly slapped himself in the face when he responded to her with just his name. Who does that? This girl that sat nearby was gorgeous, her skin looked so beautiful, especially under the light coming from the moon. Her skin also looked incredibly soft, mainly her hands but also her lips, those were one of the first few things he noticed about her. Not only that, but he liked the way her clothes fit her so nicely. She wore a black tight shirt that had a square neckline and paired it with blue jeans with converse. She wore golden jewelry, gold hoops and a simple golden heart necklace.

"So... what brings you up here?"

She snapped her head to the man who was so called 'Bucky.' He surprised Y/N by speaking and not just ignoring her to go back to his peace.

"Well, I like to look at stars and I heard that today was a good day to stargaze and the moon would look really nice too. So, now here I am! How about you? Same thing?"

"No, actually, uh, I just couldn't sleep and so I headed up here because the stars and moon give me a sense of peace, y'know?"

"Wow, that's oddly poetic.."

Bucky chuckled, a smile slightly creeping up. She gave him a warm smile right back.

“So, what’s your favorite planet?”

“I like, uh, Saturn. It’s the rings around the planet that I think make it look visually appealing. How ‘bout you?”

“Wow. I could not top that. I like Neptune, I mean the shade of blue is just absolutely beautiful.”

“Interesting.”

Y/N looked back up at the stars, not seeming to notice Bucky still admiring her while she admired the stars. Immediately missing the sound of her voice, he wanted to strike up another conversation.

“You come here often?”

“No.. not really, I’m actually here visiting my cousin who’s bunking here with her boyfriend. They’re letting me sleep on their pull out couch since my house is kinda far, not really, but they just didn’t want to let me out late. Both great people but, they can’t just admit that they want me to make my famous, most delicious chocolate waffles. Sorry— didn’t mean to talk that much.”

“No, it’s okay. Wow. That’s a lot, but in a good way.”

“Never been told that.”

“Seriously? I could listen to you talk about grass and it would be the most interesting thing ever.”

Y/N’s cheeks turned a shade of light pink and she dipped her head down to cover her flustered state. But while her head was down, her mind raced with thoughts. Am I seriously just going to trust someone this easily after what happened? Oh, god, I’m already attached. Can I really do another relationship?! Bucky tilted his head, confused at her state.

“Hey, Y/N….? You good there?”

Her head immediately shot up and she stared right at him.

“Yes! Sorry.”

“All good. But, uh, I’ve gotta get going.. pretty busy day tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s fine! I should head back down too, maybe later, have a good night!”

Bucky waved goodbye to her, softly shutting the door to the rooftop. His mind raced with thoughts as he thought about the interaction. What if she thinks of me as a monster? Well, she couldn’t have spotted me that easily. Could she? Does she know? Maybe she isn’t afraid. His mind replayed what just happened, a soft smile appearing on his face without him knowing it.

“What are you doing?! Standing in the middle of the hallway, you look crazy. Get to bed, it’s so late.”

“Sorry Yori. Night.”

He shook his head, chuckling at the grumpy, tired old man.

[femmmie]

"Wha- what's happening?"

Cold sweat trickled down Ian's temples. He stood in the Smosh office but the lights were somehow off.

"I'm sorry, Ian," Courtney said with an apologetic half-smile. "But we had to do it to ya."

"You're not..." Shayne began, "welcome, anymore."

Jacky waived at Ian silently, but her smile was spiteful.

"You're fired from Smosh!" Damian spat.

They all stood there in the dark.

"Where's Anthony?" Ian cried out, desperate for an answer to this madness.

A terrible laughter filled the room. Starting softly but cackling, thundering louder and louder.

All Smosh cast and crew stepped aside to reveal him, standing there, dressed in all black. Anthony. His slender yet strong figure, his jewelry shimmering in the little light there was, and his eyes too.. Anthony looked maniacly at Ian, as he laughed. His perfect curls shaking from the laughter and falling over his face.

Anthony slowly walked up to Ian. Closer and closer. He'd stopped laughing now. Noses almost touching, Anthony said with an evil grin: "the old SWITCHEROO!" And he pushed Ian really hard. Ian felt himself falling, falling, falling...

He woke up.

"Wow, that sure was something," he chuckled to himself. Sure, Ian still had some issues to talk about in therapy. But he'd rather this nightmare scenario played out than talk to a therapist who was a Disney adult, ugh! Luckily, he had a normal one now.

He took a short shower and put on a black sweater and blue jeans. He felt fly as fuck; watching two and a half youtube tutorials on dressing fashionably had really propelled his style to the next level. And with his golden glasses, he saw every minute detail of himself in the mirror. He was really feeling himself today.

He went to the garage and got into his classic Corvette C4 and drove up to Anthony's house. Anthony greeted him at the gate, and as soon as Ian got out of the car, Anthony gave him a hug.

"Thank you for coming, wow you look really good!"

"Thanks, I have got my mojo back, baby," Ian joked.

"Oh, behave!" Anthony joked back and laughed. It was a sunny Californian morning but Anthony's laughter made it that much brighter.

Ian had come to Anthony's today to hang out.

"By the way, it's absolutely okay that you won't come to the office to film tomorrow," Ian said. They had decided at the beginning of their renewed business relationship that Anthony participating in the side channels would be completely optional, but Ian wanted him to feel zero pressure to show up anyway.

"Thank you," Anthony smiled, "I just really want to hang out with you as much as possible this week, but not necessarily with other people present as well."

Ian understood that. They had been reveling so much in the humor they shared, but it was like a language of their own and didn't always translate well to the other people at Smosh. But they were perfectly happy in their own little world.

They got into Anthony's house, which was very clean and clear. Only a few pieces of dark wood furniture, a couch, and some art pieces decorated the living room. The rest was all white. They sat down on the couch and talked.

"You know I had a weird ass dream tonight," Ian said.

Anthony loved when Ian told him personal stuff that he didn't know yet . He sat up, turned to Ian and looked at him with those mischievous eyes Ian had known and loved since sixth grade. "Tell me dude! What was it about?

"Well," Ian began but he had to laugh. Anthony laughed with him.

"What?"

"I dreamed that you fired me from Smosh, and everyone just stood there dissing me, it was dark and then you appeared, and you screamed "the old SWITCHEROO." Ian laughed, and Anthony lay in absolute stitches.

When he'd recovered from laughing so much, he said "you know you can't get fired from Smosh, right. You're the co-owner dude."

"I know," Ian said, smiling. "Apparently I still have some things to work through in my mind.

"Yeah, me too. But that's okay. I'm glad we can talk about it with each other."

"I am, too."

[aris-ink]

Hi there!!! Can you write obsessive, possessive yandere Namjoon smut? Can be any plot/scenario. You have full creative control, absolutely love your writing and congrats on passing your exam!!🥳🥳🥳

- Shy anon 🩰

tysm 🥺 and I love YOU 💕

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: romance

warnings: jealousy, allusions to stalking, rough sex, choking (with jewelry lmao), spanking, oral sex, mentions of nude photographs, praise + a little degradation, daddy kink, creampie

Namjoon. 

The letters were gold and filled with small diamonds, just like the chain they were attached to. Sometimes, his gifts felt like intimate love notes, ink curving softly on sunlit paper.

Sometimes, they felt like roses. Petals stained red and thorns drawing more red from your fingers. A softness so savage it never failed to remind you that you were his.

"I stayed up the- fuck- the whole n-night, shit, waiting for you to come home, you little brat."

His hips pounded against your ass mercilessly, shoving you harder and harder into his desk, your thighs burning from the wood's rough edges. You could feel his cock stretching you out with every aggressive thrust; long and thick, it always made your mind go numb, nothing but shivers of pleasure flooding through you. But with your air flow being restricted on top of that, you could do nothing but moan, your head filled with cotton.

And he knew.

He tightened his grip on the chain around your neck, like it was nothing more than a leash. The golden letters dug into your skin. There was no way this wouldn't leave marks; and maybe that was exactly what he wanted. Blurry purple and blue galaxies in the shape of his name, right where everyone could see it.

"Nothing to say? Huh?" He breathed into your ear, free hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack.

You whined, electric currents running through you, wires sparking.

"Aw. Can't speak? Is daddy choking you too hard?"

The mockery in his voice had you gushing, and a deep groan rumbled out of his chest. You were beginning to see stars dancing around your eyes. So good, but so dizzy.

He released the necklace. The sudden flow of air into your lungs made you collapse forward, and you would have hit the desk had he not been there to catch you.

But Namjoon was always there to catch you.

Warm, strong arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you up to his chest.

"That's it, that's my good girl," he whispered, soothing fingertips caressing your stomach, and hard cock still pounding deep into you. "You understand daddy needs to punish you, right?"

Your throat ached, but it hurt so good, your head falling against his shoulder.

"Yeah d-daddy," you moaned hoarsely. "I'm sorry."

Namjoon grunted.

"Good girl. You're only mine, do you understand that?"

The desk was beginning to shake, his cock so wet the sounds of it ramming inside you alone were feeding the fire igniting your bones. You mewled, nodding with the little strength you had in you.

"Yes, yes, only yours, daddy."

Another harsh smack on your ass made you tingle. Namjoon groaned.

"Ah, fuck, good girl. Good girl."

You knew the moment you got a little too lost in having fun at the party that arriving home late will end like this; with you shaking and coming all over his cock, right before he followed and filled you up until you overflowed.

Namjoon was never one to deny you an orgasm, even when he was punishing you. On the contrary; he loved to make you fall to pieces, remind you that you were his and why you were his. He liked to kiss you all over and wash you afterwards, whispering his praises like prayers. Assuring you that you were his good girl, that you took his cock so well, that he was so proud of his baby.

Polaroids.

Ever the hopeless romantic, he always kept a picture of you in his wallet, a pretty smile on your face and your chain on full display. Small boxes hidden away in his closet were filled with more pictures, because Namjoon could never get enough of you. (Some of them taken before you started dating, but you didn't need to know that.) It was so hard to pick a favorite; but if he had to, it would probably be the one where you wore nothing but the chain, the very definition of art. Namjoon never thought of himself as a photographer until he met you.

"Just a little more, baby. Let me see you."

You spread your legs further apart, skin burning hot, heart racing beneath your ribs.

Click.

The camera was set down and he leaned down to capture your lips in the low light of the candles, tongue eager and skilled.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he sighed. "I love you so much."

His hand traveled up to squeeze your breast. You moaned into his mouth, arching your back and reaching for his zipper.

"I love you too."

Namjoon sighed again, contentedly, scattering soft, wet kisses across your neck. Nothing so wrong ever felt so right before.

Because you knew it was wrong. He was too jealous, too obsessive. And yet he was exactly what you needed.

Not a moment passed by where you didn't feel wanted or loved. You never had a shadow of doubt that if you fell, he'd swoop in and save you. And if he couldn't, he'd throw himself into the abyss just to rest with you at the rock bottom and keep you warm.

And he never tolerated your self doubt.

"Are you happy with me?"

You sniffled, nodding your head.

"Then that's all that matters, baby."

He rocked you in his arms, wiping away the tears that fell. It was messed up. You were like a lost, little girl, starved for love and attention, and so tired of life. With Namjoon these burdens disappeared; it was a well known fact that even beasts most feral had mates, and you were his. Fitting into him like a puzzle piece. The balance between heaven and hell, your wings caught on fire from flying too low.

"My pretty, little angel. Fuck."

You moaned around his cock, trying to relax your throat for him. You could taste precum on your tongue, and he groaned as you swallowed.

"Yeah. Good girl. Can I fuck that pretty mouth, baby?"

You answered him with another moan. His grip on your hair tightened, hips rutting forward.

"Shit, I'm so close."

His panting was making your cunt throb. The tip of his cock reached deeper, touching the back of your throat. You breathed through your nose slowly, eyes stinging as you tried not to choke.

"Fucking hell," he grunted. "Daddy's good, little slut."

You clenched, your panties wet and knees sore, Namjoon's thrusts growing sloppier by the second.

"Oh fuck. I'm gonna come."

His breathing grew harsh, raspy moans slipping out of his heavenly mouth. No matter how much you braced yourself for it, the feeling of his cum spurting down your throat had you whining around him. You swallowed it all down, watching him curse, a thrilling shudder running through his body.

He pulled his cock out of your mouth carefully, hissing at the sensitivity.

You took a much needed breath, hands dropping down to your knees. Namjoon leaned down to scoop you into his arms, lifting you off the floor. It never failed to amaze you how strong he was.

"God, you're incredible," he mumbled, carrying you towards the bed. "Your turn, princess."

Insatiable.

That never failed to amaze you, either; or just how much you enjoyed it.

He set you down on the mattress gently, then reached to open the drawer on the nightstand.

"But before that," he murmured, fingers wrapping around your chin, "let me see that pretty face, baby."

He directed the camera straight at your lips, still swollen and wet from sucking him off. He made sure that your chain was also in the frame, his name gleaming around your neck. You relaxed, the sheets pleasantly cool under your body, and his gaze burning hot.

Click.

Another one for his collection.

[march-harrigan]

I need you to picture Arkhamverse Riddler as a drag queen. Maybe hes up there because his partner in the drag show begged. Maybe hes up there of his own accord. Could you imagine how much the crowd would fucking adore him?

I'm picturing it in my mind's eye and he is absolutely killing it. This man is gorgeous.

I can also see it being a combination of the two. His partner has been doing drag for a while, but doesn't necessarily beg Eddie to join them. Rather their presence in his life results in him naturally developing an interest over time. The person he loves enjoys this, so why shouldn't he try it too? It could be something for them to bond over.

Now I'm going to be the first to admit, I don't know a damn thing about makeup, but just imagining what kinds of looks he could pull with his signature green has me enamored. I'm honestly stuck on the idea of a green to purple gradient eyeshadow that would look beautiful on him. And maybe he's new to this. He figures it should be easy enough. Especially for the Riddler, who is obviously the best at everything he tries the moment he tries it. But spoiler: it's harder than it looks. It's gonna hurt his pride when his partner does his makeup for him the first few times, but he will LEARN, damn it!

Now, costume? Wardrobe is everything. He's going to jump into this headfirst and make sure he has a variety of outfits and accessories to choose from. Obviously all in green with some purple accents and you've gotta have his signature question marks in there. I'm thinking of the post with that jacket that's been going around. The one with the question mark that loops around the shoulders? He'd definitely work something like that in somehow and accessorize with golden jewelry, using the same shapes. He's bringing his cane on stage too, you can't stop him.

On stage: Edward Nygma's personality is every bit as big as his ego. He doesn't even need to rehearse. This man is a natural born performer, so yeah. You are absolutely correct on the crowd loving him. The way he moves and poses, the dramatic way he speaks... He is going to put on a show and you can be damn sure he'll make himself the center of attention.

That said, if this is his first time in heels: He will absolutely fall flat on his face, on stage, in front of everyone at some point. Maybe he should have rehearsed this after all.

I'm sorry Eddie, but your ego was, once again, your literal downfall.

(Now if he already knows how to walk in heels, ignore this. The entire performance goes off without a hitch).

[killingitreservoirdogsstyle]

Hello :)

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

May I request a prompt story where Mr. pink and the female reader are friends but realize they’re in love, please? Where they’re sharing their first kiss and making out later.

(Fluff and light smut)

I just need some romantic stuff.

Thank you!

Have a nice day!

Hello, how are you doing today? Thank you for your fantastic request, I'm so sorry it took so long to finish. I can absolutely do this for you! And great choice with Mr. Pink by the way, he's my favourite of the Dogs aside from Eddie. It kinda got a little angstier than I intended, but it serves the plot. Is that okay? It will be lighter smut because I am not comfortable with leaning towards heavier sexual content just yet, so thank you for understanding in that regard. But anyways, enough ranting, let me get right into this for you! If it isn’t what you wanted, don’t hesitate to let me know so I can fix it for you. I have no qualms or hard feelings over it! :)

Quick note here that my headcanon name for Pink is Jeremy Davidson, but go ahead and change it to whatever you like if that doesn't fit for you!

Trigger Warnings: AFAB reader, friends to lovers romance, swearing, light smut, and anxiety in some cases!

Genre: REQUESTED Prompt Story/Friends To Lovers

Fandom: Reservoir Dogs

Synopsis: Mr. Pink and his best friend Y/N have been in a platonic relationship for awhile, until they come to a startling realization that there's much more to their feelings than they thought!

Legend: Y/N, your name ( I always forget to put this shit here, dammit ).

Pink found himself staring at her once again. He couldn’t give any logical reason as to why, nor could he understand the strange feelings within him. Through his shades, his blue eyes gazed at his best friend as she drove the Sedan through suburban Los Angeles. The late afternoon sun caught her jewelry in a golden sparkle, her eyes shining through her thick lashes. The tight pink sundress and heels she wore gave her the appearance of a magazine model, further establishing a beauty that was undeniable in her. The skirt of the dress covered little to nothing, legs bare on display to him. K-Billy’s Super Sounds of The 70′s played softly in the background, Tony DeFranco’s high voice gracing his ears. His heart raced, a blush tinting his cheeks that he was hoping was hidden enough from her. 

‘Oh my god! Quit it, man! She’s your best friend, stop being a horny asshole!’ he berated himself, peeling his eyes away from her. He tried to regain control of his emotions. He sat stifling in his Hawaiian resort shirt, the Californian heat only adding to how hot he was. A fuzzy sensation panged in his chest. There was a magnetic pull he was resisting, fighting his body to stop himself from touching her. Futile as it was, he battled himself. 

“ You’ve been dead silent since we left, Jeremy, s’not like you. Are you alright?�� her voice came in a concerned inquiry. Pink almost jumped back in his seat. He had been so engrossed in his inner turmoil he hadn’t realized she was so worried. He turned to look at her. It took his all to stop his eyes from darting to her lips, but he stole several small looks. Her gloss shimmered, enticing him. A brief image of him kissing her filled his brain. Her juicy, plump, silken mouth on his, tongues swirling and moans sounding in the car. 

‘Oh god’, he swallowed, cracking a teasing smile at his best friend. 

“ You’re such a mother hen, Y/N. Can’t a man have a minute of peace and quiet with his own thoughts or did the feminist movement take that privilege away?” Y/N rolled her eyes, smacking his arm.

“ At least you’re still an asshole. We’ll be there soon. I can’t wait to see what feature is on, I hope it’s something exciting.” she laughed, him joining her. 

“ Me too. All this mainstream bullshit is killing me. Brown keeps riding me about taking you out to this joint, says that all the cool indie stuff is here.”

“ I suppose he’d know, being the dorky cinephile he is.” 

“ No shit, Sherlock. Hey, can you crack the window. The heat’s fucking with my head.” 

“ Yeah,” she did as he asked, the cool air hitting his face in a much needed draft. Some form of relief, he supposed. 

“ Oh god, what a drag! That was terrible!” Y/N sighed after the movie had finished, sitting on a cliffside pullout facing Los Angeles. The distant city glimmered in a vast sea of gold, red, and blue hues, twinkling stars in both Pink and Y/N’s eyes. She inhaled her cigarette, the cherry going livid with her drawn breath. A half spent one hung between his lips. He grunted, leaning back in his seat. His eyes closed, head going back to the rest. Once again, thoughts of Y/N crossed his mind. The movie had been awful, one of the worst he had ever seen. The plot was messy, the characters unlikable and dull, cinematography low in quality like a camcorder underwater, and an overall disaster. Why people raved about it and upheld it as the pinnacle of modern filmmaking, he could not understand, nor would he try to. Throughout the movie, he drifted into a series of fantasies around Y/N. He hadn’t questioned why in the moment, just letting them come. It had dawned on him in the passenger seat of her Sedan, as the film rolled on the drive-in theatre’s gigantic screen, what he was feeling--love. It came as if the earth beneath him was caving inwards. He was in love with her. Even thinking about it then, he laughed at the thought. No, Jeremy Davidson was not a man to callously fall in love like a schoolboy. Nonetheless when the person in question was his best friend. Y/N was practically unattainable, she’d be disgusted with him if she ever found out about his silly little infatuation. 

‘ That is all this is, you stupid fuck. Infatuation and nothing more. You’re just not thinking clearly right now, don’t act blindly.’ 

“ Jeremy?” he jerked to look at her, regretting the snap he sent in her direction.

“ For fuck’s sake, what? I’m fine, Y/N!” she recoiled, brows furrowing. He reached out to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. The icy gold of his ring pressed into her skin. She didn’t pull away, looking confused and hurt.

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blow my top on you, Y/N. I... I’m just going through some bullshit right now. You know I didn’t mean to do that.”

“ Jeremy, you know you can tell me anything. What’s going on?” he hesitated, the words wedging in his throat. What wouldn’t sound insane and make sense at the same time? He had no clue how to react, opening his mouth to reply several times but never uttering anything but pathetic squeaks. She shifted forward, suddenly cupping his cheek. He went rigid, eyes bulging in shock. 

“ Hey, it’s okay. I promise I’m not going to come up with some snarky comment or sarcastic jab. You know I love you no matter what.” 

“ Not in the way I want you to.” It left his mouth before he could stop it. He cursed, pushing her away gently. 

“ I’m sorry, I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me--!”

Going to open the door, she stopped him by gripping his wrist. All traces of worry had vanished from her face, replaced with concern. She leaned forward, crawling onto his lap. 

“ I take it just being friends doesn’t suit you anymore, stupid?” she smirked. In an instant, all his grief dissipated. He could see her determination, her approval, her love for him. No longer did he see through a darkened veil. No, he saw everything clearly for the first time in his life. There was a sense of relief that encompassed him. He grinned back, putting out his cigarette on his jean-clad leg in one go.

“ Just shut up and kiss me, Y/N.” 

They wasted no time, him immediately taking her lips in a fervid kiss. Before they continued any further, he beckoned her to the backseat. She followed quickly, her lipstick bright pink on his lips and the facial hair of his chin. On the beige pleather, she threw herself and spread her legs open to him. It was a thrilling view that he delighted in. He crawled on top of her, launching into another kiss. His hands roamed across her body, hers doing the same. The sudden lust for her came like a crashing wave, and he couldn’t help but channel it into his actions. 

“ Oh god, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do this, Y/N.” 

“ Me too, Jeremy. Fuck, you’re so good.” 

“ Are we really gonna do this here?”

“ Why not? I’m not going to stop now that we’re so far into this.”

“ Couldn’t have put it better myself, clever little vixen. Help me get out of my pants and I’ll show you just how hot you make me.”

I hope you are okay with how I did this, I apologize sincerely if this wasn’t what you wanted. Thank you to @guiltyofallsevensins for the request, please go give their blog a follow everyone! Have a good day everyone, and don’t stop with the requests and asks! They make my day, and I love hearing from you guys. 

[ms-indifferwnt]

I’m Cold

“I'm cold"

"And?"

"Can't you give me your jacket or something?"

"Can't you accept my proposal and marry me already?"

In which Prince Donghyuck's parents are forcing him to get married and he decided to propose to the first girl he sees to shut his parents up

Genre: Prince!Lee Donghyuck x Maid!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Arranged Marriage (kinda), Slowburn

Warnings: Curse words, Suggestive (I'll add more if there are)

Notes: Chapter 5 of Im Cold. Sorry this one took longer, hope you guys enjoy

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

Prev / Chapter 5 / Next

"We'll take it" The Prince starts and Y/n looks at him in shock

"My Prince, er Donghyuck we don't have to," She starts and looks at herself in the mirror "This isn't necessary"

He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head while he readjusted his sitting position "I promised you we'd go shopping so we're going shopping" he eyes her and shakes his head "I don't like that," he looks to the sales lady "Get me a darker color of that exact dress"

"Donghyuck!"

He smiles and playfully copies her tone "Y/n" He crosses his arms "Let me spoil you, besides didn't I tell you to take advantage of me?" He asks

"You're the prince"

"Which is exactly why you have to do so, I would be very disappointed otherwise" He looks to the side and bowed his head at the sales lady with the different colored dress "Try this one" he hands it off to her and she furrows her eyebrows not taking the dress "Put this on willingly or I help you put it on?"

You blinked "You're kidding" you dared and stood your place

"Alright," He says moving to lead you inside the changing room "I'll help you change"

Only for you to yelp and grab the dress "I'll change, I'll change, stop it" walking inside the changing room, wearing the dress he has given her, it was a maroon colored wrap dress, with sleeves that reach her wrists an a skirt a couple of inches higher than her knees.

She walked out, showing the prince the latest dress he has picked out for her and received a shocked reaction from the prince. He knows that the wrap dress would look beautiful on her since he has seen her wear that dress and he has asked for a darker color but, Oh My God, she looked beautiful, the dress was absolutely perfect for her, he trailed his eyes down her body,  and then nods

"We'll take it" He says to the sales lady and points at it "that is my favorite dress, wear it for tonight"

She raises an eyebrow in confusion "What's gonna happen tonight?"

He smiles and shakes his head "Nothing, now change back then lets go get jewelry"

"Your highness-" She started and stayed in place

"Go, Y/n" He ushers and smiles "then we can get ice cream"

"You're highness you're not allowed with too much sweets"

"Then I won't eat, you will, besides I love sweets"

Arriving back at the palace Y/n and the prince (mostly Y/n) was exhausted and excited to just lie in bed and be on her phone and just be by herself, today was too eventful for her liking

"Then I decided to bathe my pink turtle-" He replies when he notices the the female wasn't paying attention to him anymore and was proven right when she nodded

He rolls his eyes ,"Y/n" He calls and snaps his fingers infront of her face "Wakey-wakey?"

She blinks and bows in apology once the prince was able to hold her down to reality "Sorry, I was thinking"

He nods "its fine, I tired you out didn't I?" He chuckles "You should rest, you're gonna need it for the days to come. I'll wake you myself for dinner, so don't worry about it" He leads her to her room, assuring her as he holds her hand.

Once the Prince leaves her room she picks out a change of comfortable clothes and collapsed on the bed. She has been a maid for quite a while but today has left her exhausted, she feels absolutely drained, she was thankful for the rest she was about to have

She couldn't help but think about the Prince and the early encounters, was he always that protective? She shifts and hugs one pillow, remembering that moment when the Prince was furious that he almost did something he might regret, If she wasn't there, something must've happened

"Lets go get Ice-cream"

She blinks and smiles, He did nothing today but buy her cake, clothes, jewelry, and Ice cream. The Prince made sure she was comfortable and not left out, he would be a wonderful King, She sighs and closes her eyes, her thoughts and dreams being plagued by the beautiful sun kissed boy "And when the two weeks are over, we go our separate ways"

She doesn't know why, or what makes this feeling so strong but all of a sudden she hates herself

Donghyuck sat crossed legged in the tea room as his parents spoke to him about his day and his chosen benefactors, it was boring and he barely listened,  his hands moved to play with his watch, a habit he has developed after Prince Chenle gave him a watch on his thirteenth birthday, speaking of that, Chenle's birthday is coming up, Donghyuck should really think of a present for the guy. Come to think of it, he doesn't know about Y/n's birthday, he should ask her, yeah he'll ask her

"Donghyuck" His mom brought him out of his day dream "are you even listening to me?"

He nods, he wasn't, "I was, and I can say yes, its possible" His dad raises his eyebrow and Donghyuck slyly and carefully waved his hand to ask for help from him who distracted his wife, sparing the prince from an earful

Donghyuck leans back, calling over his one of the stand ins there Yuta, who was also one of his friends "What were we talking about? I wasn't listening"

He smiles amused by the Prince "Being in love does that too you," He teases "I honestly thought I'll never see the day-"

"Shut up and tell me Hyung" Donghyuck mumbles

"The queen asked if Lady Y/n would join dinner and you replied with a quote 'yes, its possible'"

Donghyuck groaned as Yuta teases him. He can't believe he just agreed to something on her behalf by accident. There's nothing he could do now, right? I mean the choices were wake Y/n up and probably get the stink eye (she just seems like the person who gets cranky when you wake them. Every morning Y/n would wake up on her own, so its not impossible) or decline his mom's offer and get yelled at.

"I'll wake you myself for dinner, so don't worry about it"

The Prince nods at the memory, right He can wake her and have dinner. He stands and and smiles at his Parents "I'll go wake her" He informs and leaves the room, walking slowly to her, thinking of what to say, on how to wake her "Oh, and for dessert get something sweet" he smiles and bows

The King and the Queen stared at their sons leaving figure "he doesn't like sweets...?" The Queen starts

Yuta grins at the leaving figure before bowing "It isn't for him, your Grace"

Once he entered her room, he smiles at the sight, she changed into a loose tee and shorts, he had half a mind to tuck her in and let her sleep, but he was hungry, and he didn't want to get yelled at

"Y/n" he whispered and pets her hair, sitting down on the bed beside her "Wake up, sleepy head, lets eat dinner"

Y/n roused from her dreamless sleep by the sound of his voice, at first she thought it was just her imagination but his voice kept whispering and almost lulled her to sleep until she heard his voice tell her to eat. She slowly woke up, opening her eyes to be greeted by the handsome Prince running his fingers through her locks. She didn't mean it, leaning into his touch, neither noticed until she felt the warmth of the prince's hand on her cheek and she gasps, sitting up, making the prince stand up

"um," He says, his cheeks slightly pink as Y/n refuses to look at him "Its dinner time, lets go" He stands and clears his throat standing to look through her wardrobe to not look at her in the eye

He places his hand on his chest, willing his heart to stop thumping against his ribcage, he placed his other hand (the one he was holding her with) infront of him and he blinked grabbing one of the dresses there and turning to look at her who smiled softly at the prince, she looked unaffected, he didn't like it.

Y/n's heart was still beating at an irregular pace, she smiles softly once the prince looks at her "I'm sorry but why should I wear something so fancy?"

He looks at her and smiles, placing the dress on the bed "Because, my parents wanna eat dinner with you, would you rather wear that?"

He teases and points at her tee and she instinctively covered up using the blanket and he looked away "Um, sorry" He blushed again, God this room was getting stuffy "Change into this, or would you rather a different one?"

She shakes he head, as Hana walks in bowing at the Prince and Female on the bed, "I'll change into that, thankyou"

Hana takes the dress and smiles as she leads Y/n inside the bathroom, Hana was giggling as she helped her out of her current clothes "I hope I'm not stepping out of line, but you and the Prince have a cute chemistry"

Y/n couldn't help but raise her eyebrows "We were just speaking" She points out as Hana helps he into the dress, a red mid-thigh length, sleeves up until the elbow, the edge of the dress, the skirt part was adorned with a golden design, it sparkled with her movement, she would never admit it but the prince had a wonderful taste in clothes

"Well you were," Hana smiles and and adjusts the skirt so that  it doesn't folded inward "But you and the Prince still have that, shy aura around, not many couples posses that now a days, My lady"

Maybe because we're not dating. Y/n hums and looks at the mirror "They don't?"

Hana nods "I assure you, MiLady, They Don't"

Arriving at the dining hall, with The Prince's and Y/n's armed linked together, you can tell from a far that she would be the perfect bride, The Prince was mischievous and everyone can tell, he had something up his sleeve, He helped her to her seat first, and usually the Prince would be teasing or joking around but for tonight, The King and The Queen watched as their son gave Y/n a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze, a silent promise that she'll be alright

"Y/n" The Queen calls and Y/n bows along with the Prince "Please, no need to bow, you'll be family" She looks at The Prince at her words and He squeezes her hand again before helping her sit "Donghyuck is so proper with you, such a nice change of pace" She starts and laughs as The prince looked at her in shock

"I am Proper!" He raises his voice

"Donghyuck" Y/n calls and looks at him warningly, you do not raise your voice at the Queen, he looks at her and closes his mouth, sitting down with a small huff when she tugs on his sleeve

The King laughs at the display infront of him, "Donghyuck, you're fiance is right, don't raise your voice at your mother" He smiles and looks at her bowing his head "Its nice to finally meet you, Y/n"

She bows her head "Its my pleasure, Your Grace"

"Please, no need to be so formal" He smiles and assures "We're thankful to have you, Donghyuck needed someone who could control him" He teases

The Queen nods and smiles at Y/n "besides the point, we know you might be a little scared, but please don't be, We're happy to have you in our life, especially Donghyuck"

Donghyuck was focused on Y/n through out the conversation on the way she spoke and acted and how she would bow her head at every word, he looked at how she fidgeted whenever his parents spoke directly at her and he reaches out to push the hair behind her ear, making her look and he smiles "you're doing great" He praises, both implied as a don't worry and acting as his fiance

The King and Queen smiled at how affectionate their son was.

Once Dinner was served everybody started eating, Y/n joining the conversation from time to time until the King stood up "Donghyuck, I need to show you something, come with me"

Donghyuck looks at Y/n "you gonna-" he earned a small laugh from her, effectively cutting him off

"I'll be fine, besides, the King is more important then me"

Donghyuck shrugs and stands up "Well, not exactly"

Y/n blinks "What-?"

He winks teasingly and followed his father

Once they left the Queen stands, making Y/n to aswell "Lets go for a walk in the garden while they ready dessert?" She asks and Y/n nods

The queen leads her out into the hallway and into the garden, Y/n was amazed at how beautiful the flowers looked at night which made the Queen laugh "You've never seen the garden at night?"

"No, My Queen" She answers and stands, no longer kneeling to be face to face with the Iris Flowers "I was one of the maids in charge of keeping the rooms of the palace spotless, I'm usually cleaning at night"

The Queen nods and leads her at one of the garden chairs, letting her sit "Please, don't be so formal, We'll be family soon, its only fair to call me normally" She smiles at her teasingly "I wouldn't mind being called Mother by you either"

Y/n blushes, "I-" she starts out as the redness crawls up her neck making the Queen laugh more

She stops with a wave of her hand, while some maids place the tea and desserts on the table in front of them "Actually, Y/n, I would like to properly thank you", Y/n opens her mouth to speak but the Queen beat her to it "Thank you for returning Donghyuck's feelings and staying by his side, His Father and I have been worried, all we ever wanted is for him to be happy, and being with you does that to him" She smiles and reaches out to hold her hand "Thank you"

I’m Cold Taglist:

@staysstrays @tyongf-sunflower99 @jackyeonglli @rebel-lious-alien

If you wanna be added, leave a comment♡♡

[ikefool]

Hi 👋🏼 can I ask for a female MC who has been holed up in her room for a while and when the boys come to check on her catch her wearing every piece of jewelry she has ever received since she been at the mansion. Can be sweet or spicy and your choice for the suitors 😁 I'm not Arthur or Will's biggest fan. Thanks and no worries if you can't get to it. ❤️

Somefing sweet to contrast the absolute thirst that has been going on in my blog.

Napoleon:

* You hadn’t been to his room to wake him, and when he woke up on his own to the midday sun his brow had furrowed from both concern and the sunlight hitting his face.

* Could you be sick? But he had seen you only yesterday, and you seemed fine. He tries to stall, takes his time dressing and freshening up. Should he check on you? No, you’re fine, the fact that you didn’t come to wake him doesn’t mean you’re not okay, does it?... Better go check on you.

* When he approaches your door he can hear you softly humming a gleeful tune. You’re fine, then, he doesn’t need to worry. He’s about to turn around and leave when he hears you giggle softly. An now he has to know.

* He peers inside only to see you twirling in front of the mirror, neck adorned with quite a few necklaces, wrists jangling with bracelets. Your ears shimmer with dangly earrings, and you glitter like a dew-sprinkled spiderweb. He looks both ways and spots Jean at the end of the hallway, looking suspiciously at his crouched form where he’s peeking into you room.

* Napoleon raises a finger to his lips and winks at him, then dives into the room to catch you with your back turned in the middle of a twirl. You shriek in surprise and then laughter as you realize who is carrying you, turning in circles and continuing your dance. “You look lovely, nunuche, such fine jewels only enhance your glittering eyes.” He can barely speak through his own laughter. Your face heats with embarrassment and you swat at him. Out in the hallway, Jean shakes his head and leaves.

Vincent:

* Vincent blinks rapidly, trying to come back to reality. His painting is almost finished, but today’s light is waning, and he knows from experience that if he keeps going by candelight the colors won’t turn out right. He looks out the window, puzzled. Had he really been painting that long? He had been so focused he hadn’t noticed.

* And another thing, had he even seen you at all today? He stretches in his chair and gets up slowly, looking around as if he would find you standing right behind him. You aren’t, of course. He frowns softly, deciding to go check on you before heading down for dinner.

* He looks out the window, it’s too late for you to be hanging up the laundy to dry. But perhaps you’re having tea with Le Comte? Hm, you aren’t. He has no luck in the kitchen, Sebastian tells him he hasn’t seen you all day, except for breakfast. Vincent feels a little bad that he had spent your day off just painting when he could have been with you, but he had genuinely forgotten, focused too deeply on his piece as he was.

* It’s not really like you to be holed up in your room all day, but maybe you’re not feeling well? As he approaches your door, a small giggle can be heard from inside your room. Vincens smiles softly, wondering what could have you in such a good mood. The door is shut, so he knocks quietly before letting himself in. You squeak, cheeks going red and accessories tinkling wildly when you spin around to face him.

* “You look pretty as a flower, my sunshine” He’s leaning against the door like his teasing, but you can see in his eyes that he says it genuinely. Even though the jewerly you’re wearing doesn’t match at all, and you know you must look ridiculous, he still looks at you with loving eyes. You curtsy at him shyly and switch a golden necklace from your nech to his. “There, we can be pretty together.” Vincent’s laugh washes over you like the dawn.

Mozart:

* Something’s wrong. He has been able to write music undisturbed for hours now, when he looks around his piano room not a speck of dust is in sight, everything is perfect. Mozart frowns. Something is definetely wrong, it itches under his skin. He tries to go back to composing, but the quiet is deafening. Alright, that’s it. Where the hell are you?

* What if he needs something? Yes, okay, he doesn’t need anything right now, but what if some dust flies in from the window, hm? Or, what if he suddenly needs to drink some Rouge? He needs it to live, you know?! Highly unproffesional of you, to be honest... he’d better go see what’s keeping you. Not that he’s worried.

* Mozart tells himself he’s walking quickly because he’s in a hurry to get back to his music, and yet when he gets to your room and hears you walking around inside he almost slumps in relief. He knows it’s you, he’d recognize your loud, clumsy gait anywhere. 

* When he swings the door open there you are, mothodically slipping bracelet after bracelet onto your wrists. “And what exactly are you doing?” He shoots for annoyed but misses spectacularly. The way you jump nearly a foot in the air at the sound of his voice combined with your wide eyes and the tinkling sound of clinking jewerly is too much. Mozart raises a hand to his mouth but it does little to cover his laughter.

* Your eyes viden even further as you blink at him in surprise, the sight causes another boyish cackle to escape him. “Oh, I’m sure the nobles would love that. You look very fashionable, mein liebe.” You raise your hands to your cheeks and pout at him. Mozart hooks a long finger to one of your many necklaces and pulls you closer, he wiggles the chain to make it tinkle against the others, and after another quiet chuckle draws near to plant a kiss on your forehead.

Isaac:

* He’s tired, he knows that. After spending all day at the university giving lectures and then putting together some exercises for the children he feels bone tired. Still, he’d like to finish this paper sooner rather than later. You’d probably tell him to stop though... speaking of. Why weren’t you telling him to stop? Now that he’s thinking about it, he hasn’t seen you at all today.

* He rubs at his tired eyes before getting up in a hurry. Had he missed some special anniversary? Wait, you hadn’t even been together that long. Maybe- oh no, what was the date again? It wasn’t your birthday, right?! Oh god, oh no. He picks up his pace, almost running to your room, apology already at the tip of his tongue. Hopefully you wouldn’t hate him.

* Isaac bursts into your room in a panic, and immediately finds himself about one inch from your face. You both shriek. “I’m sorry!” he exclaims, turning around and covering his eyes even though you’re fully dressed, his cheeks are flaming red. “No- It’s- it’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to barge in like that, not that I don’t like seeing you”.

* He finally peeks through his fingers, his face is still red, but he finds enough courage to turn around and face you fully. His face twists into a puzzled expression. “Why are you wearing those?” He points to the many delicate chains and glittering jewels that adorn, well, all of you. Is this a new fashion? Maybe something from your time? He has no clue what women like to wear in the future. You look beautiful, of course, just... it’s a little bright.

* ”Oh!” It’s your turn to flush, you look down at yourself with a nervous giggle “Um, I was just fooling around, I guess?” Isaac feels like an arrow has shot through his heart “Adorable” he whispers. “Hm?” Your head tilts with confusion. “Nothing!” he says hurriedly, and sweeps you into a kiss to distract you from his blush.

[author-morgan]

Oof I have a craving for Jealous!Alexios, but I can't decide between post-Deimos Alexios or just good ole Regular Alexios?? It's an ongoing struggle! But then I'm also intrigued at Alexios meeting Eivor, or post-Deimos Alexios fighting alongside Kass and absolutely LOSING it when she gets injured in battle? I... *sigh*... take your pick if any of these interest you! I trust you and your writing :P

sorry it took so long, but here ya go! went with jealous Deimos, hope you don’t mind.

Deimos!Alexios x fem!Reader

DEIMOS ADJUSTS THE bronze fibulae at his shoulder, shifting around on his feet —uncomfortable with how vulnerable he feels wearing the deep scarlet exomis. He is not used to being without the black-and-gold armor of the Cult nor without his sword but tonight duty demands it. Part of his unease fades as he watches you on the opposite side of the room.

The nigh threadbare material of your chiton puddles around your feet, but you are quick to slide into the deep blue peplos. “Aphrodite would be envious,” he remarks moving to stand before you, in his hand is a golden necklace with red and green stones. Warmth rushes to your cheeks at his flattery —he had been doing that often as of late. Pulling your hair aside, Deimos drapes the jewelry over your head, securing the hook clasp at the back of your neck.

“It’s not wise to invoke her wrath, Deimos,” you chide. The goddess rarely took kindly to being compared to mortals. He rolls his eyes and unwittingly reaches out, thumb tracing over your cheek —tinted pink with crushed rose and red wine. The urge in his heart says to give into years of longing and kiss you, but there is a lump in his throat, and it does not fade. You look up at him, wondering what thoughts plague his mind, and why he ignores the clear connection time has forged between you. Sighing, you step back, and his hand falls back to his side —clenching into a tight fist. “We should go,” you remind him. Deimos nods.

Samos is unlike the rest of the Greek world, despite the corruption of its leader —it is peaceful and prosperous. The agora of the polis is filled with famed Samian wine and oils coveted by Athenian citizens and Olympic athletes alike. Compared to the busy streets of Kirrha and the constant influx of pilgrims seeking wisdom in Delphi, you think a quiet place such as this would not be such a terrible place to live. The thought brings a distant dream back to the forefront of your mind as you look around the seaside city and to Deimos at your side. Maybe one day we can stay in a place like this, you think.

“I despise these things,” he says, brows settling into a deep furrow as you both stop at the villa’s entrance. Deimos preferred to keep to himself if he could not be with you, and he dreads large gatherings —like the one you must attend tonight. The Cult suspects Lasthenes of Samos is dealing information to their adversaries and slowing them from reaching their goals in the Southern Sporades. They have sent their champion to find if there are any truths in the rumors —you accompany him as a temper. Of all the people in Hellas, only you could quell the fire when it burned too hot in Deimos.

You reach for his hand out of impulse —surprised when he slips his fingers between yours. “I don’t care for them either,” you tell him, something about symposiums always puts you on edge, “but at least we’re together.” His lips kink into a fleeting smile, it feels like a small victory to know you are at his side. It does not last long, though as the ladies in attendance sweep you away into conversation, leaving the men to the andron and courtyard.

Time blurs with the droning gossip, tiring of the talk you slip down the stairs from the rooftop and back to the courtyard, eyes scanning those gathered for Deimos. He is not to be seen. Sighing, you turn your sights to the kitchen —eager to fill your belly with wine. Your plan is thwarted when Lasthenes approaches, a serpent’s smile crossing his pinched face. The leader of Samos is garbed in fine robes bought with the blood of innocents.

“Aphrodite has come to visit Samos it seems,” Lasthenes remarks, lifting a jeweled hand to your cheek. You step away from the leader, turning your cheek away from his unwelcome touch. Deimos lingers just out of sight, the blood in veins beginning to boil. “Tell me how I know every face on this island–” Lasthenes steps toward you again, you back hitting one of the marble columns surrounding the perimeter of the courtyard “–and yet I have never seen yours.” It was uncommon for strangers to be invited to his symposiums —even the hetaerae had familiar faces.

You know why Deimos had been sent to Samos and Lasthenes would be more apt to dispel an accidental truth to you rather than him. Drawing in a long breath, you decide to play along. “I have traveled all the way from Delphi to be here tonight,” you tell the leader, taking the offered cup of wine. That much is true, you and Deimos had sailed from Phokis nigh a week ago and had spent two nights on Samos, waiting for tonight.

“The Goddess of love and beauty has travelled far, then,” Lasthenes says, silver-tongue not missing a beat. You laugh, brushing back what hair slips from its bindings and taking a gulp of the sweet watered wine. “Is it to your taste?” He inquires. You nod in response, though before you can speak another man, garbed in Persian robs interrupts —leaning close to whisper something in his ear.

It is not so low that you cannot overhear, though. He speaks of a meeting between a Spartan general and Persian merchant and you can make out the name Perikles on the man’s lips, too. “I’ll be there shortly,” Lasthenes replies, turning his attention back to you. “Those affairs can wait,” he assures, resting his hand on your arm, “I’d like to learn of the goddess before me.” You force a smile and however insincere it may be, Lasthenes takes no notice of it.

When the leader motions toward a private room, you spot Deimos among those gathered alas. His face is almost as red as the exomis he wears, and his hands are clenched into fight fists at his sides. You recognize the cold anger in his dark eyes, but there is something else too. Deimos storms from the villa. Had it been up to his digression, Lasthenes would be dead —anyone suspected of trading secrets would be inclined to actually do it for the right incentives. But that is not all that weighs on his mind as he leaves the symposium.

Your gaze follows Deimos until you can no longer see him. “I have to go,” you announce, somewhat apologetic while looking back over your shoulder at the leader —noticing the suspicion growing in his stare. Lasthenes says nothing as he watches you leave.

Finding Deimos is not difficult as he often ends up on a beach when something has gone wrong or is bothering him. He paces back-and-forth on the white sand before the villa. To anyone else he is a caged animal in these moments —dangerous and to be avoided— but to you he is still Deimos. You step into his path, placing your hand on the center of his chest. “Deimos,” you sigh, “what is it?” His dark gaze flicks downward before he looks at you.

Then you see the glint in his tawny-gold eyes and understand why is acting this way. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you tell him, lips turning upward into a smile. He huffs, brows furrow, though now his anger has faded. You move the hand on his chest up to his cheek —tracing over the scar below his eye. Had it not been for having to leave earlier, perhaps something could have happened between the two of you.

Without thinking, you push up onto your toes, if Deimos will not act then you will. Your lips find his under the silver light of the moon and stars. His hands are quick to settle on your hips, pulling you closer. It feels like a dream and if it is, Deimos never wishes to wake. All his unease fades into nothing. Feet entangled in the excess fabric of your peplos, you topple forward —not expecting it, both you and Deimos fall back into the sand.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone else, Deimos,” you confess. Flattery and gifts could never buy your love or affection, for your heart already belonged to another. His fingers brush your cheek, moving back into your hair. Despite his sour mood and what had transpired at the symposium, his gaze is soft as he fights to hold back a smile. “My heart is yours.” It had been for some time.

You do not expect Deimos to say anything in turn —he is a man of few words and it may take him a while to find the right ones to say. But the way he kisses you is more than enough for now. Deimos holds you close under a clear night sky —waves breaking softly on the shoreline— as you exchange tender caresses and slow kisses, making up for lost time.

[@novastale @fjor-ok-skadi ]

[hwangsbbg]

hey you!!:) i'd like to request a ship with nct, bts and the boyz! thank you so much<3

my pronouns are she/her, i'm 20 y/o and born on the 29th of june 2000, which makes me a cancer sun, libra moon and sagittarius rising! i'm 5'9 or 173 cm and have longs legs, and an hourglass like figure with wide hips and a small waist. i have shoulder length brown hair, which is dyed blonde underneath. i have tattoos on my arms and a lip ring, a nose piercing and a bellybutton piercing. i wear delicate golden rimmed glasses and like wearing jewelry, especially rings. i also have a lot of freckles all over my face and very fair skin and grey eyes. i like light and shimmery make up and doing my nails and have a light academia style with pastel colors. i love wearing tight dresses and high heels and love going out for cocktails. i'm bisexual, love love love feminity in any gender and am an infp-t. i'm a jokester and troublemaker and always the youngest, wherever i go lmao. i love reading, painting, greek mythology and witchcraft. my favorite color is yellow. i am currently a university student and am studying english and philosophy to become a teacher but i'd really love to work at a book publishing company. i love traveling, the stars, bubble tea, horror movies and writing poetry.

i rarely open up to people and never catch feelings lmao but i do love a lot still.<3

again, thank you so so much and i hope you have a great day!:)) love ya<3

Oh my God, you're like perfect for Ten. Like you ARE PERFECT for Ten. I can envision matching tattoos, painting or reading together, doing each others nails and makeup, cuddling while he reads to you, him constantly praising you for your writing. I think he'd be so genuinely whipped for your entire aesthetic, like he'd be attracted to your piercings and tattoos and the way you dress. You'd be the sarcastic and funny couple who can't keep their hands off of each other which I find super cute. I'm sorry you and Ten would be so perfect?!

BTS I think Jungkook would be perfect because I feel like even the way you look goes well with him. He'd be kinda a fool in love with you and it would fit your dynamic so well because you'd slowly open up to him and his charms. He'd genuinely just find you really interesting and would show a different, softer side of him with you. He'd probably get a tattoo related to you and have you freak out about it 🤣

For The Boyz, my mind immediately went to Kevin. Not only is he absolutely in love with poetry and English literature but he'd probably catch on to all the references you make. Kevin isn't afraid to show a more feminine side of him which suits your taste and the two of you would get along really well, especially over your love of art. He believes art is a form of self expression, be it on a canvas or on your body through tattoos, makeup and whatnof and so painting together and wearing matching jewelry is definitely a thing for the two of you. He'd play piano for you and be a hopeless romantic, easily getting you to let down your walls.

Your personality is so attractive though like wow, marry me. I hope you like this and hope you have a great day! 💘

[ld-666]

The Hurt But Forgiving Bard & The Confused But Now Very Emotional Witcher

Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman were investigating what appeared to be a large piece of a castle that had just fell out of a portal when they heard someone underneath the rubble calling for help, most probably someone that lives there. His friends helped move the bits of debri and they pulled the man dressed in brightly colored clothing out while Clark lifted the larger pieces that they couldn't. Superman wondered if he was a prince based on how handsome he is and his attire.

"Are you alright?" Diania asked.

The man dusted off his clothes.

"Yes, I'm alright." He answered.

However when his eyes met Clark's he had suddenly looked as though he was filled with pure rage and then he threw himself at him.

"You!" He shouted.

The now very angry man had even punched him straight in the jaw, but of course he didn't actually harm him at all and he had just wound up only breaking his own hand in the process, he screamed in pain as he clutched his wrist and now crying.

"Owwww, damn, your strong owww!!!" He had shouted very loudly. "Ya could have maybe warned me about that?"

"Well I didn't know that you were going to punch me." He said as he took a closer look at his hand, making sure to be gentle. "Looks a lot like all of your fingers and basically your entire hand are completely broken."

"Certainly feels like it, wait what were you expecting me to do after what you said to me?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, have we met before?" He asked.

"What are you talking about? I had been traveling with you for over twenty years and not to mention that we have both actually built up some very well known reputations in between our adventures." He answered. "Besides I'd think that I would recognize the man that had just basically left me on the top of a Dragon infested mountain to fend for myself right after breaking my heart and telling me to fuck off."

Clark was now definitely hoping that this actually very beautiful man had mistaken him for some one else, even hearing about that made him feel bad and he does not even recall doing such a thing.

"Um okay, Diana you mind using your lasso to see if he is actually talking about me or hopefully someone that just looks like me?" He asked, his voice was now trembling. "If you don't mind of course?"

"Go ahead, after all worst case scenario is that I had punched a completely different person and since you don't really seem to be too mad about that it will probably just be so awkward for everyone." He said as he had held out his none broken hand for the brightly glowing golden lasso to be just gently wrapped around.

"Alright then, did I actually leave you all the way up a mountain almost all alone?" Clark asked.

"Yes, you did." He answered. "Specifically you had said to me that if life could give you just one blessing it would be to take me off of your hands, and then you had just left me there while I was still stunned by what you said.

Clark's heart sank, he had left a man that had loyally stayed by his side for so long on a mountain alone where also apparently possibly being attacked by Dragons was a actually a very likely thing to happen.

"I was a fucking heartless bastard." He said.

"Well not completely, you just only openly showed affection to horses or at least only to your very loyal mare, Roach." He replied.

"So I have a horse?" He asked.

"Actually you have probably have had enough horses for an entire army to ride on into battle, yet you gave them all the exact same name, probably because you had especially outlived them all." He answered.

"How old am I?" He asked.

"I think about 154 years old currently." He answered. "Although you had mentioned that you had actually stopped counting all together and I can't really say that I blame you."

"Why do I only remember 34 of them?" He asked as he tried to process all of this information.

"I don't know." He answered.

"Well for what it's worth I'm sorry for what I had said to you and how I had hurt you." He said.

"Apologies for that punch." The man had replied still with the lasso on him. "Guess that eating the fucking bones of animals makes the ones that you are actually supposed to have a whole lot stronger than the normal ones."

"Okay, well that's not why my bones are strong now and I had absolutely no idea that I had ever eaten any bones before." He said. "Actually now that I think about it I think I may have grossed myself out a bit also when did I actually do that?"

"A lot of times actually, although it actually wasn't as disgusting as it sounds since technically you would just swallow an entire animal whole as long as it was small enough to go down and there are actually a lot of worse things that I've seen you do." He answered. "Such as that one time in Novigrad when you had actually used yourself as bait by rubbing with blood, some animal hair, and some cheap wine in order to lure out a Katikan."

"Yeah that is actually pretty gross, I hope I bathed after that, wait to lure out a what exactly?" He asked.

"Oh it's a type of higher vampire that resembles a gigantic bat often with the ability to speak and they are often attracted to shiny objects such as jewelry." He answered.

"Alright then so this whole hunting monsters thing something that we did often?" He had asked.

"Pretty much actually, after all that is basically your entire occupation, being one of the most famous Witchers from Kaer Morhen, the school of the Wolf Geralt of Rivia and all." The man answered.

"Geralt, that's my actual name?" He asked.

"Sure, well actually one out of your many different names that you identify as, Geralt." He answered him.

"As if I did not already have enough complicated problems with with just managing to know myself already." He said.

They had all then went all the way to Superman's very well hidden Fortress of Solitude.

[garbagevanfleet]

Oh! I'll absolutely take a ship, thank you for doing these (I always love reading them) ♥ I'm Kait! I'm 28 and I'm an event planner a foundation that organizes dreams for kids (vague but not too vague ha), so I kind of work a lot but because of what we do I truly don't mind. At the same time I like to be busy, so it kind of works out. I'm a Leo and I'll be real honest here all the stereotypes (mostly) apply: I'm loud, super outgoing (I love small talk, honestly I can talk to anyone), kinda dramatic, and can be pretty fixed in opinion (my dads after seeing Hamilton were like "wow, we're going to call you Alexander now, that's so you" which hurts but I think is probably true). But at the same time my friends always tell me that I'm the most enthusiastic, loving and somehow chill person. I love black and wear almost exclusively skirts and dresses (jeans are the devils pants, I need full body movement at any time) and I love and I will also only wear gold jewelry. I collect records both old and new (pop is fun, music can sometimes just be fun is my thought) and am always listening to something! Currently on repeat is Yola and Fleetwood Mac. I recently started taking woodworking lessons (I want to make a coffee table!! Will I be able to? Who knows!!). I love baking and make a mean blueberry muffin. I love live music and shows and frequent a blues bar near my apartment and have season tickets to our theatre also if you need a concert buddy I'll go no matter who's playing. I think I wrote a lot I'm so sorry haha

Hello! You went all out for this, and I love it. I'm gonna say that Jake would think you're so cool. He'd find your chosen field of work to be so inspiring, and be perfectly happy with texting as a form of communication while you're busy, so long as you spent some really good quality time with him when you could both swing it. He'd take a long time shopping around before settling on buying you a golden necklace to wear while you're apart, but I think he's secretly really sentimental like that. I know he'd love record hunting with you but, even more, he would adore listening to the new treasures you find together while trying a new muffin recipe with you. Enjoy your date nights seeing live entertainment, leading directly into really satisfying adoration the moment you get home <3