#a lily blooms in another world

[animefeminist]

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Spoilers: there is a lot of yuri

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

Lavender

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending!), mentions of vomiting and blood.

a/n: Hello hello! This is perhaps definitely ass, but I really wanted to write for these two because I'm hopelessly in love with them both. Please enjoy!

Hanahaki Disease 花吐き病 (Japanese) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

The natural world had always brought you peace. The softness of the grass under your feet, the gentle breeze blowing against your skin, the tender feeling of a flower blooming by your hand. You were a green witch, after all.

That was what had driven your family away. You had been 12 when you first sprouted a lily from your hand. You were more curious than scared; you had always sensed there was something that separated you from the rest of your family. Something about the earth’s treasures had always called to you. 

But even at your young age, you knew who you were living with. Sharing your abilities was a recipe for disaster; a sure fire way to have you outcast from your family.

So you did your best to keep your powers a secret, honing them in private, away from the watchful eye of your parents.

When you were 20, the inevitable happened. You were meant to be collecting berries for dinner when you had spotted a Willow Tree. It was worse for wear; you could feel it pleading for help as you approached it with a soft smile.

“It’s alright,” you soothed the tree as you gently placed your palms against the soil where its roots rested, “You’ll be alright.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on strengthening the roots as green magic pulsed out from your hands, through the soil, and into the tree itself, which began to heal instantly.

The snapping of a twig broke you out from your trance, turning your head to see your mother fleeing the scene. Your heart dropped as you quickly stood, moving to follow her.

She was too fast. By the time you had returned to your cabin, everyone and everything was gone. Your entire family had left you.

You fell to your knees in the middle of what was once your home, tears rolling down your face as you stared at the ground. Numb, broken, grieving.

You don’t know how long you stayed in that spot. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you just sat, staring, longing.

It wasn’t until a cold hand lifted your chin that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

“Hello, darling,” a voice said softly, and you locked eyes with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Her brown eyes were intoxicating, drawing you in. You tilted your head at her in confusion and intrigue. Who was she? What was she doing here?

“You’ve been sat here for a week, darling. No food, no water, no sleep. You’ll kill yourself if you keep up like this,” she said as she looked at you curiously.

Your eyes widened in realization. Death. 

She shook her head at you gently, sensing your fear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not taking you. It’s not your time,” she said, stroking your hair gently. 

“Thank you, Lady Death,” you stuttered out, in awe of her soft nature, directly contrasting the connotation of her very existence.

She smiled at you in response. “You can call me Rio, sweet girl.” 

There was a moment where you two merely looked at one another before she looked away, taking on a rather stern expression. “But I feel the need to tell you, sitting here and mourning your abandonment will only hurt you. It’s not your time. So don’t let it be. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

You stumble away from her in confusion. “I thought you weren’t taking me?”

She shook her head. “I’m not taking you to the afterlife. I am, however, taking you in. You’ll be staying with Agatha and I.”

You knew that name. You had read about it during your private studies.

“Agatha? Like…’The Witch Killer’ Agatha? That Agatha?” you asked cautiously.

Rio cackled, extending her hand to you.

You took it.

And so began the years you spent with Death and her lover, Agatha Harkness. The two women were vastly different to their reputations that had preceded them. Sure, they both had a fierceness to them. They had to, in order to survive their daily lives filled with corpses and taking souls.

But, with each other, they held such a softness. Rio often came back from a long day exhausted and drained. Death didn’t tend to be a fan favorite, and people made it evident, shouting at her and berating her as she escorted the souls of their loved ones to the afterlife. But Agatha greeted her at the door each evening with a hug, simply holding her for minutes on end, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as Rio visibly relaxed into her hold.

And Rio returned the favor, treating Agatha with a love full of tenderness and warmth. Comforting her after each nightmare, preventing her from overworking herself, giving her soft apology kisses after any arguments.

Before long, you knew almost everything about the pair. You learned about Agatha and her son, and his loss which nearly tore Agatha and Rio apart. How Agatha was only a ‘Witch Killer’ to keep Nicky alive as long as she could. How Rio held such anguish and guilt at having to take Nicky’s soul. How Agatha once held it against her but now loved her as fiercely as ever.

The two were made for each other, and though they welcomed you with a similar softness to that which they showed each other, you chalked it up to them taking pity on a girl who was abandoned by her family. You knew they could never love you like they loved each other.

But that didn’t stop you from falling for them. It happened subconsciously; you never meant for it to happen. But when your heart panged in longing at seeing Agatha and Rio curled up in each other’s arms in the living room, you knew it had happened. It panged even further as you looked down, noticing a red carnation that had bloomed in your palm against your will.

You were determined to ignore it. Surely you could enjoy their presence without focusing on the way your stomach flipped when Rio smiled at you, or how your heart seemed to triple in size whenever Agatha would stroke your hair in affectionate greeting. But what you had to do became evident one morning.

“We’re headed out for a bit, doll,” Agatha said as you sat at the table eating the breakfast she had made for you.

You nodded. “Okay! Don’t stay out too late, I’m making your favorite for dinner, Ags.”

She beamed at you, making butterflies flare up in your stomach so violently they made you uneasy. “You’re a gem. Isn’t she just?” She turned to Rio, squeezing her hand gently.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the sweetest,” Rio replied, winking at you as you feel your heart beat faster.

The two bid you a final farewell before leaving for the day. As soon as they left, you began to feel an uncomfortable itch in your throat. You furrowed your brows, attempting to clear your throat to ease the discomfort, but to no avail. Eventually you began coughing. It was a cough that made you feel sick, made you feel like something was really wrong.

And when you coughed into your palm and saw the petals of daffodils, your suspicions were confirmed.

You had heard of Hanahaki disease but had always believed it to be a myth. Your heart dropped at the realization that your love for these women was going to kill you.

You had to leave.

So you did. You packed up that day and left, traveling solo for centuries as you studied the disease you suffered from. 

Luckily, it impacted witches differently than humans. As your lifespan tended to be a lot longer, the disease was longer lasting; escalating at a slower pace before killing you altogether.

For the first hundred years, it had mostly been a consistent burning in your throat and coughing up various flower petals. Miserable, but bearable nonetheless.

After those hundred years, it began to escalate at a quicker pace as the flowers bloomed quicker and sharper. After 200 years of this disease, you were weaker than ever before. Coughing constantly, a never ending sensation of your insides burning, vomiting flower petals and blood.

Yes, there was the option of surgery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to allow that option to become a reality. You didn’t want to forget the love you held for Rio and Agatha. They had shown you kindness and softness like none other. You would die before you let yourself remove the memory of them from your very soul.

And you were getting close. You knew your time was running out.

And so, after another long day of slowly dying, you stared up at the sky, longing for your loves, even though you knew it could never be.

It was then that you felt yourself being sucked into the ground beneath you, and you let out a yelp at the shock.

Before you knew it, you were clawing your way out of the ground, now in a completely unfamiliar place. You were on a path in a strange, dystopian-looking forest. You could feel the magic buzzing around you as you pulled yourself up from the ground.

“Who is that?”

“I thought we already got a green witch?”

You heard a gasp and looked up to meet a pair of blue eyes you had longed for night after night for the past 200 years.

“Agatha,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes before you could stop them.

A familiar voice said your name and you shuddered at the sound.

“Rio.”

The two women stared at you and you stared back, unsure of what to say.

“So, are you gonna introduce us to the new girl, or…” a witch in a pink dress asked and you broke your intense stare-down to introduce yourself by name to the coven of witches. 

“I’m a green witch,” you explained.

“We’ve already got one,” a teenage boy said, pointing at Rio awkwardly.

You knew well and good that Rio wasn’t here as a green witch, she was here on work business, but you didn’t want to blow what seemed to be a cover, and you also didn’t have a damn clue where you were, so you played along.

“Well, you know summoning spells, you never know how many you’re gonna get…” you tried cautiously, still feeling the gaze of your former housemates burning into the side of your head.

“Y/N, a word?” Agatha finally asked, and you gulp before nodding and following her and Rio to a secluded part of the forest.

“Hey guys…what’s up?” you asked with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

Rio narrowed her eyes at you, crossing her arms. “What’s up is that you up and left 200 years ago without so much as a word to either of us. Care to explain?”

You tried to look to Agatha for support, but she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your stomach turned at the thought that you had upset these women you loved so deeply.

You took a deep breath, staring at the ground. “I had some business to attend to. I didn’t want either of you to get wrapped up in it.”

“Was your business ‘killing yourself?’ You look rough,” Rio said, a teasing smirk hiding her worry.

“Thanks,” you rolled your eyes, some tension releasing from your shoulders at the knowledge that Rio wasn’t angry enough to ignore you.

“You left without so much as saying goodbye,” Agatha said quietly. She sounded so hurt, and you couldn’t believe you had brought this on the pair, but you knew they deserved to love each other in peace, not be burdened at being the cause of your death.

“Ags, I’m really sorry, I should’ve said goodbye, I just-“ you were cut off as a violent coughing fit shook you, causing both women to raise their eyebrows at you.

You turned away from them as you coughed a plumeria flower out of your throat. You quickly slipped the flower into your pocket and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of your mouth before turning to face the two witches again.

The eyes on you were soft and concerned, but you shook your head at them, shutting down their questions before they even asked. “I’m fine, just a cough.”

Rio opened her mouth to protest when a witch sporting orange streaks in her hair interrupted.

“I’m sorry to get in the middle of whatever this reunion is, but I think it’s time for our next trial.”

You furrowed your brows. “Trial?” You began to realize that you had no idea where you actually were.

“Duh, we are on the Witches Road, after all!” The teenage boy exclaimed, leaving you even more confused.

The road isn’t real. You knew all about the song that Agatha had used to lure her victims in. 

“Wait, but-“ you stopped yourself from questioning any further when you saw Rio subtly shake her head at you, a silent plea to not reveal the truth of the road to the group.

You nodded in understanding, deciding to save your questions for later. “Alright, where’s the next trial?”

You looked up to see the group staring at something behind you. Agatha and Rio were particularly fascinated by it.

You turned around and your stomach dropped. You saw a cottage. It’s covered in vines and moss, making it appear worn down. But you thought it was beautiful. Perhaps that’s because it was yours. And Agatha’s. and Rio’s.

You looked at the path leading to the cottage. It was covered in flowers. You took a deep breath.

You just got here and already you were being given a trial.

As you and the rest of the coven approached the cottage, you couldn’t help but turn to the women you desire the most for comfort. 

Rio had an arm wrapped around Agatha’s waist, her thumb gently stroking the witch’s hip bone. Agatha looked up at her, smiling in gratitude, and Rio pressed a soft kiss to Agatha’s forehead.

Your stomach churned at the sight, and you felt bile rising in your throat. You painfully swallowed it back down, cringing at the effect it had on your throat, already raw from the thorns slowly tearing it to shreds.

“You good?” The witch in the pink dress asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the cottage looked just like you thought it would.

Home.

The same furniture, same pillows and blankets, same decor on the walls.

Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered all the time you had spent here with the women you loved more than anything.

“Doll,” a gentle voice said, and you turned to see Agatha looking at you softly. She approached you slowly, holding a hand out for you, but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your face and continuing to move through the house.

“This is new,” you heard Rio’s voice from the room resembling your bedroom. 

You entered and were greeted with a tapestry on your wall. It showed 5 flowers. Below the woven flowers was a message:

The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke. For if they never cared, a life cannot be spared.

“It’s my life,” you breathed out, staring in horror at the plants on the tapestry.

Rio nodded, running her fingers along the tapestry as she identified the plants.

“Lily. Rebirth,” she began.

“The birth of your powers, the birth of you as a witch,” Agatha identified.

“Willow Tree. Loss.”

“The loss of your kin. Being abandoned by those you called family,” Agatha continued.

“Red Carnations. Deep, affectionate love.”

Agatha went silent at this, her brows furrowing.

“Daffodil. Unrequited love.”

Rio and Agatha were visibly shaken by this point. What hadn’t you told them? You were in love? With who?

Rio snapped her head to look at you upon seeing the last flower.

“Plumeria,” she said grimly.

Agatha’s eyes were wide. “What does that mean?” 

Rio only continued to look at you.

“Rio, what does that mean???”

Her question was answered as you began to cough violently again, the sheer force of it bringing you to your knees.

Agatha rushed over to you in a panic. She looked at the rest of the coven in terror. “What’s happening to her?” she cried as you began to choke.

“The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke,” the teenager said.

“Hanahaki disease,” the witch in pink breathed out.

“What the hell is that?” Agatha was crying now, watching as petals and thorns made their way out of your mouth covered in blood.

“A disease that affects someone facing unrequited love,” Rio said in realization.

As she put the pieces together she knelt in front of you in an instant, anger coursing through her.

“You left because of this,” she said, her voice low, “You thought we didn’t love you, so you left?” she asked incredulously.

“Didn’t want—you to—-see me die,” you gasped out, fighting for air as you began to cough up more and more blood.

“You’re not dying, Y/N. I won’t take you,” Rio choked out, her sorrow getting the best of her. 

“Better this way,” you managed, and Agatha choked out a sob.

“It’s not, doll, we love you, we love you,” she cried helplessly.

The whole coven stood in shock. The two women they feared the most were in the most pain they had seen since they began to walk the road.

Both women hold you tight, desperately trying to convince you of their love.

Rio grabbed your face to look at her. “There’s a reason I took you in that day, mi vida,” she whispered as tears fell down her face, “I felt pulled to you. I knew you would be special to me. Aggie and I love you so much, please believe me.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, ignoring the blood and petals and thorns and focusing on you. Just you.

When she pulled away you gasped, finally able to gather air into your lungs.

Relief was visible throughout the entire coven. They had only just met you, but seeing how your existence being threatened had brought absolute devastation to two of the most intimidating women on earth had shaken them.

As you began to breathe again, you sagged against Agatha.

“You’re okay, doll, you’re okay now,” she assured you as she gently ran a hand through your hair.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and the rest of the coven took it as their cue to leave, giving you three a moment to recover.

As you laid against Agatha, you looked at Rio with tired eyes. “Sorry for getting blood on you,” you rasped, causing the woman to roll her eyes at you.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” She scolded before taking both of your hands in hers. “I. Love. You.”

Tears filled your eyes at her earnest confession. “I’m so sorry I ran,” you began, your body shaking, “I saw the love you had for each other, and how much you had healed each other, and I couldn’t hurt that. I didn’t want you to see me die. It wouldn’t have been your fault,” you said brokenly.

Agatha shushed you, kissing the top of your head. “You shouldn’t have run. It would’ve saved us all 200 years of agony,” she said, and you hang your head in guilt.

But then you felt a cold hand lifting your chin. And suddenly you were 20 years old again, looking into the eyes of Lady Death herself. 

But this time, instead of looking at you with curiosity, she looked at you with something much stronger. She looked at you with love.

“But we’ve got you back now,” she said, smiling tearfully at you, “so we’re taking you in. Is that okay?”

Your body wracked with sobs as you nodded, and both women were holding you in an instant. Your back was against Agatha’s front as her arms wrapped around your waist. Rio straddled you, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you close.

And out of the cracked wooden floor of that cottage, something bloomed.

Lavender. Healing. Love.

[astraystayyh]

to hold you close

hyunjin x reader. established relationship and fluff. this is a tribute to falling asleep next to your lover. it’s just sickeningly sweet and domestic because i miss being in love. enjoy reading x (not proofread)

autumn. you remember it as clearly as the sound of your name. it should have been your fourth date with hyunjin, but you were terribly sick. an unyielding cold caging your body in fits of coughing, and a faint, fluctuating fever. still, hyunjin insisted that he’d like to see you.

“i won’t be much fun,” you had told him over the phone, looking at the pile of used up Kleenex by your side.

“i’ll be fun enough for the both of us. plus, i miss you.” his voice was cheeky, teasing, and you remember chuckling despite yourself, warmth pooling in your chest like saccharine syrup dripping down your ribcage. you felt it even as sickness pressed heavy against your lungs, even as your skin felt like a burden to carry. you felt him.

“i miss you too, my personal jester,” you joked, and hyunjin did not reply for a while. quiet, save for the faint sound of his breathing. the truth is hyunjin has not felt like a sane man since he has known you. you’re rambling over how terrible the cold feels and yet, all he seems to think of is the simple word you used. absentmindedly. my, you said. hyunjin would sacrifice the sun if it means you’d keep calling him yours.

and so, hyunjin came over later that night. finding you in your “least prettiest state”, you argued, and yet, he still looked at you with that same shining glaze coating his eyes. like he was beholding the world’s eighth wonder. like he could pluck the stars out of the sky one by one just to give them to you, with a huge smile on his face too, no matter how tedious of a task, no matter how long it’d take.

you put on a horror movie, the scent of pumpkin spice wafting in the air, though you could not smell the candle hyunjin brought with him. you insisted he’d get sick and yet he refused to sit away from you. his shoulder pressed to yours, your head leaning against his forearm.

that’s when it happened— falling asleep together for the very first time.

you woke up to your chests pressed against one another. somewhere during the night he had pulled you atop him, his hands cradling your back so gently it made you wish to weep.

you understood then, when he tenderly kissed the tip of your nose and sniffled right after, that you’d love him a lot. that there is no other path for you but to love him. that there is a home for you to build in the empty pools of his collarbones, a place to rest against the ridges of his arms.

it terrified you. it thrilled you all the same.

—

winter. it is one of the coldest nights of the year. you’ve spent most of it hunched over on your desk, finishing up an urgent report for tomorrow. hyunjin tried to stay awake for as long as he could, humming and drawing, watching a show and flipping all over your mattress. still, sleep caught him, took him away from you before you could kiss him goodnight.

you are in your bed, you almost cry when your head hits the pillow. today has been tiring and excruciatingly long. silent tears slip down your cheeks. the covers do nothing to ease the cold.

then, hyunjin stirs.

your breath hitches. did you wake him?

slowly, blindly, his hand pats the empty space between you. then, he touches your arm—pulls you close, tucking your head beneath his chin. his breathing is slow, steady, his pulse faint beneath your ear. he sighs, almost in contentment, before melting into your hold.

he reached for you in his sleep. you don’t understand how someone can love you in their slumber. in their instincts. in their dreams. did your name write itself into his memory like it did in yours? “yes”. he’d tell you the next morning. “you are all i dreamt about.”

—

spring. the air is warm and light, and there are blooming lilies on top of your bed-drawer. but you can’t smell them. it is cruel for the breeze to be this soft and for you to be this hurt.

fights with hyunjin are very rare, so rare that when they happen it feels excruciating, like a punch to your gut, like a knife slipping right beneath your heart— not killing you. worse.

it wasn’t even a fight. just pent-up frustration from you guys’ respective jobs. still, there is a raft between your bodies. a wide space that stretches and stretches and stretches. you think it’d be easier to cross an ocean than to reach out for him.

but then, his cold feet touch yours. and your heart jumps in your chest, twirls and falls and soars once more.

hyunjin swallows, his throat dry, his tongue tied. you shift. and then, as if something snaps, you hug him. he doesn’t realize a broken sob has escaped his lips, soaking your neck with his tears. “i’m sorry angel,” he whispers, and you nod, over and over. “i’m sorry too baby,” you say, pulling him closer.

what a waste it would have been to sleep apart. to deprive your souls of the rest that is him. he’ll be here tomorrow too. you’ll wake up in his arms and you’ll be okay.

—

summer. the windows are wide open, the salt of the ocean seems to settle upon hyunjin’s skin. he smells like the waves and your sunscreen.

it is too hot. too humid. the breeze playing with your airbnb’s curtains does nothing to ease the scorching heat. but hyunjin insists on sleeping near you. so do you. it’s because you understand his need that you’ve been dating for five years now. that a huge diamond rests on your ring finger.

his arm drapes over your waist lazily, his skin is sticking to yours but you don’t mind. you’ve gone beyond minding these mortal nuisances with hyunjin. not when you feel like your souls are kneaded from one dough.

it’s a midday nap. a tradition in all your travels. your fingers touch one another gently. “sleepy?” he hums and you nod, pressing your lips to his collarbones.

“you feel nice,” he murmurs, his voice drowsy, “you feel like summer. you feel like myself. does that make sense?”

his nails graze your bare back, lazy, affectionate.

“it does,” you reassure. “to know me would be to know you.”

your words are the last thing he hears before dozing off. there is a safety in that, in knowing you’ll be there too when he wakes up. as you always are. he’ll tell you he loves you then. though you already know it. don’t you?

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (1)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: jungkook is kind of an annoying jerk in the beginning, but we still love him. as of now, i have no warnings, but i will mention them when necessary as the series goes on.

A/N: hello, welcome to my very first series. i've been reading fics for as long as i can remember and i've always wanted to start a blog of my own. please read through this and let me know if this story is worth continuing <3

my blog is still "work in progress" and i have many ideas and plans that i wanna give life to, so please stay tuned. your opinions, constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome.

thank you.

part 1: throttle and stem

The quiet hum of the early morning filled your flower shop as you stood by your workbench, your hands deftly arranging a vibrant bouquet of stargazer lilies, queen of the night blossoms, and delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. As you tied off the bouquet with a soft ribbon, you pulled your phone from the pocket of your apron, glancing at the screen.

"8:09 am."

You sighed to yourself, shaking off the early morning grogginess that still clung to your mind. The air around you was sweet with the mingling fragrances of the flowers, an invisible balm for the weariness you hadn’t quite shaken.

The shop was your sanctuary. Its walls were adorned with climbing vines that had been lovingly nurtured over the years, and its shelves were lined with terracotta pots of miniature bonsais, fiddle-leaf figs, and succulent terrariums. It wasn’t just a workspace… it was your rhythm, your peace. Here, surrounded by blooms and greenery, the world felt like it moved just a little slower.

You turned towards the bay window, where golden sunlight poured in, illuminating an assortment of hydrangeas and snapdragons on display. It was the kind of morning you cherished… peaceful, predictable, and entirely yours to savor.

Shifting closer to the window, your gaze naturally drifted to the storefront beside yours. The faded "For Rent" sign, hanging crookedly in the glass, caught your eye like always. Ever since Mrs. Lee shut down her cozy little bakery and moved away with her husband, the space had remained lifeless, the once-welcoming aroma of fresh pastries replaced by silence and dust.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you remembered the way the scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls used to drift into your shop every morning. Now, the vacant building had become an eyesore you had grown used to ignoring… a dull, empty reminder of what had once been.

Turning away from the window, you wandered through your shop, watering the orchids in their clay pots and adjusting the arrangement of lavender sprigs by the counter. You opened sharp at 9, but these quiet moments before customers arrived were your favorite. It was a time to bask in the stillness, to let the beauty of your flowers fill every corner of your mind.

You settled back at your workbench, pulling another bundle of roses and eucalyptus stems from the cooler. Your hands moved automatically as your thoughts wandered, appreciating the rare silence that surrounded you. Most of the shops on your street wouldn’t open for another hour, leaving the block in a peaceful lull.

The quiet wasn’t just comforting, it was necessary. It was the space where you could breathe, think, and just be.

And just when you were basking in the silence you oh so appreciated, your train of thoughts are harshly interrupted by a sharp growl that tore through the air, so ridiculously loud that it startled you into dropping the shears you were grasping in your hand. The noise grew louder, rising and falling with an almost deafening rhythm. Engines revved outside, followed by the sharp, repetitive beeping of trucks reversing.

Frowning, you stepped towards the window, peeking out from behind a display of yellow roses. Two enormous moving trucks had pulled up in front of the vacant building, their engines rumbling as a group of workers began hauling furniture and equipment onto the sidewalk.

Your chest tightened as you took in the scene: huge wooden crates, motorcycle frames, and oversized toolboxes haphazardly scattered across the pavement.

The stillness you were treasuring just a minute ago was shattered in less than a second by the disgusting sound of chaos arriving at your doorstep.

Still confused, your eyes suddenly fall on the huge stack of oversized toolboxes placed on the sidewalk, partially blocking the entrance to your shop. You scoffed, your mind unable to wrap itself around this bizarre situation.

Before you could fully process what exactly was happening, your feet carried you towards the front door of your shop and you stepped outside, breathing heavily. “Hey!” you called out, trying to dodge around a burly man carrying a huge box labeled FRAGILE. “What’s going on here?” you question, still looking around, trying to take in the state of your surroundings.

The closest person to you wasn’t a mover or a worker. You could easily conclude that just by the way he was leaning lazily against one of the trucks, scrolling through his phone as if oblivious to the commotion. A thick leather jacket, adorned with intricate patches and scratches that told untold stories rested on his left shoulder.

Tattoos crawled up his toned forearms, disappearing under the ripped sleeves of his black t-shirt. A loose silver chain around his neck glinted as he shifted his weight, and when he glanced up, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mix of curiosity and disinterest.

"What's going on here?" you ask again, this time trying to sound as civil as possible. Your fists are balled and you regulate your breathing as you observe the man in front of you. “Moving in.” he simply answers, his voice smooth but laced with indifference. “What’s it look like to you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by his audacity. You're generally a calm person, that is, until someone provokes you in the weirdest ways. “It looks like you’re turning the sidewalk into an obstacle course.” you snapped, unable to remain civil like you had previously planned. “My customers won’t be able to get into my shop!” you added.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that instantly made you think, this was someone you would never get along with. “What customers?” He chuckles, glancing theatrically up and down the empty street before meeting your gaze again.

Your blood boiled as you heard him mock you. “Excuse me?” He stepped closer, the faint scent of leather and motor oil lingering in the air between you. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll keep it tidy. Don’t get your roses in a twist.” he says, eyeing a bouquet he was able to spot through the window of your store.

You bristled. “First of all, don’t call me sweetheart. Second, those are lilies, NOT roses.” You jabbed a finger towards the bouquet in the window. “And third, I don’t need your promises. I need you to move your chaos somewhere else and not disturb my business!”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. “You really care about those flowers, huh?” he asks. You can easily tell he thinks nothing of your business. “Of course, I do! Unlike some people, I actually respect my work and the space around me.” you argue.

The man rolls his eyes, and that only drives you more mad. His nonchalance and his lack of empathy itches your brain the wrong way. “Whatever.” he casually shrugs, turning away as he hears one of the men call out to him. “Jeon, where do you want the bike stand?”

Jeon? You realize that's probably his surname. “Right here.” he replies, pointing towards the storefront. Without sparing you another glance, he strode over, his gait relaxed and confident, as if he hadn’t just ruined your morning.

You stood there, fists clenched, watching as the chaos unfolded further. The reality hit you hard—the quiet, vacant space beside your shop was no longer empty. It was now home to this infuriating, leather-clad biker who had just walked into your life like a hurricane. And somehow, you knew, your peaceful little flower shop would never be the same.

//

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of irritation. Every time you tried to return to your flowers and reclaim the peace you once cherished, another burst of loud noise would jolt you out of focus. The metallic clang of tools, the rumble of engines being tested, and the shouts of movers unloading endless boxes were relentless. Even the cheerful chime of your shop door opening, signaling the arrival of your first customer, couldn’t lift your mood entirely.

“Busy morning out there, huh?” Mrs. Park, one of your long-time regulars, quipped as she admired a bouquet of tulips on display. You forced a smile, standing up from your workbench. “You could say that.” you answered, looking back at the window that gave you a view of the happenings next door

She chuckled, picking up a small pot of baby succulents. “Looks like someone’s finally opening a business there. Hopefully, it’s something good and the owner is nice. I miss Mrs. Lee’s bakery, though. Her strawberry tarts were divine.” she says, walking towards the counter with the pot she had just picked out.

You bit back a sarcastic retort about how this newcomer was something way from from “nice” and nodded instead. “I miss her too. But yeah, we'll just have to wait and see what the new business is going to be about.” you sigh.

//

By the time the clock struck noon, the chaos outside had died down enough for you to risk stepping out again. Boxes had been cleared from the sidewalk, though a few crates still lingered near the entrance of your shop, their presence a glaring reminder of the morning’s disruption.

You spotted him immediately—Jeon. He was crouched next to a sleek black motorcycle, his hands busy adjusting something near the engine. A few workers milled around, chatting, but this man seemed entirely absorbed in his work.

You purse your lips and stepped back on the sidewalk to get a better view of the building. The sign "Throttle and Torque" hung up high, right beside yours that read "Garden's Grace."

You look back down at the man, who still seemed so immersed in whatever the heck he was doing. Against your better judgment, you marched over, fueled by lingering frustration. “Excuse me.” you say, waiting for him to respond. He didn’t look up. You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot impatiently. “Excuse me!” you snap.

This time, he glanced up, wiping his hands on a rag before standing to his full height. Up close, he was even more infuriatingly confident, his dark eyes glinting which barely concealed any sort amusement. “What?” he asked, completely unbothered. You gestured towards the lingering crates. “Your stuff is still blocking part of my entrance.” you reply, trying your level best to keep your voice at a respectable volume.

He glanced at the crates, then back at you. “Looks fine to me.” he shrugs. “It’s not fine. It’s in the way.” you argue, fighting the urge to just run and kick the crates away from your entrance. His lips curved into that maddening smirk again. “You’re really particular about your space, huh?”

“Unlike some people…” you pause, taking a deep breath “I respect boundaries.” you state. He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly casual. “Alright, alright. I’ll move them. Don’t blow a gasket, sweetheart.” he says causing you to roll your eyes at the nickname but you bite your tongue, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your temper again.

As he turned to call out to one of the workers, you noticed something—a small, intricately designed patch sewn onto the back of his leather jacket that he was wearing. It depicted a phoenix rising from flames, the design bold and vibrant against the black leather.

Shaking yourself out of the observation you had just made, you look around and finally question him. "What exactly is your business?"

He doesn't answer, still busy with the worker as he guides him on where to place the crates. But as you stood there by yourself, you feel the realization dawning on you as you took in the scattered parts and tools. "Is this a motorcycle shop?" you ask again. He glanced over his shoulder, finally nodding. “Custom bikes. Repairs. The works.” he answers, his tone still the same, low and unbothered.

Of course. The universe had gifted you a neighbor who was the exact opposite of everything your flower shop represented—loud, chaotic, and disruptive. “Just great.” you muttered under your breath, feeling yourself get a headache as you imagine the wild things that you will have to go through with a store like this right beside yours.

“Something to say?” he teases, as he looks at you, finally taking in your appearance. His eyes roamed over you for a moment, his gaze lingering on the effortless beauty you carried. There was something captivating about the way your long, dark hair framed your face, the sunlight catching in the waves and adding a soft halo around you. The earthy tones of your apron only highlighted the warm glow of your skin, and the faint blush on your cheeks gave you an endearing, almost ethereal charm.

You don't say anything and just stand there, trying your best to stay calm. "I'm Jungkook, by the way." you hear him say. You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to introduce yourself to him, but you think that might be a little immature. "Y/n." you simply say, avoiding his eyes.

"Didn’t realize such a pretty flower came with so many thorns." he comments, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crosses his arms, observing the way you tried so hard not to throw hands. You rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment. “Didn’t realize bikers had this much trouble respecting other people’s businesses.” you retorted, matching his tone.

Jungkook chuckled, clearly unfazed. He leaned against the wall beside him, his dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and challenge. “Well, sweetheart, I guess we’re stuck with each other now. Might as well get used to it.” he says, almost like he's challenging you.

You huffed at that stupid nickname again, your fingers tightening around the hem of your apron. “I would REALLY appreciate if you wouldn't call me sweetheart." you pause, slightly stepping forward. "And for the record, being neighbors doesn’t mean I have to put up with your... chaos. My shop values tranquility, something your—” you pause again to gesture towards the motorcycles and tools scattered around, “whole vibe seems to be allergic to.”

Jungkook tilts his head, pretending to consider your words, though the teasing smirk never leaves his features. “Tranquility, huh?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “I can see why you’d like things quiet in there.” His eyes flicked toward your shop window, where the vibrant display of flowers created a stark contrast to the metal and oil-laden aesthetic of his business.

You cross your arms, as you firmly stand your ground. “Exactly. Garden’s Grace is a place where people come to find peace and beauty. Something your Throttle and Torque doesn’t exactly scream.”

He snorted, looking genuinely amused for the first time. “Peace and beauty. Cute. I’m more about the adrenaline and grit side of life. Opposites, huh?” You frowned, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Maybe opposites, but that doesn’t mean you have to make my life miserable.” you said, glancing pointedly at the workers still unloading equipment nearby.

“Alright, alright.” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll make sure my guys clear out your entrance. We wouldn’t want to scare off all those peace-seekers now, would we?” he says, in a tone that irks something ugly inside of you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to come up with something but you know it would be of no use to argue with someone like him. “Thank you.” you breathe out curtly, turning on your heel to head back to your shop, not wanting to deal with him anymore because you clearly had a business to get back to.

“By the way…” he suddenly calls out, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder with a brow raised. “Those flowers in your display…” he said, jerking his chin towards the window. “Whatever they're called... they’re pretty. You’ve got an eye for detail and beauty.” he admits.

The unexpected compliment threw you off guard, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a snappy comeback. Instead, you muttered a soft, “Thanks.” before disappearing into the safety of your shop.

Inside, your heart thudded a little harder than you cared to admit. You shook your head, pushing the moment aside. “Nope, not falling for that.” you mumble to yourself, bringing your focus back on the vibrant bouquet in your hands.

From the corner of your eye, you glanced out the window one last time. Jungkook had gone back to his motorcycle, but there was a faint smile on his face now, one that didn’t carry the same teasing edge as before.

You sighed and shook your head, determined to forget the way it made your stomach flutter. "It’s just day one..." you reminded yourself. "I can survive this." you affirm.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a storm neither of you saw coming.

part 2 ->

series masterlist

[kiyokowastaken]

A Piece Of Heaven.

James Sunderland x Female Reader.

Minors Don't Interact!!!

CW: fingering, overstimulating, p in v (no protection), hair pulling/tugging, blowjob, babying a middle aged, miserable man, dirty talk, OOC James, porn with plot, age gap (reader is in her early twenties while James is in his mid-thirties), tit sucking, creampie, dom!James, oral (male and female receiving and giving, face f*cking, James has a breeding kink.

Summary: After partnering up with James and Maria, you could see the dynamic between them. A beautiful blonde vixen flirting with a miserable and pathetic man in search of his supposedly dead wife. Feeling a bit jealous of the interaction between them, you decided to climb the roof of the hotel to watch whatever of the sky that you can but you’re interrupted by someone.

This isn’t revised so excuse any misspelling or grammar mistakes! I was also inspired by another amazing James Sunderland x Reader writer named sundrlands so check them out!!

Enjoy loves ^^!

The fucking fog.

How come in some areas it’s dense as fuck but now when you need the fog to be dense, it’s not. You saw the blonde haired woman named, Maria latching onto James’s arms as if she couldn’t hold her own. You knew that the male was far too awkward to say anything about it, so he merely just let it be. You looked around the area, it seemed not as rundown and ruined as the other places that you guys have encountered, you caught a glimpse of a flower shop and your interest was piqued to say the least.

You jogged over to the small shop as James was looking down at the map trying to figure out where the hotel was as Maria was merely talking his ear off. You were pleasantly surprised when the flowers looked to be alive, they were still blooming in such a terrible condition. Your fingertips reached out and graced the soft petals of a Lily, the beautiful flower slightly moved by your touch before it got covered by a shadow.

You turned around to see James, which caused you to take a few steps back. His cologne was faint yet lingered around him, he smelled like clean laundry with a hint of a musky yet woody scent, the kinda smell that when you hugged someone you would try and take another whiff, “Uh..I figured out the way to the hotel, we would get there in a couple of more minutes..” The blonde haired man would mumble.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as you looked back at the blossomed flower, “You speak as if I’m going to snap back at you.” James merely flushed a bit at your comment as it took him a moment to think about his next choice of words. He always seemed to do that, instead of other people who just spoke their minds without considering what others might say.

James was the opposite, it’s like he handcrafted his response for you, yet he still fell short, “I didn’t want to disturb you, you looked peaceful over here in your own world.” He hummed out as he looked down at the flowers before he reached out and tried to stroke the flower but it seemed that he lacked a certain softness to his touch.

The very Lily that you once caressed so tenderly and gently, lost a petal once James touched it. James seemed a little disheartened as the sad look on his face that he always had seemed a bit more sadder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched it, it seems like whenever I touch things they always end u-..” You stopped James’s sad monologue as with a bit of confidence, you grabbed his hand with your own and gently moved over to a flower, a budding bushel of Heathers.

You guide his hand and with a gentle brush of both hands, the bushel waves gently before you pulled your hand away with a small smile as you turned to look at the taller male, “Don’t always be pessimistic James, you have a gentleness to you. You just need to be patient, now come on, Maria is waiting for you.” You said with a slight bitter tone that James seemed to catch before his soft yet gruff voice said, “You mean, us, she’s waiting for us.” To which, you merely nodded before walking back with James.

A few minutes turned to a hour and the sweet moment between you and James had seemed to dissipate into thin air. Maria was once again walking side by side with James, their hands occasionally brushed against each other more than they should. At one point, Maria mentioned how cold she was which caused James to pause before he tugged off his military jacket and held it out for her which she graciously took and slipped on. You, in the meanwhile just scoffed, how unbelievable. James was merely being a gentleman and gave the women his jacket, so she wouldn’t freeze to death and here you were acting like it was the worst betrayal of your life. I mean, it stung a bit, you asked James to borrow his jacket during a moment of rest since the room you guys were in was cold to which he merely just got up and went through the hassle of finding a semi-clean blanket and handing it to you.

You merely just looked around at whatever you could in the surrounding scenery as the fog began to slowly disappear. You looked back to see the hotel, it was small but it was near an embankment of water which gave it a nice appeal. You guys got closer and before you guys knew it, you guys separated off into your own rooms. James got the room in the middle while you and Maria got the right and left rooms next to his.

Once, James got his jacket back from Maria, you all settled into your own rooms for the night. It was a delightful surprise when the water still ran through the pipes of this hotel, it was clean water as well. You stripped out of your clothes and turned the warm water on as once your body stepped into the warmth, it melted away any stress that you had away. You guys had battled all sorts of weird ass monsters coming to this hotel, so this was refreshing to say the least. You cleaned off the grim, sweat, and the blood off your body before getting out and changing back into your clothes.

They were a bit dirty but nothing too bad, you then debated into taking a nap or just roaming around the hotel. You guys could probably stock up on whatever you needed to finish this fucked up adventure so without a second thought, you grasped the handle of the door opened it before stepping outside into the fresh night breeze. Silent Hill looked less scary when it was night, the fog almost seemed lifted and the surroundings were now noticeable.

You turned towards James’s door to see him talking with Maria as they both leaned against the iron railing. You squinted a bit and you found yourself a bit shocked to see a small smile on his face, you had more than enough seeing the two of them together so you turned on your heel and walked to the opposite side. You looked through the few rooms that were accessible and grabbed some bandages and couple of food supplies before you found a latter up to the roof of the hotel.

You shrugged before you grabbed ahold of the latter and started to climb your way up to the room. Once on top of the roof, you let out a deep sigh as the air felt fresher up here. The cold wind stung your warm skin and blew through your slightly damp hair before you found yourself sitting on top of the roof. It was comfortable, the concrete of the roof was smooth enough to not be uncomfortable as you laid back and looked up at the sky and for once in Silent Hill, you felt at peace.

You closed your eyes for a moment as the wind blew small strands of your hair away from your face, you slowly reopened your eyes and the moon was bathing everything in its moonlight, including yourself. You looked serene, downright ethereal to James as he finally found you, he was getting worried once he searched your room and every other room that you already ransacked and didn’t find you.

He took a deep breath air before releasing it as he could now be calm. A few minutes ago, he was talking to Maria, the woman was good company. She was cocky, confident, and a downright temptress but he had enough of those types of women in his younger years. The attention was nice but you caught his eye, he really shouldn’t even be considering anyone when he’s looking for his wife, yet you graced him with patience, a loving and gentle touch, and the way your eyes always seem to shine a bit more brighter whenever he talked to you made him feel..good. Mary, they had their arguments and yet, they loved each other but somewhere along the way the glimmer in her eyes and the way she looked at James, it no longer felt like home. Yet, here he was searching for her after three years of her supposed death.

James saw you staring up at the sky and found himself also in awe at how beautiful the stars shined. He then cleared his throat as he saw you perk up as if he had frightened you, “Sorry..I didn’t mean to scare you, I just got worried when I didn’t find you in your room.” He said softly, as he walked a bit more closer before he found himself sitting down a bit away from you as he didn’t want to invade your space. “Are you okay..? I mean, obviously we aren’t since we are stuck in this hellhole but you seem to become a bit more reserved.” James said as his eyes glanced at you before looking elsewhere.

A silence followed afterwards and it seemed to eat at James, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

You let out a huff as you turned your body to fully look at James, “Are you something with Maria?” You rebutted with a question of your own. James was stunned at the question as he felt a red flush settle at the tips of his ears as he shook his head, “Me and Maria..we are just uh..good acquaintances. That’s all..” He stumbled out as your eyes hyper focused at his small movements and gestures.

“Then..why don’t you act the same way with me? You found Maria and me at the same place, we have been traveling together for a while now and yet, it seems like..you dislike me.” You muttered out before peeling your eyes away from James. James didn’t mean to make you feel that type of way, he didn’t mean to make you feel isolated from your small little group. This place was already isolating as it is.

“I-..I’m sorry, it’s just that..well I find myself feeling some kind of way whenever I’m near you and I don’t want that to affect us, it’s difficult to explain.” You could see James in the corner of your vision, he was rubbing the back of his neck. A bubble of confidence or maybe the way the moonlight reflected on James’s eyes made him seem all the more pathetic. You patted your lap as you looked at him for a split moment, “We have all the time in the world right now, explain this feeling to me, please.”

James looked at your lap that you patted before looking up at you, he felt like if he gave in to you, he would betray Mary. He did all of this for her. He reprimanded himself for feeling a warm feeling whenever you guys even locked eyes for a split moment. Yet, a part of him craved comfort, he wished to be adored again. He wished soft hands cradled his worn and tired face and pressed soft kisses against it. Mary once did that before the damned illness took her.

He moved closer to you and placed his head on your plush thighs and closed his eyes.

Warmth.

That’s what you gave off, the scent of a sweet yet citrus scent clung onto you and your clothes. He tensed up when he felt your hands on him. One on his chest and the other one scratched his scalp and he battled to hold back a soft groan. Sinful. This was utterly sinful. He was still married to Mary, he loved his wife, yet why did he turn around and push his face onto your stomach as one of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled him close.

“J-..James..!” You stuttered out as the touch to you was foreign. You had have past lovers and loved every single one but none of them made you feel the way James did. The older man, he made a part of you want to baby him..protect him and care for him. He could provide for himself yet to your mind that didn’t matter.

“You make me feel warm, you make me forget about Mary. It feels so wrong. I’m here for her..and yet, your arms have felt more like home than hers ever did..and I feel guilty for such thought.”

Those words that James muttered out against your stomach made your face burn unlike any other. You didn’t know how to respond as you felt him take a deep inhale and then exhale, he felt more relaxed..guess that was eating at him for a while now. Your hand merely slid from his chest towards his back and rubbed his back as she sighed.

“You don’t have to feel guilty James..I also feel the same, I just didn’t know that you felt like I did. You always seemed reserved towards me, so I just thought I made you uncomfortable for something like that.” You felt James shift before you removed your hands from him as he sat up. He was fairly close now. You could smell him just like you did in the flower shop.

“..As I stated before, I’m not uncomfortable with you. I will feel terrible if you got mixed up with someone like me, (Y/N). You’re kind, sweet, warm, patient, and just everything that I’m not. I still have this whole Mary thing to resolve. We still need to get out of here and..I’m a bit older than you. You’re barely enjoying yourself, I’m already past my prime.” James said with a soft chuckle leaving his lips. God, that chuckle..it felt like a drug. You wanted more of that.

“You should stop putting yourself down, you’re terrible at even finding a good thing about yourself, James. You have this softness in you, I can see it. It’s just hidden by troubles, nothing that a little patience and talking can’t undo and about the whole age thing. Do you really think I care? We have gone against unexplained beings and you think an age gap is what’s gonna scare me off?” You rebutted with an eye roll as James raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like your men older?”

The silence that followed was all consuming, you cleared your throat as you puffed up your chest a bit as you nodded, “Well, yes but not senile old.” This seemed to make James laugh as he turned his face away from you as his body shook with his laughter.

“So, do I fit into your criteria?” James asked as his normally reserved and cold demeanor changed slightly. It had a hint of flirtatiousness and genuine curiosity. “I mean, yeah, you do.” You said as you couldn’t help but notice him moving closer.

A sudden change in the air happened, it was noticeable. He hummed as he looked at your eyes and then down to your lips, he wanted to kiss them so badly. It was almost downright painful how much he craved to brush his lips against yours. You could feel his eyes, you almost felt naked in his stare. It felt like he was undressing you.

“Jam-..”

“Can I kiss you?”

Did you fall asleep on the roof of the hotel and now your mind was conjuring up some wet dream about the male you have been lusting over? No, this felt real. He felt real. The warmth he radiated was real. You could only nod before he leaned in close and looked into your eyes with his beautiful, enchanting blue-grey eyes, “I need you to say yes or no.”

You felt your heart beating quickly, he was close, his slow exhale of breath. You could feel it against your lips before you opened your mouth, “Yes..please.”James let out a soft and quick breathy laugh before he placed one of his hands on your neck and pulled you into the kiss. His other hand was placed on your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You couldn’t hide the slip of a soft whine tumble out of your lips.

Heavenly. That’s what James felt right now. If Silent Hill was his own personal hell then you must be his personal heaven. The hand that held your neck slowly slipped upwards towards your jaw as he held it. His tongue flicked against your bottom lip as to ask for entrance.

James acted different. This wasn’t the same man that seemed to dislike small talk or any time of human connection if it didn’t regard Mary. You might’ve unleashed a animal, a hidden side of him that you only caught glimpses at whenever he swung that metal pipe and aimed at those twisted creatures before pulling the trigger without hesitation. You opened your mouth, a tad bit but that was enough for James to slip his wet tongue into your mouth. Your arms that were once by your side slipped upwards to grasp at his faded, forest green military jacket as a anchor. Your own tongue shyly met his in a heated and sultry dance. The kiss that was supposed to be somewhat sweet became needy and sloppy.

He tilted his head to the side as his hand that was on your waist slipped down and underneath your shirt as his calloused and rough hands grasped your body as if to reassure himself that you weren’t going to slip away. That you weren’t a figment of his imagination. You were real.

The two pulled away from the kiss as a line of saliva was the only evidence of the hot and heavy kiss. James’s hand that was on your jaw slid upwards and wiped your bottom lip as the string of saliva was no longer there. The air was charged with sexual tension, it was no longer awkwardness and stepping on eggshells. It was filled with lust, need, and want.

“I need you..I want you but we don’t have to continue if you don’t want too.” James said between small soft pants as he tried to regain his steady breathing. Your eyes were hazy, in your mind, you only wanted him. You craved him. You have held back for a while and now the man that you craved, he craved you back.

“I need you as well, James Sunderland.”

Those words sealed your fate. Now, here you were, your shirt and light jacket thrown on the floor of James’s hotel room. Soft moans and pants filled the room as James left dark purplish red marks on your neck and collarbone. How you were going to explain these marks to Maria tomorrow, well, that was a problem for tomorrow. James was set on marking your skin up, claim it as his. To claim you and mark you as his woman.

His tongue licked and traced from your collarbone down the valley of your breasts. He placed a couple of sloppy kisses there as his mouth traveled to your right breast as he attached his lips around your harden bud. His tongue swirled around it as he started to suckle on your breast. His hand ran up your body and groped your left breast, his thumb and middle finger pinched and tugged on your nipple as one of your hands grasped the bedsheets and the other hand tried to muffle your moans and gasps.

Your body was soft, warm, and inviting to James. He felt like he was tainting you with all of his sinfulness, he didn’t want to damn you but at the same time. He grasped onto you as if you were his salvation and maybe, you were. His angel, his pretty girl..he wanted to leave you a beautiful mess. His teeth softly teased your nipple that was on his mouth before he pulled away with a lewd ‘pop’. Your expression was his favorite thing, yet he disliked you hiding your face.

“Don’t hide your face sweetheart, I want to see you for who you are, please.” He said as he locked eyes with yours as his mouth wrapped around your left nipple as his right hand slid up your body to tug and pinch your spit ridden nipple. He gave the same treatment to your left nipple until he felt satisfied with himself. After that, he left a couple more love marks on your chest just to make sure as pulled away from your shivering body.

“May I?” He said as he eyed your pants as you nodded as your hands slid down to unbutton and unzip your pants so that he didn’t need to struggle as much. His hands then grabbed the hem on your pants and panties before he tugged them down in one fluid motions. The need to cover your intimate area was strong as your hand slipped between your thighs to cover your slicked cunt. James found that cute, he dropped your pants and panties on the ground before his attention returned to you.

He grasped your waist and pulled you to the edge of the bed as he made you sit up as he got on his knees. He wanted to taste you, badly. He looked up at you for a sign of hesitation before you nodded once again in consent as his hands prided your thighs open. He felt himself salivate when he saw your cunt dripping for him, “All for me, pretty girl~?” He cooed as he looked up once more to see your flustered face. He chuckled as he began with pressing soft kisses on your inner thighs as he teased you with small nips to your thighs. He suckled a few marks on your inner thighs before he was face to face with your cunt.

He closed his eyes as his tongue slipped out and a wet stripe licked your slit. You instant let out a whine as your thighs tensed up, he kept your thighs apart using his hands which were wrapped around them. He prodded his wet muscle into your cunt as his nuzzled his face into your wet heat. His nose occasionally bumped against your clit as his tongue lapped at your juices as he eagerly tasted you like if you were an expensive wine. His tongue prodded your clenching entrance before he nuzzled his face more into your cunt as his tongue slipped into your clenching and unclenching entrance.

His slurping became downright pornographic as your hands left the crumpled up bedsheets and slipped into his dirty blonde locks. Your head fell back as your lips were in a ‘o’ shape as moans and whines of pleasure left them. You began to grind your cunt against his mouth as the way he slurped you like he was a hungered man was all too addictive. The way his nose bumped against your clit would send shivers down your spine as goosebumps riddled your body, “J-..James~!” You moaned his name loudly.

This made James prideful, he pulled away from your slicked cunt as leaned his head against your thighs as you guys once again locked eyes as he panted heavily. He looked downright fucking sinful, his hair a tousled mess in your hands, his face flushed red, his eyes glazed over with pure lust and admiration, and his lips along with his chin were smeared with a combination of his spit and your juices. “Use me to get off, c’mon baby girl, I’m only here for you.” He panted out.

Those words made your eyes roll to the back of your head as his lips wrapped around your clit. Fucking hell. He was so fucking good, you felt the coil in your stomach come to life. One of his hands left your thighs as they slipped down to your cunt, his index and pointer finger slipped into your cunt without much resistance. He angled them upwards and curled them in a ‘come here’ motion, you soon began to grind your cunt on his face like if he was merely a tool for your pleasure.

The coil began to slowly unravel as he continued to suckle on your clit as his fingers quickened in pace as he felt you clenching non-stop on his fingers. You pushed his face against your cunt with your hands as his unused hand gripped your thighs in a bruising hold before he pulled away as he heard a disappointed and pitiful whine leave your pretty lips. He panted heavily as his chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to regain all the air he needed. He fell back on his ass as his other hand that was on your thigh wiped his face clean from your wetness. “Not yet, pretty girl, you aren’t going to cum that easily.”

He said as before he stood up, he then began to strip. Once he was naked, he had scratch marks and cuts on his body. They had long scarred which meant he probably got them long ago, your eyes mapped out his entire body before your eyes found his cock. He was trimmed, neat which surprised you. He was a good six and a half inches, he was more length than girth. He had a pretty pink tip, that was currently leaking pre-cum as it seemed that eating you out worked him up.

You looked up at him as he walked towards you, you licked your lips as he loomed over you. He grabbed your chin as his thumb ran across your lip, “Will you be a good little girl and suck me off, ‘hm?” He asked as you merely dumbly nodded, “Then, what’re you waiting for?” He let go on your chin before as he grabbed your hair into a ponytail as your mouth opened to let him slide into your mouth.

Your mouth wrapped around his tip as your tongue licked his slit that was leaking pre-cum. You swirled your tongue around his head before you slowly took more into your mouth, you had a bit of a gagging reflex so little by little did you take his cock into your mouth. You felt the tip of his cock press against the back your throat which caused you to gag, your hands held onto his muscular thighs as your nails dug onto them. He was fully in your mouth, he could see that you were tense so, he gave you a bit of advice, “Relax..breathe through your nose. You will cause yourself to gag more if you try to breathe through your mouth.” He said as he felt you take his advice.

He then started to bob your head up and down his cock as he felt drool mixed with pre-cum coat his cock. He also heard a bit of it fall onto the floor beneath the both of you, he let soft groans out as his head lolled back in pleasure as the hold that he had on your hair tighten, “That’s it darling, you’re taking my cock so well…” He mumbled out as he slowly began to buck his hips into your mouth. As when he looked down at you, he saw your pretty mouth around his cock as those tear filled eyes looked at him.

“Fuck..if you look at me like that, I might just cum early, doll face.” He muttered through gritted teeth as he felt you hollow your cheeks to create more suction. He felt you become more comfortable as he placed his other hand on your head as he began to lightly thrust into your mouth. The lewd noises and the occasional gagging sound around his cock made him shiver. He felt the knot in his stomach slowly appear.

He quickened his pace a bit more as he almost lost himself when he felt you swallow around his cock. The way your throat tighten around his cock, it was fucking heaven sent. You were a fucking miracle. He began to just fully thrust into your mouth as you slacked your jaw, letting him fully fuck your mouth as groans and..a whimper left his mouth. Oh, this was heavenly, he made such a pretty noise that made you bob your head with his thrusting as you felt his cock throbbing into your mouth more frequently.

It was you that pulled away from his grasp as you coughed, your lips were swollen from the kissing and the sucking you were just doing. He let out a frustrated groan leave his lips as he felt his cock throbbing as his orgasm was so close. You inhaled and exhaled deeply as your chest heaved, “If I couldn’t get my..orgasm, then you can’t either..” You panted out as James merely glared at you before he nodded, it was only fair. He edged you close to your orgasm and you did the same.

He pushed you down on the bed as he towered over you as you guys scooted upwards onto the bed a bit more. James placed a pillow underneath you and moved you close to him, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he looked at you, “Uh..I don’t have a condom, are you sure?” James asked as his hands were on your hips as his thumbs wrapped smoothing circles on your skin. You bit your lip as you thought for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, it’s okay..I want to feel all of you.” You mumbled.

James nodded as he positioned himself before he slowly slipped inside you. You winced a bit at the penetration as it had a been awhile since you slept with someone. James gritted his teeth as he swore that he wasn’t about to cum right then and there. You were fucking tight, he huffed as the grip on your waist tighten as he slowly sank more of his length into your cunt. You, in the other hand, you felt filled. He thrusted fully into you as your toes curled as he let you get used to him and his size.

A few seconds passed before you rolled your hips and a soft moan left your lips, you looked at him and gave him a reassuring nod as he bottomed out before thrusting back into you. Your hands wrapped around his neck as your nails dug into his board shoulder, “F-..fuck, James..feels so fucking good~!” You whined out as James settled for a slow yet deep pace.

Skin on skin slapping could be heard throughput the room, the scent of sex lingered and consumed the air in the room as the bed squeezed with every deep thrust that James gave you. Your moans mingled with his groans as his hands ran up your body and groped your breasts as bounced every time that he thrusted into your squelching cunt. Lips messily found each other as both of you locked lips in a sloppy and lustful kiss. Passion and..love was found between the two of you. You guys fucked each other like if you were in your own honeymoon.

You guys complete forgot about the outside world and the cruel reality. You guys were completely focused on each other, saliva slicked lips found bare and naked skin to mark as James pace became more quick. Your nails ran down his back creating red irritated marks as he groaned, one of his hands slipped away from your breasts and down to your clit. He rubbed quick and tight circles as he felt you clench around him like a vice, trying to milk him for everything that he had, “f-..fucking hell, c’mon doll face, take my cock. After we are..out of here, I will make you my pretty wife and fuck a baby into you, yeah~?” James said rolled his hips into your cunt.

You nodded as you were feeling so fucking good, he was fucking you so good. “y..yeah, I wanna be your pretty wife..fuck a baby into me right now, please baby~!” You whined against his ear as he nodded. Both of you too drunk out of each other’s presences as the coil in your stomach grew too tight as he quicken the pace into a more quick and deep pace as his kissed your g-spot so fucking precisely and him rubbing your bundle of nerves didn’t help as you came around his cock without warning. You clenched around him tightly as he felt your walls spasm around his cock.

“Good girl..coming on cock so prettily, gonna make you a mommy, mhm, you want that baby girl, ‘hm~?” James said as he wrapped his unused arm around your waist and pulled you close to cold sweat covered body. You nodded dumbly as you felt overstimulated, the way he kept fucking you like a mere ragdoll, chasing his own orgasm made you clench around him. You bit down on his shoulder he as he continued to thrust into you as he felt his cock twitching more frequently, “Close..I’m gonna breed you, my sweet girl. Make you mine fully, come on, cum with me. Let’s cum together….” He muttered as his breathing was ragged.

His chest heaved quickly as his thumb started to swipe against your clit as his thrusts became animalistic in pace as he pounded into you. He groaned loudly into your shoulder as came deep into you. Filling your womb to the brim with his seed as you cried out as you came hard. He stopped swiping on your clit as both his arms held you close to him. He could feel himself twitching inside you. Fuck..you both were tired. He slowly pulled out of you with a wince as you merely groaned, you felt his sticky, warm seed drip out of your abused cunt.

James pulled you down onto the bed with him as he would clean this mess up later but right now, he wanted to relish in the afterglow. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his hands rubbed your back as you nuzzled into his chest, “I will do everything I can to get us out of Silent Hill..I promise.” He muttered against your hair as you merely nodded as you were fair too tired to form any sentences. He soon felt your body go limp as you feel into a deep slumber.

This wasn’t about Mary anymore, he had to move on from her..he loved Mary but you loved him even if he was a broken man. You chose to embrace him and give yourself to him regardless of the darkness within himself.

You were his saint, his angel, his goddess..his little piece of heaven.

[delicatebarness]

barnes' girl | prologue

Summary: Your flower delivery to a major corporation takes an unexpected turn when an encounter with the enigmatic CEO, James Barnes, leaves you feeling both intimidated and intrigued. As your paths continue to cross, you find yourself drawn into a world far removed from the peaceful confines of the flower shop.

Warning: Age Gap. Power Imbalance. Intimidation. Sexual Undertones.

Word Count: 1368

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: I am incredibly ill right now and did not expect to be writing at all so I do apologize if this is terrible. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Barnes' Girl: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this series. | @im-alestan | @carrotlove

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan

Stepping into the bustling flower shop, the scent of fresh blooms envelops you as you start another day of deliveries. Arrangements of roses, lilies, and tulips fill the space with vibrant colors and intoxicating fragrances. Above the door, the bell softly chimes, signaling your departure into the city– A particularly exquisite bouquet in hand. An imposing skyscraper of a major corporation was today’s first destination, a rare delivery for the quaint little shop.

Carefully cradling the flowers in your arms, you navigated the crowded streets until reaching the towering building. Sleek and modern, the lobby contrasts starkly with the charming disarray of the flower shop. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves as you approached the elevators. Hearing the door ding open, you begin to step inside, unbeknownst to you that James Barnes, the CEO, was stepping out. 

Suddenly, and chaotically; the collusion causes the petals to scatter across the polished, marble floor in a kaleidoscope of colors. 

“I’m so sorry, sir!” The words spilled out in a frantic rush, and you dropped to your knees, gathering the fallen flowers desperately. Your hand shook as you tried to salvage the bouquet. Panic surging through you, your heart pounding in your chest.

Mr Barnes stood above you, a towering figure of authority and magnetism. Sharp and discerning, his eyes flickered with something unreadable as he watched you. For a moment, his expression is inscrutable, then suddenly, his lips twitch as if suppressing a smile. Your breath hitched at the intensity in his gaze, as if he was sending unspoken commands that sent a shiver down your spine. 

Giving you a momentary reprieve, he looked away, clearing his throat. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you interpreted his reaction as disdain. Scrambling together the last of the petals, you muttered apologies and small comments about how your boss would be furious. 

As you manage to compose yourself, you catch sight of the now crumpled box that the flowers were in. Unbeknownst to you, Mr Barnes took a mental note of the shop’s name emblazoned on the side. You were left flustered and humiliated, convinced you had left a terrible impression on the older, powerful CEO.

~

Later that day, you were surprised to hear that he had called the shop. He explained the incident was his fault, not yours, and agreed to order flowers for the building regularly. “To brighten up the office,” he claimed, but his motives were more complex, layering with an interest that went beyond mere floral appreciation. 

The routine of delivering flowers to the building became almost comforting as the weeks passed. Yet, one morning, as you stepped into the lobby with a small bouquet of pink hydrangeas, you were unaware that he was watching, waiting for you on the cameras. The phone on the receptionist’s desk rang, echoing through the lobby, and she answered with a practiced smile. 

“Certainly, sir,” she replied, her accent thick. She turned to you after hanging up. “Mr Barnes wants you to deliver these personally today.” 

Taking the visitor key card she offered, your pulse quickened, and a mix of anticipation and dread bubbled within you. While making your way to the top floor, it was as if you could feel his gaze on you through the security cameras, a silent, omnipresent observer. The elevator doors open to the executive floor, and you step out, your grip tightening around the bouquet.

With a deep breath, you walked toward his office. The encounter of your first meeting played over and over in your mind. Ruining his suit, you felt jittery and self-conscious. Yet, as you enter his office, you see him there, every bit as intimating as you recall. His broad body was wrapped in a dark suit, attempting to look welcoming but still imposing. 

You felt small by the opulent surroundings as you hesitantly stepped further inside. “Hi… I, I’m, I brought the flowers you ordered,” your voice trembled slightly as you held up the bouquet– The vibrant pinks contrasting against the muted elegance of the office.

“Thank you, come, place them on the desk,” he instructed, his gaze never leaving yours. His voice was low, commanding yet inviting, almost like a purr.

As you made your way towards the massive glass desk, you couldn’t help but notice the way he watched your every move. His gaze followed you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. Placing the flowers down carefully, you turned to face him, your heart pounding.

You begin to thank him before his low voice interrupts. “What’s your name?” You stutter as you tell him, feeling even smaller under his intense gaze. A small, almost predatory smile curved his lips. “Such a sweet little doll, tell me, are you always so clumsy?” 

Shifting uncomfortably, you felt a heat rise to your cheeks. “I… I didn’t mean to be. It was an accident.” 

A hint of amusement glinted in his eyes, his smile widening. “Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again. From now on, bring the flowers directly to me. Understood?” 

“Y-Yes, sir,” you whispered, nodding quickly. You turn to leave, his glass of whiskey in his hand catching your eye. “I b-better get going,” you stammered, slightly moving toward the door. 

“Do you not want to join this old man for a drink?” He held out the glass toward you, the amber liquid glistening in the light.

Glancing nervously at the clock behind him, you hesitated. “I really shouldn’t… I’m still on work time.” 

Raising an eyebrow, a hint of a smile still played on his lips. “Just one drink. It won’t take long.” 

Your fingers brushed against his as your trembling hands took the glass. The contact sent a shiver down your spine. “Thank you,” you whispered, nervousness and curiosity coursing through you. 

“To unexpected encounters,” he toasted, his eyes still locked onto yours.

Taking a small sip, the warmth spreads through you. “To unexpected encounters,” you echoed, your voice barely audible. 

He watched you intently, an unspoken tension thick in the air. The walls of his office seemed to close in around you, the lighting added to the intimacy of the moment. “Tell me, doll, how long have you been working at the flower shop?” he asked, leaning back in his leather desk chair slighting. 

“About six months,” you replied, your finger tapping the glass nervously. 

“And, do you enjoy it?” he asked, his gaze never wavering.

“Yes, sir, I-I do… it’s peaceful,” you said, your heart still raced but your voice became steadier. 

“Peaceful, huh?” He tilted his head, considering your words. “Not like this place,” he added with a wry smile, his whiskey glass-filled hand gesturing around the room. The walls were lined with large abstract paintings and bookshelves filled with finance, and self-improvement books. 

Taking another glance around, you took in the grandeur of his office. “It’s… very impressive,” you admitted, your eyes returning to his. 

“Oh, you think so?” His smile widened once again, amusement dancing over his piercing blue eyes. “You don’t find it… intimidating?” 

“A little,” you confessed, your cheeks growing hotter. 

“Good,” he said, his tone serious as he leaned back again. His fingers steepled beneath his chin. “It’s meant to be. But, you, doll,” he added, his expression softening slightly, “you shouldn’t be intimidated.” 

You swallowed hard, his comments catching you off guard. “I- I should really get back to the shop,” you said, your voice barely audible again. 

“If you must,” he conceded, reluctance lacing in his voice. “But remember, little doll… I expect to see you here every week with those fresh flowers.” 

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, a strange sense of excitement and apprehension rushing through you. “I, um, thank you for the drink.” 

“Anytime, babydoll,” he replied, his eyes lingering on you as you turned to leave. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you walked back to the elevator. The marble floors echo your footsteps, and the soft hum of the employees fills your ears. The conversation replayed in your mind, every word, every glance.

The enigmatic and powerful James Barnes had taken a particular interest in you, and you realized that your weekly deliveries were about to become much more intriguing.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[gyu-tori]

Fleur de Destin | Valentine's Special

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ In a world where flowers carry the threads of destiny, five universes intertwine the lives of strangers whose fates are sealed by a single bloom. Each flower holds a meaning, a secret, or a curse, shaping the paths of those who encounter them. From love destined to wither, to bonds that flourish against all odds, the series explores the delicate balance between choice and fate. With each tale, petals fall, revealing that sometimes, destiny blossoms in the most unexpected way.

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ Wild Roses | C.YJ by @apeachty

⇢ Wild Rose — a symbol of immortal love or a union that will never fade, not by time, nor by death.

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ The world was cruel, binding you and your soulmate through pain; crueler still when that bond shattered. but perhaps, at last, it has shown mercy—sending you another lost soul, with a bond just as broken and hope just as fleeting.

(Divided into 3 Chapters!!)

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ Daffodils | C.SB by @yunverie

⇢ Daffodils — signifies rebirth and new beginnings.

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ Love is a disease, untamed and relentless. Soobin loved you—so fiercely, so tenderly—that it rewrote the boundaries of his existence. You made flowers bloom within him, vibrant and alive, yet laced with quiet devastation. As the petals took root, slowly consuming him, he clung to the beauty of it all, for what is love if not the sweetest kind of ruin?

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ Rain Lilies | C.BG by @dawngyu

⇢ Rain lilies — the peak after the rain, a promise of new beginnings.

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ Were you an error in the grand scheme? An anomaly? A glitch in the unforgiving script? Or maybe, he simply doesn't really… exist.

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ Blue Hydrangeas | K.TH by @bamgyuuuri

⇢ Blue Hydrangeas — symbolize heartfelt emotions and a deep, sincere affection.

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ In a world of soulblooms, your bare wrists hid your guarded heart—until an accidental touch with taehyun awakens a blue hydrangea on your grasp.

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ Red Poppies | H.K by @gyu-tori

⇢ Red Poppies — often signifies a state of tranquility, sleep, and dreamlike experiences.

˚₊ · ➳ ❥ When soulmates are found in dreams, your nights remain empty—until someone with a broken bond helps you search. As dreams clear, unexpected feelings emerge. Are soulmates really just predestined, or can fate change mid-course?

Taglist: closed!!

Notes: This is our first ever collab event and it's something that we are so excited to work on and share to everyone. Give every writer in this event all the love and support you can!! We can't wait for the release!!

[hederasgarden]

nunc scio quid sit amor

Summary: Lucius tells your son the story of how he fell in love with you.  Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 1.7K Rating: 18+ only.  Explicit smut (PIV), mentions of breeding kink and pregnancy, and just a lot of fluff and happiness.  A/N: Thanks to @ryebecca of beta’ing. This is part of Lucius and the Fisherman’s Wife Series. Based on this request. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Gladiator Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

“If I have to listen to Senator Aelius drone on about the price of grain one more time, I will lose my senses,” Acacius mutters. “I grow tired of their endless petty quarrels.”

“I know,” you commiserate, thinking of the day-long session you both endured with the senators. Your back aches from sitting in the stiff marble chair in place of Lucius. “They need to come to a decision about the aqueduct repairs soon. It has been delayed far too long already.”

Acacius lets out a heavy sigh. “Lucius could always issue a decree...”

You shake your head, knowing full well that your husband would never override their authority. He agreed to take on the mantle of Emperor only until the Senate could function properly on its own, and despite the inevitable bumps along the way, they have indeed made progress under his and Acacius’ guidance.

“Yes, yes,” he grumbles dismissively, waving you off. His frustration is palpable and you share it, rubbing your belly absently.

You take his arm as the two of you continue walking, the familiar comfort of his presence settling over you. Felix, ever your loyal shadow, follows just a few paces behind. While there is no need for his protection in the palace he never strays far from you. He’s been by your side since the days when you and Lucilla were hidden away on the coast, and though you don’t truly need guarding now, you always feel safer with him nearby. Still, you can ask for no better protection than Acacius, even if today he wears the Toga Praetexta of a senator and carries no sword.

You pass through one courtyard and then another, the sound of your husband’s low baritone and your son’s light, rising voice filtering through the air. Acacius catches your eye, a smile shared between the two of you as you stop to watch the scene before you. Maximus, your son, is seated on the edge of a shallow pool, his small hands trail the surface of the water, leaving ripples behind. Silvery fish glide lazily beneath the lily pads, vanishing into the shadows each time the water stirs.

“Tell me again how you met Momma?” Maximus asks, his ever-inquisitive face intent on your husband

"That is a complicated story," Lucius replies.

"Did you love her when you first saw her? Like Avus Acacius and Avia?" Maximus asks eagerly. "Avus Acacius said it was like...a bolt from Jupiter!" he adds, eyes wide with excitement.

You glance at Acacius beside you, who can’t help but grin, his chest puffing out with pride. It's clear he's still pleased by the story he shared about his and Lucilla’s first meeting. 

“I thought you were a soldier, not a poet,” you whisper to the man beside you, amused.

“I have hidden depths,” he replies with a playful wink. “And I love entertaining my grandson.”

The two of you stand in silence, watching Lucius, who seems to be carefully measuring his words. One day you'll tell Maximus the full story of how you and Lucius came to be, but not yet. He’s still too young, his world still so simple, untouched by the complexities that shaped your lives.

 “It was not quite like that for us,” Lucius finally says.

The answer clearly disappoints your son who deflates, a small frown tugging at his sweet features.

Lucius glances down at him, his expression softening as he continues. “Our love was more like a seed — one we didn’t even know we had planted. It was nurtured slowly over time, carefully, until one night, it bloomed unexpectedly.”

“Ugh, that is boring,” your son replies. Then he jumps to his feet, suddenly energized by a new idea. “I want to be struck by Cupid’s arrow!” he announces, mimicking the gesture and flopping dramatically onto the floor, hard enough to make you wince in sympathy.

“Sometimes the best kind of love takes time,” Lucius says, “growing inside you so slowly you don’t even realize it’s there.”

Maximus pauses for a moment, considering his father's words. Finally, he nods and sits up with renewed curiosity. Resting his small arm on his knees, he looks at Lucius with wide, innocent eyes. “Maybe,” he says, his voice thoughtful. “But you thought Momma was very pretty, did you not?”

To your surprise, Lucius looks up at you then, his gaze steady and warm, locking with yours. A soft smile forms at the corners of his lips, barely visible beneath his thick beard. “More beautiful than I have words for,” he says.

“Tell me about being a Gladiator!” Maximus demands suddenly, clearly growing bored with this topic. "Avus Acacius says you were the best."

Lucius gives a long suffering sigh as he shoots a look at his stepfather. "Avus Acacius likes to exaggerate.”

“I do no such thing!” Acacius declares with a wide grin, his voice booming across the courtyard as he steps from the shadows. You follow him into the sunlit space.“I speak only the words Veritas commands me to!”

He lets out a playful growl and suddenly charges toward Maximus. The moment catches your son off guard, and a burst of delighted laughter escapes him when Acacius scoops him up into the air, lifting him high above his head.

“Momma!” Maximus suddenly shouts, his voice ringing out as if noticing you for the first time. 

Without a second thought, he rushes over to you once Acacius sets him down, his tiny feet thumping against the stone floor. You bend down slightly, kissing him on the top of his head. He smells of sun and sweat, the familiar scent comforting. He pats your belly, your bump still small but growing every day. 

“Hello little sister,” he declares. 

“We do not know if the babe will be a boy or a girl,” Lucius reminds your son. 

Maximus looks up at him with wide, serious eyes, his small chin jutting out in defiance. He stomps his foot with determination. “It will be a girl,” he declares, his voice confident and unshakable. “I have asked Juno Lucina.”

A small, amused smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you exchange a fond look with Lucius, who raises an eyebrow.

“The gods do not always grant our wishes,” you say gently. “We must wait and see what the fates have planned.”

Maximus pouts for a moment, clearly disappointed, but then his face brightens when a new thought occurs to him. “Well, a brother would be just as good I suppose. We can play gladiators together.”

“A fun prospect,” Acacius agrees, taking hold of his wrist. “Come, let us practice so you will be prepared to best him once he arrives.” Maximus follows his grandfather eagerly as he chatters with excitement about the gladiator battles he would soon win.

When they move further into the courtyard Lucius steps closer to you, his presence solid and warm. Without a word, he draws you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest, and he leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. The touch is gentle at first but it soon deepens, becoming more insistent, a slow burn that ignites something within you. Lucius groans, his tongue seeking entry to your mouth that you permit with a little gasp. 

“Maximus will be entertained for quite some time,” he whispers, pushing you back until the warm light of the courtyard fades and your figures are swallowed by the shadows of the hallway. 

These are your private quarters, and with Felix guarding the door, there is little risk of being discovered. Yet, despite the security, it still feels wrong to let Lucius have you here. Your weak protest is quickly silenced by your husband’s insistent fingers parting your dress and dipping between your thighs. These days it takes so little to make you ready for him and you groan, the cool stone a relief against the heated skin of your back. 

“It has been too long since I have felt your warmth,” he whispers. 

Your chuckle of amusement turns into a moan as he lines himself up and sinks inside you slowly. Pleasure blooms in your chest and you roll your hips in response, needing him deeper. “You had me this morning,” you remind him breathlessly. “Twice.”

“It is not enough,” he groans, urging you to wrap a leg around his hip. You teeter on one foot, your balance already unsteady with your growing belly, and clutch his shoulder for support. “I should be inside you every hour. Every minute.”

His words make you shudder and the burn of desire and pleasure intensifies within, an inferno that threatens to consume everything. You work with his rhythm, feeling frantic.

“More,” you gasp into his mouth. 

His next thrusts nearly lift your remaining foot from the floor and you throw your arms around his shoulders. His warm breath fans across your face and you exchange a desperate kiss, holding on while he jostles your body with each eager snap of his hips. A moan, loud and wanton, bursts from your chest as you come undone, your vision fading out. Lucius growls and his hand falls to your backside. He grabs your flesh and pushes himself deeper than you thought possible, the action edging on painful if it weren’t for the powerful waves of pleasure washing over you. 

“My love,” Lucius groans. 

The shudder that passes through him as he comes makes you throb around him, sparking another wave of pleasure. You hold on to one another as your ecstasy ebbs away, sharing the same warm air. When Lucius sets you back on your feet you tremble. He slips from your body and eases a hand over your belly before capturing your mouth in a long kiss. Your thighs are sticky and sweat gathers at the back of your neck but you’ve never felt more content. 

“Perhaps we should retire to the bathhouse,” he suggests. 

“Only if my Emperor commands it,” you reply with a playful smile, laughing at the intense look Lucius gives you in return.

“Perhaps he does,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose against yours. “Perhaps he also commands you to spend the rest of the day relaxing with him.”

“Oh, well if he commands it, I must comply,” you whisper, kissing him again.

[bonbonly]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬

a/n: this is for my desi girls, and my first full length proper fic! translations are at the end of the fic, so just scroll down whenever you see something in spanish! pairing: king!carlos sainz x apsara!female!reader ; tw: fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk in spanish, use of slut in spanish word count: 6k apsara definition: a supernatural female being, either the mistress of a soul in paradise or a succubus

"hurry up! hurry up!" meenakshi cries out. she's grabbing her saree, wrapping it around her wet body as she cranes her neck around a tree to see if there were any onlookers. you laugh, splashing some water onto her feet which has her squealing, her right foot kicking up into the air before she's stomping her foot, pouting at you, "i'm not kidding, come! what if someone sees us!"

"that didn't stop you the last time when the great sage was walking back home," you tease her, splashing another wave of water. she's blushing at your words, averting her eyes to the small flower besides her. she had been sent by one of the gods to remind this sage that despite the knowledge he had, his arrogance was still that of a mere mortal and to prove a point, meenakshi was sent to illustrate that the sage had not yet controlled his desires like he was supposed to. meenakshi had walked into his hut under the pretense of wanting some water, and walked out with a satisfied grin as the sage's cum dripped down her legs. even with the amount of times she was sent by the gods to fulfill whatever they asked of her, no apsara was more the favorite than you. you were created by many gods, who each spent extra time making sure that you were the perfect apsara to ever exist. their own lust could not be controlled when you stepped out of the flower that you bloomed from, and needless to say, you were their prized possession for a good two weeks before they let you roam the mortal world.

you're in a river, taking a bath like you always did with your friends. renuka had left earlier to collect some fruits, and dhanalakshmi was playing games with the little girls near the village. dhanalakshmi's story was one of pity, though. she yearned to be a normal mortal, to mingle with the others, but an apsara's curse was that their beauty was just too much for a man or woman to handle. the mortals were not ready to live with the apsaras, and that's why their lives were so mundane. you glance over to meenakshi who's still anxiously looking around.

"you worry too much! come, come take another bath with me!" you laugh, swimming on your back. the water surrounded your full breasts, your hair floating like the leaves of a lily flower. meenakshi sent you a scowl, shaking her head,

"you play too much! come, before a mortal sees us! i've been hearing talks from the gods that this one king wants to take over the forest! and he's not even from here!" meenakshi grabs your white saree and brings it over to you, carefully holding it out so that the fabric doesn't get drenched. you stop your movements, letting the still water engulf your frame as you stare at her.

"what do you mean take over the forest? the forest is ours! the gods gave us a place to stay! this is our land, not the mortals!" you cry out.

"i know, i know," she beckons you with her hand to swim over to her, "which is why i'm begging you to come out of the river. we can go pray at the temple near by and see if the gods will answer our concerns!"

you step out of the river, letting the water cascade your naked body as meenakshi is quick to wrap the saree around you. she grabs the flower from the ground, plucking a bit of the stem off before placing it in your wet hair, right above your right ear and then she's holding your hand and navigating through the forest. you hop over some roots, and smile as the butterflies flutter around your hair, kissing your skin. meenakshi turns around and laughs,

"must be one of the former kings who satisfied their lust through you and now they are cursed to be butterflies!" and you giggle in response, cooing to the creatures,

"beautiful nonetheless, are they not? they're always welcome," and the butterflies dance around your head as a form of gratitude at your kindness.

when passing by a long abandoned hut, you see renuka laying there, her clothes on the floor of the forest. she's breathing heavily, a grin on her face as her legs are spread apart, her cunt still clenching around the cum that some mysterious man has offered her. meenakshi and you both scurry over to her, and while your friend is tending to the poor spent girl, you're giggling hysterically as you crouch down to her level.

"someone had fun in the forest without us, hm?" you smile and meenakshi's swatting your arm, a frown on her face,

"stop that! she needs to get back home. why would anyone ever be intimate in the forest, look at her back!" she flips renuka onto her stomach which causes the apsara to giggle a bit dazily. there's marks on her back from being held up against a tree, and you bite your lip, your mind wandering to some very unholy thoughts. renuka's waving meenakshi away,

"no, stop... stop, i'm fine. i'm very much fine, don't worry about me. i was sent by indra to come destroy a saint's abstinence. he was a young boy, couldn't be more than 19. he was good," she pauses, stretching her arms before giggling once more, "really good. (y/n) you would've loved him." and meenakshi's glaring at both renuka and you,

"enough with this nonsense! come now, we have other more important matters to deal with. dhana's waiting for us back at the temple," she stands up and walks away, leaving you to wrap renuka up in her clothes, a knowing smile on both your lips. when you finally get to the temple, dhana's there making a flower garland to place on the deity and she turns to look at her three friends approaching.

"finally! i thought you all would never make it! i was waiting for so long!" she cries out, and meenakshi's rolling her eyes,

"we would've gotten here sooner, but you can already guess what held us back," and she sends a scowl to both you and renuka, who are hiding your laughs with your mouth. dhana sighs, lighting a small lamp before praying carefully. one by one, the apsaras close their eyes, murmuring their concerns and within seconds, a large glow appears in front of you all. you open your eyes first, having always loved to have conversations with the gods. however, you frown, when you see it's god indra, the one you hated the most. he was always teasing you, toying with you in the worst way possible. you pout your lips and turn your head to the side, chest heaving in anger and he's already laughing,

"oh my dear (y/n) come now, don't be like that! i thought you'd miss me!"

but meenakshi, the ever loving friend, clears her throat and saves you from a conversation with him, "we wanted to ask about what's to come of our forest. are the rumors true? will our home be destroyed by a foreign force?"

indra stares into the sky, taking a deep breath in before nodding his head, "i'm afraid the rumors are true. very much true. there's not much we can do to stop him, but we're trying our best to intervene. this is the home we gifted you after all, i wouldn't want any of you to get hurt."

"what do you mean by 'him'? who's 'him', who is he?" you ask, snapping your head to face indra. he's raising his eyebrows, a smile on his lips as he sees your feisty attitude,

"apsara, he isn't like the other men you've dealt with," he clears his throat before continuing, "he's more dangerous, you know? he's a king from a distant place, very distant. he's travelled the seas, he's shown the qualities of a true warrior and for a king who takes acres of land left and right for the expansion of his kingdom, he sure does have morals."

"no man has morals, we have learned that countless of times," dhana chimes, "surely, he is someone that can be defeated, right?"

"of course, of course! but the gods cannot do it without your help! and your help is very crucial, very much so," indra begins and renuka steps forward,

"we'll be very helpful like always, this is just another-"

"this isn't just another scenario," indra scoffs, "i'm worried about you all. for once in your lives, you may be seduced by him, not the other way around."

the apsaras stare at him in disbelief, confusion settling in all their faces. what did he mean by that? no man ever stood a chance against an apsara, and no apsara ever bowed down to another man after the deed was done. renuka turns to look at you, "i think (y/n) should do it. she never cares for any man. her entire world is this forest, she cares more than any of us."

and before you can argue that there's probably a better candidate, the god floats to stand besides you, tilting your chin up with his finger so that you can see his tall stature.

"i was thinking the same thing. come on (y/n) i know we've had our differences in the past, but you know you're always my favorite, you know that right?" he exclaims, gently brushing your cheek. you turn your head away in disgust, snarling at him,

"you're not my favorite. you never have been and you never will. but i'll still do it. not for you, but for my friends. for my home," you respond, and he clasps his hand,

"as long as you do it, i shall be fine," he sighs, and dhana nervously chews on her finger,

"what does he looks like?" she asks, and indra is moving back to where the deity stands,

"you'll know when you see him... she'll definitely know." and just like that he's gone. meenakshi turns to look at you with scowl,

"i now see why you hate him. how will we know? how will you know, (y/n)?"

"i guess i just will..." you whisper, turning on your heel.

dhanalakshmi stopped going to the village outskirts in a long time. renuka rarely ever leaves her small hut, and meenakshi never joins your invitations when you're bathing in the river. so all alone, you swim around, pressing flowers into your hair and laughing whenever the butterflies come back to accompany you.

"you poor creatures," you tease them pointing to a blue one, "i remember you... you tried to trick me, and i convinced the rishis to curse you! look at you, helplessly flying around because you could not get to me. shame, such shame. i might as well let your wings roam over my body, you won't have hands for the next 1000 years."

the butterfly flies up all into your face, making you laugh as you stumble backwards into deeper waters. "someone's upset," you snicker, and the blue butterfly flies away. your eyes follow the insect before it lands on a white steed, neighing. you frown, looking around you to see if any of your friends are there to convince you that you're not dreaming. you swim over to the majestical animal, ducking beneath a broken log when the horse turns to your area. when the horse looks the other side, you slowly raise your head and let your eyes travel along the golden reins. the saddle is that of a rich velvety red, with encrusted gold patterns. when you had once seduced a sage under the orders of one of the gods, the sage had found out and cursed you to be curious. in any other circumstances, this would seem as barely any punishment, but no. no, this was a type of punishment that only your future would suffer from. so with the nagging feeling in your mind, you raise from the water and approach the animal, gently brushing its soft coat. a very well maintained horse, and you're definitely impressed. your fingers dance along the reigns and when you look past the horse, you see a man cutting through the leaves of a bush with his sword. each swing of the weapon makes your heart ache and you feel for the poor plant that's suffering this abuse. you stretch out your hand, about to yell stop when your mind starts buzzing. you feel it in your heart, this is the man that you're supposed to stop. you gulp, realizing that you're not prepared for the occasion and you jump back into the waters which startles the horse.

hearing the restlessness of the horse, king carlos sainz runs towards the sound and he catches a glimpse of you swimming away, your hair chasing after you as if it was your own shadow and he has to blink a couple times because now you are gone. as if you were an illusion. he barely saw anything, but he swore you were naked? with flowers in your hair and a scent that made him crave for more. he shakes his head, turning back to his horse.

"oi, cabron, what's wrong?" he snorts, and the horse snorts back, stomping its foot, "enough with the attitude. come, we have things to do." and he's tugging the reigns, dragging the horse deeper into the woods.

"i saw him, i saw him!" you're pacing renuka's hut, shaking uncontrollably, "i didn't see his face clearly but i know it's him! i was so sure of it! i felt it within me!"

"then why didn't you do something about it?" she asks, and you groan out loud,

"right? when i'm naked after a bath, i should just go up to him and - oh forget it, that's your style. that's not mine!" you hiss, "i like to plan these out, i like to be prepared no matter what happens."

and you know you're prepared when you catch a glimpse of him the next day, and the following few days. you're stalking him, watching him prance around on his horse as you're perched on a tree. you take a bite of an apple, trying to understand his patterns, his mind. what was he doing in your home? to think he could storm in and take what was rightfully yours! the audacity of mankind. and yet as the days pass by, you fear lord indra is right. you're starting to crave this king. his hair looks soft, combed neatly and sometimes the wind pushes his hair back so that you could get a closer look at his big brown eyes. his jaw is sharp, lips big and you nearly fall off the tree ogling at him. renuka, meenakshi and dhana all see him too occasionally when they're hiding behind the trees, and all they can do is fawn over him. his beauty had renuka envying him.

"mortals shouldn't be this beautiful, this is a curse by the gods! they're trying to test us," she scoffs, and you're sighing out loud,

"a test indeed. i don't think i can spend any longer chasing after him. my mind is unwell. do you want to seduce him? i am more than happy to gift this burden to you," you exclaim but renuka shakes her head,

"no, no. the gods have chosen you. they're getting angry that you have not done your duty as an apsara. don't delay it any further, come on (y/n), it's your time now." she informs you, before picking the ends of her saree up and walking back to her hut.

you decide to finally confront the stranger that has been tormenting your mind for the past week. you let your hair down, the biggest hibiscus flower you can find in your hair and you wear your precious anklets, the one that you only wear for occasions like this. you delve into the woods, fingers brushing against the bark of the trees, each with a story of their own. and then you hear the unmistakable sound of someone chopping up leaves and you know it's time for you to spring into action. you move towards the direction of the sound, pushing the big leaves out of your way and you make sure that each step you take is harsh, just so that the music of your anklets can echo through every corner of this forest. as you turn the corner, a warm figure presses against your back, followed by the coolness of the sword against your throat.

"Qué tipo de criatura eres*?" the voice behind you asks, and you stand there, not understanding the language that he's speaking. you remain quiet, and after a few beats he asks you, "mmm, let me help you out, what type of creature are you?"

"i am no creature," you respond, "i live in the woods, this is my home."

"what are you? some sort of bear to be living here?" the voice behind you derides, and his sword's blade digs just a bite deeper into your throat which makes you gasp out loud, "you're a strange creature. what is it about you, hm? i've been seeing you lurking these wooded areas for the past week."

he inhales your scent, the one that he's been craving for an entire week. the one that he smells whenever he knows your nearby, and it drives him insane. he nuzzles his nose into your hair, lips finding the shell of your ear before he begins to nibble, "say, creature, how do you live like this in these woods?"

"this is my home. and once again, do not call me creature. you make me sound as if i am a monster, and the only monster here is you." you hiss, and he's chuckling into your ear, his voice low,

"perhaps, i am the monster, but you fascinate me. why don't you tell me one thing, were you sent by anyone? hm? is this some sort of a game that you and your friends play?" but his questions are met with no responses since you are too focused on the sword against your throat. he seems impressed at your resilience - or stupidity - and he removes the metal, spinning it in his hands before sheathing the sword. you take a step forward, ready to head back home and send meenakshi to do the deed instead but he grabs a chunk of your hair and pulls out back to him, which causes you to wince.

"where do you think you're going?" he's asking you, "i found you, and i want to know more about you."

"this is not the way to do so," you mumble, and he spins you around to finally see your face. you're stricken by his beauty, his features sharp and clear. you cannot help but press your body against his, being drawn to him in a way that you had never done so before. but you know that what you were feeling was wrong. apsaras never found love and if they did, it was doomed from the start. and considering the way this man was staring at you, love was not in the picture but lust sure was. you gulp, pushing him away from you, "you cannot take my home. you must make a promise."

he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side as he's circling you as a predator would to its prey. the butterflies sit on the branch of a tree, eagerly waiting to see what's about to happen. "i cannot guarantee anything, but give me a good reason."

"my friends and i live here. the gods have gifted us this place as our home. no mortal is to ever see us unless we are to carry out a specific duty. mortals cannot usually withstand us, not even the most powerful sages can." you explain, and he's placing his hands on his hips, laughing at your words,

"i'm resisting you, i can stand you. not all mortals are that desperate, mi amor," he stops right in front of you, taking in your appearance. his eyes rake over your body, and he wants to touch you, see if you were real or just a figment of his imagination. but he knows that his words would then be futile. you can see the conflict in his eyes and you smirk for a brief second, and he notices it. he catches it, which makes him even more desperate to have you as his. to tame you, to see what it is about these woodland creatures. he had heard stories from the villagers nearby that the beauty of the forest was to be avoided. he didn't understand it then, but he sure did now. damned be the warnings they gave him, he just wanted a small taste.

you take a step backwards, which causes him to follow suit. you frown, looking around the forest to see if meenakshi would show up but the king grabs your wrist and yanks you close, pressing your body against his once more, "creature, i want you. i need you, right here and right now."

his eyes are blown out due to lust, and you're sure lord indra is happy that you have carried out his request perfectly. you could happily indulge the king all you wanted now. he'd cum in you once and then he'd leave as all the other men had done before. this was nothing new to you. you nod your head, "i shall give myself to you so long as you leave my forest and never come back, never taking what belongs to my friends and I."

"anything you say mi vida, i shall find land elsewhere," he promises, and you're unaware that he's crossing his fingers behind his back. how could he possibly leave this forest when he's seen you now! you bite your lip, eyes glancing to his lips. the ones that you've been dreaming about for a whole week and with much hesitation, you lean forward and capture his lips into yours, nipping his bottom lip and tugging every so often which has him laughing at how eager you were being. especially for a creature that seemed disgusted by his presence just a few minutes earlier. he cups your face, making sure you cannot turn away when the kisses become more heated. his lips trail to your jaw, and then down your neck. he kisses over your clothed breasts, down your stomach and then the inside of your thighs. he brings his hands up to grab at the fabric, but the gods must've decided to help you for now the wind is dancing around you. your hair lifts up into a spiral as the garment is slowly unraveling around you as if you were a present just for him, and there you stand naked before him as his mouth is watering at the sight. he shoves you to the ground, and you groan at the feeling of crunch leaves on your back. it wasn't your particular favorite feeling, but there's not much time when he's yanking you by your ankles close to him. he spreads your legs apart, shaking your feet to hear your anklets that are singing into his ears. he kisses your feet, whispering that every step you take on this world must be a blessing to the dirt. you're speechless at his praise, and his lips are inching closer to where you are aching for him. he blows a few cool breaths on your wet cunt, mumbling about how wet you are and if any man in the forest had ever managed to ruin you like he was about to.

"you are probably the 1000th man in my entire life that I have given myself too," you comment, watching his eyes darken, "i doubt you can make yourself memorable, but we shall try."

he takes it as a challenge, feeling his ego get bruised at your words. he’s going to make sure that if you ever bed any other man, you’ll still be craving him. so when you expect him to take out his manhood and call it a day, instead he has his lips around your cunt. he licks through your folds, sucking and pulling your clit that makes you gasp out loud, followed by a very loud moan that shocks even you. you glance down and can only see his black hair masking the sinful actions his tongue is doing. he’s wrapping his arm around your legs, bringing you closer to him as he’s diving his tongue deep into your core, shaking his head against your cunt which has you mewling. when you eventually cum into his mouth, he pulls away and licks his lips, loving the way you’re in shock at how intense the orgasm was. he brings his fingers to your mouth,

“Open for me princesa, i want to feel your spit on my fingers,” and you nod your head, completely under his trance. he smirks at your compliance, and pulls his fingers out of your mouth and dragging it down your body. his touch sends sparks flying through your body and when he shoves two fingers into your tight cunt, you throw your head back and cry out loud,

“you’re doing too much! listen you mortal!” you cannot finish your sentence since he’s curling his fingers, scissoring your cunt. he pulls out and slaps your face, gently,

“Your highness, you must call me your highness,” he grins, shoving his fingers back in you, and you’re tossing your head to the side with a large moan. this man had magic in his hands, there was no other explanation for this! he goes faster, adding a third finger as his thumb toys with your puffy clit. he sees your desperate cries to cum and he leans forward to capture your nipple in his mouth, sucking as if he was expecting milk to pour out from you. the gods had cruel ways to manipulate you, and you really hope they do not follow through with whatever this man was lusting for. your thoughts are quickly silenced as you feel that familiar coil tightening within you, and as his fingers slider in and out, curling and spreading the gummy walls of your cunt, you scream out loud as you cum once again, squirting all over his hands. the sleeve of his royal coat is drenched in your juices and he pulls away from your marked chest to stare into your eyes,

“you’re making quite the mess, mi vida. ruining my coat like this. debería castigarte por eso, mi pequeña zorra**” but his words mean nothing as your mind is turning into a blank mushy mess. he lifts you off the ground and places you against a tree. you suddenly remember the marks on renuka’s back a week ago and now you find yourself growing wetter at the thought of what he’s about to do. he runs a hand through his hair, beginning to undress. he tosses his coat, and then his vest and then his shirt onto the horse’s saddle and takes off his pants as well. his cock, once free, springs upwards and hits his stomach before swaying with each step he took towards you. he lifts one of your legs and lets you drape it over his arm while the other leg is made to root firmly onto the ground.

“you’re so wet, fuck,” he groans, sliding his cock against your folds. you whimper, still over sensitive from the previous orgasms but he tunes it all out and lets his aching cock bury into your cunt. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, making sure that the only thing your brain can think about now is the cock that's splitting you in half. he pulls out and slams right back into you, cock burying to the hilt and you're screaming with each thrust, unable to form words. his pace quickens, and he presses his chest against yours, going deeper into your poor cunt as the bark of the tree kisses your back roughly. he hoists both your legs up over his arms and as he's pounding into you, he keeps laughing the entire time.

"creature, i thought you'd be mysterious and quiet!" he brings his thumb onto your sensitive clit, rubbing furiously which has you screaming his title once more, begging him to slow down or else you were going to cum once more. "that's what i want, zorra, i want you to cum a million times around my cock. milk me for what it's worth. 1000 men you say? i do not know much about you, but i know from now on i am never letting any man touch you. damned be what the villagers said, i'm keeping you to myself."

your eyes widen in shock, having never heard someone want to possess you. perhaps this is the mentality of foreigners, wanting to take what wasn't rightfully theirs. you're sure the gods would never someone else take their beautiful creation, but a part of you... a part of you wanted him to take you. to let you go beyond this forest. you bite into his shoulder as you reach your climax, your liquids spewing out once more. he continues to drill into you, prolonging your pleasure. his thumb doesn't stop either, and you're sobbing uncontrollably telling him that you cannot take it anymore, that you cannot physically keep up with him. mortals would tire out before the apsaras, but this man had the strength to match the gods! no wonder indra was so worried about you having to deal with this king!

king carlos pulls out of you, and throws you over his shoulder. you limp against him, feeling yourself growing exhausted but you knew the job was far from done. the man tosses you into the water, and dives right in. he clasps onto your waist and brings you towards another bruising kiss, hands groping and squeezing wherever he could touch. there's a boulder near the end of the stream, and he swims over there with you holding on to his neck. within seconds, he has your face against the rock, ass in the air as he's rutting into you once again. you're losing your mind at this point, thinking that he's bound to make you so cock drunk that you'll never remember any of your friends ever again, only the feeling of the veins on his cock pulsing within your walls as he moves in and out of you. one hand grabs your hair while the other is kneading your ass. he looks down at the sight of your ass bouncing with each of his thrusts and he groans,

"oh creature, you cannot convince me that you weren't made just for my cock." his thrusts are harsher, he's not holding himself back anymore and you're audibly wailing at how you're unable to keep up with him, "mírate, tan hermosa, tan perfecta, tan buena puta de mierda para mí.***"

you don't know what he's saying again, but you can feel another orgasm building up as he's going deeper. it's like he plans on having his cock lodged into your guts permanently at this rate. you shake your head, trying to get up but he pushes you back down with his hand, a firm smack on your ass.

"i c-can't c-cum anymore," you whimper, though you back your ass into his crotch, as if chasing after something you fear might ruin you forever.

"yes, you can, puedes y te correrás para mí****" he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. he grabs your arms and pins them behind your back, pulling you flush against his chest as his cock bullies into you. he licks the tears off your cheek, kissing and sucking at your skin and telling you that you were the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. "i'm going to take you back to my kingdom. i'm going to make you my queen, and you're going to be filled with my cum every. single. day," he punctuates with his thrusts, making you scream out loud as you're orgasming once again, your body shaking. he wraps his arms around you, "i never asked for your name in all of this. i need to know the name of my queen."

as he kisses your shoulder, you're gasping for air as you try to come down from the high, "i-it's (y/n), my name is (y/n)." and he's raising his eyebrows,

"never heard of the name, but it still sounds beautiful. i am king carlos, and i'm going to make you mine," he groans out loud as he's spilling his semen into you. he thrusts into you a couple more times, letting his cum splatter into the walls of your overworked cunt and he pulls out, enjoying the sight of your leaking pussy. he walks around the boulder to head back to his horse, and you see him begin to dress himself.

"if i have you, why would you need this forest, hm?" he asks, glancing at you as he's buttoning his shirt.

"this forest was gifted by the gods for my friends and I to stay safe from mortals. usually those who wander here are punished by the gods through us." you reveal to him, voice still hoarse from all the screaming you just did a few seconds ago. he laughs, a rich laugh, at your words,

"punish? mi vida, if this is your punishment, then i might as well take over your forest. do your friends have sweet cunts like you do? maybe i should get a taste of them all," he snickers, and watches you frown at his words, "don't be jealous, amor. you're the only one i want anyway."

he walks over to you after he's fully clothed, and cups your cheek, "come with me. i meant it when i said i want you as my queen. you won't have to live in this forest, you will have all the luxuries you could ever ask for."

"and this forest?" you ask.

"i'll still take it, but i won't do much harm if you're so fond of it," he replies, but it is not enough for you. consciousness settles into the crevices of your mind, and you realize you have overstayed your welcome with this king. you pull away from his touch, sending one final glance to him before jumping into the waters, swimming away as the butterflies follow you. king carlos watches you flee from him, confused that you just rejected such an amazing proposal. he wasn't even one to do so, and he laughs at his own foolishness to be chasing after some unknown creature in the woods. but his feelings remain the same, he wants you as his, no matter what happens.

as he moves towards his horse, he sees the white cloth that had been adorned on your body and he picks it up, inhaling that scent of yours that made his knees weak. he wraps the cloth around his hand and hoists himself onto his horse.

"i'll find her again one day, and the next time, i won't let her escape. she will be my queen, you hear me?" he says to the horse, who merely snorts and stomps its foot in response.

"oh, shut up," he hisses, before tapping the sides of his shoes against the horse's abdomen, and rides off deeper into the woods.

* what type of creature are you ** I should punish you for that, my little slut *** Look at you, so beautiful, so perfect, such a good fucking slut for me. **** you can and you will cum for me

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hi ivy!! for your autumn picnic could i request number 4. from sappy/ romantic with remus?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ cinnamon and apples

synopsis: autumn at hogwarts is your favorite time of year but nothing compares to the warmth of remus lupin, especially when he’s kissing you slow and sweet, tasting like cinnamon and home content warnings: fluff, may cause excessive blushing and the urge to cuddle a certain werewolf author's note: thank you so much for the request, lily ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 701

The air outside was crisp, tinged with that familiar autumnal scent of fallen leaves and wood smoke. The Hogwarts grounds were painted in hues of orange, gold, and red, and you found yourself nestled under a large oak tree, bundled in a cozy scarf, a steaming cup of spiced cider in your hands.

Remus sat beside you, his leg brushing against yours as he absentmindedly twirled a leaf between his fingers. The two of you had spent the entire afternoon out here, watching students rush by, their laughter carried on the cool breeze. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet that only autumn could bring, and you felt completely at ease with him.

"Are you cold?" Remus asked softly, his warm hazel eyes scanning your face.

You shook your head, taking another sip of your cider, the warmth spreading through you. "No, this is perfect."

He smiled that soft, crooked smile that always made your heart flutter. "Good."

You leaned your head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of pine and parchment that clung to him. The soft rustling of the leaves overhead was soothing, and for a moment, you closed your eyes, content to just be here with him.

"I love autumn," you murmured, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"It suits you," he replied quietly, his hand slipping into yours. "You're warm, like the season."

You smiled at the sweetness of his words, your heart skipping a beat. There was something so simple and pure about moments like this with Remus, as if the rest of the world faded away and it was just the two of you.

"You're too good with words, you know that?" you teased, nudging him slightly.

Remus chuckled, the sound low and comforting. "Only because I mean every one of them."

You felt the blush rise to your cheeks and took another sip of your cider to hide it. He always knew how to make you feel special, even in the simplest of moments.

As you set the cup down beside you, Remus shifted, turning to face you. His gaze softened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek, tracing the coolness of your skin. You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his fingers a comforting contrast to the chilly air.

"You've got something…" he whispered, his hand brushing your lips.

"What? Where?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Cinnamon," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "And apples."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. It was slow, sweet, and you melted into him instantly.

When he pulled away, his nose bumped gently against yours, and you couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing in the best possible way.

"You taste like cinnamon and apples," he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours as he spoke. "And I can’t get enough."

Your chest fluttered at his words, warmth blooming deep inside you. You grinned, leaning in for another soft kiss, your hands finding their way to the collar of his sweater, tugging him just a little closer.

"And you," you murmured between kisses, "taste like—"

"Like what?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Like… home," you finished, your voice soft and sincere.

Remus's breath hitched slightly, and you saw the way his eyes softened even more, his grip on you tightening just a little. He kissed you again, deeper this time, like he was trying to hold on to this moment for as long as possible.

When you finally pulled away, your lips tingled, and the world around you seemed to slow. The leaves rustled, the sky dimmed as the sun sank lower, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was him, and the way he made you feel so impossibly cherished.

"Home, huh?" he repeated with a grin, his thumb tracing circles on your hand.

"Yeah," you replied, nuzzling into his neck as you snuggled closer. "Like home."

And there, under the oak tree, wrapped in the colours of autumn and each other's warmth, you knew that as long as you had Remus, you'd always feel at home.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom lore for the Blood Blossom Au

Blood Blossoms -- otherwise scientifically known as rosa hemato -- are an extinct genus of flower from the rosaceae family that disappeared from the mortal plane in the late 1600s due to over-foraging from settlers during the Witch Trials. Prior to their extinction, they were already a rare breed of rose because of an evolutionary trait resulting in their main source of energy being ambient ectoplasm.

This means that blood blossoms only grow in areas where there are unusual levels of ectoplasm present. Regardless, however, only one or two bushes of blood blossoms can grow, as too many of them results in the ectoplasm being sucked out with no room of replenishing back to its original levels. This kills the blood blossoms in return. So a balance has to be met.

Blood blossoms have a mildly unsettling appearance. Their namesake, "blood blossom", comes from the blood red appearance of their petals, which start out as a vibrant red but steadily grows darker with age similar to blood drying on a page. Their stems, leaves, and thorns are, rather than green, a rich black-purple color. The center where the pistil sits is the typical yellow, however, it takes on the appearance of a yellow eye peering through the petals.

Blood blossoms emit a sweet, fragrant scent that allows them to not only attract bees, but also break down ectoplasm for consumption. See, what it does is that it discharges some of its pollen into the air, which then "latches on" to ecto. As the pollen begins to float down to the ground, the ectoplasm then sinks into the soil for the blood blossom to then draw into its roots. It gives the ectoplasm a physical body to latch onto, which it then uses to consume it.

Despite having a symbiotic relationship with ambient ectoplasm in it's natural habitat, the interactions it has with ghosts is an entirely different story. To ghosts, Blood Blossoms are terrifying, opportunistic parasitoids capable of consuming spirits whole if given the chance. Ghosts give off significantly more ectoplasm and when the blood blossoms sense that, they emit more pollen in order to consume it. Which is where the whole "blood blossoms are natural ghost shields" thing comes from.

Their sweet scents and vibrant colors made them popular upon discovery for perfumes and dyes, and when eaten taste sweet and slightly bitter, almost irony. Which is another reason for their namesake. During the Salem Witch Trials it was theorized that blood blossoms could expel the sins/demons from someone's body when consumed and prevent possession, or when surrounded by the roses, would trap the demons inside it's host body which would then be burned to banish it back to Hell along with the soul of it's host.

Which made them incredibly popular in executions, exorcisms, and Mass.

They could grow anywhere in the world so long as there was an adequate amount of ecto present.

Surprisingly enough, they do not commonly grow in or around gravesites due to a competitor flower nicknamed "rest in peace lilies" which, despite their name, are actually from the asparagaceae family and have more in common with bluebells. They're more modernly known as everlast bells. Ghosts prefer them over blood blossoms because they have a similar effect on ghosts as poppies do on the living where it sends them into a restful slumber. Hence their nickname "rest in peace lilies". The dead loove them.

In the Ghost Zone, their effects on the dead are far more potent than when they grew in the living realm due to the excessive amount of ectoplasm. They also grow much faster, so ghosts treat their appearances on islands similar to how one treats mint or kudzhu after finding it growing in their lawn: with extreme prejudice. And a lot of terror. Ghosts tend to rip them out when the flowers are not in bloom, or burn them when they are.

Their appearances in the Zone aren't much different than what they looked like in the living realm, with only a few mild changes like their thorns being sharper, their petals being more angular, and their eye-like center actually looking more like an eye. It's theorized that the Infinite Realm versions of blood blossoms gained very mild sentience, just enough that it almost feels like their eyes follow you when you pass by them, like a painting. Nobody is willing to test that theory.

To a ghost, getting caught in the hooks of a blood blossom means a slow, agonizing death akin to thousands of needle-sized mouths eating you all at once. The pollen doesn't stop until the ectoplasm is all broken down. Blood blossoms in the Ghost Zone are very much capable of eradicating a ghost entirely, core and all, with no chance of return. No passing go, no reconstruction, just complete oblivion.

Danny, prior to his poisoning, had severe allergic reactions when in physical contact with blood blossom in his human form. Rashes, blistering, hives wherever the blossom had physical contact with, inflammation, you name it. Luckily that hadn't been something he needed to worry about since they're, well, extinct.

[pickingupmymercedes]

"dont ask me that" from yours and "i dont even know if any of that was real" from my own. one where lewis overheard a conversation between reader n her brother/family after his breakup with her. in which the breakup broke and changed her so much shes become a different person who just doesnt believe shes worthy for love anymore. and it hurts her so much that she cant even believe that any of her happy moments with lewis was real, maybe it was just a game for him. angst and pleasee sfw

Asshole Lewis incoming. He does try to make things a bit better in the end though.

Also, this is only the second time I write from his perspective, and it's hard ngl.

"dont ask me that" and "i dont even know if any of that was real"

The cacophony of the paddock was a familiar background noise as Lewis weaved through the throng of team personnel and sponsors; a practiced smile plastered on his face. Yet, the usual thrill of pre-race anticipation was muted. All he craved was solitude, anywhere he could escape the prying eyes of the media.

He ducked into a secluded corner; a sliver of shade offered by a towering hospitality suite. Quietness for a few seconds, only to be instantly replaced by a gut-punch of surprise. Y/n. She was just on the other side of the wall of tires, face illuminated by the glow of her phone, a serious expression etched on her features.

He should've known retreating wouldn't guarantee escape. And the sight of her, so unexpected, made him suddenly regret his decision and long for the fans and media.

But he couldn't help eavesdropping. It wasn't intentional, not at first. Her voice was laced with a vulnerability he had only witnessed once before. The other voice on the conversation was her brother, he gathered, and his tone was laced with concern.

“You sound exhausted, Y/n,” the man's voice cutting deep into the silence. “Seriously, you need to take a break. The team won’t crumble without you”

Y/n sighed, the sound so different from the girl he remembered. “I’m fine, busy season. That’s all.”

“Is it just the work, or…” He trailed off, the question hanging heavy.

“Don't ask me that,” Y/n cut him off, her voice cracking slightly, and Lewis winced. That wasn't the Y/n he knew. The bubbly, optimistic girl who'd lit up a room with her smile.

Lewis felt a pang of guilt. He knew exactly who she was trying to avoid mentioning. The one who'd left without a real goodbye, the one who'd taken a piece of her with him.

“You know I can't help you if you don't talk about it,” her brother continued gently.

“There’s nothing to talk about” Y/n said, a hint of defiance creeping in. “It’s over. And honestly, maybe I’m glad it is. I don't even know if any of that was real for him.” The anger in her voice barely masked the underlying hurt.

The air grew thick, suffocating. His blood turned to ice. The weight of his actions, the cowardly way he'd ended things before they could get too serious, slammed into him. He'd been the one afraid. Afraid to let himself care, afraid to risk another heartbreak. He'd ended things abruptly, afraid of getting too attached, afraid of the very thing Y/n was now questioning – how real their connection had been.

“Focus on your career, then,” her brother said. “It’s the one thing that won't let you down.”

“Yeah,” Y/n agreed, her voice distant. “At least I can trust that.”

A few days later, a bouquet of lilies arrived at Y/n's desk. Nestled amidst the pristine white blooms was a small card. The note was short, filled with a remorse he couldn't express in words:

"Y/n,

Those moments were real, to me. I never meant to led you on but I was too afraid to admit I was letting myself get too close. I hope you find someone who’s unapologetic about his feelings. You deserve the world.

Lewis."

______________________________________________________________

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[thewritetofreespeech]

pleeease do the wedding headcanons for bg3!! can you do all the main boys (and maybe ascended astarion??) 💍

Gale

Gale does try to subtly warn you that it will be a big wedding, with the Dekarios Clan far & wide, but you hadn’t realized how big.

Cousins, uncles, aunts, friends of the family, friends of friends of the family all come to attend. To the point that you can’t have sides at the wedding as the groom’s side would swell over the other. So you choose to have no sides.

Gale’s mother is head of the clan and officiates the wedding. Utterly beguiled by you and the happiness you bring to her son. And a day she thought would never come while he was intwined with a goddess.

Tara acts as ring bearer. A title she is at first insulted about but then refuses to give up. No take backs.

They will have to transmute another wing onto the tower for all the presents. Gale blushes & stammers at other well wishes of having children right away. He’s not against it but he wants to have you to himself a little while longer.

Wyll

Given his background that I made up and also his rank in society as the eldest son of Ravengard, it was probably always an expectation of Wyll’s to get married. Family lines and all that.

Even when his life was in shambles, deep down he always believed that he would one day be free, get married, and have children with his partner.

It would be a very traditional wedding, with military aspects given his link to the Flamming Fists. This includes uniforms, sword arches, etc.

He cares very little for the formality but takes great pains to follow the traditions.

Wyll is much more interested in the reception. To dance with you who is finally all his, makes nearly ending with the world almost worth it.

Astarion

He’s surprised you want to get married and have a proper wedding. Can you just be continuing on as you are? Together because you want to be, not because you have to be. Astarion also doesn’t like…labels.

But, if it’s what you want, he supposes it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It’s just a big party at the end of the day, right? He likes parties.

It’s an intimate little affair with all your core friends come to join you. You couldn’t possibly have everyone you helped or made acquaintance with at the wedding. Astarion insists on keeping it small as you’ll never financially recover from all the ale you would need for that.

Makes his partners outfit and his own. Something matching, but not on the nose. More of a photo negative matching set. With no red. He doesn’t want to think about blood or the past today.

After it’s all said and done, Astarion can see what all the fuss might be about. To tell everyone you’re his. To tell everyone that you’ve chosen him. To have a symbol of that for all time. He’s glad you made him go through it.

Ascended!Astarion

Why? You’re already his. A piece of paper or foolish mortal ceremony is pointless when you have eternity together as Ascended and consort.

But….there are advantages to a wedding. Nobility and the merchant class of all Baldur’s Gate, not to mention powerful allies from afar, striding in like obedient lambs into his castle to pay tribute to the two of you. That is something he can get behind.

He has the grand ballroom flooded with night orchids, casablanca lilies, and any other night blooming flower he can think of. Just because they have to have the ceremony at night doesn’t mean that he’ll have your wedding be dull and dingy, devoid of color.

A costume change couple as there is an outfit for the ceremony, the reception, first dance, and departure. All custom made with the finest materials available. The kind of craftsmanship that takes 7 seamstresses 7 days & nights to finish on time. But it’s worth it.

Astarion would dance you around the ballroom. As if you were the only two in the room. Floating on air. He’s completely lost interest in his schemes and guests with you in his arms. He’ll come back to them later but they aren’t important when you’re with him.

Halsin

Never believed in marriage or weddings. Binding another person to another with words seemed unnatural to him. People are free to come & go as they please.

But, he also never considered himself a monogamist until he met you. His heart shifting from more of the bear into the wolf. Do not wolves bite and mark their mates like they might do with rings?

It would be a very small wedding. And by small he means just the two of you.

Together in a forest, under Oakfather’s gaze, using a traditional hand binding of the druids with crowns of flowers and simple garb, you make your pledge.

He would want to consummate your marriage immediately. Right there under your marriage tree; if you let him. He could be persuaded to at least wait until you’re back at your home, but it better be a short walk. Otherwise he makes no promises.

[saoney]

Skyfall .𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭑ Satoru Gojo + [Fem! Reader] .ᐟ

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 Eldoria was built on lies and blood. [Y/N], the sheltered princess, lived her life unaware of the sins her parents committed to secure their kingdom’s golden age. But the ghosts of the past do not rest. Satoru Gojo, the last survivor of a kingdom destroyed by Eldoria’s greed, returns with a vengeance. When the night of his conquest leaves [Y/N] orphaned and her kingdom in ruins, Satoru spares her life—but only to make her his captive bride. In a world of betrayal, power, and obsession, can love bloom in the shadow of vengeance? Or will the weight of their broken kingdoms destroy them both?

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬 Dark Romance, Drama, Historical Fantasy, Revenge, Tragedy, Slow Burn

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 Graphic Violence, Death of Loved Ones, Emotional and Physical Abuse Themes, Forced Marriage, Power Imbalance, Themes of Revenge and Obsession, Psychological Manipulation, Trauma and PTSD Representation, Mature Themes

🔖 masterlist

Chapter 1: An Eye for an Eye

The kingdom of Eldoria shimmered beneath the midday sun, its white stone walls gleaming like polished pearls. Golden banners bearing the royal crest fluttered in the gentle breeze, announcing to all that this was no ordinary day. It was a day of celebration—the [Y/N Age] birthday of Princess [Y/N], the beloved jewel of Eldoria.

The marketplace buzzed with excitement. Merchants called out their wares, offering trinkets and sweets crafted in honor of the princess’s special day. Children ran through the cobblestone streets, their laughter mingling with the music played by wandering minstrels. Flowers of every hue adorned the archways, filling the air with a heady perfume that seemed to embody the joy of the kingdom.

In the grand palace atop the hill, the King and Queen were a picture of regal pride. King Takeshi, with his imposing stature and kind, weathered face, stood at the head of the banquet hall, overseeing the preparations for the evening’s feast. Beside him, Queen Sakura, her emerald-green gown flowing like liquid silk, directed the servants with the grace of someone who had long mastered the art of ruling a kingdom with both strength and compassion.

“More lilies on the table,” Sakura said to a nearby servant, her tone gentle but firm. “They’re her favorite.”

Takeshi chuckled, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “If we keep going like this, the entire palace will be a garden by the time she arrives.”

Sakura turned to him with a smile that spoke of decades of partnership. “Our daughter deserves the very best, Takeshi. Let her have her garden for today.”

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

In her chamber, [Y/N] stood before a tall mirror, her reflection framed by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the window. She wore a gown of pale gold, the fabric catching the light with every movement. Her long, dark hair was braided intricately, studded with tiny pearls that shimmered like stars.

Her handmaiden, Mira, fussed over the final touches, adjusting the delicate necklace that rested on [Y/N]’s collarbone. “You look like a dream, Your Highness,” Mira said, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

[Y/N]’s cheeks flushed, and she let out a soft laugh. “It’s just another birthday, Mira.”

“Not just any birthday,” Mira corrected. “The whole kingdom is celebrating you today. They love you, Princess. We all do.”

[Y/N] turned to the window, gazing out at the bustling city below. Her heart swelled at the sight of her people’s joy, the very same joy her parents had worked tirelessly to protect and nurture.

“I only hope I can live up to their expectations,” she murmured.

“You will,” Mira said with certainty, not once her admiration towards the princess waver. “You already have.”

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the palace courtyard transformed into a wonderland of light and sound. Lanterns hung from every tree, their golden glow casting a magical ambiance over the gathering. Long tables were laden with an array of dishes—roasted meats, honey-glazed pastries, and fruits so vibrant they seemed plucked from a dream. Goblets of sparkling cider clinked together as laughter filled the air.

[Y/N] sat at the head of the grand table beside her parents, her face radiant with happiness. Her father raised a toast, his voice booming with pride.

“To Princess [Y/N],” Takeshi declared, “the light of our lives and the future of Eldoria!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the courtyard. [Y/N] felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she raised her own goblet, smiling at the faces that had gathered to celebrate her.

Midway through the feast, a group of children approached the royal table, their tiny hands clutching garlands of flowers they had woven themselves. The youngest, a girl no older than seven, stepped forward hesitantly, her wide eyes fixed on [Y/N].

“Princess [Y/N],” the girl said, her voice trembling with both fear and excitement, “happy birthday. We made these for you.”

[Y/N] knelt to their level, her smile warm and genuine. “Thank you,” she said, accepting the garlands with care. “They’re beautiful. Just like all of you.”

The children beamed, their nervousness fading. Another girl, slightly older, spoke up. “When we grow up, we want to be just like you, Princess. Kind and beautiful.”

[Y/N]’s heart swelled with emotion. “You are already beautiful,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “And if you keep kindness in your hearts, you’ll be even more than you dream of.”

The children giggled, their faces alight with joy, before running back into the crowd. [Y/N] watched them go, her chest tight with a mix of love and responsibility.

As the night wore on, the celebration showed no signs of slowing. Music played, couples danced, and laughter rang out into the cool night air. [Y/N] felt as though the world was wrapped in a cocoon of light and warmth, untouched by anything dark or cruel.

But beyond the glow of the lanterns, the shadows of the night stretched long and deep. And far away, an army marched under the cover of darkness, their purpose as unyielding as the steel of their blades.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The peace of Eldoria shattered like fragile glass under the weight of a nightmare. While the kingdom celebrated, unaware of the looming threat, shadows crept closer—an army of vengeance cloaked in the night.

The attack began with terrifying precision. Arrows lit with fire streaked across the sky, igniting the city’s gates and towers. Explosions rocked the walls of the once-impenetrable fortress, and screams of panic replaced the joyful music of the festivities.

Satoru Gojo’s forces swept through Eldoria like a relentless storm, sparing no one in their path. The guards, caught off guard and drunk from the celebrations, scrambled to organize a defense, but it was futile. Satoru had planned every detail, exploiting the kingdom’s arrogance and overconfidence.

In the throne room, King Takeshi and Queen Sakura received the news with dread. The royal guards burst into the hall, their faces pale and weapons drawn.

“My King, the city is under attack!” one guard shouted.

Takeshi rose from his seat, his commanding presence faltering for the first time in years. “How is this possible? Eldoria’s walls have never been breached!”

“It’s… it’s an army, Your Majesty,” the guard stammered. “Led by… by Satoru Gojo.”

Sakura gasped, her hand flying to her chest. The name was a ghost from their past, a shadow of the sins they thought buried.

Takeshi turned to his wife, his face grim. “Take [Y/N] to safety. Now.”

“No,” Sakura said firmly, tears pooling in her eyes. “Not without you.”

“We don’t have time to argue,” Takeshi snapped. “She’s our daughter, Sakura. If we fall, she must survive.”

The queen nodded, swallowing her grief. She summoned two trusted servants and gripped her daughter’s shoulders, her emerald eyes searching [Y/N]’s face.

“You must go,” Sakura said, her voice trembling but resolute. “Do not look back, no matter what happens.”

“Mother, Father—what’s happening?” [Y/N]’s voice quivered with fear, her gaze darting between them. “I don’t understand!”

“There’s no time to explain,” Takeshi said, pulling her into a brief but fierce embrace. “Just know that we love you more than anything.”

The throne room doors burst open with a thunderous crash, shards of wood scattering across the marble floor. Satoru Gojo entered, flanked by his soldiers, his presence a storm that sucked all warmth from the room. The gilded splendor of Eldoria’s throne room now felt suffocating, as if even the air recoiled from his fury.

Takeshi rose to his full height, his sword in hand, his face a mask of grim determination. “Satoru Gojo,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hand. “You dare invade my kingdom?”

“Your kingdom,” Satoru echoed, his tone a venomous mockery. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Takeshi with an intensity that made even the guards falter. “You speak as though you’ve forgotten the blood spilled to build it. My people’s blood.”

Sakura stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. “We gave you mercy, Satoru. We could have done worse.”

“Mercy?” Satoru barked, his laughter sharp and bitter. “You razed my home, butchered my family, and called it mercy? No, Queen Sakura. Tonight, I show you what true mercy looks like.”

With that, he unsheathed his blade, the sound like a serpent’s hiss.

The clash was immediate and brutal. Takeshi charged first, his sword aimed straight for Satoru’s heart. Satoru sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid, almost graceful. Their blades met in a violent symphony of steel, sparks flying with every strike.

“You’ve grown old, Takeshi,” Satoru sneered, his voice laced with disdain. “And weak.”

Takeshi’s strikes grew desperate, his swings fueled by fury and fear. Sakura joined the fray, her dagger slicing through the air as she aimed for Satoru’s side. He caught her wrist mid-thrust, his grip ironclad.

“You fight well for a queen,” he said mockingly, his voice low. “But not well enough.”

With a savage twist, he disarmed her, sending the dagger clattering across the floor. Takeshi lunged again, but Satoru parried with a brutal counterstrike that sent the king stumbling.

“You stole everything from me!” Satoru roared, his voice cracking with raw emotion. “My family. My home. My future!”

With one final, devastating blow, he drove his blade through Takeshi’s chest. The king’s gasp was a guttural sound, his body collapsing to the floor. Sakura let out a piercing scream, her grief palpable as she knelt beside her fallen husband.

Tears streaked her face as she turned to Satoru, her voice breaking. “You monster… You’ll pay for this.”

Satoru’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment—a flicker of hesitation, almost imperceptible. Then it hardened again. “Not before you do.”

With a cold, calculated strike, he ended her life. The queen fell beside her king, their blood pooling together on the marble floor.

“Find the princess,” Satoru commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Bring her to me.”

Suguru Geto nodded, his loyalty unwavering. But deep down, he feels and immense satisfaction as Eldoria falls into shamble. “It will be done.”

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The echoes of battle still roared outside the palace walls as [Y/N] stumbled through the labyrinthine passages beneath the throne room. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her legs trembling with every step. The distant sound of screams and clashing steel filled her ears, a horrifying symphony of chaos.

“Why?” she whispered to herself, her voice choked with tears. “What is happening?”

The once-familiar corridors now felt like a maze, every shadow a potential threat. Her mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She clutched the edges of her gown, lifting it as she ran, the hem already stained with soot and blood.

She thought of her parents, of her mother’s trembling hands as she pushed her toward the secret passage. “Go, [Y/N]. Don’t look back.” But she had looked back. She had seen the terror in her father’s eyes, the way he gripped his sword as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

The guards found her before she could escape. Their heavy footsteps echoed like drumbeats, and their shadows loomed over her before their hands did. She screamed, her voice raw and hoarse, thrashing against their grip.

“Let me go!” she cried, her nails clawing at their arms. “Please, let me go!”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. They dragged her back to the throne room, her heels scraping against the marble, leaving faint streaks behind.

The throne room was drenched in the stench of death and fire. The once-grand marble floor, now smeared with blood and ash, bore the marks of a kingdom’s final battle. Flames danced along the shredded remains of Eldoria’s banners, casting eerie shadows on the ruined walls.

Satoru Gojo stood at the center of the devastation, his piercing blue eyes cold and unyielding. In his hand, he gripped the bloodied hilt of his sword, its tip resting against the cracked crest of Eldoria carved into the marble. The bodies of King Takeshi and Queen Sakura lay crumpled before the throne, their faces frozen in expressions of defiance even in death.

“Bring her here,” Satoru commanded, his voice a sharp, merciless blade.

[Y/N] was dragged into the room, her delicate frame barely able to hold itself upright as the soldiers flung her onto the bloodstained floor. Her golden hair spilled across her face as she gasped, her body trembling from the cold reality sinking into her bones.

Her wide emerald eyes darted around, desperate to make sense of the chaos. Then they found them—her parents.

“No,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. She scrambled forward on her hands and knees, her fingers trembling as they reached for the lifeless forms of her mother and father.

“No! Mama! Papa!” she screamed, the sound raw and piercing as it echoed through the ruined hall.

Satoru stepped closer, his boots crushing glass and debris beneath their weight. He grabbed her by the arm, yanking her to her feet with little regard for her struggle.

“Look at them,” he ordered, his voice a venomous snarl. He twisted her toward the lifeless bodies. “Look at the price they’ve paid for their sins.”

“No!” [Y/N] shrieked, trying to turn away, to shut out the sight. But Satoru’s iron grip held her firm, forcing her to confront the horror before her.

“They loved you, didn’t they?” he hissed, his voice dripping with scorn. “So much that they thought their lies and their tyranny wouldn’t catch up to them. But love doesn’t erase blood spilled in greed.”

Her knees buckled, but he held her upright, dragging her closer to the throne where their blood pooled. “You think they were heroes,” he spat, his fury unrelenting. “They weren’t. They were thieves, murderers who cloaked themselves in righteousness. They stole everything from me—my family, my home, my people.”

Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head vehemently. “They weren’t like that! You’re lying! They were good—”

“Good?” Satoru cut her off, his laugh harsh and bitter. He leaned closer, his face mere inches from hers. “Do you know what it feels like to watch your parents die while your home burns around you? To hear the screams of your people as they’re slaughtered?”

Her sobs grew louder, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she trembled in his grip. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t know any of it…”

“And that makes you innocent?” he growled, shaking her slightly as his rage flared. “You were their legacy. Their pride. Their perfect little princess. And now you’ll carry their sins.”

He shoved her down with brutal force, and she collapsed onto the marble floor, her cries echoing through the room.

[Y/N] raised her tear-streaked face, her eyes blazing despite her fear. “Then kill me,” she said, her voice breaking but filled with defiance. “Kill me and let this end.”

Satoru stared at her, his jaw tightening. “You think death is the end?” he said coldly, his lips curling into a sneer. “No. Death is a release you don’t deserve.”

He straightened, towering over her trembling form. His voice boomed through the hall, leaving no room for doubt.

“You will live,” he declared, his tone filled with ruthless finality. “You will suffer. You will know what it means to lose everything. You will be my wife—not as a queen, but as a prisoner. A tool for my revenge.”

[Y/N]’s breath caught, her eyes widening in horror. “No… you can’t…”

“I can. And I will,” Satoru said, his gaze icy and unrelenting. “Take her to the dungeons. Prepare for the wedding.”

As she was dragged away, her desperate cries filled the air, but Satoru didn’t flinch. His resolve was ironclad, his vengeance complete. Yet, as he turned to the throne, the ache in his chest deepened. The throne was his, the kingdom had fallen, but the weight of his fury burned hotter than ever.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Satoru muttered the ancient proverb under his breath as he starred at the downfall of Eldoria yet his mind was elsewhere.  Replaying the events of that fateful night over and over. The crack of gunfire. His parents’ cry, cut short. The spray of blood, shockingly bright against the moonlit snow.

He had made a vow then, kneeling in that crimson slush. A promise sealed in blood and grief. And now, after years of meticulous planning, the time had finally come to fulfill it.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

[Y/N]’s cries echoed down the dim, narrow corridor as she was dragged away, her steps faltering as the weight of her despair crushed her spirit. The iron grip of Satoru’s men was unyielding, and the golden hem of her once-pristine gown trailed behind her, smeared with soot and blood.

Back in the shattered throne room, silence lingered like a curse over the court of Eldoria. The remaining nobles—those who had survived the massacre—stood frozen, their faces pale with fear. Among them were aging advisors, loyal knights stripped of their swords, and trembling maids clutching the remnants of their courage.

Satoru, towering over them, his icy gaze sharp as a blade, raised his hand to command their attention. His voice was calm, yet the power it carried was absolute. “Eldoria is mine,” he began, each word falling like a hammer blow. “Its throne, its lands, and its people—all belong to me now. Your king and queen have paid the price for their sins.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Then, with a cruel smirk tugging at his lips, he turned to Suguru, who stood nearby with a confident and unwavering demeanor. “But there remains one final stain on this land that must be cleansed. Atonement requires sacrifice.”

The nobles exchanged wary glances, the growing tension almost unbearable. Whispers of rebellion flared among the younger knights, but an icy glare from Suguru silenced them all.

Satoru continued, his tone laced with venom. “Princess [Y/N], the last of Eldoria’s wretched lineage, will atone for the sins of her bloodline in the only way fitting.” His voice grew louder, carrying authority and cruelty in equal measure. “She will marry me.”

Gasps rippled through the room like a storm, horror etched onto every face. The princess—their beloved [Y/N]—forced to marry the man who had torn their world apart?

One noble, braver—or perhaps more foolish—than the rest, stepped forward, his trembling voice barely audible. “My lord, surely… surely you do not mean this. The princess is innocent—”

“Innocent?” Satoru’s laughter rang out, sharp and biting, as he descended the steps of the dais. His piercing gaze locked onto the man, who visibly withered under the weight of it. “Innocence does not absolve her of the blood in her veins. She bears the mark of her parents’ greed. Their sins will be her burden to carry.”

Satoru’s hand clenched into a fist as his tone grew colder. “And through her suffering, the stain they left on this world will be erased.”

Suguru stepped forward then, his voice calm but lethal. “She is no longer your princess,” he declared, his hand resting purposefully on the hilt of his sword. “She is the bride of your king. Speak against this, and you speak against your ruler.”

The murmurs of protest died instantly. Fear gripped the room like a vice, choking out any hope of rebellion.

Satoru turned back to the trembling crowd, his next words cutting through the air like ice. “The wedding will be held under the crimson moon—an omen befitting the union of blood and vengeance. Eldoria will bear witness to its new queen's sacrifice.”

All rights reserved © 2022 saoney. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[misskitxx]

Necromancer Jayce who brings Viktor back to life AU

Necromancer Jayce x Zombie Viktor, heavily inspired by this work

Viktor is dead.

Jayce does not know how to exist in a world where that is true.

The words are a blade lodged in his ribs, twisting deeper every time he breathed. Dead. A clinical term, sterile, a word for dissections and autopsy reports. It doesn’t belong here, in the oily lamplight of their shared lab, where Viktor’s shadow still lingers in the smudges of equations on chalkboards, in the half-drunk cup of tea gone moldy by the sink.

Jayce had refused to let them take the body.

He’d barred the door, roared at the councilors, the enforcers, even Heimerdinger’s mournful whimpers. “You don’t get to bury him,” he’d snarled, hammer sparking in his grip . “You didn’t know him. You didn’t love him.”

Dead. A lie. A mistake. A joke in wretched taste. The lab reeks of formaldehyde and copper, of lilies left to wilt beside the lab table—their petals browned, stems slumped like broken necks.

Now, Viktor lays on their workbench, bathed in the cold glow of alchemical lamps. Jayce had washed him himself—slowly, reverently—scrubbing the blood from his lips, the soot from his hands. But death was not kind.

Jayce spends days watching him rot.

By the first night, Viktor’s skin is still warm, his lashes casting delicate shadows as if he might wake any moment. He kisses Viktor’s knuckles, his throat, his eyelids—begging the universe for a flinch, a sigh, a miracle. Presses his ear to Viktor’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing comes. “You’d hate this,” Jayce mutters, voice raw. “The theatrics. The… the waste of time.”

Viktor at his desk, sleeves rolled up, scars silvered by lamplight—a lattice of old burns, surgical incisions, the jagged kiss of shrapnel. Jayce traces them with his thumb, teasing. “You’re a walking disaster.” Viktor doesn’t look up from his schematics. “And you’re a distraction. But here we are.”

The second night, tries shaking him awake. By the third one, rigor mortis turns Viktor’s limbs to stone. Jayce pries them open anyway, intertwining their fingers together. “You’re being sentimental,” Viktor’s ghost seems to chide. “Sentiment is inefficient.” Jayce laughs, sharp and broken. Presses his lips to Viktor’s, desperate, hoping that somehow, somehow— and vomits into the sink.

Midnight in the lab, Viktor’s mouth hot against Jayce’s collarbone, teeth nipping, breath hitching. “You’re insufferable,” Viktor murmurs, but his hands are already fumbling with Jayce’s belt. “Insufferably brilliant,” Jayce corrects, pinning him to the desk. Papers scatter. Viktor laughs—a rare, unguarded sound—before silencing him with a kiss.

By the fifth, rot arrives in blooms. A violet stain spreads beneath Viktor’s collarbone, the skin splitting like overripe fruit. His lips shrivel, browning at the edges, and Jayce catches himself leaning in—still, still—hoping to taste the iron-sharp wit on his tongue. Instead, his mouth fills with the cloying sweetness of decay. By the sixth, Jayce can’t bear it.

Viktor’s finger tapping a petri dish, alive with microbial swirls. “Decay is just another form of energy,” he says, grinning. “We could harness it. Redirect it.” Jayce leans against him, cheek to his temple. “You’re mad.” “And you’re staring at my mouth.”

By the seventh, he breaks.

Viktor’s hands rest on his chest, fingers curled inward like withered petals. His lips are cracked, his throat shadowed with the bruises of rot. He is still, so horribly still. He has never been still. Viktor, his lovely Viktor, could have seemed so to a stranger. Not to Jayce—never to Jayce. Because Jayce has been reveling in his every microexpression: the pout of his lips when he thought, the subtle lean on his cane in extortion, the hands—those hands that he would catch, mid-air, and pepper with kisses as Viktor was busy explaining his new theories. Animated. Expressive. Alive.

He reaches out, almost expecting warmth, but Viktor’s skin is cold. It should not be cold. Sure, Viktor has— had certain issues with his blood circulation, and Jayce would always curse at him when he’d press his ice-cold feet against his own warm thighs. Viktor would grin, a beautiful, mischievous sight.

He swallows back bile and presses his thumb against Viktor’s palm. He remembers this hand, remembers tracing the scars along his knuckles in the late hours of the night, murmuring half-formed apologies into the space between them.

"You work too much," Jayce whispers, pressing lazy kisses to the ridges of old burns, of past failures. "You’re going to wear yourself down to nothing."

Viktor huffs a laugh, curling his fingers around Jayce’s own, squeezing just once. "And yet, here I am.”

Here he is. But not really.

Jayce clenches his jaw and forces himself back to his feet.

The book is waiting.

He does not remember finding it, only that it was there when he needed it, slick leather beneath trembling fingers, pages thick with time. The words slither into his mind, curling around his desperation like a vice. Necromancy is not magic—it is defiance, an affront to the natural order. The price is steep.

He does not care.

This is heresy, the kind that got men burned in Piltover’s history books. But Viktor’s corpse stares at the ceiling with milky, clouded eyes, and Jayce thinks, What is heresy to a man who’s already damned?

It is a cruel thing, ancient and hungry. The words crawl beneath his skin, curling into the raw spaces between grief and madness. He should not listen. He does not care.

Sacrifice the living. Mend the dead.

The ritual calls for blood.

His own.

Jayce strips to the waist, the lab’s chill biting his skin. The dagger glins—Viktor’s dagger, the one he used to pry open Hextech casings. Its edge still bears flecks of his fingerprints, still nicked from the day Viktor sliced his thumb and swore in two languages.

Blood wells from Viktor’s thumb. Jayce grabs his hand, sucking the cut clean. “You’re ridiculous,” Viktor mutters, ears reddening. “And you’re bleeding on the blueprints.” Jayce grins. “Call it a collaboration.”

The first cut is a confession.

He drags the blade down his sternum, hissing as blood wells. ”Vertical incision… to bridge the veil,” he recites, voice steadier than his hands. The next cuts are symbols: jagged glyphs over his heart, spirals down his ribs. His blood drips onto Viktor’s body, sizzling where it strikes rot, knitting muscle where it meets bone.

The dagger bites deep. Flesh splits. Blood spills in thick, sluggish rivers down his arms, over his ribs, staining the floor beneath him in crimson offering. His hands shake, his breath comes in gasps, but he does not stop. The sigils must be carved deep, must be perfect.

The final cut is a vow.

Jayce slices his palm open, presses it to Viktor’s. Their blood mingles, black and crimson. The room thrums, pressure building until the windows shatter. Glass rains down. Viktor’s chest jerks, and Jayce stumbles forward, pressing his shaking hands to Viktor’s face. The cold is worse now. It leeches into his fingertips, seeps into his bones. His throat is raw. His skin burns.

“Come back to me,” he breathes, voice breaking.

Continue reading on AO3!

[bradleysass]

Tulip - @moonchaser-microfic - wc: 417

The bell above the door chimed, signaling another customer. Remus didn’t have to look up to know who it was. James Potter had been visiting his flower shop at least three times a week for the past two months, armed with the world’s worst pick-up lines and an enthusiasm that no normal person should have for floral arrangements.

“Hey, Moony,” James greeted, leaning against the counter with a lopsided grin. “Are you a florist? Because you make my heart bloom.”

Remus sighed, arranging a bouquet of daisies with meticulous care. “James, I am literally a florist.”

“Yeah, but it sounds more romantic when I say it.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but James swore he saw the ghost of a smile tug at his lips. Progress.

“So, what’s the excuse this time?” Remus asked, placing the bouquet in a vase.

James feigned offense. “Excuse? I come here to support local businesses.”

“You come here to flirt.”

“Two things can be true at once.”

Remus shook his head, but he didn’t protest. If James wanted to spend his time throwing bad pick-up lines his way, who was he to stop him? Besides, it was… nice. Annoying, but nice.

Today, however, James didn’t launch into another pun about roses or lilies. Instead, he reached into his pocket and placed a single red tulip on the counter. “For you,” he said, and for the first time, he sounded serious.

Remus blinked. “You’re actually giving me a flower? That’s new.”

James scratched the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. A red tulip means ‘declaration of love.’ Thought you might appreciate a flower that speaks for itself instead of me making a fool of myself trying to be smooth.”

Remus stared at the tulip, his fingers ghosting over the petals. It was simple, delicate, and—somehow—exactly what he needed to hear.

He looked up at James, who was watching him nervously. With a small, amused smile, Remus finally admitted, “You know, you might actually have won me over with that one.”

James grinned. “Does this mean I can finally take you out to dinner?”

Remus chuckled. “It means you can ask me properly, and we’ll see.”

James, the ever-determined romantic, straightened up and held out his hand dramatically. “Remus Lupin, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

Remus took the tulip and tucked it into a nearby vase before turning back to James, his smile a little softer this time. “Yeah, James. I think I would.”