#and markings that of the same color as their aura

[blindecho6]

Another redesign of my OC Lily.

Well technically the old one is still accurate, since it shows her "human" form. The new one shows her Lenpi form, because I finally decided how Lenpis should look like :d

[dark-moonlust]

Caught Between the Fae

This is a Patreon commission I finished yesterday. The commissioner chose to remain anonymous. I hope you enjoy this small story! It was so enjoyable to write and it's super steamy, too! I love every part of it 🖤

Pairing: 2 fae males (Nestor, Quin) x f!human (Layla)

Summary: Layla is a photographer in her mid-30s. During her exhibition event, two fae males, Nestor and Quinn, are drawn to one of her paintings and her beauty. They recognize her as their mate and quarrel over who will get Layla and her artwork. Finally, they decide to share her as she belongs to them both. They claim her as their mate and go into a mating rage, driving deep inside her and marking her with their cum.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, fingering, oral(female+male receiving), kinky talk, a little bondage, big 🍆, fae magic to fit, p in v sex, anal, double penetratiοn, lots of 💦.

Tonight was her big night. 

Layla took yet another deep breath and strolled through the art gallery. Her heart thundered with excitement and a little fear. That night, her photography was the star of the show. All her pieces were there for all to see and judge. She truly hoped the people would admire and grasp the feelings and meanings behind each photo. Her work was her pride and joy.

As she walked the sleek gallery, the room was a whirl of positive reviews and the clinking of champagne glasses. The people liked her work! Feeling her anxiety lessen, she smiled, soaking in the energy as she mingled with the guests. She let herself enjoy the vibes, her soft curvy frame moving gracefully through the crowd, her fiery red hair catching the light, making her green eyes gleam with pride. 

Taking a short break, she stood near the center of the room and tried to calm her raging heart. The gallery was a big hit and a dream come true! She still couldn’t believe it. She wanted to jump and laugh out of joy. As she scanned the faces of the audience, her gaze stopped on two striking men in front of her favorite piece: a photo of a moonlit beach at night. They were boldly gazing at her piece and then her way. 

A jolt traveled through her. Their gazes practically saw through her. 

Tall and towering, they were both, with pointy ears and supernatural auras exuding such intense power that caused her whole body to come alive and warm up as if licked by fire.

They were fae... what otherwordly beauty.

The one on the left had close-cropped blonde hair, deep purple eyes, and although he wore a sleek black suit, she could see his neck and hands, which were filled with tattoos that surely filled the rest of his body. The other male beside him was all dark and sensual mischief. He had long, curly, dark hair and ice-blue eyes that sparkled with a devil-may-care attitude.

They were attracting the eyes of everyone in the room; their presence electrifying.

From across the room, Nestor, the King of the Court of Nightmares, stood in front of Layla’s photo, his deep purple eyes drawn to every detail of the mounted piece. The gallery lights cast the perfect light, illuminating the moonlight beach. His fingers tightened around his glass as he swirled the dark liquid inside. Beside him, Quinn admired the same photo, his ice-blue eyes attracted to the art and the artist herself. He was the Emperor of the Court of Chaos. 

“Stunning,” Nestor murmured in a low mumble, scanning the room, his gaze finding Layla and staying on her. “They shall be mine. Both the piece and the artist.”

Quinn chuckled, his eyes equally intent on the female. “You wish. You don’t have what it takes to appreciate them both.”

“And you do?” Nestor’s voice was higher than usual, turning heads. “Thinking too high of yourself, aren’t you?”

“This art piece belongs in my court, and little fireheart in my bed.”

“Fireheart…” Nestor whispered, his eyes tracing the fire-colored hair of his mate, the soft and curvy frame he hungered to have exposed beneath him. “I’ll never let you have them. She’s my fated one and the Queen of the Court of Nightmares.”

Quinn’s laugh was light and mocking. “I’ll bid whatever the hell you want. She’s my mate, the Empress of Chaos Court. She will be mine.”

“You? I don’t think so. I want her and that piece, and I’ll have them,” Nestor stated, his voice hard with authority. “You’d better wet your dick elsewhere.”

Quinn’s lips curled at his words. “I’ll wet my dick inside her, in every warm little place inside her.” The Emperor of Chaos stared at his mate, their gazes meeting and holding. She was gorgeous. In every way. Her red hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with passion. He wanted her. He’d never back down. 

“She is mine.” Nestor’s eyes flicked to the other fae. “The moment I saw her, I knew she was my fated one.”

“And you think I didn’t feel the same?” Quinn spat back, with a hint of annoyance. Long moments passed before he added, “Perhaps there’s a reason we both recognize her so strongly.”

Nestor narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you implying?”

“Fate doesn’t make mistakes,” Quinn answered. “She belongs to both of us.”

“This makes sense…” Nestor trailed off, clearly considering the proposal. 

Quinn chuckled warmly. “Finally, we agree on something. So, what do we do about it?”

“We claim her. Every part of her.”

It was that moment when Layla decided to approach them. She closed in on them, and they immediately framed her luscious body with their possessive, towering bodies on both sides. Layla felt hot all over, her frame shivering from the intensity of their aura and their mere height. The dynamic between the two fae made her belly clench with arousal and for a few seconds she felt such an intense magnetic pull towards them that she could barely contain it.

“Gentlemen… I am Layla, the artist behind these photographs. I’m honored by your interest, and I couldn’t help but notice your tension… is there a problem?”

“Good evening, Layla,” Nestor greeted with a sultry drawl. “I am Nestor, King of the Court of Nightmares. Your work is extraordinary, I must have it.”

Quinn grinned and stepped closer to her, his ice-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am Quinn, Emperor of the Court of Chaos. Our problem is that we both desire this piece of art, though not as much as we desire you.”

Nestor shifted closer to her right side, his scent enveloping her. “You should visit my court, Layla, and be the crown jewel of my kingdom. Choose me, fireheart.”

“Fireheart?” Layla muttered, a little taken by the nickname and the intensity in his eyes. 

Quinn hummed and let his towering form nearly envelop her left side. “We feel a connection to you, little one. A bond that cannot be ignored.”

Layla didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at their bold statements. The gallery suddenly buzzed with whispers and speculations as all eyes turned toward the three of them. Both fae males had surrounded her, and her cheeks felt hot, as did the rest of her body. Her pussy was also wet, aching with a need she couldn’t barely ignore. They weren’t just interested in her art—they wanted her. 

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

How could she refuse the King of Nightmares and Emperor of Chos without offending them?

“Gentlemen,” she finally said, her voice wavering, “I’m afraid the artist—meaning myself—is not available for such… arrangement. However, the art piece is. I am sure we can find a way to resolve this without—”

“Without what?” Nestor’s eyes darkened. “Without accepting the connection you are feeling?"

Layla opened her mouth to reply, but Quinn cut her off. “Don’t deny it, fireheart. You feel it too. The mating bond, the desire.”

Layla bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Liquid warmth pooled in her core. “I… I don’t think this is appropriate.”

“Yet your pussy is wet and aching for us,” Quinn whispered against her ear, his breath warm. “And it’s not going away unless we take care of you.”

“Accept us, little mate,” Nestor said, sending shivers down her spine. “We can feel your need. You want us. Both.“

“I—I…” Layla stuttered wordlessly, her eyes flicking between the two fae. She felt such longing and undeniable attraction for them. But how could she just give in?

“You are ours, fireheart. Ours to claim in ways neither of us could do alone,” Quinn nodded, his ice-blue eyes intense.

“B-b-both of you…” Layla muttered, her body tightening pleasurably at the mere thought of those two fae belonging to her. 

“Hmm,” both men growled, their eyes caressing her face and red hair. 

Layla nodded slowly, listening to her heart which was screaming for them. Immediately, Fae magic surrounded her, stealing her breath away. The gallery blurred and melted away, replaced by a lavish bedroom filled with rich fabrics and flickering candles. Nestor and Quinn embraced her from both sides, their hands exploring her heated body. 

Nestor scented her neck, his fingers tangling in her loose hair as if he couldn’t have enough of her. Quinn kissed her shoulders over the straps of her dress, each lingering touch leaving trails of delightful warmth and heat. When their gazes locked on hers, she felt hypnotized by the mating bond between them. It was real; they belonged to her, and she ached with need, desperate to be touched by them. 

“Yes, fireheart,” Quinn rasped, sliding down the straps of her dress. “You are our mate, and you will be filled by us both.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nestor said, unzipping the back of her dress, his fingers warm against her skin. “Do you agree, sweetheart? Do you want this?”

“Hmmm… I want you,” Layla breathed, adrenaline pumping in her heart. 

Quinn’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Good girl,” he murmured, his icy eyes bearing into her emerald ones. They were enchanting, hypnotizing. “Now, let us show you what it means to be ours.”

Layla didn’t realize how quickly they scooped her up and propped her on the plush bed. They divested her of her clothing skillfully. Quinn peeled away her dress while Nestor unclasped her bra, moaning low as her breasts spilled free. He cupped them in his big palms and pushed them up to his hot mouth, suckling each pouting nipple. Quinn knelt at her half-closed thighs and gently removed her panties and shoes. Seeing how she hesitated once she was fully exposed to them, Quinn’s long fingers trailed down her belly, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

“Open for us, little one,” Quinn said, his voice a seductive promise. “We’re going to fuck you deep, make you feel so good.”

Layla shyly opened her legs and suddenly both men were between them, each one securing a leg over their muscular thighs, their hands making sure she was fully open to their eyes. Using their magic, they removed their clothes, leaving her to gape at the two fae males, so big and powerful—in every way. 

Nestor had a sculpted body covered in tattoos. His eyes were warm and inviting, his stomach taut, his thighs firm and in between... his cock stood proud, looking utterly inhumane. It was thick and very long, pulsing, its length surrounded by protruding veins. Quinn was no less captivating. He was just as tall, his stance emphasizing the force of his thighs and the raw power of his well-muscled body. His eyes swirled with blue ice as he pumped his rigid cock. It was deliciously curved and textured with ridges, a little thicker than Nestor’s but not as long. 

Having both of them… Layla felt the dark desire, the intensity overflowing. The need. The craving. She wanted them. Wanted them more than anything in her life. 

“Fuuuuck, our mate’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Nestor growled. She looked so pretty and tiny in contrast to their raging bodies. Flushed face, nipples out, pussy exposed. He wanted to debauch her. 

“Show us your pretty cunt, fireheart,” Quinn demanded softly. “Open those pretty lips nicely for your mates.”

Dazed by desire, Layla reached down and did as told. She opened her outer folds with two fingers, showing off her slit and the bud of her clit. Both men growled ferociously and stared for a few seconds. 

“That’s it,” Nestor growled, bending to lick a thick stripe up her pussy. “So wet already for your mates.”

Layla gasped, all sane thoughts fleeing. 

Quinn also leaned down to taste her pussy, kissing her throbbing clit. She saw stars. 

“She is ready for her mates,” Quinn said with a smirk. “You’re going to take every inch of us, aren’t you, fireheart?”

Layla whimpered, her voice and body trembling. “Yes… Please…”

The two males smiled. 

Nestor toyed with her pussy lips and Quinn rubbed her needy clit. Layla whimpered and struggled to arch off the bed. She squirmed restlessly, but their hold on her thighs was too secure, allowing no movement as their fingers probed and rubbed her pussy to their liking. She melted under their touch, her heart pulsing with the intensity of their bond.

“Such a sweet wet cunt," Quinn marveled, gathering her slick and rolling it between two fingers.

“Love your nipples, sweetheart,” Nestor drawled, moving to suckle one tit then the other, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds. 

“Pl… ease,” she sighed, her body feverish with need. “Need you. Need you so much it hurts!”

"Hurts?“ Quinn said in a mischievous tone as he rubbed her clit round and round while thrusting a thick finger inside her. Layla cried out and Nestor claimed her lips, swallowing her moans. 

“Hurts so good, hm, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled as their lips brushed, their tongues mating. 

“Yesss, please, more please… hmnnn...”

No sooner had she said that than Quinn was tasting her mouth, kissing her possessively and deeply. His tongue licked into her mouth then his tongue danced with hers. 

“What do you need, fireheart?”

Oh, how she adored the way they called her nicknames. She wanted to be theirs forever and get lost in their warmth and affection. 

“Want you so much. I’m so empty…”

“Our mate needs to be filled,” Nestor said to the other fae. “But first she will cum for us.”

Quinn agreed in a low chuckle and finger-fucked her while Nestor pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing over and over. Driving her higher and higher until she exploded, bliss and pleasure overtaking her until she couldn’t think or talk. Layla quivered and while she rode her orgasm, Nestor suckled her lower lip. Quinn moved to her breasts, his mouth nursing her aching nipples. Captive in their hold, she arched into their touch, drawn-out moans escaping her.

She was still dizzy from her orgasm when they shifted. Nestor sneaked between her thighs, slapping his heavy cock against her glistening pussy. The sound was wet and squelching, her pussy fluttering with the need to be filled. Quinn kneeled next to her head, his cock pulsing in the air, the tip leaking precum. Layla licked her lips, hungry to taste him. 

“Open,” Quinn commanded softly, “wet my dick, mate.”

Layla obeyed, her lips parting to take him in. Smiling mischievously, Quinn thrust his hips gently, his leaking cock stretching her mouth wide and filling it up. At the same time, Nestor entered her pussy, his girth spreading her cunt and filling her up inch by delectable inch. 

“Mhppphhh!” Layla gasped and gurgled around the cock in her mouth, her pussy filled to the limit by Nestor. Quinn gripped her fiery hair, guiding her head to keep sucking him. She was so full… Quinn’s shaft kissed her throat while Nestor’s cock kissed her cervix. 

“That’s it… fuck, you’re perfect,” Nestor groaned, watching her pussy suck him in. 

“Is it good, fireheart? Being fucked from both ends?” Quinn pulled his cock out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock coated in her saliva. 

“Hmnn! Want more!”

With a proud moan, Quinn shoved his cock back into her hot mouth, going deeper and fucking down her throat. Nestor watched the lewd sight with pride. Their pretty mate struggled a little, but she took Quinn’s cock like the queen she was, hollowing her cheeks and clenching her pretty throat. She stroked his balls, cradling them in her small hands, her eyes rolling back with each thrust from both of them. 

Groaning, Nestor pounded deep into her cunt, making her pretty tits bounce with each sharp thrust. He kneaded her mounds, his thumbs pinching her nipples, causing her to gag and whimper around a mouthful of cock, her breathing heavy. Gods, she was so pretty like this, trapped between them, their cocks spearing her back and forth. 

A few calculated thrusts, and she came explosively, her body shuddering. Once she rode the waves of pleasure, the fae changed positions again, with Nestor fucking her mouth and Quinn taking her pussy. The dual sensations were overwhelming, liquid pleasure coursing through her veins as they filled her relentlessly. The room echoed with the rhythmic slaps of skin against skin and her muffled moans as she took fae cock. 

“Such a good mate for us,” Quinn said with pride. Her lips were swollen, her pussy drenched with her release. “Now it’s time to take our seed, hm?”

“Hmp, yes… want your cum,” Layla said in a seductive purr. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled. “Ready to take us both in your soaked cunt and tight little ass?“

“Hmm, gonna take you both,” Layla nodded, seeing the pride and desire on their handsome faces. “Need to feel you inside me.”

In a flurry of motion, they repositioned themselves so that Layla was straddling Nestor, her raw breasts rubbing against his muscled chest. Quinn kneeled behind her, his strong hands spreading her asscheeks, his thumbs teasing around the tight, puckered hole. Such a cute little hole. Layla whimpered when Nestor gripped her hips and guided her down onto his throbbing dick while Quinn thrust a magically lubed finger into her ass. 

Layla groaned, desperation and desire in her green eyes. 

Quinn kissed her spine. “Relax your pretty asshole and take my fingers, fireheart.”

Layla clutched Nestor’s shoulders and tried to relax while Quinn squeezed a second oiled finger into her ass, the thick intrusions making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly. The combination of Nestor filling her pussy and Quinn’s fingers in her ass was strange. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at their mercy. 

“So damn tight," Nestor muttered against her moaning lips, his shaft buried in the heat of her cunt. 

Quinn added a third finger in her ass, pumped, and curled them inside her before replacing them with the head of his cock. The broad head spread her tight hole, forcing its way inside. Layla trembled at the dual invasion— they were so deep, stretching her wide around their inhuman girths. She glanced down at where they were joined, and with shock, she realized just how much more they had to go. Only a third of their shafts were inside her, and that both thrilled and scared her. 

Nestor’s voice broke through her haze. “You can do this, sweetheart.”

“You’re so big…” Layla whined. She was human, could she really take them both? 

“Deep breaths, mate,” Quinn advised gently. “Take a little more of us, hmm?” 

“Feels strange…” Layla looked at them for guidance, her cheeks flushed, her eyes worried. She could feel their dicks rubbing inside her, and she took deep breaths that were mixed with cries of pain and pleasure. 

“Let’s stroke your little clit,” Nestor murmured, his thumb stroking her bud, sending pulses of warmth all over her body. “Yesss, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm! Moree!”

“Such a good little mate,” Nestor cooed and proved his point by pulling out of her wet cunt then slamming more inches inside.

“Our mate needed a cock up her cunt and ass so badly,” Quinn growled as he worked deeper into her ass. 

“You will take us, mate. Again and again until you reek of our cum. Our magic protects you. Relax your holes,” Quinn ordered in her ear. 

Blindsided by the fullness of their penetration, Layla said yes in a series of raspy moans. Their fae magic infused her fully, empowering her and building her arousal. Before long, she’d taken the full lengths of their cocks. The fullness, the heat, the stretch— she was overwhelmed but in no pain. She curled between their powerful bodies, and when they started fucking her in earnest, she cried out, her nails digging into their flesh. 

“Look at you,” Nestor growled, his purple eyes dark with lust. “So beautiful riding our dicks.”

“You’re perfect like this, fireheart,” Quinn whispered, his hands fondling her asscheeks. “So tight, so hot.”

Hands grabbed and fondled her as they pounded her, their cocks owning her depths. When Nestor’s cock left her pussy, Quinn plunged into her ass. Layla tried to get more friction only to have their strong hands restrain her. Nestor grasped her tits while Quinn secured her wrists with magical silken ropes, carefully tying her arms behind her back. The silk felt like a caress, soft and slightly loose.

She didn’t complain; she only trembled between them, her watery eyes begging them to claim her. 

“If this is too much for you, fireheart, say “red” and we will stop. I promise you. Understood?”

“Yesss,” Layla nodded fervently. “Now… just fuck me.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Nestor said, his hands gripping her thighs. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Layla was too far gone to think straight. “C-can’t! Want more!” 

“It’s the mating bond. She is human, and it’s affecting her. Our magic is also making everything stronger,” Nestor explained to the other fae. 

“Such a needy little mate,” Quinn rasped and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth. “Bound and begging for us.”

Nestor grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You think you can handle us, huh? Think you can keep up with us?”

“Hmn… I can handle it,” Layla panted as they impaled her on their stiff cocks. 

Nestor chuckled from under her, his fingers pinching her nipples. “Is that so? Well, let’s see how long you can keep that attitude.” 

The two males exchanged glances before they resumed pounding into her. Nestor lifted her a few inches, then lowered her back down onto his cock. Quinn thrust his hips, fucking her ass in full thrusts that reached deep into her guts. They were both too thick, too hard, and too long, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It went on and on; their stamina seemed endless, their cocks so impossibly hard and swollen with the need to cum. The scent of desire hung heavily in the air and she came again with uncontrollable, shuddering contractions, her holes clenching hard around their massive girths. The males followed right after her, their muscled bodies shuddering, roars ringing out as she felt something burst inside her. Massive wings sprouted from their backs as their seed filled her up, loads and loads of it, forcing little aftershocks of ecstasy. 

But they were far from done. 

They switched places, Nestor claiming her now stretched asshole while Quinn filled up her pussy. Their wings curled around her as they slammed inside her, and Layla lost herself in the mating bond, quaking between them, her arms securely bound, her holes fluttering around their shafts. She could only whimper and utter their names, begging them to stop, then begging them to never stop and make her cum.

“Remember your safe word, mate,” Quinn reminded her roughly. “If it’s too much say "red" and we will stop.”

“Would you like us to stop fucking your naughty holes?” Nestor’s fingers curled around her nape, his hips snapping repeatedly into hers. 

“Nnn—nooo!” Layla whined, her body tense as she balanced on the edge of pleasure. 

Quinn growled his approval. “That’s good, fireheart, because we’re not going to.”

The bed creaked, obscene moans echoing with every move they made. Her fae mates fucked her powerfully, thrusting to the hilt again and again, deep and tirelessly. Quinn devoured her lips with his kisses, his hands cupping her tits and pinching her sore nipples. Nestor growled from behind her, his broad chest pressing against her back as he claimed her ass and flicked her clit with his thumb. 

They were primal and fully affected by the need to claim her, and she loved it—she loved them and how they fucked her, it was unlike anything she had imagined.

Layla’s moans rang out when she came again, sobs of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen mouth. She trembled as a pleasure bomb went off in her center. It was too much, but it was divine, every nerve was alight. They joined her soon after, pulsing up inside her and releasing spurt after spurt of their cum. She was already filled with them, but the second load overflowed from her, dribbling down her thighs. 

Layla didn’t know for how long it went on. 

They untied the silk ropes and took her again and again, lifting her off the bed, sandwiching her between their aroused bodies and feeding her their cocks in every position imaginable. Their wings flapped powerfully, and when Layla touched them, her mates went into a mating rage, driving deep inside her, claiming her, owning her. 

As the sun began to rise, their frenzied mating finally came to an end. 

They collapsed on the bed, the covers tattered and smeared with signs of their primitive coupling. Layla’s mates enveloped her, spooning her from front to back, their bodies entwined with hers, their cocks still hard inside her due to the suction of her cunt and ass. She was sated and exhausted, feeling a sense of belonging she had never known before. 

They took turns kissing her, softly, lovingly, whispering sweet nothings while gazing at her with an impossibly soft, oh-so-soft expression on their faces. Their seed had marked her as theirs; the mate of the Nightmare and Chaos Courts.

“Who do you belong to, little mate?” Nestor asked, kissing the side of her neck.

“You,” Layla breathed. “Both of you.”

Nestor growled and gazed at her possessively. She belonged wholly to them. And they to her. She was filled to the brim with their seed, her holes stretched taut around their shafts. It was the ultimate claiming. "So beautiful. You did so well, fireheart.”

“Stunning.” Quinn brushed a few sweaty hair strands from her face and kissed her fluttering eyelashes. “You were so good for us, mate. Our beautiful Queen and Empress.”

“Yes,” Nestor agreed proudly. “We shall unite our courts and give our mate everything.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn hummed against her chest, his voice a sultry whisper against her lips. “Do you like being filled by your King and Emperor, fireheart?” 

“Yes,” Layla answered, her heart brimming with affection for them. “I love it. I love you both.”

Nestor hummed from behind her, kissing her softly. “We love you more. You’re ours, sweetheart. Forever.”

That night, they’d claimed more than a masterpiece. 

They’d claimed their soulmate. 

[hoseoksluna]

ICHOR | jjk

pairing: idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: after a bad day at work, you lose a sense of yourself and jungkook leads you right back to her.

warnings: crying, capitalism, death metaphors, sadness, jungkook is sweaty and is wearing that nike shirt he wore in his working out live, has fluffy hair!

note: hiii, bubbas, so this is fluff fic is partly for @frmisnow bc she inspired me to write this & i also want to make her feel better with this sacchariny-sweet jungkook, partly for me bc i genuinely wrote in detail about what i went through at work these past two days. and, also, for all you guys because i made you go through reading about such evil jungkook in my last berries fic. i hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think. here's to a bit of happiness in our lives *cheers with an imaginary glass of imaginary pink, glittery, strong, fairy alcohol*. <3

You used to be a goddess, the ichor in your veins carried the color of roses, glinted with flecks of gold that would radiate your skin from beneath, make any heads turn, especially the one you loved the most. Customers at work smiled upon seeing your cordial aura, close-knit even though they were mere strangers, preferred to go to you amidst the flock of your other colleagues around. They would become radiated just the same, joy so terribly evident on their faces as their smile would grow. They would frown upon seeing the state of you at this current moment—curled up on your bed while the heat of the beginning of the summer clings to your near bareness, coming through your wide opened windows, the white, translucent curtains billowing up and down in their strange, but magnolious dance. 

You’re not Aphrodite. You’re not Euphrosyne, the goddess of joy and mirth, either. 

You’re the slain fawn at their feet—for their very own feast and for the feast of those aforementioned customers, who stand behind the dryly bloodied cause of your death. 

Work was hell, to say the least. 

You always thought death was a kind embrace, not a tight clasp of doom around the nape of your neck, your mental strain and disquietude the half moon marks that ever so slowly deepen. You mimic the movement on the hem of the linen shirt you wore for the day, one that you were too drowsy to take off when you arrived at home, having only a slight wisp of an energy to rid yourself of the uncomfortable tightness of your jeans and crawl onto your bed, knees to chest, on your side. You bunch up the fabric in your fist, wrinkling it, but you hardly vanquish the cuts that your anxiety slashes on your skin. You thought it would alleviate you of your tenseness, but as it seems—it only worsened it. 

You don’t even have tears to shed. Wept them all out in your manager’s office while she harshly, yet calmly reprimanded you for your mistake and the gravity of the fact that you almost lost your precious job, that you can’t imagine living without, washed over you and pained you like a splash of salty water in your eyes. Wept them all out when you breathed in the crooked, paralyzed expression of disappointment in her face—and that’s the sole thing that emptied out your system of that ichor, wiped out your reputation of being a good, reliable employee that everybody liked. 

Now the next unfolding of your days spent at work shall be filled with silent judgements and secretive gossip, the big talk of the entire building—something that will hang by the strands of your hair for every head to turn to until something else comes along. Another topic, another fuck-up. That’s the face of modern capitalism, the absurdity of day-to-day normalcy its features, and you’re so sick, so repulsed to be staring at it every single day of your life that you yearn to not be anymore. 

Death has flattened over you, but has not finished its job. It was Dante who described the process of hell in his Divine Comedy and you hate him for the rotten pulchritude of his mind because you find yourself to be standing in the middle of inferno with no guide—no Virgil, no Beatrice—to hold your hand and lead you through this scalding maze. You’re all alone, your mistake carving the branches of the trees burning down in your hell over your burdened, heavy heart that has been longing for the company of another ever since you walked out of your manager’s office. 

Your face screws as another agonized emotion rises in you. You can’t stand your aloneness, can’t stand your burden—and before you realize what you’re doing, your fingers have already tapped on your boyfriend’s name in your history of calls. The screen of your phone is cool against the fever of your cheek and you rub your face harder against your duvet, staining the strawberry pattern with the particular tinge of your makeup, which must have been the color of your ichor. 

You wince, the rings prolonging in your ear, your impatience running thin. 

Then, your heart drops once you hear the broken whisper of your Beatrice, faintly, barely, which causes your heart to spread its longing. Damn iPhones and their bad service. 

“Jungkook?” you call out, nonsense coming through the other end—and you repeat his name until his voice smooths out, relief sinking in like a stone in a pond. 

It turns out you were exchanging each other’s names and the intimacy of it curls the smallest of smiles on your mouth. You miss him; you need him. 

“When are you coming home?” you ask, wishing to descend into the emitting waves of the call, slide through them until you spring to wherever he is, no matter how tired you are—you’re willing to cross the distance. 

You hear him turn on his blinker and your heart almost does it for you. 

“I’m driving home right now. I’ll be there in ten,” he says and your relief expands in your chest, taking a small weight off of your heart. You place your palm against it. 

“Okay.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Why do you sound so sad?” 

Your mouth curls downwards. “Something happened at work.” 

An inhale of breath. “Screw that, baby. I’ll be there in five, okay?” 

A whimper. “Okay, drive safe.” 

And your Beatrice didn’t lie to you. Soon, you hear the banging of the front door closing, the tossing of his keys and the prodding open of your shared bedroom door. The hastened footsteps, hefty on the floating floor, the squeak of the mattress as his knee dips on it and the glide of his hand up your thigh. All before you use the last of your strength to focus your swimming vision on him. 

Hearing him alone helped you take a step further in your inferno. 

And then you can smell him. The scent of sweat clinging to his favorite ivory Nike shirt, interlaced with his natural, poetic scent, creating something divine that blesses you with the strength to place your palm on top of his hand. Your coworkers hugged you earlier, clasped your hands in theirs in reassurement and more than welcome it, you absolutely despised it. Lingered in their affection only because you thought you should let yourself be consoled, for you know they care about you. But his touch… that’s not something you sense your body to want to run away from. On the contrary, it seems to be something that it’s missing. 

You can’t part the stream of your new tears with your other hand. 

You spill, completely. 

Jungkook coos, squeezing the bare flesh of your thigh as turns you onto your back and nudges himself between them, plopping his body on top of yours. And then, he’s kissing the place your undone shirt made for him, trailing his lips up your neck, where he stays, where he conjures a garden of fluttering gardenias, their tender petals tickling you. 

“What did they do to my princess?” he murmurs against your skin, his words muffled but heard clearly by your ears. You sob, your chest shuddering in violent staccatos against his, unable to settle, unable to speak. Jungkook lifts his small head and frowns, his thumb swiping your tears away while the rest of his four fingers cradle your cheek. You lean into the balmy safety of the realm of his palm, gaze fixed on the wrinkle between his brows, mouth letting out puffs of soft, gentle exhales. He kisses your chin, the corner of your mouth, the wetness of your other cheek—buries his nose into it, right beside yours, inhaling you, giving you fresh air to breathe in. “Don’t cry. I’m gonna decapitate them.” 

The whisper, the hand that parted the stream. You whimper and he steals the traces of your despondency, pecking the new, smooth surface, planting roses to bloom, its roots bestowing you with the ability of speech. 

Two sentences, two miles further in the inferno. Your burnt down trees are lost in the far distance, swallowed by the fire, yet the forest shows every sign of growing anew the longer Jungkook’s heart beats against your breast. 

He’s so benevolently patient with you, not rushing you with your explanation. It all the more drives you to disclose it to him—and you open your mouth to speak, your fingers following suit, helping you with your words as you drag them through the soft mop of his fluffy hair. 

“I made a mistake yesterday while closing up,” you croak out, licking your lips. Jungkook lifts himself onto his elbows, clutching your shoulders, keeping the close proximity intact. His warm grip is a stability you lean on, one you appreciate with every broken shard in you. “I did it five minutes earlier and somebody came in. I sent them away and they filed a complaint against me. They wrote an email to my manager and I… I almost lost my job.”

The wrinkle between his brows deepens and you thumb it, wishing it away. You don’t want to mar his beautiful face because of your foolishness; you want it to remain that soft ball of light that he always is, but then you realize you’re asking for the impossible. His mouth flattens, pity flashes across his round eyes, which helps you perceive that if he didn’t react like this, he wouldn’t love you—and his love is the air you breathe; his love is the ointment you need for your sadness. 

As if he heard you, he kisses you delicately and you sail—skip the purgatory and land in paradiso, a meadow of wildflowers overlooking a cliff that opens the restfulness of the sea, scattered with windswept petals of those lost blossoms, coloring the surface with pinks, whites and the greens of their leaves. 

“Did your manager yell at you?” Jungkook questions, his lips lifted a millimeter above yours, his thumbs fondling the fabric of your shirt upon your shoulders. 

“No, but she was very strict with me. Told me not to cry—”

His breath wafts over your face when he looks into your eyes, displeased. “She made you cry?” 

You cried because through her words you comprehended the gravity of your mistake and its repercussions, not because she deliberately used them to open the dam of your emotions. It’s precisely why she told you not to cry, giving you a hint of her perpetually nonexistent compassion. And you tell him. 

“No, she didn’t. She was very professional with me and made me realize what I did after I apologized. I cried because I was so scared of losing my job, of disappointing her and shit like that.” 

Jungkook purses his lips, shaking his head, curly strands rippling like the tremor of leaves. “She should’ve dropped it after you apologized. Five minutes is nothing, baby. You did nothing to deserve to be treated like that.” 

Your chest heaves, his love and reassurement sifting sand into your bloodstream, the color of ichor. “I know but… you know,” you trail off, indicating the realm of respect all peers must have for the management that you don’t really want to venture into, not when Jungkook had to deal with it as well in his music company. But unlike you, he broke out of its clutches. It cost him tears, frustration and weight loss, but now he’s a free bird of paradise. You don’t wish to make him remember his cage. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah, baby, I know, which is why I’m telling you that you didn’t deserve that.” 

Your chin quivers, the negative thoughts that wore you down in his absence returning at full speed. “It affects my mental health when I’m bad at my job.” 

Brows rounding upwards, his eyes flick to your chin, a glossy wetness coating them. He pecks it before he gazes into your irises. “But you’re not bad at your job. You just closed a few minutes earlier. You’re amazing at your job. You make people happy. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” he says, meaning every word with the way he presses each one into your pupils. You feel its magnetism and you take it. “And I’m proud of you. Every day. You work so hard. Come home tired every day. Deal with people who aren’t always nice to you with kindness that I envy. I’m proud of you, you hear me? You didn’t make a mistake. You did good.”

And there it is, the stampede of your bloodstream—Jungkook has seeped the entirety of the sand until he emptied out his hand and your ichor charges forward, its light like a bud flaring open beneath your skin. And you're floating on that sea in paradiso, your braid adorned with the wet petals that swims back and forth to his arm that holds your body steady upon the surface, the names of the Greek goddesses lining every perimeter, sinking within. 

You’ve become them, all over again. 

“Thank you, Ggukie,” you whisper, running your hand through the front bangs of his hair, gripping them. It’s as if you’re holding the petals. “I needed to hear that.” 

He pouts, touched by the love name. “I know. You need to rest now after such an emotionally exhausting day. No more tears, okay?” 

You nod, feeling whole, feeling like you can face tomorrow with more courage. “Okay.” 

You pout, mimicking him, asking for a kiss and he gives it to you in that same delicate manner, plunging the entirety of the summer’s heat, molded by his hands, into you, making it bearable for you. 

Looks at you for a long time, after. Smiling. 

“You know, I didn’t take a shower after the gym for you,” he says, quirking a smile on your face.

You’re intimately acknowledged with the reason why, yet still you ask: “Why’s that?” 

He reciprocates the smile. “I thought you’d help me wash up. My muscles are sore and all. I lifted the double amount of your body weight.” 

You bite your lip. You’re willing to wash every inch of him with your utmost care. You deem he deserves it for enlivening you, but you’d much rather stay here, inhaling that dizzying scent of him. 

“I’ll do that, but let’s stay here for a little while.” 

Jungkook nods, kissing your jaw before he finds a comfortable place on your bosom, listening to the rush of your ichor, the sun rays upon the sea of that paradiso, inching you closer and closer to God. Augments the ending of that Divine Comedy. 

Doesn’t lead you to the final installment of death, but pushes you to life full of that brisk wind, the humming of the sea and the song of swaying wildflowers. 

Holds your hand. 

Doesn’t let go. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[heartlilith]

The Rising Signs

Aries Rising

❤️Probably has something that makes them stand out whether that be tattoos, scars, or a birth mark

❤️Masculine features - defined jawline, thick eyebrows, muscular body, intense eyes

❤️Always looks like they’re on their way to bitch someone out hahaha

❤️High energy placement - walks quickly and with purpose, hates slow people and slow drivers (probably drives fast too)

❤️Don’t mess with people they care about because they will bitch you tf out on the spot

Taurus Rising

🌿Chill reserved stoner vibes

🌿Not a morning person whatsoever

🌿Likes the finer things in life; you’ll see them in nice clothes and even if their clothes aren’t expensive they look like it because they take care of their stuff

🌿Loves going out to eat

🌿Probably has a mother who cooks some bomb ass food 

Gemini Rising

✨Ive noticed a lot of Gemini risings have blonde hair and usually on the taller side

✨Smarter than you or at least they think they are

✨They are smart though and know the most random facts ever … but interesting none the less

✨Loves music and has a diverse taste

✨People like them because they’re easy to talk to and they’re very interesting; they have cool hobbies/skills and they tell funny/memorable stories

Cancer Rising

🦀 Looks like 🌚 and also they really resemble dolls

🦀 Females can act bitchy or defensive when first meeting them because they’re really sensitive but don’t want you to know cause they think it’s a weakness

🦀Same with males but probably worse - feels like they have to take on more Martian traits because they feel like being sensitive is shameful

🦀They have the cheeks that grandmas always pinching

🦀They also have a resting bitch face just like Capricorn rising but unlike their sister sign they wear their emotions, you can always tell if they’re pissed off

Leo Rising

☀️Beautiful hair but we already know that - they also have full lips and literally resemble the sun - happy, good vibes, and just a beam of fucking sunshine

☀️Want to do everything fun they make great friends

☀️High self esteem and even if they don’t, you wouldn’t know because they naturally come off as confident

☀️Kids love them

☀️Very comfortable in their skin especially as they get older

Virgo Rising

🥑 They look really “clean” if you know what I mean - like they always look neat and simple in a good way

🥑Beautiful skin and symmetrical faces

🥑I’ve noticed these people can get along and talk with anyone about anything thanks to their mutable energy

🥑Likes to match everything - clothes and accessories, nails with outfits, etc

🥑Can look younger than they really are

Libra Rising

💕Super sociable, polite, and kind

💕Probably popular in highschool or at least in their friend group

💕Can be fake nice to someone and talk about them behind their backs later

💕Aesthetically pleasing instagram

💕Great at doing makeup

Scorpio Rising

🦂Dark just dark - their eyes look dark even if they’re light colored, dark auras, tattoos, literally looks like a fucking shadow ok

🦂Doesn’t realize they death glare people they hate

🦂I love these people tbh they’re so intriguing and beautiful in a mysterious way

🦂DEFINITELY attracts obsessive people and friends

🦂Probably feels like they’ve been 20 different people in their lifetime - always transforming their image and looks

Sagittarius Rising

🗿Ok legssss 👏 fr tho they have stallion legs

🗿Also likes the finer things in life and will probably get them because they’re lucky in life and blessed

🗿Really funny placement and someone you want to have around all the time to do fun shit with

🗿Carefree for the most part but they have certain triggers that they’ll cause a fit over

🗿Usually hates commitment (depending on other aspects and planets) because they don’t want to be tied down or have a loss of freedom

Capricorn Rising

🪵 Resting bitch face - their face literally screams “please don’t talk to me”

🪵Likes neutral colors for clothes and such

🪵Wise asf and literally downloads information from the gods or maybe they’ve lived 100 lives who knows but they definitely know

🪵Will not be falling for your bullshit or buying any dream you sell

🪵Strives to be self sufficient and independent - oh and also NO SCRUBS (shoutout TLC)

Aquarius Rising

💨Kinda look like aliens but in a hot sexy way

💨Can get along with anyone they talk to like Virgo Rising

💨Rebellious and a trendsetter who can attract a lot of copy cats

💨These people actually knew the song before it was famous

💨Has a lot of friends that are all different personalities - they could have one nerdy smart friend and another friend that’s the captain of the football team (this is cliche but yk what I mean)

Pisces Rising

🐟Looks like a mermaid

🐟Beautiful people and angelic looking but they can’t see that so when people compliment them or stare they don’t really get it

🐟Looks different in every photo they’re in

🐟Another placement that attracts creeps and stalkers

🐟Picks up everyone’s energies around them which is why it’s important for them to be around good people

[heilos]

Living Harmony AU relevant character sheets/info: Harmony aka the "Tree of Harmony" Shadow Lock Somnambula Starswirl the Bearded Stygian might be my favorite of the Pillars of Equestria and it's always made me sad that he wasn't used more in the show. So I decided to team up with my new friend Orin who's taken the time to make a bunch of amazing Pillar redesigns (same person I made this Starswirl animation rig for as a gift) that i'll be incorporating into my future animation project. The Pillars are very important characters to Harmony's story so I wanna do them justice. Listed below is some context for these sketches provided by my friend Orin and some written bits from myself. This is a Stygian who's been separated from the Pony of Shadows for some time, but is now dealing with the consequences of dark magic. I've had so much fun throwing ideas back and forth for this AU and I can't wait to share more in the near future.

Unicorn from a small sea side village in ancient times

Dedicated scholar and battle strategist

Special talent is writing. An incredible wordsmith in his own right

Wrote a very popular autobiography about his time possessed by the Pony of Shadows called “Me and My Shadow” (his third novel)

Name means "dark and gloomy" and also relates to the river and deity "Styx" of Greek mythology

Brought the Pillars of Equestria together in a bid to save his home town from the Sirens (the Dazzlings)

Wanted to become a hero in his own right even though he tried to convince himself otherwise

Lacks the physical strength and magical prowess of his fellow Pillars. Compared to any other run of the mill unicorn, however, Stygian is actually decently above average in terms of magical ability, though he downplays himself significantly

Ousted from the group after a misunderstanding involving him taking the other pillar’s relics to make copies of them so he too could be a hero and join them as an equal. His friends thought he was out to steal their power instead

Becomes bitter and seeks revenge afterwards when discovering the Well of Shade, which leads to the Pony of Shadows claiming him as its vessel

Banished along with the pillars to “limbo” for 1000 years through a powerful spell conceived by Starswirl and planned out by the rest of the pillars

Is freed from the Pony of Shadows' influence in modern Equestria thanks to the Mane 6 and the pillars with Twilight and Starlight being the main catalyst in helping Stygian where Starswirl had failed before

While no longer claimed by the Pony of Shadows, the consequences of using such powerful dark magic as well as being possessed by a being of pure shadow left its mark on him

Has dark magic scarring visible on his body. His eyes, inner mouth, teeth and magic color are permanently altered in appearance. It gives him a rather unsettling aura, much to his displeasure

The Pony of Shadows mark is not so easily purged, even with the combined strength of the past and present Elements of Harmony. A fragment of the shadow lives on in Stygian, inextricably bound to him, but small enough that it can no longer influence him.

Has abilities superficially similar to King Sombra's, albeit on a much smaller scale, and needs extensive practice before he can comfortably wield this new strength.

Luna becomes Stygian's second mentor, after Starswirl, to help him gain control over his new abilities. Her direct experience using dark magic to become Nightmare Moon makes her an effective teacher

As Stygian exerts better control over the shadow fragment, he eventually gains the ability to "Shadow Walk" or travel between shadows. This temporary form makes him look eerily similar to the Pony of Shadows. Pretty spooky

Can tell when the Pony of Shadows is close in proximity due to the shadow fragment, like a magic tracker

Stygian is a lucid dreamer. He appreciates dreams a lot more now that he’s sleeping on a proper schedule. Once in a while he’ll meet up with Princess Luna in the dream realm when they can’t find spare time in the waking world, outside of mentoring sessions, to enjoy each other's company as friends

Stygian redesign by Orin331

[justblades]

⌕ SUCK HIM DRY, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : jing yuan x afab! reader WC : 1.7k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. dubcon, succubus! reader, hypnosis

⟢ SUMMARY : a succubus preys on a luofu general — a battle of wits, who will outsmart the other given that both parties should not be underestimated? perhaps only time can answer.

the mara-struck, the ambrosial arbor— the legends drift to outsiders once they set foot on the xianzhou luofu. almost everything is possible in this setting, it was natural for devils who feed on sins to exist along with these species, and so you descend into the ship undercover, looking for a particular victim.

your interest was piqued by a distinct foxian lady whose ears are tall and in tan color, especially the notable, fluffy tail wagging just behind her. she has a little wooden table set in front of her and atop the birch surface are multiple pictures of a silver long haired male, smile as cunning yet blithe at the same time. the most notable feature however is the angel mark just below his left eye, followed by his long onyx lashes framing his aureate irises.

from the clothing he dons, it was clear-cut he's someone of a high ranking. you were not to be underestimated now that you're running low on your fill, so you opted for unconventional methods: by buying intel about the person and immediately found almost everything the luofu general does. a small price to pay for your deprivation.

apparently his name is jing yuan. it rolls off your long tongue smoothly. his charisma, his aura and his name: he's a perfect target. your adrenaline levels spike as you envision what you'll do to him once you lay your hands on the male, dozen scenarios flashing from one to another.

at present with a remarkable entrance, you finally emerge out from the shadows and make an appearance for your victim. although jing yuan's eyes are heavy lidded as he was a second apart from completely dozing off, he manages to brandish his weapon in an instant, hoisting it at your figure. the indolence he displayed from earlier immediately dissipates into thin air, his masculine voice cuts through the thick ice of tension lingering in the vicinity.

"you finally showed yourself. i've been waiting since earlier." it was just 10 words but he exceeds your expectations. never have your presence been sensed by anybody as that is one of your skills, to be able to conceal yourself and your true identity. jing yuan isn't to be taken too lightly, it appears. but no matter how he was able to anticipate your arrival, he still fell prey on your yearning hands.

he suddenly grunts in struggle as his limbs get pinned down on the sculpted, hazel chair before him. jing yuan loses control of his own body and you continue to stride towards him, a lecherous smile carved on your lips. "general jing yuan . . you're quite an attractive man." you whisper as you lean closer to his face, your hot breath ghosts a caress on the very shell of his ear.

the general was addled at first, trying his best to discern what kind of creature you really are. "you look confused, i'll grant you the privilege of knowing what i am." your words were honeyed as your eyes lock a wary gaze with his golden hues. "i'm just a demon who feeds on people . . the sin of lust particularly, and i'm here to claim your life once i successfully do so."

forcing a kiss on his sultry lips, your fingers grab a hold of his chin, making sure to deepen further your tongue in— making you feel more tantalized than before. jing yuan's brows furrow, continuing to struggle to break free from the curse you laid upon him. quickly breaking the seal of the kiss, you couldn't help but chuckle, "you taste so delicious general! i wonder if it's the same down here."

jing yuan glances at where your other clawed hand trails, his vision landing on his erection, all exposed from how you swiftly ripped his pants open. slowly gliding your digits against his prominent veins of a reddish tan mixed of violet shades, you merit yourself with the general's grunts of arousal as he closes his eyes shut.

he grinds his teeth, "i've heard of such creatures but i never would've imagined they were true." he struggles to speak eloquently like he always does now that he's under your teasing touch. suddenly, a warm feeling envelops his twitching length, only to realize you were sucking his girthy cock. "does it feel good, general?" you query, bobbing your head up and down while making a vacuum like suction as you suck all of him in, your tongue fiddling his dick's folds.

the silver haired throws his head back in defeat, unable to budge a movement as he was stuck in a sitting position. with a succubus pleasuring him, he couldn't deny it was a wonderful sensation. he eventually lets his guttural moans come undone and follow suit one after another, sounding into your ears like awards or prizes for doing your job well. amidst of this, he starts to think of a way to free himself from these invisible restraints but you heeded no mind and continue to indulge yourself in carnal desire.

however as you didn't underestimate jing yuan, the same could be said for you. after all, you meticulously planned to draw away everyone's attention in jing yuan's office just so you can prey on him. time flashes by rather quick and liquids of release sprawl into the hidden depths of your throat as you also toy with your sloppy cunt, growing eager to lap all of him even more.

"one out of three. once you cum thrice, it's a bye bye." the sentence cut off jing yuan's rowdy train of thoughts, but as he was powerless before such specie, you were able to insert his dick in, straddling his thigh, facing the male. he flinches as your tight walls coil around his shape, the head of his dick meeting with your cervix, " . . you're big!" you exclaim, your eyes widening into two full moons, shock coursing through your veins.

resting your hands on his broad shoulders, you begin to bounce on him, raising your ass and push your hips down on his thick, heating dick. your eyes never left jing yuan's, and you swear you could feel how much he's been thinking in spite of the low mewls he lets out— "yes, just keep looking at me like that!" taunting the general even more, his piercing, brazen stare sharpens, almost penetrating right through your soul.

"oh, general . ." you call out to him as you moan his name, "general jing yuan . . xianzhou luofu is such a pretty place!" naughty, squelching noises reverberate inside the vast space, accompanied by you and jing yuan's bit back moans of satisfaction. now locking your hands around his neck and fingers ruffling his long, luscious, ashy strands, you give him another open mouthed kiss, one that is much more gentler than the other, eyes closed to engage with the sensation.

noticing the littlest details of a person's body language, gifted to every succubus or incubus birthed into this universe, you could sense how his dick throbs, signaling for his release soon. the corners of your lips lift, displaying a smug smile once you pick up your speed and add more force on your movements, shaking your hips slowly to earn more sounds from the male's mouth.

"i— i'm—" jing yuan groans and the second round of his climax dawns, filling your velvet walls with his muddy white seed to the point that a good amount seeps into your womb. you feel your body lighten and improve in condition, "i wasn't wrong in choosing you at all. even your cum tastes refreshing— i can also make you do this."

the general's body moves by itself as he bends you over the table this time with one push, your face slapping against the varnished surface. his hand tightly clasped on your shoulder blades, you wiggle your pelvis so his head meets with your lips— and prods through your fluttering folds once more. he heaves deep breaths, more waves of pleasure crashing on him, even though it was against his will, he couldn't deny that he feels good from it.

your head spins as his thrusts were far more powerful than you expected. you didn't take into account how raw power works in these instances but it made the experience hundred times better— you were starting to lose your mind as he fills you with his cock, beads of his satisfaction trickling down past your thighs.

"what a naughty general!" you remark with absolute mockery, "is this what you fantasize about while you keep the luofu's peace, jing yuan?" snickering at the end of your sentence, you were surprised to hear him respond. "yes, and it seems like you're a perfect fit." you were taken aback by his reply.

he proceeds to flip your body around, carrying your figure with his mere two arms. he rises from his position and guides your legs to lock around his waist, his cock reaching deeper than before and rubbing on the other parts of your walls. "what— no! how could y—" jing yuan cuts off your protest with a passionate kiss, you could feel his lips tug into a smirk.

"where's your playful nature now?" jing yuan's words exude of irony and sarcasm: having enjoyment at how confusion washes over your facial features. "i'm not an ordinary being either - i'm afraid to say you only set yourself up for failure." the cocky aura from your stature ceases, jaw falling agape and your lustful eyes' gleam die down.

he speeds up his thrusts, intruding your tight cunt with an unrealistic speed. despite of worry gnawing at your perturbed mind, you couldn't stifle the mewls slipping from your lips. "it only took me . . a while to overcome your binds." the general clarifies and with one last stroke, more strings of milky like substance spring out from his cock, painting your walls white.

as soon as he fills you up, he lets go of your body, making a loud thud sound. you were left there unable to move, even more perplexed as to why. even though it didn't hurt you one bit, your mind was just occupied at just how powerful the general is. he exits your peripheral vision for a while, only to come back with new clothing donned as if the ones you ripped earlier weren't busted at all.

the seat of divine foresight's gates swing open, revealing numerous cloud knights in preparation for combat.

"be careful bringing her to the cell, this one's dangerous. i shall pay a visit later."

my masterlist !

[kurokawaia]

❛ Princess ❜

GoldenAge!Griffith X fem!princess!Reader

| YANDERE THEMES | SFW |

WC; 1.3k + | !MDNI! | TW/CW; reader is implied to be charlottes sister!! use of '{Y/n}', yandere themes, just griffith choosing his next victim, dark content, possessive behaviour

i spent a lot of time writing this and making sure everything i wrote was perfect, i hope you all enjoy😣 - honey

m.list | berserk m.list

"Commander Griffith," your father meted the acknowledgment, and Griffith stepped in front of the King, Queen, and the two princesses, bowing in respect, his cascading white hair lying over his shining silver armor.

"Princess {Y/n}," your father called out in command, gesturing for you to proceed forward.

You step forward with elegance as the waves in your waves of elegance in your navy dress continued to spread behind you. You step with exactness, moved with exactness—in exactness, in every motion that had been rehearsed over and over before attaining the said standing you were in. The eyes of court watched observantly.

The moment you arrived at Griffith, you extended your hand with fingers so graceful and poised. He took it gently. His armor was cold against your skin. His lips were elusive as a soft kiss and lingered a second too long; the kiss hung at the edges of the proper and correct.

He was flexing power in such a subtle way—it was subtle, but he knew.

There was something kind in the manner and, at the same time, some veneer into which intention had been collected.

A shiver ran down your spine as his ice-blue gaze caught yours, his eyes raising from his bow. Something predatory glistened in his eyes, something that made one wonder or a key piece of a game that only he knows if one was nothing more than a pawn in his grand design.

"It is truly an honor to finally meet you, Princess," came that smooth, well-oiled voice of Griffith's. The crowd murmured in approval; all sounds echoed through the cavernous cathedral.

Yet, somewhere beneath the polite exchanges, a person could sense something more going on here: the veiled calculations, the faint flickers of ambition that had put Griffith in this position of power.

His gaze never left yours as he dropped your hand. He was watching you, looking through you, perhaps, for the best way to bend you to his whim.

You belonged to him, whether you understood that you were a pawn, queen, or maybe something between.

It was a sea of faces, the whole of the cathedral at that moment respectfully concentrating over the play unfolded in front of their eyes. Nobles, ecleastics, distinguished guests filled the pews, eyes glued to the action being played out between Griffith and yourself. The tension in the room was tangible; together, they breathed as if they awaited the next moment.

There is something commanding in Griffith's presence, captivating in his aura, but unconsciously repellent. Consciously, even the way he was holding your hand was soft, and his kiss, in which almost imperceptible pressure was put, was calculated.

You could feel the pulse of that moment, the silent exchange between the two of you speaking volumes more than the mere touch could have done. It was as though he had claimed you, staked his territory—marking you as his before the whole court.

Your father stood immovable behind you, his face stoic, although you knew the tiny glint in his eyes betrayed a hint of his concern. Generations had passed with the royal family playing this game of power and politics, but Griffith was a new breed; he was silky, composed, with a burning will like the colored rays cast off the stained glass across his armor.

Griffith eventually released your hand but he did not break the eye contact. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that seemed as though, if he needed to, he could see through all of the falseness and look way past it.

There was something uncanny in this silence, something perhaps even rather fascinating in another way, something that simply could not fail to grip the attention. Breath was heard murmuring from all the corners when whispers spotted around in the crowd: Where the discussions carried would be so imperative in the history books for the fate of the kingdom?.

"For me, to serve Midland and its royal family is an honor," Griffith spoke, and there was just a subtle current of authority in his voice. His gazes never left yours, and you realized this wasn't just a formal introduction.

This was more.

A relationship that would all be about his control and your compliance.

Something dark glinted beneath those warm eyes of Griffith. It wasn't the supple quality in his voice, or even the grace in his movement; it was the way his eyes locked onto yours, as though no one else in that room counted.

You were regarded, Princess, as if he'd your life already mapped out: each decision you'd make.

And that, somehow, no matter what, you belonged to him.

During dinner, his eyes never left you for long. He listened to everyone else, chuckled at their stories, contributed some bromide to some noble's question, but you knew his attention was on you.

You rose from the head table; his eyes followed you, following every step you made.

You could feel the weight of it, a possessive intensity making you hyperaware of his presence.

You would see, as others tried to draw you into a conversation, his expression never waivered—just a polite smile—but that little tightness in the jaw, that cold flash in the eyes. You could see him staring as if to say, 'Back off'—with the eyes.

Featuring the eventual success of placing yourself in one of the quieter corners, far enough from the hustle, Griffith was now standing at your side, seemingly as if he emerged from the shadows. His steps soundless, his calves dragging his tensiled body closer and closer to you, so close that he might have been radiating heat.

"Princess. Princess {Y/n}," he began, his voice a bare hiss overlaid with tension. "I've been waiting for this moment."

He was so near it was unnerving; there he stood, quite imposing. It's as if he were ever growing near to your personal space, one and two feet at a time, awaiting you to crack. He had a twinkle in his eye, almost as if he were sick with pleasure.

"Great Lord Griffith," you replied, trying to hold your bearings, "I never knew you to be so interested in the lines of succession for the royal family."

Griffith's smile slowly grew slightly predatory. "The royal family is dear to my heart," he said, though his look stayed upon you. "And you, Princess, are perhaps the most interesting of them all. Your beauty, your grace, it is as if it was a destiny made for greatness; I could not conceive of this land without you being lined up in some succession for the throne."

His words were full of praise, as if he spoke with a possessor's lilt, but not like he was talking of you, but to you, and ever watching your eyes, and you were cold in that warm hall. Not that he was interested in you; by the way he spoke, you belonged to him already, as if he had a right to determine your future as his property.

Griffith touched his fingers to your wrist—just an elusive touch, and yet it sends shivers down your spine, not out of pure love but out of a silent claim, as if he were thinking of you as something to be owned or to be mastered in existence.

"We could do so much together," he murmured as his voice lowered, becoming intimate. "Just think of the power, the influence. Together, there is nothing we could not do. You're mine, Princess, and you know you're mine too, right?"

His words were a trap, expertly laid to draw you in, to make you feel that you had no choice but to agree with him. The possessiveness in his gaze, the way it seemed to lock out the rest of the world—well, that was all according to his masterful maneuvering.

You stood there, very aware of the weight of his presence. You realized Griffith was not just some leader; he was nature itself, something unbreakable by his will for something and with the intent of taking it.

Do not steal, copy, modify, etc Reblogs and likes are appreciated

m.list | berserk m.list

[belovedmusings]

God’s dead, and that’s all right with me.

Sukuna Ryomen x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part One of the 'Hell and back.' story. Click for story masterlist.

Sukuna Ryomen is the most fearsome syndicate head of the modern day. As such, you never in a million years expected him to wind up at your strip club in a dingy corner of town, but you’re going to make the most of it.

Relevant tags: Mafia! Sukuna, Stripper! Reader, rough sex, rough and sloppy blow job, cum swallowing, cowgirl, unprotected sex, cockwarming, multiple rounds, I don’t use “y/n” for better immersion, AFAB reader

Songs recommended while reading: Gods & Monsters (Lana Del Rey), Slow Down (Chase Atlantic), Swim (Chase Atlantic)

Cross-posted on Ao3.

Read below cut:

Sukuna Ryomen is the most fearsome syndicate head of the modern day. He looms like a storm cloud that threatens to unleash devastating hail at any moment over the city, ruling it with an iron fist. He’s the Two-Faced Demon incarnate, as you’ve heard those around you refer to him, the enigmatic man always addressed as if he was a mythical creature rather than a living, breathing person. He was the richest man in the city with his mountains of dirty money, each finger on his hands tied around the neck of all the local politicians and officials. As such, you never in a million years expected him to wind up at your stripclub in a dingy corner of town, so far away from the luxury of the inner city. 

He stands out like a beacon in the night, with his sunset-colored hair and white suit, which is really only slacks and a blazer, shirt forgone to display the large black markings of his tattoos instead. 

In your little corner on the outskirts of town, no one remotely interesting has ever come into the club. It’s usually slimy, older men, married and greedy for what they can’t have, salivating like dogs in heat for a glimpse at bodies that exist just out of their reach. 

Sukuna is a reprieve from that. Someone young and gorgeous, with an aura of danger…and you’re attracted to him like a moth to a flame. So, you decide to move in on him—he’ll probably never be here again, so why don’t you have some fun with it?

You saunter towards the section he’s sitting in, a booth against the wall, deciding to walk by and glance at him for a second, enticement in your eyes but no need on your lips. 

It works.

“Hey,” His deep, chalant voice calls to you. You pause, turning back around, leaning against the separator of his booth to the next. 

“Hey,” You echo smoothly. The edge of his mouth turns up, interest flickering in his appraising eyes as he takes in your form. 

“How much for a dance?”

“Twenty.”

A tilt of his head. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

You hum. “Sukuna Ryomen. Who doesn’t?”

“And you’re not gouging me?”

At that, you just snort. “Gouge you? I’m gonna enjoy dancing for you, I don’t need to gouge.”

He raises a brow, then his hand is up and he’s beckoning you towards him with a finger. “I gotta come to a shoddy little hole like this more often.”

You don’t reply to him, you just swing a leg up onto the booth in the seat beside him, waiting for him to tuck the cash into your garter. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing the small leather wallet from within and producing a twenty-dollar bill. As prompted, he slides it into your garter, brushing his calloused fingers over the skin of your thigh before you grab the pole beside you and hoist yourself up, beginning your dance.

You never get this much enjoyment out of performing for any man. They’re all the same, gross and worn-out, but Sukuna…there’s a fire in his eyes. Usually, you’re watched with impersonal hunger, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s appreciative, calculated, controlled. He’s savoring every shape he finds in your body with his eyes, and it feels so good. By the end of it, you can feel yourself pulsing with arousal, the bottom of your skimpy lace set damp with the evidence. 

It’s not lost on him; once you finish, slinking down with your legs parted to cage his body between your heels, ass on the cold wood of the table, he grabs your hips and pulls you into him abruptly, causing you to gasp.

“I can see how wet you are,” He murmurs under his breath, pushing you down into the evident bulge in his pants. It’s rock hard, and you have half a mind to maul him there in the lounge.

Immediately the security guard nearest to you springs into action, ready to intervene, but you hold a hand up to him.

“It’s okay,” You reassure him, feeling Sukuna’s palm shamelessly gripping at the flesh of your ass. “It’s welcome.”

“Mmm, welcome?” Purrs Sukuna, drawing your attention immediately away from the guard and making you forget all about him. “Just how welcome am I?”

You suck in a breath, meeting his eyes, such a brilliant, unusual brown that they appear almost red. You can only think one thought–fuck it.

“We have private rooms,” You inform him breathlessly, “…if you want.”

That pulls a breathy chuckle out of him, and he huffs, amused. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, sweetheart.”

It’s sort of hard for you to recall the time it takes for you to get off of him, take his hand, and lead him to the hallway where you enter an empty room, locking it behind the two of you.

You’ve never been back to one of these with a customer, and immediately it reminds you of a motel bedroom, old wallpaper on the walls, worn carpet, and nothing but a bed and side table placed in the center with sheets and no comforter. Dingy, seedy, and for one purpose only.

He hums, sitting down on the edge. “This place is no Vixens for sure.”

The name of an upscale club closer to the center of the city. You laugh softly, choosing to be bold and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass immediately, as if they’ve been there a million times. 

“It’s not,” You agree, “I’m no Vixen girl.”

“Mmm, I’m not missing out on much,” He grins wolfishly, admiring your figure again. “They all start to look the same once you realize they have the same surgeon. Don’t know how many girls’ bodies I’ve paid for over there by now.”

“A frequent visitor, then?” You ask, running a hand over his chest. He laughs haughtily.

“Like you have room to talk. I’m just another client.”

The smile you give him is full of chagrin. “I don’t actually take anyone back here. You’re the first.”

“Oh, I won’t believe that, but nice try,” He holds your chin between his index and thumb. “Now…it seems I’ve ensnared my prey for tonight.”

The predatory edge to his gaze should scare you, but if you do feel fear it quickly converts to arousal. If the way the world works is truly survival of the fittest, you’d be the first to go. You know that now for sure.

Sukuna Ryomen is not a gentleman, but then again, you dance naked for a living so you aren’t a saint either. Two souls, both sold, entwining within the heady musk of a room fortified with filth. You only serve to add to it.

He puts you on your knees first. It takes him no time at all to pull his cock out, hot, heavy, and thick beyond belief, with a length that sets your insides ablaze when you can wrap both hands around it and still see the tip. 

“Suck,” is all he commands, and like a concubine determined to service her master, you get to work. 

You may not usually offer sex for money like some of the other girls at your club, but you’re far from inexperienced. 

With him, you feel like you can be as bold as you want and he’ll enjoy it. So you just go for it.

You part your lips and take him in, sliding the large cock back to your throat where the gag reflex has long been evicted. 

He groans, grabbing you by the back of the head and forcing you to stay down. You moan, the vibrations adding fuel to his fire, and he pulls you back for a moment.

“Breathe now, because you’re not comin’ up again until I say.”

That and five more seconds is the only warning you get before he slams you back down, starting to properly fuck your face.

It’s a blur of push, pull, stretch, gasp for an immeasurable amount of time, the musky taste of his skin mixing with the salt of his precum running down your burning throat on its own volition, swallowing only triggered when he thrusts particularly hard. 

You can vaguely feel the tears running down your face, not from discomfort but from reaction alone; he’s conducting your body as if you’re a symphony and he alone holds the baton, cueing your every move.

“Fuck,” he hisses, looking down at you with sharp eyes. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You make an incoherent, garbled noise, your own arousal dripping down your thighs at this point, effectively ruining your set for the night. You won’t be able to dance in it after this, although, if this keeps up you won’t be able to dance tonight at all. 

He throws his head back and gives you a guttural groan, hot, bitter seed pouring down your throat in thick rivulets. 

Sukuna straightens back out and looks down at you. “Clean it up. Every last drop.”

You moan, sucking on him just to be sure you collect it all, and only then does he pull off.

“Tongue. Show me you swallowed.”

Obediently, you do just that, lips puffy and abused but tongue clean of cum.

“Good.”

He sniffs. Sitting back down on the bed, laying sideways, and regarding you for a moment, still on your knees and almost shaking with how turned on and untouched you are. 

“You haven’t gotten any pleasure, huh?” He asks, leaning on his hand thoughtfully. You nod, clearing your throat.

“I’m,” it comes out raspy and hoarse. He guffaws, a salacious grin playing on his face. You try again. “I’m soaking.”

“Yeah?” He asks, casual and uncaring. “Hmm…I could toss you my cash and leave you here like I usually do…let you take care of it yourself…”

You wait to hear the other option, begging him to choose whatever it is as long as he gives you something. 

“Or…I could reward you…since I enjoyed you so thoroughly…though I have to warn you, it’s not for the weak.”

Interest flares inside you. “I’m not weak.”

“Oh, well, you did take what I just gave you like a champ, so I suppose,” He acknowledges with a shrug. 

The room is silent for a moment before he hums decidedly. “Get up here. Kneel in front of my face.”

And you do so. He hums, eyeing you without an ounce of shame.

“You are quite wet. Look at your thighs, all shiny and sloppy.”

You don’t have time to reply, because he suddenly reaches out, pushing two of his fingers inside of you deeply. A gasp leaves your lips, but he ignores it.

“Pussy’s tight and soaked,” He states as if giving an appraisal. He looks up into your eyes, beginning to pump his digits in and out slowly, making sure to press hard every time they slide in. “Think you can take my cock inside?”

Your heart begins pounding in your chest. There’s not another man like him, you can’t explain it. Nodding, you say, “I can.”

“Eager,” He laughs, amused. “You’d probably do it for free, wouldn’t you?”

A shameful red blooms across your face, and you suddenly feel self-conscious. He chuckles, low and breathy. He grips your chin firmly, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll compensate you prettily for your work,” He almost cooes, letting you go and laying down on his back. “You will work for it, though. I already got my fill.”

You become perplexed. “How?”

He glances down to his soft cock, laying against his abdomen, then back at you expectantly. 

“You want it, come and get it.”

It dawns on you that if you want any sort of satisfaction tonight, you’re going to have to do the work. Fine, then. One of the perks of doing this line of work is the ability to easily shake off any shame. You want what you want and you’re gonna take it. 

The first thing you do is lose the platforms adorning your feet, their weight dropping with a satisfying ‘thunk’ to the floor.

You then straddle his hips, taking his flaccid cock in hand and, after moving your soaked g-string aside, take him by surprise by slipping him inside of you just like that. He breathes in deeply, sensitive no doubt, and you start rolling your hips to get him hard, removing the straps of your skimpy top and exposing your breasts to him.

“Heh,” A crooked smile adorns his lips, “You were born to do this, weren’t you?”

You’re starting to think you were too, but not just for any man. The kind of guys that come in here are nowhere near Sukuna Ryomen. For him only, you can become whoever you are right now.

You nod, feeling him begin to harden inside of you, the sensation sending hot shivers cascading down your spine. As you begin to get more into it, he follows suit, hands exploring your body. First they fondle the malleable flesh of your breasts, then down your waist, your hips, gripping it tightly. You mewl, speeding up, his dick now stiff inside of you. He’s huge but it definitely helped to start out with him soft, because now he’s locked in, and all you have to do is move.

Wanting to feel more, you raise yourself up on him and drop back down harshly, the depths of you intruded by his length. It makes you release a cry, and before you can recover, his hands have found your ass, gripping it so hard it hurts. He starts to guide you faster on his cock, arm muscles straining beneath the fabric of his blazer.

“Sukuna,” The name leaves your lips before you can stop it, and for a moment you think you’ve messed up until he doubles down on his efforts, groaning deeply in his throat.

“Fuck,” He hisses, “Say it again.”

“Sukuna,” it comes out even more debauched than the first one, and slaps your ass hard, the sting causing you to flutter around him, his hips stuttering with the effort to move in such a confined space.

“You’re fucking tight…”

All you can do is whimper, not even participating in the movements anymore, just letting them happen to you, taking whatever he decides to give you.

He seems to notice this, because your back meets the sheets in the same breath, the syndicate head suddenly on top of you.

With the new leverage, he really begins drilling into you, and desperate, obscene drawls start pouring from your lips, so loud and abandoned that if the music wasn’t so loud in the lounge, someone would surely come looking for you in concern. 

His hands are on the backs of your knees, pushing them down, folding you in half without regard for whether you can bend that way or not, and he’s screwing you so absolutely hard that the coil inside you begins winding without any touch at all. 

“Sukuna,” You mewl, completely wrecked now, “Gonna cum…”

“Fuck,” He grunts, “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

Your response is a choked moan, and all it takes are the three subsequent, hard snaps of his hips for you to shout his name, cumming so hard your body shakes. 

“Shit,” Sukuna seethes through his teeth, pulling out and jerking himself off a few times before his second load paints your abdomen and thighs, staining the parts of your set it lands on, and you feel yourself clenching on nothing, gaping in the absence of his shape. 

The sharp-eyed man takes in the sight of you for a moment before climbing off of you and getting to his feet. He walks over to the lone nightstand in the room, grabbing the tissue box and tossing it onto the bed, grabbing a few for himself to clean up. 

You sit up, taking your own tissues and cleaning yourself off.

“Gotta say,” He breaches the silence after the tissues are disposed, your lingerie readjusted as good as you could get it. “I ain’t fucked like that in a long time.”

A loose smirk slides over your lips. “Me neither.”

He moves over to you, holding out a wad of cash. Your eyes widen–the girls that do take clients into private rooms usually make a hundred or two hundred at best per man, and what you see in front of you is easily at least a couple thousand.

“Don’t be shy now,” He says, “I’m loaded and you worked for it.”

He’s not wrong. You won’t deny him.

Once it’s in your hands, he flashes you another grin. “It was fun, uh…?”

You realize he’s prompting for your name, so you give it to him. He repeats it, the contours of his voice giving it a quality you’ve never heard before when other people say it.

“Hope to see you again,” He says, heading for the door. 

You watch him go, replying with, “you know where to find me.”

He hums, looking back at you for a moment with that confident simper before he exits.

Once you’re alone again, you take a look at the stack of cash, taking a look at how much he gave you. Three thousand.

“Holy shit,” You gasp, eyeing the money with bulging eyes. That’s an entire good week’s worth and then some.

You look back up at the door, thoughts echoing his last words to you.

Hope to see you again.

--

A/N: my first Sukuna piece!! I love how this turned out...and yes, this will be a series.

So excited for this new story. Something about a stripper and a syndicate man just works for me. I had to sugar-coat him a lil but he's still Sukuna... p.s. doing research, I learned "Ryomen" isn't Sukuna's name technically, but the name of a folktale/mythical demon? So it's kinda funny using that as his last name but for purposes, we'll just role with it lmao

In true D fashion, it's going to be full of drama, so comment here or on the masterlist for updates!

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

1k night celebration 🍾🍾🍾🎈congrats 😏

i don’t know if you write ABO but if you do, please do an Alpha! Agatha Harkness who meets omega! Reader. Agatha see the fear in Reader’s eyes. Reader is terrified. Agatha is horny and thinks that Reader is pretty

Nothing to Fear Dear

Alpha!Agatha Harkness x omega!fem!reader

Summary: You are terrified of Alpha's, but suddenly one comes into your life that is just...different.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, a/b/o content (marking/scent glands/scenting/breeding), shit alpha's wolf whistling and being rude to R

A/N: This is my first time writing ABO! Please if I got anything wrong please tell me how I could improve! I love reading ABO and would love to write more I just don't know if I did it justice.

You didn't trust Alphas. Your history with them wasn't good. Your dad, your cousins, your ex. Telling you what you could and couldn't do. Controlling you at every turn. Now that you were on your own and away from all of them.

You tended to stay home, get things delivered, but there was a farmers market with the nice weather rolling in and you really wanted to go see what it was like. You got yourself dressed for the day; nothing too revealing, nothing that would catch an Alphas attention. You took a little tote with you that you had bought with every intention of using sooner, but you barely left the house.

You step into the bustling farmers market, immediately enveloped by a symphony of sounds and scents. The air is alive with the chatter of vendors and the hum of visitors exploring the stalls. Vibrant displays of fresh produce catch your eye—deep red tomatoes, crisp green lettuces, and baskets overflowing with colorful berries.

As you stroll through the market, the scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the earthy aroma of herbs. You pause at a stand where a farmer enthusiastically offers you a slice of juicy peach, its sweetness bursting in your mouth. Nearby, a musician strums a cheerful tune on a guitar, adding a lively backdrop to your experience.

You find yourself drawn to a table laden with homemade jams and honey, each jar gleaming in the sunlight. The vendor, an elderly woman with a warm smile, shares the story of how her bees produce the honey you now sample on a small wooden spoon. The rich, floral notes of the honey linger on your palate as you continue your journey.

The vibrant energy of the farmers market is both exhilarating and slightly overwhelming. You navigate through the bustling crowd, making sure to keep to the less crowded paths. Despite your efforts to avoid attention, the occasional Alpha scent catches your nose, causing a flicker of anxiety.

You remind yourself to breathe, focusing on the pleasant sensory experiences around you. The sweet taste of the peach, the melody of the musician's guitar, and the warmth of the sun on your skin all help to ground you. You approach a stand with beautifully arranged flowers and pause to admire the vibrant array of colors.

As you continue exploring, you find yourself stopping at a stand featuring an assortment of herbs and spices. The vendor, a middle-aged Beta with a kind demeanor, offers you a sample of a fragrant lavender sachet. You inhale deeply, the soothing scent helping to further calm your nerves.

It’s while you’re at this stand that you feel a presence nearby. Turning slightly, you see her—a striking woman with brown hair and an air of confidence that immediately marks her as an Alpha. She’s examining a selection of fresh herbs, her expression thoughtful and focused. You can’t help but notice her tailored, yet casual outfit, giving off a sense of understated elegance.

Your instinct is to move away, to avoid any possible interaction, but something about her presence is different. She doesn't exude the same domineering aura you've come to associate with Alphas. Instead, there's a calm, almost magnetic quality to her. Before you can make a decision, she glances up and catches your eye, offering you a gentle smile.

“Lovely day for a market, isn’t it?” she says, her voice warm and inviting.

You nod, managing a small smile in return. “It is,” you reply softly.

“I’m Agatha,” she introduces herself, extending a hand. “It’s nice to see new faces around here.”

You hesitate for a moment before shaking her hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Do you come here often, Y/N?” she asks, her gaze steady and kind.

“No, not really. This is my first time,” you admit, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Well, you’ve picked a good day for it. The weather is perfect, and the produce is exceptional this time of year,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “If you’re looking for recommendations, I’d be happy to help.”

The offer is tempting, and despite your usual wariness around Alphas, something about Agatha makes you feel at ease. “That would be nice, actually. I’m not really sure where to start.”

Agatha’s smile widens. “Great! How about we start with the fruit stand over there? They have the best strawberries you’ll ever taste.”

As you walk together, Agatha points out her favorite stalls, sharing little anecdotes and tips. Her presence is comforting, and you find yourself relaxing more with each step. The way she interacts with the vendors and other market-goers shows a level of respect and genuine kindness that you haven’t seen in an Alpha before.

By the time you’ve filled your tote with fresh produce and a few delightful treats, you realize that you’ve enjoyed yourself more than you expected. Agatha has made the experience not only bearable but pleasant.

As Agatha shows you around the market, you begin to let your guard down. Her warm, genuine demeanor makes it easier to forget the usual anxiety you feel in the presence of Alphas. However, this fleeting sense of comfort is shattered when a group of Alphas nearby start to take notice of you.

"Hey there, sweetheart!" one of them calls out, his tone laced with a possessive edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

Another Alpha joins in, letting out a piercing wolf whistle that makes your heart race with fear. You freeze, instinctively drawing closer to Agatha. Your eyes meet hers, and you see a flash of something intense and protective in her gaze.

In an instant, Agatha steps closer to you, her presence becoming a shield against the unwanted attention. The scent of lavender intensifies around you, soothing your frayed nerves. Agatha's expression shifts, her previously warm smile replaced with a steely determination.

"Is there a problem here?" she asks, her voice calm but with an underlying firmness that commands respect.

The Alphas, taken aback by her sudden presence, hesitate. One of them scoffs, trying to maintain his bravado. "We were just having a bit of fun," he says, though the uncertainty in his eyes is evident.

Agatha takes another step forward, positioning herself directly between you and the other Alphas. "Well, I suggest you find your fun elsewhere. This Omega is with me." Her tone leaves no room for argument, her Alpha presence now fully asserting itself.

The other Alphas exchange glances, the weight of Agatha's authority pressing down on them. They grumble among themselves before deciding it’s not worth the confrontation. One by one, they back off, their eyes still wary of Agatha.

Once they’re gone, Agatha turns to you, her expression softening immediately. "Are you alright?" she asks gently, concern evident in her voice.

You nod, still a bit shaken but deeply grateful. "Thank you, Agatha. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her touch grounding you. "You don’t have to worry when you’re with me," she says softly. "I won’t let anyone hurt you."

The sincerity in her words touches something deep within you. Despite your past experiences, you feel a growing trust in Agatha. Her actions have shown you that not all Alphas are the same—that there are those who can be kind and protective without being controlling.

As you continue to explore the market together, Agatha remains close by, her presence a comforting anchor. The other vendors and market-goers seem to recognize her protective stance, giving you both a respectful distance.

By the time you leave the market, your tote filled with fresh produce and delightful treats, you realize that today has been more than just a shopping trip. It’s been a step toward healing and perhaps the beginning of a new friendship.

As you part ways, Agatha gives you a warm smile. "I hope to see you again, Y/N. Maybe we can make this a regular thing."

You smile back, the anxiety that usually plagues you feeling more distant than ever. "I’d like that," you reply, and for the first time in a long while, you truly mean it.

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

The weeks following your initial encounter with Agatha have been transformative. Each trip to the market with her has been better than the last. She introduces you to her favorite stalls, the vendors greeting you both warmly, and slowly, you’ve started to feel like you belong. Agatha’s presence has been a comforting constant, her protective nature ensuring you always feel safe.

Today, however, is different. Agatha had invited you out for a date beyond the familiar confines of the market. The thought had initially filled you with trepidation, but her kind eyes and gentle smile had reassured you. She had taken you to a quaint café, where you spent hours talking and laughing, the time slipping by unnoticed. As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, Agatha suggested heading back to her place for a nightcap.

You hesitated but agreed, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. Her home is cozy and inviting, filled with the same warmth and charm that she exudes. As you step inside, you can’t help but feel a surge of affection for the woman who has slowly become so important to you.

Agatha offers you a drink, and you both settle on the comfortable couch in her living room. The conversation flows easily, but there’s an underlying tension—a palpable awareness of the new territory you’re venturing into.

As the evening progresses, Agatha moves closer, her touch gentle yet insistent. When her hand finds yours, the connection sends a jolt through you. You’ve never felt so much fear and love all at once. Her touch is tender, but there’s an intensity in her eyes that makes your heart race.

"Y/N," she whispers, her voice husky with emotion. "I’ve wanted this for so long."

You swallow hard, your own emotions a turbulent mix. "Agatha, I… I’m scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She cups your face in her hands, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. "You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll never hurt you," she promises, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, trying to focus on the love you feel rather than the fear. "I trust you," you whisper, and the words are a revelation to yourself as much as they are to her.

Her lips find yours, the kiss starting slow and soft, but quickly becoming more passionate. Her hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel her need for you in every touch. Your heart races, but this time it’s from desire rather than fear.

Agatha’s hands roam over your body, exploring with a gentle yet insistent touch. Every caress sends shivers down your spine, the fear slowly melting away under the heat of her affection. She pulls back for a moment, looking into your eyes, her own filled with a mix of love and desire.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, Agatha. I’m more than okay."

Her smile is radiant, and she kisses you again, this time with a fervor that leaves you breathless. You surrender to the moment, letting yourself be carried away by the wave of emotions. Agatha’s touch is both tender and possessive, her need for you evident in every movement.

She pulls you onto her lap, working you against her throbbing cock that pushes against her pants, making you moan out. It had been years since you had sex with another. Your fear took such a hold you’d taken suppression pills not wanting the attention of Alpha’s when you’d go into heat. You hadn’t been taking them since you met Agatha. She made you feel safe even though the fear sat in your chest like a heavy stone.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Agatha pulls you back to reality and you realize you’re not breathing properly.

“I got lost in thought. I’m sorry.” You tried to make an excuse, but Agatha knew you better she saw the look in your eyes.

“It’s me sweet girl. No ones going to hurt you.” She pulled you close, brushing against you and scenting, a lavender calm over you and you didn’t need much more to start grinding down on her. You wanted, no needed this, needed her and Agatha felt the same way. Trying to get herself out of her pants as fast as she could and you had worn a skirt because Agatha had asked.

She pulled your panties aside, rubbing against you as a moan tumbled out past your lips. Agatha pulled your lips towards her own, whispering against your lips,

“Is this okay?” You nodded frantically, moving your hips just enough for her to slip inside. Suddenly you’re getting pulled down onto her. “Fuck...you feel perfect. My pretty girl. Such a pretty little omega.” All you could do is nod dumbly as she thrusted up into you.

Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing had even ever come close to how Agatha was making you feel right now as she thrusted up into you and you rolled your hips. She felled you up perfectly like she was made for you.

“A-Agatha...?” You breathed out, making her look at you. “Mark me. Please...wanna be yours...please let me be yours.”

“Only if you’ll be mine pretty girl.” You smiled all big and blissed out on her cock.

“Yes! Please wanna mark you too!” She smiled, leaning in and pulling you further onto her cock as she knotted you, filling you up full and biting into your neck, making you moan out at the double pain and pleasure combo. Once she pulled back you leaned in, marking her. The sound she made for you was perfect as you clenched around her. She was made for you and you were made for her.

As the night progresses, you realize that this is what you’ve been missing. The balance of fear and love, the intensity of her affection, and the safety you feel in her arms. Agatha has shown you that it’s possible to feel safe and loved without being controlled, and for the first time, you truly believe it.

When the night finally ends, you’re wrapped in her embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever have before. Agatha’s presence is a balm to your soul, and you know that with her, you can face whatever the future holds.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[hiraya-rawr]

"Zhongli isn't the jealous type but don't underestimate the possessiveness of a dragon" HC—

// just exploring the concept of how someone so calm could display jealousy/possessiveness

Zhongli doesn't come off as jealous at all in your relationship. He's a gentleman, very mature and understanding.

He doesn't mind when others fall for you or confesses. Doesn't blink an eye if someone were to treat you a little too nice, flirt a little too much. You back away in the end anyway, and they're easy to fend off by saying "I'm taken"

He's even grateful if others were to pull out your seat or escort you home, all because he's aware that you're his in the end.

But he's still a dragon. The same kind that would hover over piles of gems and gold, guarding their hoards, and not even letting a single mora out of their sight.

Rex Lapis created mora. And even though he doesn't have a cent in his wallet now, he's still aware that all mora is his.

Just like you're his, no matter where you go. Ao how does his possessiveness show itself?

It's probably subtly, something not so obvious to humans but the adepti are all too aware. they see his domain on you, his aura always with you.

His scent is on you, your clothes are shared in his closet and it stays for a long time.

Markings from intimate sessions are also a sign of his possessiveness. Just like a stamp on mora.

Tries to get you to wear the things he buys: jewelry, clothes, shoes. Also includes his signature colors and designs. anything that would make you more his.

Like mora, anyone could hold you and admire you, but they should never forget just who you belong to

Would also work if he gives you his last name in marriage

[call-sign-shark]

Day 3: Engraved in the Flesh || Finn Shelby x Reader

Requested by a lovely anon 🖤

TW: Kinktober prompt- marked, canonical violence, violent sexual practice, spanking, marking kink, non-protected sex, allusion to anal

Words: 630.

Notes: This work is a part of the Peaky Kinktober Event you can find here. Comment on the event post if you want to be tagged in the future works for Kinktober. The length of each prompt is random, but it’s never less than 600 words.

The family never suspected something to be wrong with the youngest of the tribe. After all, he had been lucky enough not to know the ugly truth of war nor the physical and emotional torment of hunger or poverty. If anything, Finn had grown up under Polly’s loving wing. Even if he was accustomed with gangs violence, he never truly took part of it before his brothers deemed him old enough. Arthur, Tommy and John worked hard so that he would never had to take a bullet like they did. They wanted him to be a general, not a disposable and vulnerable soldier. When he started to hang out with the pastor’s daughter, his Aunt was delighted. All of Birmingham knew how kind and quiet Y/N was. Holy Saint among the sinners, the young woman often wandered in the gritty streets of Small Heath with a basket filled with food she usually distributed to the poorest souls. Y/N left a bright sunshine in her wake, all the darkness of the place caught in her long coal black hair. Rumors said that when she smiled, even the most wicked men couldn’t lay a finger on her, all blissed out by her beauty and her divine aura of peacefulness. The bruises on her delicate skin? She was just incredibly clumsy. That was what her father always told her! And when she wasn’t bumping or tripping, the heavy basket she carried marked the flesh of her forearms.

But when the night came and the devils danced under the pale moonlight, she disappeared through her window and ran away from home, swallowed by the dull forest nearby. Y/N hid in an old vargo that belonged to the Shelby family, guided by the weak string lights hanging at the door, and she impatiently waited for Finn Shelby to appear in the doorway with a bottle of whisky in one hand, and a red rose in the other. Then their sordid and obscene ritual started, always following the same order: He slipped the flower in her hair, its crimson and velvety petals enhancing her beauty and suiting the color of the lipstick she had stolen from her mother. Then, they made the temperature rise, hands roaming on flesh clothes flying across the vardo. Only when the bottle of whisky was empty and their arousal reaching its limits, he assaulted her tight cunt with violent and rapid thrusts. A glistening and fragile pussy that only knew his cock. No one else’s. The way her warmth and wetness wrapped him sent his soul to heaven, making his lashes flutter. He was supposed to be a nice boy. She was supposed to be a holy and virginal girl.

So why? Why were they fucking like animals each night in the woods, filling the air with moans, flesh snapping sound and sweat? Why did he bend her over and spank her with his suit’s belt — and why did she enjoy it, her love juice trailing down her thighs more and more at each new beating? Finn grunted in her mouth when he came, painting her walls white and keeping her full til the morning. That was how Y/N liked him: engraved in her flesh, and dripping from her sore holes.

“Tsss, be more careful Y/N. You’re black and blue.” Her father scolded her, eyes rolling with annoyance at his daughter’s carelessness that revealed itself through her purplish bruises on her legs, thighs and neck. Little he knew that all her skin had been painted blue, immaculate flesh turned into a masterpiece by the brush of a mad artist. Y/N was both the canva and the muse, letting Finn Shelby turned her into what their love had always been: nothing gentle but the embodiment of Sin.

If you have appreciated what you've just read please take the time to reblog and/or comment. Your reactions are the real fuel and motivation of writers.

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @mollybegger-blog @hwangrimi @munson24 @tommyshelbywhore @devotedlyshadowytheorist @stevie75 @brummiereader @triplethreat77 @sebastianstangirl01 @izzy10369 @peakyltd @dreamy-caramel @kimvolturicullen

[somewhereincairparavel]

HEY, can you please do too young to be in love, ah Jason Grace x fem hebe reader??!! 💘💘💘

author's note: I'm sorry this took so long!! This is in honour of Jason's birthday today! Credits to @kyejiz for the dividers!

ꔫ:*𓆩♡𓆪Jason Grace x fem!child of Hebe ꔫ:*𓆩♡𓆪

Both of you could've met while you were talking to nymphs. I hc that hebe children can connect with nature really well because of their youthful aura .

The moment he laid his eyes on you though dam, you were ethereal. You looked SO youthful but so mature at the same time.

People assume that hebe children are mostly childish, but you guys are really high on emotional intelligence.

You do exude a very dainty aura tho.

Like a fairy.

You fell in love with Jason's gentleness, just like how he fell for yours. He loved the way you were checking on mother nature on such a deeply emotional level.

You love wearing charm bracelets! Y'know the trend where couples buy beads of the other person's eye color and make a bracelet for eachother out of them? Yeah you both would be the winners of those trends

Honestly you both are a really strange couple in a really good way lolz

Bc jason is always mistaken to be a few years older than he looks (he always looks like a weary but intimidatingly powerful senior that everyone looks up to)And you? You look so young and bright, and not very intimidating haha

Does those things where he randomly picks you up and runs away with you in his arms. It's just cute, there's no particular reason as to why he does it 🥹

You guys love baking together.

Cheek kisses and pecks on the lips>>>

This is so prominent in your guys' relationship. You'd do it so casually all the time.

Honestly? I really don't think Jason minds PDA as opposed to the popular headcanon.

Canon Jason basically tightly held Piper's hand in the argo ii meeting in front of everyone and only let go after a very long time.

You'd love to play with his hair.Both of you would write love letters for each other (yes with the lipstick marks on the letter as well) 🥹 so soft.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 40: The Maestro's Mark

Prev > Masterlist > Next

June 1905

TW: mind control, body control, captivity, human auction, abuse, burning, branding, mouth whump, forced self-harm, dissociation, this one's kind of a doozy isn't it

"Sir -- " Fitz's voice had returned to him, and he was dismayed to find it shaky and weak, much like his knees. Beside him, Miss Lily was gripping his chain so hard he thought she might crumble it to dust. "Sir -- who was -- "

"The Maestro, an old and powerful vampire lord. My sire, and Alexander's sire as well. The one responsible for turning us into vampires," Miss Lily said, picking him up into a princess carry. "I wasn't expecting him to be here. He normally does not purchase his thralls."

"Is he --" Fitz faltered with the amount of questions he wanted to ask, before settling on the most important one. "Is he cruel, sir?"

She hesitated to answer as she carried him backstage and out into the hallway. "...Yes," she finally said. "Yes, he is cruel. I'm sorry."

She sounded like she meant the apology, and Fitz's too-short life flashed before his eyes.

"What should I do, sir?"

"There's nothing you can do now. Nothing you can do but be obedient. Try to find the private places in your mind to retreat to, places where he can't reach. Eat whatever you're offered when you can. Sleep as much as possible. And never be defiant, even for the smallest matter. The price will never be worth it."

"...You seem as though you know what you're talking about, sir."

"I was his thrall, once."

It was a colorful and loud nightmare as Fitz was carried through the bustling hallway filled with vampires and their newly purchased thralls, talking and laughing and showing off their fashions. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that when he would open them, he'd be somewhere else. The lumpy couch in his drafty, shared apartment. His dressing room backstage. Even the opulent prison of his bedroom back at his family's home.

He'd found that unbearably oppressive at the time. Perhaps he'd been a fool to leave, after all.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a small room primarily occupied by a desk and a few chairs. A vampire in a fashionable black dress, her neck and ears dripping with jewels, entered the room. "Oh my, Lily, your expression is better suited for a funeral. You've sold your little project for an extravagant amount of cash. Whatever could be the problem?"

Miss Lily's face was sour as a lemon. "You know very well how I feel about my sire, Colette."

"His money will spend as good as everyone else's. If you ask me, you were a little too attached to this thrall."

"I don't care one iota about this thrall," she said, her grip tightening on Fitz's shoulders. "I just think that no one, not even a thrall, deserves the displeasure of serving my sire."

"And yet, I assume you'll want your share of the earnings."

"And yet."

The door opened, and Fitz's new owner entered the room. Perhaps it was Fitz's fevered imagination, but even the gas lamps seemed to flicker in response to the foreboding aura. He gave Miss Lily a small nod, and Fitz felt her fingers dig in tighter, painful.

"It's truly an honor to do business with you, Maestro, sir,"  said Miss Colette, settling behind the desk. "Now, then, sir, you'll owe eleven thousand dollars, unless you require any additional services..."

"No, thank you." He was staring at Fitz now, and it felt like icicles sliding down his back. Fitz couldn't help the impulse to look away -- and realized that he couldn't. He was caught hopelessly in the web of power once more.

His master, as soon as the money was handed over. His master forever. There would be no escaping a man like this.

Never be defiant. The price will never be worth it.

Never be himself ever again.

No, he had to snap out of it. There had to be a way out of this. Some way to charm him, to appeal, to get them both on the same side. There had to be. Weaseling out of bad situations was one of his specialties.

The Maestro was reaching into his coat and pulling out a pouch of what looked to be actual golden coins, as if he were some kind of royalty. Miss Colette didn't seem to regard this as strange, taking the coins from the pouch and weighing them on a small scale. Satisfied with the amount, she handed him a contract to sign.

"Now, if the transaction is complete," he said, "please leave so I can discipline my spawn and my thrall."

"Of course, sir." Miss Colette filed out of the room immediately.

Fitz's protests and his screams died in his throat, along with his desperate impulses to flee anywhere. He was under his new master's power again, frozen in time. He'd never escape, of course, but it still hurt to not even be allowed to try first, to be trapped in a treacherous body that wouldn't obey even his smallest commands.

"Lily," he said, approaching her, and Fitz realized that Miss Lily was holding him in front of her as though Fitz could shield her from her sire. "This thrall has an excellent bloodline and potential. Why did you train him improperly and allow him to make an embarrassment of you?"

"He's a performer by nature, sire, as I'm sure you can see," said Miss Lily, and she sounded as subdued and fearful as Fitz was, a far cry from her confident nature when enthralling him. "He is fully trained and obedient. I simply thought it was amusing to allow him to continue to perform, sire. Plenty of vampires would desire a thrall for entertainment. I don't think he's an embarrassment. It took skill to render him obedient while keeping his personality intact."

If Fitz could move, he would be nodding vigorously, appreciative of Miss Lily's defense.

"Yes. Performance is his nature, that much is true just by looking at him. But you need to be in better control of the thralls in your care, not allow them to preen and pose on the auction block." He reached past Fitz to touch Lily's hair, tucking loose strands of her hair into her bun. Fitz could feel her hands tremble. "Oh, child, I worry that I am too lenient on your soft heart. I don't understand what I did to be cursed with two spawn so gifted and yet so foolish."

"Thank you for your patience with us, sire."

"Indeed. And because you do often delight me, I will allow the punishment to be light."

"Yes, sire. Thank you, sire."

"Here. Take my knife." The Maestro held out a silver knife in a white-gloved hand, and Lily let go of Fitz's arm to take it. "You will find an unoccupied bathroom. You will remove your dress so that you do not bloody it. You will cut out your tongue. You will clean yourself and your surroundings thoroughly. You will then put your dress back on and join my other wayward spawn in the parlor."

Fitz's eyes widened at the description of the punishment, the only movement he could manage. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. He couldn't do either. Miss Lily let go of his arms, and as she exited the room, head bowed low, he had the desperate, irrational impulse to stop her. True to her advice, she showed no sign of defiance, even when her sire was asking her to do the unthinkable -- as a "light" punishment. From the hard look in her eyes, he had no doubt that she was going to do it.

The door clicked shut. And Fitz was alone with his master.

The strange power forced Fitz's head up to look into the Maestro's eyes as he drew near, like a puppet on strings. With a surprisingly gentle touch, a gloved hand reached out and ruffled his hair, then hooked a finger under his chin and inspected his face from each angle. A soft finger traced down his neck and exposed collarbone, but there was no indication from his heavy aura that the vampire wanted to feed. There was no indication of any desire at all. Just control. Pure control.

What could he do to sway a man like this? He recognized his look, the man who was used to being the most powerful in the room, the kind who couldn't spare a scrap of tolerance for anyone else. No humor, no imagination. The kind of person Fitz usually avoided, or brought up on stage only to tease and get a response from the audience. On stage, Fitz held the power.

His new owner was center stage, now, and not one to relinquish the spotlight easily.

"Fitzwilliam de Hastings," said the Maestro in that musical voice. "You will answer my questions honestly. First -- do you fear me?"

Fitz felt his tongue loosen. This, at least, was an easy question. "Yes, Master."

"You are correct to. At least you are not that sort of fool. Now, tell me -- did you wish for my spawn Alexander to purchase you?"

He recalled the pathetic, fleeting hope he'd had when he'd flirted with Mr. Alexander in the showroom. Yes, yes he had, but he suspected that was the wrong answer. What had worked on Mr. Alexander wouldn't work here -- he needed to work a new angle. "I did think that at first, Master, but then you made that impeccable entrance. You're clearly the vampire all other vampires respect -- it's an honor to have been purchased by you."

The Maestro nodded, then removed one of his gloves.

A percussive crack rang through Fitz's ears, and it took his brain a moment to catch up and realize that he had been slapped hard across the face.

"Do not ever lie to me, child, and do not insult me with your cheap flattery. This is your only warning," his master said, in precisely the same tone as before, not betraying anger or disappointment or any emotion at all. "Try again. Did you wish for my spawn Alexander to purchase you?"

"Yes, Master," said Fitz immediately, praying that he wouldn't incur any further punishment. His tongue. He'd ordered Miss Lily to cut out her own tongue. And if his master wanted to do the same to him, there'd be nothing he could do about it, his very body out of his control.The thought of being permanently rendered mute, unable to joke and flirt and tease and perform --

It hadn't settled in before, had it? What it truly meant to be in thrall to a vampire. Between Miss Lily's mesmerism and his own hubris, he'd imagined himself getting out of this by charming the vampire, carving himself a better life through wit and charisma, as he'd always managed. But these vampires were so much more powerful than him and always would be. What good is wit against a creature who can control your body on a whim, or take your mind away with a word?

He couldn't save himself. No one was coming to save him. There was only him and his cruel new master, and he was unable even to express the despair bubbling up within him. A fate so much worse than death, inescapable.

The re-gloved hand stroked Fitz's cheek gently in the place that was still stinging from the slap. "Despite your ill manners, you have potential, Fitzwilliam. My darling Lily saw that in you, no doubt. A born performer with a compelling presence. Sharp minded. And so, so beautiful. A pity about your headstrong nature," he said. "But you needn't concern yourself. I only need to patiently carve away your imperfections. And I am a very patient vampire."

"Thank you, Master," said Fitz, who had never been more frightened of so-called praise in his life.

"More importantly, I believe you are the key to finally breaking my Alexander's will."

"...I don't understand, sir."

"Thralls aren't meant to understand, child. Thralls are meant to obey. And I have decided what young Alexander's lesson will be." He drew his hand away. "I will give you to Alexander."

Fitz couldn't help but furrow his brow, confused. That couldn't be right. 

"It will be a test for him. One that he will fail."

The Maestro pulled a small metal cylinder from his coat. He carefully lifted the glass from the lamp sitting on Miss Colette's desk, beckoning Fitz forward. Fitz felt himself sleepwalking towards his master, even as the Maestro dipped the metal object in the lamp's flame, even as Fitz realized with growing dread what was about to happen.

"He will forget you belong to me. He will desire to possess you, cherish you, perhaps even love you. He will believe he can rescue you from me. He will be incorrect. I will allow him to believe this, then I will take you from him, and I will break you, and suffering will be a teacher to you both."

Fitz's heart pounded.

"Kneel."

His puppeted body gracefully knelt upon the carpet, the crushed red velvet of his dress cushioning his legs, as he looked up in terror.

With a calm, unreadable expression, the Maestro pulled down the neckline of his ball gown and pressed the burning metal to Fitz's flesh, just below his collarbone.

He couldn't scream. He couldn't flinch. He couldn't fight or back away. He couldn't do anything but feel his eyes filling with tears as the white hot pain seared through his body.

Fitz barely even noticed when the brand was pulled away, because the pain hardly lessened. His master was examining his handiwork, and, seemingly satisfied, made Fitz's body stand.

There was no way Fitz could be standing through the shock and the pain, but the puppet strings controlling his every move made it so, forcing him to walk on weak and shaky legs.

"Now show your gratitude for my precious gift."

Fitz's body curtsied low. 

But Fitz's mind, flooded with pain and endorphins and magic, was traveling far away. Away from here, anywhere but here, anything but this. Anything but an inescapable descent into hell.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Well, wasn't that fun.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps

[miffysrambles]

Hello there! Call me cake anon!!

Can I get a Wukong with an fem s/o who had nightmares all day night?

Ty and have a good day!

~🍰

Wukong with an S/O who has nightmares

You woke up gasping for air as the pressure in your chest was excruciating, tears rolling down your cheeks as you cried in your sleep mere moments ago.

Your boyfriend Wukong awoke soon after you as he shifted slowly from your swift movements.

He sat up quickly, holding your hands gently as he tried to help you calm down.

“Hey peaches, it’s ok it’s just a nightmare. You’re safe, I’m here.”

His words were laced with genuine comfort and love as the tip of his tail slightly caressed you back.

He smiled as a way to show you everything was alright, “Can you try to breathe for me?”

He showed you an exaggerated example by dramatically deeply breathing in and out, earning a laugh from you (and a small smile from him, he loved seeing you laugh) as you tried to regulate your breathing.

You looked at him as you breathed in and out, your trembling form returning almost to normal as you examined every feature on his face.

You took in every facial feature of his, from his small fangs to the peach-colored marking around his eyes as it was very much distracting you from the night terrors you were experiencing mere minutes beforehand.

“That’s my (Name), you’re doing so good peaches. Just keep breathing.” His regular cheeky self was almost non-existent, it being replaced with a gentle aura as he smiled at you, his thumbs caressing the back of your hands.

You were finally able to form coherent sentences as you pulled him close, his arms wrapping around you as you both breathed softly in sync, your chests softly colliding into one another.

“Was it the same nightmare?” His voice softly asked you, caressing your back.

“Mhm…’ You nodded your head, making a sigh escape his lips.

“I’m sorry sunshine, damnit I wish I could make them go away already.”

You were plagued with nightmares for a while now so this wasn’t the first time he had helped you.

“You think with me being the Monkey King and all, I could do more than help you breathe.” He chuckled softly.

You laughed in response to his remark as you wiped your eyes, kissing his cheek as your lips curled into a smile.

“That’s the best thing you can do honestly, just being with me is enough. Thank you.” 

He beamed as he pulled you down back onto the bed with his arms still wrapped around you, making you lay on top of him.

You let out a soft squeal as he kissed you on the lips, caressing your face with his hand as the other still rested on your back.

He pulled away from your lips with a grin and a half-lidded gaze, his fangs poking out of his lips, “I will always be right next to you whenever you need me peaches, I swear that’s a promise.”

You blushed as you looked at him with a loving stare, kissing him once more as his tail wagged softly under the both of you.

He looked at you with a bold grin, wanting nothing more than to see you laugh again, “I think I deserve a lot more kisses than that (Name)!”

He tried to cover your face with kisses as you playfully pushed his face away from you, making you roll over on your back as he was now on top of you.

You laughed as he made loud ‘mwah’ sounds, trying to get closer to your lips.

“Never! Now you don’t get any more kisses forever.”

He gasped dramatically as he clutched his heart, pretending his heart was breaking.

“My heart! You got me where it hurts (Name), that was too far!” He had a fake sad expression as he looked away from you.

You tried to suppress your giggles as you rolled your eyes, “Fine, you can have more kisses since you’re a great boyfriend.”

He grinned as he leaned down to your face, your noses touching as he raised an eyebrow, “The greatest?”

You finally let the laugh escape as you nod, “The greatest ever.”

[arealphrooblem]

Mutually Assured Destruction Pt 2

THANK YOU SO MUCH to the huge response to this, I never expected that being so new to this circle of writers. I squealed at every like and reblog and comment.

Synopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.

Part 1 here. Tagging @heroes-villains-side-blog and @follow-me-into-the-fog

The taqueria was dimly lit with Formica tables and brightly colored murals of vaguely Mexican landscapes, which meant the tacos were obscenely good.

Civilian tried hard not to be grateful as they bit into their taco as delicately as they could, their fingers stained with the mess of the previous taco. Jonathan’s tacos, on the other hand, had remarkable structural integrity and did not break once.

“How are you doing that?” they blurted out.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as he dotted away taco grease with his napkin. “Doing what?”

“Your tacos don’t fall apart. How?”

“Perhaps that’s my power.” He smirked.

Civilian rolled their eyes, trying not to let the spike in their heart rate show on their face. So caught up in the surrealness of a dinner date, they had almost forgotten just what a precarious position they were in.

In fact, despite the blatant coercion to be here, this did not rank as the worst date Civilian ever had. Not even in the top ten. Jonathan paid for dinner, fetched napkins and extra beer, and allowed Civilian the space to quietly freak out while he ate in contented silence.

“I’ve never had a taco shell that didn’t break in my entire life, so I almost believe you.”

He gives them that same calculating stare he did in the elevator. “You’re not curious about what I can do?”

“No.” (A lie).

“Really? Not even a little?”

“I think knowing would make it worse.” (The truth).

Just knowing his aura has garnered too much attention as it was.

He smirked. “Afraid if you knew, I’d never let you go?”

Hearing their deepest fear voiced aloud caused a dizzy swoop in their gut. It wasn’t just Jonathan Civilian had to worry about. If anyone knew their true power, they would be a target to the Agency, to other villains, to the government. They could kiss their freedom goodbye.

Being “courted” by Jonathan was the least of their worries, and yet it meant the the threat of their freedom as a constant presence. If there was a chance Civilian could talk their way out of this arrangement, they had to take it.

Civilian swallowed. “You’re not actually serious about this, right? This fake dating thing?”

“Of course I’m serious.” He leaned forward across the table and Civilian unconsciously mirrored him. “I have certain plans in place. You are the one person who could disrupt them.”

“The last thing I want is to get involved with whatever the hell it is you’re doing,” Civilian hissed. “I’m not a hero.”

“There’s no way I can know right now that with any certainty. And so, until I do, you will have a very dedicated and considerate partner.”

Civilian bit back a groan as they imagined the kind of gossip this sudden relationship would inspire, especially since Civilian tried so hard to avoid Jonathan before. Wait a second . . .

“HR doesn’t allow workplace relationships,” they said triumphantly. “They would fire us.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he found Civilian’s protests amusing. “That rule only bans relationships between superiors and the people that work under them. It doesn’t apply to us. Don’t worry, I will file our relationship with HR tomorrow morning since tonight marks our first date.”

Shit damn fuck. Civilian could protest the relationship or they could report Jonathan to HR for stalking or harassment but that only puts a target on Civilian’s back for his retaliation. He could kill them or worse -- report them.

Mutually assured destruction.

Jonathan drains the rest of his beer before nodding to Civilian’s unfinished food.

“Let me get you a to-go box and we shall be on our way, then?”

He drove them back to the parking garage at work and walked Civilian to their car. Civilian wasted no time getting their keys out, gripped by the sudden fear that perhaps Jonathan would reconsider letting them walk free.

And indeed when his hand darted out and gripped their door before it could shut, Civilian’s heart leaped in their throat.

“You’re going to leave before our goodnight kiss?” he asked, his gaze expectant and serious.

“What?” Civilian choked.

He held that stare for a moment before an evil smirk broke across his face.

“The look on your face. I should be insulted at how abhorrent the thought is to you. Goodnight, Civilian. I will see you in the morning.”

A threat and a promise.

Civilian feels the weight of his stare all the way out to the streets.

Part Three Here

[xythlia]

› satoru x reader snippet inspired by missed connections from old forums

› sfw, small angst, cigarette smoking

You'd met on the train one evening, the exact time eludes you now but you'd been headed home after a particularly grueling workday.

He'd sat beside you, as if it was the most easy action in the universe. You quickly learned everything was like that for him. At first you ignored the closeness as everyone does when a stranger sits beside them, eyes glued to your phone screen and only occasionally sneaking glances at them out of curiosity.

But try as you might to seem aloof he was without a doubt the most beautiful stranger you'd ever laid eyes on, alabaster hair and even with his eyes partially obscured by tinted sunglasses you could tell they were storybook blue: the color so rare it may as well only exist in pages. Still, you'd kept your gaping to a minimum so as to not make him second guess sitting beside you.

Quickly you noticed your phone dying, three percent left, and rummaged in your bag for the little charger you always took with you to and from work. Funnily enough it seemed he had the same problem, and within seconds you were locking eyes, chargers in hands, and it was like the whole world became quiet. No wind from the trains speed, no murmuring from the other passengers, just a blissful sudden silence as you lost yourself in those eyes.

"Sorry, but I think it's mine."

You'd blinked back at him emptily, like a fish on dry land for a second before collecting yourself. The plug was situated between your seats, and something about it made you giggle.

"How close is it to being dead?" You'd asked.

He quirked a brow but indulged you. "Ten percent."

"Got you beat, three percent." You fidgeted with the cord in your hands, "how about we split time? Ten each?"

He offered you an easy smile. "Sure, where are you headed?" He slipped his phone back in his jacket pocket as you plugged yours in.

"Nowhere special, just home."

"Hm, homes pretty special, don't you think?"

You smiled and it struck you that you'd already smiled more in the last five minutes with him than you had all day.

"Maybe you're right, but don't you have a home you take for granted a little bit?" You asked, meeting those aquamarine eyes again.

He huffed out a small laugh. "I guess I do, yeah."

It was so easy to be taken in by him, before you knew it the entire ride had passed by marked by easy, comfortable conversation and his occasional flirty quip that left you averting your eyes and feeling warm beneath your scarf.

"Sorry, I never shared the charger." You genuinely did feel bad for forgetting, too caught up in his strangely comfortable, magnetic aura.

"No big deal," he said stretching his arms behind his head. "But you can make it up to me, if you want?"

You eyed him with faux suspicion, meeting his playful gaze. "How so?"

He grinned so brightly, cultivating more of that strange warm feeling in your chest. "Meet me back here again? Same line, same time. Wait for the train on the 31st."

"I don't even know your name."

"Satoru," he said, "will you meet me again?"

You didn't even stop to consider it, the answer came without you even thinking about it.

"Yes."

-

The cherry of your cigarette glowed in the dark as you leaned against the railing of your apartment's balcony and you're drawn out of the memory as you take a deep drag. You never did meet him again, not on the train, not anywhere. Putting your trust in the grand plan of the universe you hadn't even exchanged mobile numbers, only the belief that the other would be there sustained you.

But sometimes a grand romantic plan isn't enough.