#but when one of them sees the other as a masterpiece

[leona-hawthorne]

okay i have been waiting for this on the edge of my seat and i'm so fucking grateful that i finally got to sit down and read it (alone, of course, because my reactions were quite literally animalistic)

let me also add that the warnings themselves had me fucking moaning—alright now let's get into this!!

zoya, your writing truly has me in complete awe. "english is not my first language" okay and it appears that that literally does not matter at all because this??? this was a goddamn masterpiece.

(apologies in advance bc this is going to be an extremely long reblog)

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying.

okay, but this right here??? the way you captured mattheo's essence so perfectly, i’m obsessed. like, he’s not just reckless—he’s raw and magnetic, and that’s such a powerful way to describe someone who’s constantly teetering on the edge of chaos. it’s like you reached into his chaotic little soul and pulled out the perfect words. it’s giving “force of nature,” and the way you wrote it feels so vivid and alive, like i can see him and feel the tension he carries everywhere he goes. your writing is so sharp and evocative, i can’t stop rereading this bit.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

my babyyy, he craves trouble like it’s the only way he can feel noticed. it’s like he’s reduced his own worth to just being seen and perceived by others, even if it means chaos. love how you captured that desperation in such a short line.

every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

how do you set the tone so well?!? the imagery is wildly vivid—i can almost feel the heaviness of the space, like it’s got its own dark history!!

The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

oh this killed me—the tension between wanting something and being terrified of it. mattheo’s vulnerability here is chef's kiss, showing how much he's fighting against his feelings, even when he’s almost lost to them. such a perfect snapshot of their dynamic.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers.

okay i am genuinely so in love with this whole part, i had to reread it like 3 times 😵‍💫 the internal conflict is so palpable—like, he’s torn between wanting to control something that’s clearly already beyond his grasp, but also secretly wishing to surrender to the one person who can break him. the image of him physically pressing down on his chest to stop it??? i am actually crying, zoya. ugh, and the fact that he doesn't care whether he'd be hurt or cared for—he just wants her, FUCK he is obsessed.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you.

AHDHSFG his possessive ass actually enjoying sharing something??? aw he likes her 😚🤗

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand.

the way he kept laughing like a fucking maniac throughout the entirety of this fic OMG i can almost hear it in my head, he's so fucking hot.

his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there

I'M BLUSHING, idk if he's doing that solely because of the ritual but either way, the fact that he wants to reassure himself that she didn't go anywhere is making my heart squeeze in my chest 🥹

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence.

BITCH??!?! YOU ASSHOLE, hold my hand i'm scared ☹️

He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one. 

this is so true—HE'S FUCKING MEAN, but i genuinely have never seen a more angelic man 😭🪽

Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

alr here we go (i'm horny now)

Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care.

well shit, now we're both hard, mattheo!! 🤜💥🤛 (i am drooling at the thought of this rn)

Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin.

no, you actually don't understand—this is so intimate, i can just imagine the silence and the only sound being their heavy ass breathing, its so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 also i think i would lose my mind if my nips were like JUST BARELY brushing against him, what a tease

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did.

idk if you've seen stranger things but this is making me think of when nancy and jonathan did the same exact thing and cut their palms. that scene and the matching scars and just them in general is so dear to me, so this is making me feel so many things rn

Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood.

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.”

okay mr vampire!! (this is so fucking hot i am literally struggling to function rn and i am lucky i didn't read this during ovulation 🙂‍↕️)

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?”

MY JAW DROPPED PLEASE OH MY GOD, HIM SPREADING THE COLD BLOOD ON HER STOMACH?? I CAN IMAGINE MYSELF JERKING AWAY OMF YES DADDY I LOVE IT

Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound...

i'm being so serious, this part will live on in my brain forever. him MIMICKING/MOCKING HER MOAN??? HE'S SO MEAN AND COCKY HOLY FUCK THAT WAS SO HOT

he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth. 

spreading her own blood all over her body just so he can lick it off, oml can you spread my legs open next, mattheo? 😇 (jk, they're already spread)

The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

first, AJDGHFDJHDRFGJHAFGHJSRGFJHSRF him pressing her tits together just to SHOVE HIS FACE IN BETWEEN oh he's so down bad 🤭 also the "your tits..." BOY. he was so cocky and degrading before—now he's all pathetic and obsessing over her tits? ah, just what I love to see 😮‍💨

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

yes sir please spit in my mouth (he's so nasty and disgusting and i fucking love him for it)

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this...

YES PLEASE LET ME SUFFOCATE YOU BETWEEN MY LEGS MATTY PLS 🙏 "let him one day die like this" he is so obsessed god i love this so much

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

THE WAY HE CAN'T TEAR HIS FACE AWAY EVEN JUST FOR A MOMENT TO SPEAK AJDGSGDFHSDFG i would actually be dying at all the praise

clearly, i got a little carried away with this reblog (this is literally the longest reblog i’ve ever made 🧍🏻‍♀️), but what can i say? this was 6.3k words of art and i had to include all my favorite parts 🤷‍♀️🙂‍↕️

love you zoya!!!! 🫂🤍

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which mattheo seeks power and needs your help to perform a blood ritual. WORDS. +6.3K. english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, porn w//plot, mean mattheo, aged up characters, friends to fuck buddies, blood play, blood kink, cuts, spitting, nipple sucking, oral sex f!receiving, pussy drunk mattheo, handjob, dirty talk, biting, marking.

navigation -> masterlist

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying. Every move he made, every word he spoke, every breath he took was saturated with confidence and superiority.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

Mattheo was like a storm no one could outrun, an enigma without resolution, and that was exactly what made him so intoxicating. There was something in his presence that pulled people toward him, whether in admiration or fear, and no one could quite decide if it was for better or worse. He wasn’t just hard to ignore; he was impossible to overlook. He demanded attention simply by existing, and it was maddening, the way he could dominate a room with nothing more than a simple glance.

It could have been for a lot of reasons. Maybe it was the way he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, the sharp, biting comments he always seemed to have ready, words that stuck like blood on stone.Or maybe it was the fights, the way he seemed to throw himself into them too often, always coming out with the same satisfied expression. After all, he was the only son of the Dark Lord, and that alone was enough to draw all kinds of attention.

Whatever was the reason, chaos seemed to follow him everywhere, like he thrived on it. Perhaps he didn’t care at all. No outsider really knew, and no one ever tried to figure him out. Nobody had the courage to do so.

Either way, there were always whispers about him, cruel rumors about his personality and massive ego, some saying he was just like his father, or maybe even a darker version of him, while others came from students eager to get close in obscene ways, hoping to spend a night with their bodies tangled in his. 

Yet Mattheo didn’t show that he cared, always pretending to be focused on his own goals, moving through the chaos unshaken and unbothered, though deep down, the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

But you had seen enough to know the truth. He was cruel, ruthless, and everything people whispered about him, perhaps even worse. And yet, here you were, trapped in his chaos, each moment with him drawing you deeper into the darkness.

You were trapped. Absolutely trapped.

Perhaps it was in the way he looked at you, his deep brown eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away, leaving you struggling to keep your heart from racing, as if he saw something inside of you that you weren’t capable of seeing. Or maybe it was the way his words stayed in your mind long after they were spoken, carving their way into your thoughts like a knife you didn’t want to pull out, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already in too deep.

If you thought about it more, you didn’t know what had brought you here. The main factor to why you were so attracted to an ongoing fire.

Could be the adrenaline from his strange proposal, or the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his presence always glued to your mind. Could also be the need to be near him, the way your body moved toward his as if it had no will of its own, or perhaps it was the way he seemed to control your heart in a way you couldn’t even understand. It was twisted, even a little scary, but neither of you cared.

After all, you were friends.

You didn’t know when it stopped feeling like curiosity—just a lingering thought— but the doubt never really went away. Instead it became prominent, tight in your chest whenever he was around. There was something darker about him, something dangerous in the way he lived recklessly, only focused on his own desires, how he thrived on the attention he got, pulling you deeper without even trying.

And now, standing there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever came next, there was no turning back. No escape.

The Room of Requirement was cloaked in dark shadows, the silence broken only by the faint hiss of flickering candles. Their soft, wavering light offered a fragile sense of comfort, though it did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, saturated with the acrid tang of burning incense and something darker, almost unspoken.

Torchlight flickered across the cold stone walls, making jagged patterns that twisted and stretched with each almost shiny flicker. That night, the requirement room felt weird, unlike the form other students seemed to used—every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

The faint metallic scent in the air lingered, sharp and heavy, mixed with something even more heavy, felt almost like a warning. On the stone floor, crude runes spiraled out in precise, jagged lines, their edges glowing faintly as though alive and energetic, pulsing in time with the biting silence as if they were watching, waiting to know what was about to take place.

In the center of it all stood Mattheo Riddle, the one person who seemed to take up every space in your mind, his dark robes draping loosely over his strong frame, giving him an effortless air of power, his features, defined and almost angelic, partially hidden by his messy curls that always fell into his pretty eyes.

The flickering torchlight danced off his hair with every movement, making it seem almost alive; there was something strange about how his appearance seemed almost angelic, yet you knew Mattheo’s true personality, making him all the more dangerous, like a trap just waiting for you to step in.

He could look still, even controlled, but there was nothing controlled about this. Nothing about him was controlled.

Mattheo looked at the dagger in his hands, his gaze drifting over the blade, but it wasn’t the dagger that had his attention. It was you. Your eyes were on him, and it felt like he was being torn apart with just that look. It wasn’t like the attention he was used to—no fear or admiration in it.

No, this was different. It was more like an assessment. The weight of your gaze was almost suffocating, as if you were digging into him, getting under his skin in a way that made him feel stupidly exposed and making him feel a strange sensation tighten in his chest, choking his throat in ways he couldn’t understand, and he hated it.

He hated how you made him feel like this—torn between wanting to get closer and wanting to run away from that. And even if it was good or bad; neither mattered. He didn’t want to know. The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers. He wasn't certain which would provide him with greater comfort, but he was certain that if you gave him that satisfaction, he will never be the same again.

Mattheo sighed and shook his head rapidly, making a dramatic gesture as he attempted to avoid your concentrated, evaluating stare on him once more. He concentrated on the tiny silver dagger in his hand, trying not to hold it too firmly in his palm, but nothing could take away the sensation, and even if it didn't cause him any discomfort, the pressure that made it was obvious.

He let out another sigh, this time frustrated, rubbing his forehead, but couldn’t help releasing another, this time a relieved one, when he saw your attention shift to the two circles drawn around him, almost like some kind of illustration, and he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly as he noticed the change in your expression; at the confusion in your eyes and at your furrowed brows as you tried to make sense of the strange symbols, carefully etched inside the circles on the floor.

Mattheo looked away, quickly shifting his focus to the symbol at his feet. In comparison with the other symbols, this one was far more complex, with each line and curve being meticulous and precise. As he raised his chin in satisfaction with what he did, Mattheo couldn't help but widen his smirk into a full grin, an equal amount of pride and arrogance coming across his expression.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you. Even though you were there not completely voluntarily, you still had a place in it, whether you liked it or not. 

This time, it was Mattheo who looked at you with an intense, almost predatory gaze, his hand tightening once more around the blade in his palm as he kept his eyes on you. He was already preparing to take the first step toward the power he would gain from what you two were about to do. All he needed was your final confirmation and for you to step into the middle of the circle with him.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice broke the silence, low and almost a purr, making you look up at him. Ready? Fuck no. In fact, you were terrified. Every part of you screamed to run, to get as far away from this room and this stupid ritual as possible. But your body didn’t listen to your brain. Your heart didn’t either. Instead, you stayed still, frozen, your eyes locked with his own, already filled with amusement and something darker, like a challenge. 

You knew this was stupid. Hell, it was almost suicidal. A ritual to give him more power, cutting your own hand, spilling your blood, mixing it with his just to make him stronger. It was madness. More than that, even.

But then again, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to leave a piece of yourself with him, to bind yourself to him in some twisted way. And for some fucked-up reason, you craved that. You wanted to be marked by him, to have a part of you inside him forever. Mattheo had already carved his mark into your mind, into the darkest corners of your heart, and now you wanted to do the same.

Stupid curiosity.

“Well?” Mattheo asked again, his voice dripping with amusement, though you could hear the faint edge of annoyance creeping in. He tried to hold onto his usual confident, relaxed demeanor, but it was slipping. “What’s it gonna be?” The same damn question. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to make him ask a third time. 

“I…” You paused, your voice cracking, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath as you felt his gaze digging into you, waiting for the answer he wanted. “I think I’m ready,” you finally said, taking a step forward, ignoring the part of you screaming to get the hell out of there. Yet your body moved faster than your mind, and before you knew it, you took an unconscious step closer to him, making his eyebrow quirk in amusement. 

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?” he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. He almost laughed; if it were not for the situation you two were in.

“Fuck—” you hissed under your breath, cursing yourself again, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched wider. “I’m ready.” You corrected yourself, the words tasting wrong. “I’m ready,” you said again, this time to convince yourself more than him.

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand. The sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as his voice echoed in your ears. When he looked back at you, his eyes were softer than before, though the usual intensity remained, as if he was offering something that, despite not being comfort, somehow left you feeling relieved in a way.

He stretched his hand towards you, his voice calmer than before but still firm. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner this thing is going to end.” The sooner he would have control. Mattheo called you again, and you let out a soft sigh before taking that first step.

Each step you took was filled with hesitation, but your body didn’t seem to care. It moved toward the circle, fighting the doubt gnawing on your mind. When you finally stepped inside, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh as your hand found Mattheo’s. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing as you saw the same smirk on his lips, the reaction causing a tug on your heart. He didn’t need to say anything; you could feel how much he enjoyed this, how much he knew the effect he had on you.

Sometimes you wanted to punch him. 

As soon as you took his hand, Mattheo’s confidence wavered slightly; his heart pounded just by your touch. However, he couldn’t hide the dark amusement in his eyes as he watched your flushed cheeks and how your body betrayed you. It was too easy.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the intricate runes carved into the floor with the tip of his dagger, his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there. “It’s going to hurt like hell.” He said it with such ease, as if the pain and the blood were just a minor part. You swallowed hard, the confirmation of what you already knew settling deep in your stomach. “At least for you,” he added with an eyebrow raised, his voice laced with amusement.

His words weren’t reassuring at all—not that you expected them to be. He didn’t care about calming you or making this easier to bear. That wasn’t his style, and it never had been. Mattheo thrived in chaos, in mess, and he wanted you to feel every bit of it. He wanted to pull you into the madness, to push you until you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re not exactly helping me calm down, you know?” you said through gritted teeth, barely stopping yourself from telling him to go fuck himself. 

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence. “Glad to know, sweetheart.” He said casually, like it didn’t matter at all. “But who said I want you to calm down?” he murmured, and you might have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the fact that you had known him for years.

You scoffed at his lack of sympathy. It wasn’t surprising, though; his attitude was one of the things that drew you to him, even if it wasn’t exactly healthy. You watched as he lit more candles, the flame dancing with every step he took, highlighting the sharp lines of his features. He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one. 

After a few seconds, Mattheo stood up, still holding the dagger in his hand. He glanced at you, and for a brief moment, something in his gaze made his heartbeat almost thud down his ribs. He took a few steps toward you, and your eyes met. His dark eyes were intense, unreadable, and the weight of the air between you made your stomach twist. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, with a hint of mischief in his tone. The corner of his mouth twitched, the excitement creeping slowly.

“Take off your shirt.”

You blinked, shocked, and for a few seconds, all your fear vanished. “Excuse me?!”

Mattheo observed you, almost as if he were stripping you bare. “Your shirt,” he repeated, his tone annoyingly dismissive. He spun the dagger in his palm with flawless precision, taking a step closer as if your hesitancy pleased him. “Take it off,” he said almost coolly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

You crossed your arms, feeling your heart race as your face flushed with heat. “And why, exactly, do I need to do that?” You snapped, your voice sharp. You had fantasized a thousand times about Mattheo asking you to do this, but you never imagined it would actually happen, especially not now, in this situation. 

“For the ritual,” he said simply, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that bordered on taunting, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “I need access to your skin, sweetheart. The magic won’t work otherwise.” His words were smooth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling they held a hint of mockery.

You hesitated, studying him closely. There was something about his response that didn’t sit right, too casual in a way that felt almost taunting, like he wasn’t being completely honest. “You’re making that up,” you said flatly, letting your arms drop to your sides, your eyes narrowing as you searched on his face for a sign of truth. 

His smirk widened, and he continued to twirl the dagger between his fingers, his eyes locked on you. The sight of your flushed cheeks only seemed to make him think with his other head. “Am I?” He took another step closer. 

“Please, Mattheo, I know that’s bullshit!” you spat out, trying to ignore how his smug expression made your skin heat, though particularly of you couldn’t help but consider it.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the tension between you nearly unbearable. His voice dipped, rough and almost deliberate, as his dark eyes shamelessly trailed down your body before locking onto yours again.

“Alright,” he murmured, a smile laying wickedly on his lips. “Maybe it’s not entirely necessary. But it helps. A lot.”

The dagger moved lazily in his hand, the sharp edge skimming his palm without cutting his palm. His gaze never left you, steady and intense, like a predator watching its prey. “And we both know you want this to work out, don’t we, sweetheart?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, a truth you hated to admit even to yourself. You wanted him to notice you—really notice you—the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare, peeling back layers you didn’t even realize you had. But the sharp flare of anger clawed its way up your chest, tangling with the strange pull he always seemed to have over you, leaving you somewhere between furious and helpless.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head, the disappointment cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You weren’t sure if it was aimed at him or at yourself for falling into this moment—this trap. Probably both. 

“And yet,” he said, taking another step toward you, “here you are.” He mocked you, making you bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off. 

The space between you two was basically nonexistent now, and Mattheo fucking hated it. Hated that it was him moving closer, like he couldn’t help himself. Hated how his body had a mind of its own, reacting to you in ways that made him feel like an idiot. The thought of you, without your shirt, without anything, was driving him insane, his imagination running wild no matter how much he tried to shove it down.

Fuck. He could already feel the strain in his pants, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. It pissed him off—how easily you got under his skin, how fucking hard it was to keep his cool around you. 

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice rougher than you felt, and Mattheo’s smile twisted with satisfaction, practically waiting for you to do it. You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way his eyes were glued to you. Your fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt, heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find the guts to go through with it. 

Mattheo’s smirk only deepened, his eyes never leaving you, and for a moment, it felt like he was inside your head, reading you like a damn book. His gaze dropped low, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. You seemed so fucking soft. “Need help?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery. 

“Shut up, Mattheo” you snapped, yanking the fabric over your head in one swift motion, a shiver running through your whole body. Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

The second the shirt left your body, the air felt heavier, but you felt the coldness against your exposed skin and nipples. Mattheo’s expression shifted, his smirk slipping for a moment as his eyes scanned over you, taking in more than you were prepared to show. You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra under the thin fabric, your chest bare under the dim torchlight and his searing gaze. Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

You couldn't help but feel trapped by his piercing stare as his eyes remained on you, shamelessly tracing your hard nipples. He seemed oblivious; nonetheless, his eyes burned with need as his mind wandered, thinking about the taste of his tongue on your nipples, sucking and biting until all you could think about was the feel of his wet tongue. He held the dagger tightly, only reacting when the blade cut into his flesh.

“Well,” he began, attempting to put the thoughts flowing through his head to the back of his mind, his voice rougher than before, “guess you were more ready than we thought.” He mocked you again, but it seemed like he was also mocking himself.

You could feel your cheeks burning, a mix of anger and something else boiling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to block him out, but the moment you saw the way Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you filled with desire, your hands fell to your sides, betraying your own brain. You wanted this. You wanted him to see you, to really see you.

But as you realized you were staring at him in the same way, you quickly shook your head, trying to push down the desire and need, force some control back into your own voice. “Just get on with it,” you ‘snapped’, trying to hide how much it stung, how much you craved that attention. 

Mattheo’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, full with devilment. He took another step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and gestured toward the circle with a lazy flick of his hand. “As you wish.”

His expression didn’t shift, his confidence simmering just below the surface as he stepped even closer to you, trying not to look at your bare chest. His eyes flickered to the symbols on the ground, their faint glow reflecting in the depths of his gaze. Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care. He didn’t look at you but still waited for your reaction. You had already drawn one from him—only fair if he returned the favor, right?

You, on the other hand, swallowed hard, your gaze shamelessly tracing the lines of his abdomen and bare, muscular chest. The candles and torchlight cast sharp shadows across the scars etched into his skin, and you held your breath without meaning to. When he glanced forward slightly, his eyes still on the ground as he did so, he had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of your clenched fists, trying to control yourself.

This was going to be fun, at least.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke or moved. The silence stretched thin, both of you consumed by the same thoughts, the same dirty images racing through your minds. Your chests rose and fell heavily, both of you struggling to regain a normal breath. It was fucking madness. 

Mattheo quickly composed himself, standing at the point of the small symbol on the ground, making sure you mirrored his position on the opposite side. Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin. He gave a low sigh, words slipping from his lips in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice deep and commanding.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the symbols on the floor pulsed to life, glowing with an eerie light, while the candle flames flickered wildly, as though responding to his words. 

He looked at the dagger in his hand, a proud glint in his eyes before letting his gaze drift up to your face. His eyes lingered on your features, the softness of your eyes, the way your lips parted just enough to drive him insane. He almost couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch you, but he stayed still, his jaw tight. “Are you ready?” he asked, his lips moving without sound. “I am,” you mouthed back, the hesitation in your eyes impossible to miss. But he ignored it, choosing to focus on the way you stood there—no turning back now, and honestly? He didn’t want you to cover up. 

Mattheo gripped the dagger with steady hands, his brown eyes flickering briefly to the runes as if making sure everything was aligned. Without a second thought, he pressed the sharp blade to his palm, slicing through the skin with quick, practiced precision. The blood surged from the cut, dripping thick and dark onto the glowing runes below. They reacted violently, flaring brighter, more alive, as if the blood was feeding the symbols, feeding him. 

You held your breath, knowing you were next. But you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the ground, watching his blood drip onto the floor beneath both of your feet.

After a few seconds, he lifted his chin, pride in his eyes, his curls moving like the magic around the circles. He grabbed your hand without a word, pressing the dagger into your palm, his gaze never leaving yours. He was waiting, daring you to cut yourself just like he had. 

You felt his blood drip onto your wrist, the warmth of it sending a jolt through your veins. As the dagger pressed into your palm, a breath caught in your throat. The weight of the blade was more than you expected, and for a moment, your eyes lingered on the crimson stains left by Mattheo’s cut, almost hypnotic, tempting you.

Your heart quickened, your pulse echoing in your ears. You hesitated—for a moment. His eyes found you once again, a look that urged you to continue. The hesitation lingering in your heart suddenly dispersed; you wanted nothing but to mark him as yours.

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did. The pain was sharp, fleeting, quickly replaced by the blood spilling down your skin, as the runes reacted violently to your action, their glow flaring in response. 

It was instantaneous. The moment your blood touched the floor, the room seemed to exhale, the light flaring brighter and the air humming with a charged, almost electric energy as the ritual began. But the reaction was brief, for Mattheo’s focus shifted.

Mattheo’s gaze was fixed on the cut on your hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he was mesmerized by the crimson blood streaks trailing down your wrist, mingling with his the drops of his blood already on your skin. His jaw clenched, and you swore you saw him swallow hard as he continued to look, his chest rising and falling with a depth of intensity you’d never seen in him before. 

“Mattheo?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your heartbeat quickening against your bare chest. Yet, it was enough to break his attention.

His eyes naturally met yours once again, vulnerability flickering in his gaze, though the rest of his expression remained unreadable, like a contrast to the hunger simmering beneath. But Mattheo didn't step back. Instead, his calloused fingers brushed against the blood on your wrist, smearing it slightly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, neither of you remembered how to breathe.

“Mattheo…” you called out again, but this time it was almost a plea for him not to stop. He obeyed your unspoken request, his fingers tracing your skin as if exploring new territory, so gently that it almost made you forget the lingering sting in your hand. 

Mattheo’s hands moved deliberately, spreading the blood from the deep cut on your hand. He seemed oblivious to the matching wound on his own skin as he dragged the crimson trail up to your neck, smearing it across your skin. Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood. He let out a low groan at the taste, and you couldn’t suppress your own when you felt the warmth of his tongue against you. 

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.” His teeth continued to drag along your skin, while his hand slid down your arm, seeking more of your blood. His fingers tightened around your palm, squeezing to draw out more of the liquid, making you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure as the burn surged through you. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, biting your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin painfully. He didn’t care about the grunt of pain that escaped your lips, not when more blood joined the one already staining your throat. Right after his first bite, you moaned, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to ease the wetness in your cunt. 

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured against your throat, pressing his lips to the marks he had left with his teeth. But when he noticed you hadn’t answered, he bit your neck harder than before and squeezed your stomach, causing more blood to spread across the area. 

You swallowed hard, locking eyes with him as you tried to form a sentence, but the only words that escaped your lips were a barely audible, “Yes, fucking yes,” which only made him laugh harder. He tightened his grip on your skin, sending a sharp sting through your own body. 

“Of course you do… such a fucking slut,” Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as he tasted your blood again on his teeth. His tongue throbbed with desire, savoring the metallic taste. Holy shit, he could cum just from the taste of your blood. “But you taste so damn good.” 

He seemed to have completely forgotten the ritual, and you, too, had let it slip away. You didn’t want to remember, not when his blood stained your skin, not when your own blood marked him, and not when his mark lingered on you. 

Mattheo pulled back slightly, looking at your state and the way your plush lips were parted as you stared at him, your eyes filled with the same desire he showed. 

Without warning, Mattheo grabbed your cut hand with the one resting on your stomach, his blood mingling with yours as he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth. 

You let out a loud moan as you felt his tongue teasing the tips of your bloodied breasts, the taste of your blood on his tongue making him swirl around your breast more eagerly. The sensation only made him harder beneath his robes, each moan of his growing louder as he savored the taste of you. 

You were lost in the pleasure of his mouth, concentrated with the way his tongue lapped like a hungry animal. The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger. You didn’t hear nothing but the sounds of his mouth nor saw how he desperately reached for release, your body causing him to react out of character.

“Fuck...” he murmured, his hand releasing the softness of your skin as he reached down towards his pants. Fast, uncoordinated, he released his cock from the restraints, his bloody hands wrapping around his cock that dripped with precum. His movements grew faster, driven by the growing intensity of the taste of blood on his tongue.

You looked down, catching a glimpse through the small crease of his neck as he dragged his palm over his hard cock while sucking on your nipples. You couldn’t help but moan louder, your bloody hand gripping his shoulders as you tried to ignore how your body was responding—the wetness between your legs that you knew he could feel. 

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

“Fuck, your blood tastes so fucking good.” He moaned louder, and as he sucked harder on your nipples, his mouth closing around the bud tighter. Your chest was now covered in his bites, the marks of Mattheo Riddle, almost like a sign of ownership. Your body quivered against his hold, rubbing pathetically against him as you felt the tingle flutter in your stomach. You were close, lost in the daze, you had no idea whether it was from pleasure or the lost of blood—or both. You were desperately clinging to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a spell.

The hold on his length tightened in his hand, and he came instantly. Another hoarse moan escaped his throat, and he pulled away from your chest for a moment, gasping for air. You gripped onto his shoulders once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. So sudden, so quick you fell against his hold as your body convulsed with pleasure.

Mattheo leaned against you, allowing himself a moment to relax. But when he noticed the blood still running down your throat from where he had placed your hand, he couldn’t help but let out a growl. He yanked your hair back harshly, making you gasp and exposing your throat, your scream barely escaping as he did so. 

“Mattheo…!” You tried to speak, but he didn’t care; he never did. He only pushed you further against him, your nipples pressed against his bare chest as he licked your throat, letting out another groan as he tasted the metallic flavor again. His tongue traced the line of your throat, dragging the blood up to your chin, before he licked it off obscenely, making you sigh at the sensation. 

Mattheo’s hand in your hair tightened, and in one swift motion, he turned you onto your back, pulling your hair even harder as your back arched against him. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

The kiss was rough and erotic, the fire burning from the inside making it impossible to avoid it. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, and it only made your cunt wetter, the intensity overwhelming. It was too much—more than you’d ever imagined.

You had pictured moments like this, where you and Mattheo would kiss, tasting each other’s tongues, but this was different. It wasn’t the fantasy you had dreamed of; it was raw, wild, and rougher than anything you could have ever anticipated. His teeth clashed with yours, and your tongue tangled with his, as he unleashed his most primal side. He was giving you a taste of the part of you he had consumed, and you were trapped, just as you always would be.

You didn’t care about the pain in your scalp, only the hand that held you.

Mattheo’s hands were rough, touching everything he could. His mouth marking you over and over as he swallowed every small noise you released. He was warm, too warm, a sting feeling in your mouth as he sucked and bit into your lips, the softness of your skin tethering as his mouth was once again filled with the sweetness of your blood.

He was about to lose his mind.

Mattheo sighed against your now split lip, “Stop me… Tell me to stop, and I will.” He wouldn’t; you both knew it.

You held him against you tighter; you were already too deep into him—all you wanted was to devour him, mark him enough to show everyone he belonged to you, only you. You wanted to inflict a pain he would never forget, a pain similar to the pain he caused you, so you did. Your hands wrapped around his neck, your mouth tracing his lips, then his cheeks, then suddenly the warmth of his neck. Mattheo gripped you hard; he made no sudden movement, anxiously awaiting your motive. You bit into his neck, sucking the flushed skin as your teeth marked him with the same strength he did to you. 

Another soft flow came into your mouth, you gasped, the metallic taste odd in your mouth but enough to send your heart thundering.

Mattheo whimpered, his dominant facade slipping as he sickly enjoyed the way you took control. You were so sweet, so delicate—you were completely the opposite. The idea he corrupted you twisted a sick, powerful thought in his brain. You were his. 

Your tongue reached towards his mouth again, finding yourself eye to eye with the man you wanted nothing more than to control. “Don’t ever stop; I need you.”

Mattheo grinned, his lips bloody, his brown eyes becoming dark as he suddenly pushed you towards the runes that glowed against your body. The symbols glowed, vibrating with the blood that dripped onto it. As he stood over you, he wished to capture the moment forever. You looked so fucking pretty.

He leaned over, his knees staining with the blood smeared against the cold tiles. His fingers moved quickly, desperately. He watched as your body spoke to him, reacting to every touch. Your breasts covered in his marks, his blood and yours on them that caused his cock to twitch violently.

He wanted more than the taste of your breasts; he wanted to taste the juices that gathered in the silk of your panties. He wanted to feel the way your cunt twitched and throbbed against his mouth, and damn, did he want nothing more than to have you fuck yourself on his tongue. The sweetest angel from Hogwarts all displayed for him, to hell with the ritual; now he just wanted to swallow you whole. 

Without warning, he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders with an almost violent urgency, a deep moan escaping his lips as he leaned closer to your wet pussy. The intoxicating scent filled his senses, making his bloodied hand tighten around your thigh, gripping it as if commanding you to choke him; a command you had no intention of disobeying.

Mattheo looked at your face, the dried blood around your parted lips, your cheeks flushed from everything he was doing to you, and your dilated pupils watching him anxiously. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and you instantly bit your lip. Fuck, he was about to get hard again. 

“Please, I need you, Mattheo,” you begged, rubbing your hips desperately, trying to get closer to his flushed face. You needed his mouth, and he was more than willing to be a good friend and give you exactly what you wanted. 

“No need to beg like a slut, sweetheart,” he said, moving closer to your pulsing cunt, the light from the dunes making your wetness glisten even more. You held your breath as his warm breath ghosted over your slick folds. “I’m eager to give you what you want,” he murmured, leaning even closer, his nose brushing against your arousal as he took in your scent. Just as you were about to beg him to do something, his tongue was quicker—teasing, tasting, and finally giving in to the need to lick you.

Mattheo followed his instincts and hunger, his palms gripping your thighs even tighter, leaving bloodstained marks on your skin just as he had on the rest of your body. The sting of his own cut burned with the pressure, but he didn’t stop, sliding his hands to your hips as his tongue moved swiftly against your folds, savoring and memorizing every inch of you.

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this—only after his hunger was completely satisfied. Your back arched, heat swirling in your stomach as Mattheo licked your pussy with reckless desperation.

He was ravenous, savoring every part of you, and when your nails dug into his scalp, he let out another growl, pushing himself even deeper between your legs, making you moan even louder.

“Fucking yes, sweetheart,” he murmured against your pussy, sucking harder as your cries of pleasure filled the room. “Keep moaning like a slut, keep saying my name.” He bit down on your flesh, making you moan even louder, your legs trembling around him. He chuckled darkly, the vibrations of his laughter sending shocks through your body and making you cry out even more.

Fuck the ritual, fuck the power—the only power he craved was the power he held over you.

“Mattheo,” you moaned even louder, rocking your hips against his face as your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him closer. “Right there, oh my—!” you cried out, feeling him lose himself between your legs, consumed by his thoughts and the blood still staining his lips.

Mattheo’s fast, steady movements continued, his almost feral tongue lapping at your cunt as his hands roamed your body. He could feel his cock harden at the sound of your sweet moans. Fuck, the taste of your blood mingled with your arousal was divine—almost too much for him to bear. 

He continued kissing your clit, desperate to savor your full taste, his tongue messily exploring your folds, drinking in every drop he could. All you felt in the moment was him. The sounds muffled as if underwater. Your fingers dug into his scalp, causing him to flick his tongue against your bud faster, his fingers circling it, his grin plastered with pride as he heard you cry loudly.

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

You only released a jumble of words, your bare back arching as you squirmed beneath him. You were on the edge, and you could feel it—both of you could. The anticipation was electric, and you were both eager for the release. All he wanted was to make you cum.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your folds, the scent of your cunt making him dizzy. “Come for me.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than you let out a final scream, the orgasm hitting you hard as your body arched, feeling your cum dripping from your pussy.

Mattheo groaned against your cunt once more, lapping at your release as he lost himself in your flavor. Quickly, he grabbed your cut hand, spreading its blood over your pussy to mix with the cum. When he felt it was enough, he ran his tongue over your folds, savoring the metallic taste of blood combined with the sweet remnants of your orgasm, only stopping when not a drop remained, and you pushed him away.

The runes still flickered on the ground, glowing brighter with the smell of your release in the air. Blood stained both your bodies, marking each other, marking the new connection between you that neither of you wanted to escape. Mattheo stood there, watching you, his brown eyes observing, shining with pride watching your state. His eyes traced the blood on your skin, lingering on the cut on your hand, before meeting your eyes again. 

“We didn’t finish the ritual,” you managed to say, your voice soft, timid once again compared to the wildness you held as you let Mattheo control you, your body still shaking from one of the best orgasms you ever experienced.

Mattheo’s smirk grew, just a little as he continued to look at the mess he had done. “It’s fine, sweetheart. We can always try again.”

He was right; after all, friends helped each other.

© 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝₂₀₂₄ — 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

— please be nice, it’s 4 am it probably has some mistakes!

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

also a big thank you for my favorite beta readers @earth4angels & @astrxq , without them i couldn’t write all this!! i love you both off you forever

venting: sometimes, i hate english because my hard lines in portuguese don’t make sense and seem so repetitive :(

[thethronezone]

Primarchs putting their infant to sleep for the first time

Mortarion thought it would be easy. The baby was already asleep by the time he entered the nursery and they hadn't even fusses as he had placed them in the crib. And that should have been it. Task done, time to leave. Except he can't tear himself away from the side of the crib, can't look away from his child sleeping peacefully. And even when he does eventually leave, he will return to check on them all through the night.

Fulgrim kisses his baby's forehead after he places them in the exquisite crib he had prepared months ago. He tenderly swipes the pad of his thumb across the side of their face before cupping their face with one hand. His perfect little masterpiece. How he adores them. He spins the mobile hanging above them before he leaves, hoping the soft sounds will provide them beautiful dreams.

It wasn't Angron that put them to sleep in the nursery, that day when they came home. He couldn't. As brave as he is, as ferocious and stubborn, he's so afraid that he's going to accidentally hurt them. Even now, the nails urge him towards violence. That's why, instead, he stares at the crib from where he stands in the doorway, one step away from stepping inside the nursery. He hesitates. He dreams of another life, a kinder life, where he can hold his child without fear. And then he leaves, as quietly as he can so not to disturb them.

Magnus hums an old tune from Prospero, one that doesn't have any words, as he puts his child to bed. He continues humming as he tucks them in and when they yawn, he only stops for a second, a smile splitting across his face so wide his cheeks hurt. He takes a peek inside their dreaming mind before he leaves and feels such immense wonder when he sees their simple but beautiful dreams of colors and sounds.

After Perturabo had put his child to bed, he hadn't lingered. Place them in the crib, leave. Except, the moment he stepped out of the nursery, he stopped. Hesitated. Something inside of him tells him to turn around, to go check up on his baby, to make sure that they are safe and sound even though he knows for sure that there is nothing wrong. But Perturabo does not give in. He's strong. He's unrelenting. So, ignoring the way his heart tugs at him, he leaves.

It's Omegon that puts the baby to sleep. Ever since he got to hold them, he's not put them down once, haven't handed them back over to Alpharius. Alpharius stands on the other side of the crib as Omegon places them in the soft cot, relaxed but attentive. He helps tuck them in and when they fuss slightly, he shushes them gently while Omegon cups the side of their head with his palm.

It takes Lorgar a long time to gather the resolve to place his child in the crib. He just... he doesn't want to let go of them. He's waited for months to finally have them in his arms and it feels wrong to put them down now that he finally has them. Eventually, he does place them in the crib, though with a heavy heart. Lorgar fusses over them, tucks them in only to redo his work and do it over again. Anything so he can stay by their side just a little bit longer. Probably ends up spending the whole night in the nursery, watching over his baby.

It's late in the night when Horus puts his child to bed. They fell asleep in his arms hours ago, when he showed them off to the Mournival, and they stay asleep as he places them in the crib and tucks them in. He smiles when they wiggle in their sleep, when they let out a tiny yawn. Horus visits the nursery multiple times through the night, partially to check up on them, make sure they are safe, but also to calm that void inside of him that screams for connection.

Konrad won't hold his baby for weeks but after a serf has placed them in their crib, he looms over it. He stares at his child, sleeping peacefully, with wide eyes. Small. Weak. Frail. One of his hands hover over them, close enough that he can feel their soft breath on his palm. Then the baby sighs in their sleep and almost as if awoken from a trance, Konrad stumbles backwards, nails digging into his palm until it bleeds. His chest is heaving, his eyes are wild but not with crazed bloodlust, but with fear. Fear of who? He's not sure. He leaves afterwards and don't return for days.

Here's another Primarch that has a hard time letting go of his baby. Sanguinius rocks them gently in his arms, even long after they've fallen asleep. He speaks to them softly, little whispers and murmurs of just how much they mean to him, how much he adores them. When he does place them in the cot, there's a melancholy smile on his face. He's foreseen the day that he will put them down for the last time and never pick them up again and it scares him how soon that day will come. For now, Sanguinius will enjoy the time he has with his child to the fullest and try not to lament the future too much.

Corvus stays in the nursery the whole night. He almost leaves a couple of times but every time he thinks he hears something. A creak, a whine, a sigh, a rustle. Of course, when he returns back to the crib, there's never anything wrong. Despite this, he can't bring himself to leave. One night, that's what he tells himself. One night of weakness and then he'll let them sleep without him standing in the corner of the nursery like a shadow.

Even now that he's got them in his arms, it doesn't feel quite real to Ferrus. And now that he's placed them in the crib and is looking down at their sleeping form, it still doesn't feel entirely real. He knows what he is supposed to do now, technically. He's going to nurture them, turn them into not just a warrior, but a leader. And somewhere along that, he's meant to turn them into a person too. How? Ferrus stares at his sleeping child and finds himself praying for an answer.

Rogal had been proud of the nursery once he had finished building it. Now? He can't help but find fault after fault with it. It doesn't feel like it's enough. It's just nerves, he tells himself. "It's just nerves" he repeats out loud as he places his child in the crib he made, only to immediately itch to pick them up again. He doesn't, of course. Dorn tucks them in, bids them goodnight and leaves. He will check in on them once or twice through the night, like he's expected to. If he just so happens to throw glances towards the direction of the nursery through the night, well, no one will call him out on it.

Vulkan tells his child a story from Nocturne once he's placed them in the crib. It's one of his favorites, one about heroes and kindness, where justice prevails and the people rejoice. Even when the baby has fallen asleep, soothed by his deep, murmuring voice, he continues with the story until it reaches its end. And for a moment, Vulkan simply sits there, on a chair beside the crib, in silence. He enjoys the moment and feels overwhelming joy knowing that he'll have thousands more of these together with his child.

Lion planned on leaving the nursery after putting his child to sleep. He had work to do, after all. The Imperium did not stop simply because he had suddenly acquired an infant. Except the moment he thought about leaving, he started pacing the room instead. Why was he feeling so agitated? He couldn't tell. Eventually, he orders some serfs to bring his paperwork to the nursery. If he, for some reason, can't bring himself to leave, then he will simply work here instead. Just for tonight, of course. He's sure that tomorrow will go according to plan.

The Space Wolves are holding a feast in celebration of the birth of Leman's child. Even so far from the hustle and bustle of his legion, he can hear the distant sound of their cheering, their singing and laughter. And he'll join them soon, just as soon as he's put his pup to sleep. Then he'll drink and sing along with his legion, only stepping away occasionally to check up on his child, making sure they are sleeping alright. He'll drink but he won't get drunk tonight. Just in case he needs to soothe a cranky infant. Leman looks strangely forward to it.

When Jaghatai places his child in their crib, he is almost impatient for them to fall asleep. Not because he doesn't want to spend time with them, it's just that the faster the fall asleep, the sooner they'll wake up and then he can spend the whole day with them. When they do end up falling asleep, Jaghatai lingers in the doorway for some time before leaving. He quietly thanks them for being in his life and making it even brighter than it already was.

Roboute is stressing out. Putting the baby to sleep? Easy, they settled down instantly and he left the room without a fuss. They haven't cried or even made a single whimper since he left, not shown any sign of distress of discomfort. So why can't he stop checking up on them? Nothing changes between his visits, they still sleep just as soundly as they did the last tirome, yet he can't help but return to the nursery time after time again. He even finds himself subconsciously drifting towards the nursery when he's just walking to other places, even when that ends up with him taking the longer way.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Gingerbread & Us

Gingerbread & Us

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: !idol wonwoo x !non-idol reader

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), (boyband)

Summary: no gaming this year, wonwoo wanted to show you off to carats.. in a wholesome way

Merry Christmas everyone I hope you enjoy!

I wasn’t entirely sure why Wonwoo was so insistent about gingerbread houses this year. Usually, his Christmas tradition revolved around quietly gaming and chatting with Carats in his soft, soothing voice. But this year, he had other plans.

“Are you sure you want to do this instead of streaming?” I asked, glancing at the spread of gingerbread pieces, candy, and icing he had meticulously laid out on the table.

Wonwoo looked up from his seat, adjusting his glasses with a slight smile. “I’m sure. I want to spend Christmas doing something fun with you. Carats will understand.”

A warmth spread through me at his words, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay, but don’t get mad when my house looks better than yours.”

He laughed, the deep sound making me feel even more at home. “We’ll see about that.”

We got to work, sitting across from each other at the small dining table. Wonwoo was surprisingly meticulous, carefully piping icing onto the edges of the gingerbread pieces before placing them together like a master craftsman. Meanwhile, my house was… let’s just say I had more candy on my hands than on the roof.

“Y/N,” he said, tilting his head to look at me. “Are you eating the decorations?”

“No,” I replied quickly, though the chocolate smear on my lips betrayed me.

He reached out, gently wiping the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “Caught you,” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

My cheeks heated up, and I playfully stuck my tongue out at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

As we worked, we talked about everything and nothing—favorite Christmas memories, our shared love for cozy winter nights, and his excitement about Carats seeing this side of him.

“I think they’re going to love this,” I said, glancing at the camera crew subtly filming us for Seventeen’s holiday content.

Wonwoo chuckled. “They’ll probably laugh at how competitive you are.”

“Me? Competitive? Have you seen yourself with video games?”

The staff watching us chuckled softly, one of them whispering, “They’re so cute together.”

I pretended not to hear, but it made my heart flutter. Wonwoo, ever the humble one, didn’t even react. He just focused on his gingerbread masterpiece, occasionally sneaking glances at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

When we finally finished, my house was leaning slightly to one side, candy sliding off the roof, while Wonwoo’s looked like something out of a professional baking show.

“Okay, fine, yours is better,” I admitted, crossing my arms with a pout.

He leaned back in his chair, a triumphant grin on his face. “Told you.”

I picked up a piece of candy and threw it at him, laughing when it hit his chest. “Merry Christmas, nerd.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, reaching out to take my hand. “Thanks for being here with me.”

The warmth in his voice made me forget all about my lopsided gingerbread house. In that moment, with Wonwoo by my side, Christmas couldn’t have been more perfect.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[jasminerva]

it's the thought that counts

various SakaDays dudes x gn!Reader SFW, clothing implied but never assumed Yumi (seikoo_11) sent me a very sweet message and idea! Gaku and Nagumo were all her, but I wanted to add all the other dudes on my mind because they all deserve love~! Banner img from some SAO game art thing. 🎄🎁 Happy SakaHoliDays to all~! ✨🎉

The holidays were a time for surprises, and you had cooked up the ultimate one for your SakaDays dude.

Decked out in ribbons, you struck a playful / seductive pose and announced, "Merry Christmas! I'm your gift!"

The twist? Hidden somewhere beneath the intricate bows and wrappings was an actual present, tailored just for them. The look on their face was priceless as they realized they'd have to unwrap their "gift" piece by piece to uncover the thotful treasure you'd prepared.

What better way to celebrate than with a little fun and a lot of love?

✨ ݁ ݁⋆.ೃ🎄₊ ⊹🎁🎀 .°.✨

Gaku: A game he'd been interested in playing (how did you even notice? he gave no tells.). He unwraps you with a mix of laziness and faux indifference. He teasingly asks if the gift came with any DLC and when you say "Yes" in that particular tone, things heat up.

Nagumo: A box of Pocky tucked just out of reach ("Hurry up~" you say, "it's gonna melt!"). Every ribbon undone feels like a playful battle, and by the end, the real gift was the fun of "unwrapping" you - plus, the promise of enjoying the real treat later.

Uzuki: An art instruction book. His cheeks flush as he delicately undoes each bow, mumbling how you're more beautiful than any masterpiece he's seen and could ever dream of illustrating. (You end up redder than he is.)

Shin: A manga volume he's missing. He hesitates, blushing furiously as he fumbles with the ribbons, only to stammer out a heartfelt thank-you after. You can't wait to spoil him some more later, so you decide against spoiling the extra surprises (let's just say it involves checking more things off his list - Shin knows cuz he can read your mind and your smug face).

Shishiba: A luxurious silk tie and tie clip to add to his collection (tell me he doesn't have one of those walk-in closets with lux items encased in glass that he rotates through). He takes his time unwrapping, quietly amused by your boldness, before thanking you with a soft smirk and puts the tie around you to see how you look (with just that on - nothing else).

Hyo: Metal/brass polish. He roars with laughter at the practicality and promises to "shine up" just for you. You tell him he's already dazzling and he glows from your compliment (+ the offer to spoon him afterwards).

Heisuke (+ Piisuke): Bird & boy-friendly snacks. His excitement is infectious, as he grins ear to ear, quickly tearing through the ribbons (somehow tangling you up further before Piisuke helps out) and hugs you like you're the best gift ever.

Natsuki: Spare lithium battery packs for his invisibility suit. He unwraps you with methodical precision, smirking as he asks if this counts as "charging up for later".

Mafuyu: A UV light wand. He's irked at first, carefully untying the ribbons, but the corners of his eyes crinkle and mask shifts slightly when he sees the thoughtful gift. Why's he using it on you--?!

Amane: A personalized activity booklet. His quiet curiosity grows as he unwraps you, and his soft smile is worth every ribbon as he eagerly flips through the pages, memorizing them all instantly. He wants to start ASAP but you remind him that things are closed for the holidays and he blushes ("no no it's okay" god he's adorable).

Kashima: A handwritten IOU on reindeer stationary for a karaoke session. He chortles when he reads it, pulling you close and saying, "I expect a duet." (This would be the perfect time to put the light up Rudolph nose on him.)

Kaji: Hi-fi earplugs and a new, festive trapper hat. He laughs softly, mumbling too quietly about how much he appreciates you and the gift. He doesn't think he could pull it off but you convince him that he'll be the talk of the town and deserves to feel special.

Apart: Instead of wrapping yourself, you take the ribbons and gently wind them around the two of you, pulling him close with a smile. "This way," you say softly, "we won't be apart this Christmas." He melts, flushes, and tightens the ribbons around your shared embrace to nuzzle against you and hide his face (can't even see anything under his messy bangs anyway).

Haruma: He holds onto one end of the ribbon and tells you to spin and unravel yourself. Not in a dominant way (kinda), but in a personal trainer way (sobbing the winter holidays is when we're allowed to potato!). No gift on you, except a signed affidavit witnessed by Uzuki (& Kashima in case it wasn't the right Uzuki) saying that you worked out earlier and deserve something sweet. (Protein-baked goodies aren't half bad tbh, but Haruma would treat you to whatever you love, even the bad macro stuff - you'll burn it off later anywho ;)

Sakamoto (platonic): You've ribbon-wrapped Sakamoto for Aoi, tying a big bow around his belly, slapping it for good measure, with a cheeky grin. "Merry Christmas to the family man!" you declare, shooing him away. You'll watch over the store during the holidays so he can spend time with Aoi and Hana-chan.

Merry Christmas & Eve~! Depending on where you're located~ Artists of all mediums give so much to you and me~ be sure to wish your beloved creators a Happy Holidays~! Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist! 🍑 Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! 🍑

✨ ݁ ݁⋆.ೃ🎄₊ ⊹🎁🎀 .°.✨

Extras under the mistletoe 🌿🍒:

Yumi's cutieful art of Nagumo in ribbons *fans self* that I requested. Do you think he'd let you wrap him up too? Oh def yes. THANK YUMI FOR SPARKING THIS POST & GIVE HER ALL THE LOVE + FOLLOW HER ON TWITTER PLEASE AND THANK YOU~!

Kaji's new hat. Call him cute and ask him for a ride~! ;3

I knew I could count on Korean TWT for red-nosed Kashima art. If you see more, please do share~! [sakori00, No_Eul_0]

Also, LOOK AT HIM! PINKY ALL THE WAY UP KASHIMA!!! He prolly sings enka / operatic style. He's as refined as Shishiba but totes it loudly and proudly. (Thank you again, Yumi, for finding the extra!!!)

Tie clip + fancy tie was brought up by Lao (@herringstrait) in passing conversation. They even found this beauty!

¥13,200 for Mr. Fancypants. I bet it's functional too. Shishiba already has a hammerhead shark pin I'm sure he'd appreciate this!

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Christmas Kindness submission

To Qoldenskies,

I’ll straight up say it. You write my favourite Donnie angst out there. There’s the obvious masterpiece that is the Canary Continuity, and the horrifically underrated Coming Undone. Both are such visceral, heartbreaking experiences that I have enjoyed from start to finish. And Caged Lungs broke me down. Miner’s Eulogy was what shattered me, though, and Clipped Wings? What a RIDE. With each chapter you post, I can’t believe we’re getting closer to the END. Not the END. I don’t want it to end, but it’s gotta. We do need that promised happy ending.

Honestly, your interpretations of the characters? Especially Donnie? They’re so well thought-out and clever. There’s so many important layers to them and what drives them, and it all comes together SO WELL. You’ve definitely done your homework and put a lot of care into your stories. It shows.

What I also have to praise is how beautifully crafted the writing ITSELF is. The metaphors and parallels are so clever. You use them masterfully to paint a better picture of the characters and their struggles. It’s like you have two narratives running at once, sometimes, the obvious one, and the supporting one that explains so much. I don’t always catch that, since I’m not that smart, but I know it’s there. Commenters help me out by bringing attention to it. 

Emotions? Spot on. I feel so much, and the experiences are painted so viscerally that it’s hard not to feel along with the characters.

And I wanted to also bring up one more thing. I really like how you ‘distort’ and break up the dialogue when the characters are in distress. The stammering, the added words, (for examples, “I’m— I’m too muh-ch,” “something’s wro-wrohng, Raph and Leo are ouh-out—“ (cu) “I’ll d-do– I’ll do any-hhh-thing,” “I’ll– I’ll clean it up, I promi- hhh -se!” (cl)) really helps me HEAR how they’re talking. I’ve never seen stuttering or dragged-out words articulated so ‘as-said’— meaning, that is exactly the noises they’d be making if you heard them (particularly the shuddering of breath that accompanies then ‘hhh’, if that makes sense). This is probably my favourite little detail exclusive to your work. I absolutely love it. It’s such a small thing but it definitely enhances the reading experience.

Because I don’t want to leave out your ‘smaller’ fics, I wanted to say that I have read Circomvating Death, too. It definitely is a nice little refresher to all the angst (but I LOVE angst), and I’ve enjoyed the humorously chaotic adventures of Donnie and Casey Jr. Whenever you get back around to writing for that, I’ll look forward to seeing where they go next!

And Enhancements? Short but sweet pain. The idea of NO existing painkillers working on them makes a lot of of sense. The super-soldier piece is such a fun little concept to play around with, whether for badass purposes or whump. I also love seeing the concept referenced in your other stories. It works great as a little headcanon establishment. It doesn’t need to be a massive masterpiece to still be great.

I know you’re also planning Where We Went Wrong as a B-team sep AU, and I’m definitely looking forward to that and your bad things happen bingo prompts! I know all that’s in the right hands, and 

You have a lot of talent, and you deserve all the positive feedback, fan art, and fanfics you’ve gotten so far.

And I did read the post where you said that your family is too poor to celebrate Christmas, but I hope you can cherish the time you all have together regardless (and beat that Christmas Curse that’s plagued you for the past couple years). <3 Have a great one! Wishing you all the best.

@qoldenskies

Christmas Kindness Event Post

[born-to-riot]

Hanna @fieldofdaisiies this fandom doesn't deserve someone as kind as you. Thank you so much for putting all your effort to finding creators from all areas of the fandom and highlighting them in s a celebration such as this. (also your fics are amazing but we already been knew that)

Now @chunkypossum is someone who I admire greatly and is always on the same wavelength as I am. I also remember how I was besties with her last year and I had no idea what talent I was talking to until I read Kerosene all in one night because I had COVID and I COULDNT PUT IT DOWN and so if you want to get your heart put through the wringer like the thunderbringer or if you need to laugh, I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU CHECK OUT THIS WONDERFUL PHAT ASSED POSSUM

@talibunny30 on the other hand is still a new friend for me, I met you when you started posting comments on Rancor and Risotto and I remember always smiling every time I saw you there. I would be like "oh yay there's Tali!" and now that I've gotten to know you better IM LIKE OH SHIT! TALI BETTER BE HERE! SHES GONNA LOSE HER SHIT! I have not had a chance to read your work yet, I don't think, but trust me it is up at the top of my TBR because if you write with any of the detail I see in your comments I know it's going to be a masterpiece that exceeds my expectations xoxo

I LOVE YOU ALL

The ACOTAR fandom wouldn’t be the same without you. Your incredible stories and everything you bring to this fandom are so appreciated and loved. Beyond that, you three are a few of the kindest and most supportive souls out there. Thank you for all you do for this fandom and for being you!

Here are just a few of their stories, but I highly recommend exploring all of their works!

What We Deserve (Azris, @chunkypossum) Together (Azris, @chunkypossum)

Rancor and Risotto (Azris, @born-to-riot) I Know What You Need (Nesta, Amren, Varian, @born-to-riot)

Echoes of Resilience (Feyre, Nesta, Elain, @talibunny30)

*divider by tsunami-of-tears

[wyllaztopia]

if requests are okay, maybe agdt dream comforting/hugging agdt ink?

agdt dream and ink have an interesting dynamic

[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

.

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[skitskatdacat63]

Cred

Also this video is a good representation:

[the-boy-branithar]

the thing these intellectual art Understanders never ever understand is that sometimes these emotional and intellectual artists deliberately make art that looks really boring and uninspiring to the average viewer and that feeling bored and uninspired by a piece of art is a valid emotional response to it because the nature of art is that it makes different people feel things and not everyone has the life experiences necessary to want to feel Intellectual and Superior to the lowly general public when they view art. Some people prefer art that is beautiful and interesting. Maybe Klein should have invented a better pigment. If he didn't want people to have a broad variety of responses to his piece, maybe he should have sold his Emotional and Intellectual painting to a private collector who would appreciate it Correctly instead of letting us idiots who Don't Get It look at it.

abstract and modern art haters are sooo snobby like klein literally Created an entirely new pigment and then painted a canvas in a way where the brush strokes wouldn't be visible. the insinuation that people with no skill could reproduce that is so annoying because unless you are skilled at color mixing and painting you definitely couldn’t lmao

[ant-diary]

I was kind of hoping Challengers was going to be like. A tennis throuple movie or something. When it's more like Zendaya being a fujoshi mastermind, if you consider what happens between the two 'straight' male protagonists in certain shonen anime to be yaoi

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; fem!reader

knight!suguru is more than glad to drop to his knees for his beloved princess.

his rough hands bunch up the skirt of your dress with haste, his pruple eyes blown wide with lust as you try to grab onto his shoulders for support. your knees feel weak, your body shaking with a mixture of excitement and pure adrenaline – this is improper, you shouldn't be doing this.

but oh, how good does it feel.

how good the knight's fingers feel as they dance on your skin, the tips of them ghosting over the soft material of your soaking undergarments. with his face hidden under your skirt, you can only imagine the hungry look he's wearing as they prepare to eat their heart out after a long, tiring day.

you rest against a bookshelf in the dark library, letting the wooden planks press into your upper back, into your soft skin. candlelight flickers across your flustered face, it being the only audience you could ever possibly allow.

what you're doing is risky, it's dangerous – but neither of you can fight the need any longer.

a quiet gasp echoes through the empty library when suguru presses a gentle kiss your core, his fingers tugging on your underwear. he can feel your legs tremble, he can feel the goosebumps on your skin; just like you imagine his expression, suguru does the same – how dark and low your eyes would be, how swollen your pretty lips. he'll get to see it all later, the masterpiece that is your blissed out face after he're done devouring you.

as his tongue lays flat against your needy cunt, the room gets flooded with hushed mewls; taking a hand from suguru's shoulder, you slot it in front of your mouth but the palm does very little to contain the sounds of pleasure that suffocate you. alongside with those, the noises that emit from under your skirt - your body feels as if its on fire.

suguru's hands knead your thighs – the very same hands that have killed, that have taken lives, are now caressing your skin with the utmost care and tenderness the knight could ever possibly muster up. this is his job afterall – to take care and to proctect, in every way imaginable; whether it's him on his knees as they get a taste of the woman they have swore to protect, or it's him dying at the end of a blade for the woman they love – it's the suguru's desire to serve.

he sucks on your clit, he tongues at your folds, drowning in your scent as he pushes you closer to your high with his skilled mouth. your nails dig into his shoulder, with most of your weight now leant against him as your body threatens to go limp, your brain turning into a mush. cries of suguru's name fall from your lips like a waterfall, with the letters coated with sickly sweet honey that reel him deeper and deeper into her core.

the obscene sounds grow louder by the second with suguru now lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, his good manners long forgotten in his clouded mind. there's a whine on the tip of your tongue, a shy and embarrassed one, but suguru doesn't falter even a bit – instead, he moves to raise your thigh up onto his shoulder, the new angle making your eyes roll back into your head with a loud gasp.

with the other hand, suguru guides you to grind against his face, his nose catching your clit with every roll of your hips and all it takes for you to finally let go, is to hear your beloved knight moan into your sopping cunt.

the back of your head meets the wall behind you with a soft thud and your eyes screw themselves shut as your whole body tenses up; you try to close your legs by pressing your thigh into the suguru's face but it's of no use because he simply digs his fingers deeper into your plush flesh and forces them apart again, so he can keep burying his tongue inside you. suguru can't let any of it go to waste – not the moment, not the saccharine slick that fills his mouth.

you clutch onto your knight as he let you ride out the high, your mumbles of 'thank you's' not going unheard in his keen ears.

before he pull away, suguru places one last kiss to your clit, gentlly as ever; his calloused hands glide over your calves and thighs when he places your leg down onto the wooden floor. with his finger hooked under the material of your underwear, he tugs them down instead of up and taps on your foot for you to raise it.

finally poking his head out from under the skirt, both of you need a moment to collect yourselves; completely disheveled, sweaty and fucked out, panting and heaving – your eyes are still heavy with a flicker of something tender inside them.

you watch the knight pocket the ruined undergarments with a kind of sly grin.

for later.

suguru stays there down on his knees, staring up at you like you're the one that hung the stars in the sky. in his head, you did.

when you try to shove his face to escape the wave of embarrassment that's creeping up your throat but when your fingers meet the slick that's covering the entirety of suguru's lower half of his face, you can't help but cringe at yourself.

and suguru falls for you more. deeper, harder.

"can— can i kiss you?"

your words are but a mere whisper, afraid to see the light, but suguru welcomes them with open arms nonetheless. the corners of his lips tug upward, his hands itching to hold her.

"of course, sweetheart."

you hold each other's gaze as he stands, the rhythm of your chests rising and falling matching in pace.

delicate fingers play with the material of suguru's shirt, a certain nervousness flowing through you despite the fact that you've done this many times before. but you always get like this – a bit shy, a bit timid, wishing to nuzzle your face into the his chest to hide from his fond eyes, the attention suddenly too much. it's the effect he has on you. but you still wants the kiss, you still want the love.

so you push through.

suguru's hand raises to his mouth, his eyebrow quirks up when he sees your eyes grow wider. "don't you want me to wipe it off?"

burns, it burns.

your skin burns.

"no..."

and it burns even stronger, even brighter, at the sight of his wolfish grin, shis sharp canines glinting at you inthe soft candlelight.

"no?"

a tease.

a shake of your head.

a searing kiss. a touch of love.

[urfriendlywriter]

How to write angst ?

@urfriendlywriter | req by @everynowandthenihaveacrisis @aidyaiden :)

know your character. from their deepest fears to what they cherish the most. know your deepest fear, ask yourself how you will react and feel at that moment. "oh shit, if this happened to me I'll lose my mind" what's that type of scenario for you? write it. :)

decide on the type of angst you are going for!

major, minor, physical, emotional, paranormal, spiritual, verbal, abusive, quarrel, misunderstanding, etc.

and then, decide on--what reaction you can take out of your character by doing what to them.

are they gonna be, held at a gunpoint to give something up? or have their soul wrecked by whom they thought were close to them? or is it going be horror, or etctec, decide on it.

moving on to actually writing it-

Tip 1 - Use sensory details.

her eyes brimmed with tears

his chest heaved

pain clawed at his heart, as his face twisted with hurt

his scream pierced my heart

her lips quivered

she dug her nails into her palms (to distract herself, to stop it from shaking, etc)

show what is happening to ur MC, instead of telling it.

Tip 2 - how to actually write it.

If they're panicking, make them notice too many things at once, show every detail that they're seeing, feeling, from touch, to that burning sensation on their eyes, the blood on the ground, that dryness of their throat, the buzzing in their head and their parted lips unable to trust their own sight, and--and, boom! have them register that they're really really in trouble. and that they've to act fast.

use short, very minimal type of writing for this. make it long, but not long enough that it feels like it's being dragged.

the readers should hold themselves back from skimming the page out of curiousity, they should be in their toes to find out what happens next.

what does your MC do in times of panic? do they chant calm down to themselves, do they get angry, or start crying.. or?? what makes your character genuinely feel an emotion so hard that they'll burst?

there's always something, someone that'll always give them love and easily can be that something or someone to take it away. yk.

Tip 3 - crying.

what is close to your character that u can deprive them of? will it make them cry? beg for it?

what will make ur character cry so hard, that their scream fills everyone's ear, stays in their minds like ghosts and always haunts them?

make a character who never cries, burst out with tears.

while writing crying, focus on the 5 senses, one after the other.

focus it on their breath, make them run out of breath, gasp for air, feel like they're being choked, cry so scrutinizingly. it shud punch the reader's gut.

have them replay what had just happened over and over again in their head

best books and writing styles (for angst) to analyse and learn from (in my opinion);

3rd book in the AGGTM series (yk it hit hard like a truck. it got me depressed in bed the entire time lmao)

Five Survive by Holly Jackson. The moments of red outside of the truck, and moments leading to it.

there's this book called " Warm by @untalentedwriter127 " in wattpad. the author served angst for breakfast, lunch anddd dinner.

and if there's more angsty ones, drop em in the comments! :)

Hope this helps, tag me when yall write a masterpiece! ;)

[nemesyaaa]

losing my religion // dark!cult leader!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; god loves you but not enough to save you.

warnings : mentions of religions. manipulation. cult. smut. corruption kink. small town church trope. religious trauma. purity/innocence kink. slight of god complex. first time. dark/soft!rafe. mentions of murder. sweet lamb trope. coercion. smoking. little age gap. heaven goal. mentions of size kink. glorification. be careful with the warnings. minors DNI.

author's note : it's around 5k words. pfiouuuu. televangelism by ethel cain playing in the background please. credits to @bunnyrafe for the concept.

“ father, will i go to heaven ? ”

“ father, will i be this good all my life ? ”

“ father, where was god when i thought he was there ? ”

“ father, did god let me sin on purpose ? ”

you lived in a small remote village, the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and where there were no secrets. well, you thought there were no secrets because everyone here was a true and firm believer. all the locals lived for god. and you would do anything for him and for your ticket to heaven. you had been baptized as a baby and had grown up as a child of the lord, and his most faithful angel. you have acted so well since your childhood and were sure that your death will be a pleasant trip to paradise.

you went to church every day because you always had something to say to god, to ask him, to make him understand. you prayed to speak to him, for him to see you, for him to hear you, for him to know how grateful you were for the life he had given you. your parents had always recommended that you cherish your existence, but also everything that happened to you, the misfortunes as well as the pleasures. life was neither all rosy, nor all white, nor gray or black. you were the only person to give it color. so your religious sister told you that you just needed to know how to paint, but that sometimes you would fail, you would fail but that it didn't matter. because you will make a masterpiece again sooner or later.

you were a devoted child, a faithful lamb with no anger inside, but above all full of love. you gave it to everyone when god had taught you and commanded you to share it as much as possible, that it was this feeling that would bring peace on earth. and who did not want peace, who did not want to please his creator? you were a good girl, so sweet and innocent, the kind sweetheart of the town, incapable of harm or sin, always dressed in your white dress and your little black shoes. you wear everything that can please god. you walked through the church hallway to join the choir, holding the candles. the world had his eyes on you, but especially this tall man lodged in the dark corner.

this man was not god and you knew it, because god would never look at you that way.

you wouldn't know how to describe this gaze on you, but it made you uncomfortable. you continued to move forward, holding the flame preciously against you. you sang with your angelic voice, glory to the almighty, glory to the one who made your existence so beautiful, to bring your back to life every time you felt, and this guy was still staring at you like you were the only person that existed, like the world had taken away the entire universe except you.

maybe you were an angel. after all, you were among the Lord's faithful.

you had never dated a man in your life. your parents and god forbid you, because you needed to stay pure for the good one. you had to remain virgin and clean for your future husband. you were forbidden to look at them, touch them or talk to them except for church activities. you were so loved by god so you had no right to sin, no fucking right to betray him. you had to remain as intact as the mother of everyone, as virgin mary.

you were as holy as the bible, the treasure of the creator. you were devoted like a lamb to his owner, as the followers to the cult leader.

you had never experienced something like touching yourself, making yourself feel good, and anything that included carnal pleasures. you didn't know about pornography, sexuality and lust. you walked away from it as if it were the devil. you were unable to make your god mad, you were too scared for that.

you were faithful to the lord. you helped the people of the village, homeless, the destitute, poor children, the elderly, you helped the world become a better place even when it seemed to be turning against you.

at the end of the mass, everyone, the priest had sent you to collect the funds from the locals.

you were standing in front of the steps. people were always kind and smiling to you as you were collecting funds for the church.

and you had been waiting for this voice to come at you.

“do you really want to go to heaven ? ”

you turned to face the man from earlier, the one hidden in the benches. you answered him with the sweetest smile, and the most nervous look. "yes, i do everything to go there. am i not good enough ? "

“everything?” the stranger had laughed kindly, but it had offended you slightly with that soft giggle.

“ why are you laughing ? this is not funny. ”

“ slow down, baby. you're too pretty to get on your nerves. ” he had pulled out a cigarette.

“will you forget God for a second and be an angel to me ? ”

“ God is in my heart, is in me. i can't forget him, even for a second. he's the reason why i'm living. ”

“ be sweet, angel and light it for me. don't say no, your divine father is watching you, you don't want him to catch you refusing to help a stranger and be mad at you? ” you looked at him with strange open eyes but you accepted. because he was right.

you didn't know how to say no to people. God didn't teach you to say no. people needed to help the people.

you lit his cigarette, and during the whole process he looked at you, his glare scanned your face. you were staring at him, and saw your own silhouette in his eyes, your shadow dancing in the perfect blue of his pupils.

you felt the heat in your cheeks, the burn of his gaze on your skin. you were unwell. you didn't like this situation, the unsteady feeling, the stranger proximity.

when you met him, you felt like a sinner more than a believer.

but he smiled at you. the soft kind of smile that made you forget everything, that made you feel so dumb.

“would i go to heaven now?” you teased him with a small laugh to echo his words.

“not yet but i can help you if you want if you're serious about that.” he answered.

“ i'm serious. ” you were really curious, and he had your full attention. you knew it wasn't good to talk for that long with a man. especially, older. but you took the risk.

you should have stopped when he complimented you because your parents said that men who are nice to girls like you always have bad intentions. but there was also something so charming and bewitching about this man. the way he was adorable. you didn’t see the evil in him.

“i really want to go to heaven, i swear on my life, sir. ”

“ sir ? such a polite thing but i'm not that old, sweetheart. i'm tall, not too old. ”

“ anyways, i really want to go to heaven !! ”

“you already said it, doll. i think God is tired of hearing it now. he wants proof, you know. he needs to see how devoted you are to him. ”

“how can i prove it to him?”

"i know God. i talk to him every day. i am his ruler. do you know what that means? that i am the one who decides for him whether people go to heaven or not. i am his most loyal servant, so he trusts me.”

“are you really connected to God?”

"you are too. we all are but the difference is that i can take you to heaven. i promise you." he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently , a tender and unique gesture that made you shyly smile. “i’m not an angel. not yet.”

"yes, i assure you. i knew it as soon as i saw you in that church. join me." he announced with a warm voice.

“you have always been divine, i never doubted it. you have to go to heaven, you understand? you can't behave so well, be so charitable and disappoint God? and you wouldn't dare doing it, don't you, pretty lamb ? because do you think he will forgive you ? no, sweetheart. you will be punished and rejected like every sinners. ”

“ you're wrong ! God loves me ! ”

“you don't understand. you must be perfect until the end, you must be a great god masterpiece, not his biggest failure. you can't just be the chorus of this choir, be the beautiful thing who holds the candles at mass, the kind soul who helps others. you can't be just that when i can offer you even better and absolutely everything you want. any of your wishes. join me and i will make all your wishes come true, i will make you the new face of the paradise. i will make God see you everywhere. ”

"it seems so unreal...i don't know..."

he had cut you. he didn't want to give you time to think, leaving room for the barrier of doubt."you have to join me, isn't that what you wanted? for me to find you? if you believe in god, you have to be a good girl, make the right choices. "

“okay….” you finally agreed.

he waited for you in his car, one hand on the steering wheel. and you joined him inside. there was so much euphoria in you. you felt like you were doing something so right, so you had this goofy smile on your face.

"does God think i'm a good believer ? i pray every day, i attend mass every time, i sing in the choir and in my rooms all the songs dedicated to him. i only have the Bible as a book and i read it all the time. i can't do anything wrong. i'm good, i promise, i'm good. ”

"is that true? you'll have to show me so I can tell."

“I’m going to pray for you too.” you added. “I pray for all the souls in this world.”

“oh yes my angel will pray for me. i want to hear your prayers, all your prayers about me. but not in front of me. "

“ why ? ”

“ seeing you bent on your knees for me will make me sin. i wish you could see the kind of temptation you are. ”

you had arrived in front of a mansion. you were so flustered and nervous. you didn't understand what you were doing in front of this place, and why he had brought you here. he took your hand, reassuring you with his touch, and guided you inside.

you were not alone. there were other people, women and men. all dressed slightly the same, as if there was a regulation outfit. the atmosphere was strange, a little sectarian. there was an organ playing in the background, and everyone was looking at you kindly so you tried to relax.

"don't be afraid. they're like you, they just want to go to heaven. can you understand?"

you nodded and he showed you around all the places. he even showed you a room and said it would be yours. she was pretty, absolutely perfect but she wasn't yours. not that of your house.

"I'm not going home?..."

"what do you mean? this is your home now. we're a family."

"a family? i have parents, they will worry…”

"i thought you wanted to be close to God. were they lies? you know, you shouldn't joke with religion, and with words. if you want to be a good little christian, if you want to go to heaven, it is to me, and only to me, that you must be devoted.”

"I...I...no, i promise! I'm sincere! i'm sorry, really, I'm sorry. " you now felt terrible. there were so many tears in your eyes, you couldn't even see the room clearly.

the man smiled before taking you in his arms. "it's nothing, you just need to be clearer with your words, okay? I'm your only savior, you don't need others.”

he had wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I have a gift for you…” he whispered and you found your smile again.

no one ever gave you gifts. it was so rare. “open it” he told you.

it was a dress. not the one you usually wore. “you have to put it on. don't you want to shine, shooting star ? ”

" now ? "

"now." his voice was a little firmer.

“i can’t change in front of you…” you admitted. "you're a man...and I'm a girl...it's sinful, it's like having sex! we have to get married to have that intimacy. "

he smiled and laughed. "you've never been naked in front of someone? you've never left this body in front of someone else?"

he had approached, slipping up behind you, towering over you with his height, his hands resting on the corners of your trembling shoulders.

“my sweet thing, it’s as if you’re begging me to corrupt you.”

“what do you mean?”

“that i must see this body.”

" Is it bad?"

“What would be bad, angel, would be to upset me.”

he had pulled the tab of your dress to lower it a little. there were shivers in your body. you felt like you were doing something wrong.

"you're not doing anything wrong. this is what god wants you to do. he told me."

" It's true ? "

“ only the truth. just now. i wouldn't dare lying to you, my sweet. ”

there was nothing you could refuse god. If it were his will, you would do anything.

"but I've never done anything like that? I always thought it was wrong, that I didn't have the right."

he pulled your dress down to the floor, your naked body revealed in the mirror. you could feel his gaze growing more intense as he took in everything you had shown him. "is my body okay? I mean, this is the first time anyone has seen it so..."

"sweetheart, I've never seen anything so beautiful. but I don't just have to see it to judge it, I have to touch it. will you let me ? "

“Lust is a sin.”

“do you want to know my name?”

you had just now realized that you didn't even know his identity. you nodded your head.

“rafe.” he spelled it. “ you must know my name to pray for me, but also to glorify me.”

“glorify ?”

"you must glorify me. salute me and worship me. these are the rules if you want to go to heaven. you must be devoted, I told you.."

" fine…”

he sat on the bed, and you moved closer but he stopped you.

"no, no. all this sweetness but no useful brain ? ” he mocked. “ to worship me, you must be on your knees. ” he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“ treat me as the same way you treat your god, angel. because this is what i am to you. i want to see your legs bow down for me, i want to see them treading the ground up to me. i want to see that precious look at the same height of my knees, let me see that head lifted up to glory me. "

he had lit a cigarette, the fourth since you had spoken, and had smiled when you started walking on your knees towards him.

he pressed his hand against the growing bulge in his pants.

“open your mouth.” he commanded and you obeyed, and he slipped his cigarette between your lips. “don’t smoke it, hold it only. don't go against my rules. can i trust this dumb baby brain for once to not disappoint me ? ”

he had taken off his pants, with his boxers. and you turned your head, strongly ashamed by his action.

he mocked gently. “in your place, i would not look away, that would avoid unpleasant surprises when this thing will be buried inside your virgin cunt, sweetheart. ”

he had retrieved his cigarette, and turned your head towards him.

"I can't believe you've never seen one. you've been such a good girl to me. you've been waiting for me. "

“will god hate me?”

"it's not god you have to fear, it's me, sweetheart because I'm the only one who will decide for you from now on. do you understand? I have to be sure that you are deserving."

“how can i show it to you?”

“give me your hand. let me guide you...do you trust me? ”

“ i trust you, rafe. ”

he had positioned your hand on his cock which was already hard. you shivered. your hand was clumsy around his painfully boner. yet you had heard him let out a grunt.

his fingers moved with yours, accompanying you in his lewd movements. you had god in your head, heart and body but your fingers fisted around that thick dick made you warm and good. you hated that feeling, but you can't deny the pleasure. it was the first time. you weren't used to it. you moved back and forth with little confidence, while he kept your grip around his bulge. you followed his back and forth, pumping him with fragility. you weren't sure if it felt good but his muscles had tightened.

your fist slid over his length, your hand working massively. your touch was divine, he threw his head back. you could feel his abs twitching in synch.

“open those legs. let me see that sweet untouched pussy. i'm gonna take such good care of it. are you still trusting me ? ”

“ yes…”

you didn't want to. it flowed between your thighs, the wetness spurted in a mess on the floor. and you weren't sure if that was a good thing. you couldn't tell if it was pleasure or not. it was new to you.

“trust me, you don’t want to make me repeat that a second time. do you ? ”

and that was enough for you to bend to his will.

"you feel, baby ? the sweet mess between your legs ? don't hide from me. ”

you continued to masturbate him up and down. you turned him on so much that he already wanted to come in your hand. his cock twitched in your hold and his balls slapped repeatedly against his skin.

"does that make you feel good? do I need to do better? do you want me to put my lips on..."

he had cum on your face. and you stepped back in surprise. “let me clean you up…”

you came back to him thinking he was going to wipe you but he caught his seed with his fingers, and brought them to your mouth. “if you don’t want me to put them down your throat, you better lick them now.”

you lapped up every last bit of cum on his fingers until they turned white again. you knew he was serious when he threatened you. "that wasn't really a warning, I'll do it someday. I really want to use every part of your body. and you'll let me. yes ?”

“whatever you want...”

he smiled and stroked your hair. “you learn quickly.”

you didn’t really know why but his recognition made you happy. she had an impact on you. you needed, and sought, his validation. it promised you to be even closer to god, to show god that you were faithful to him.

you had this urgency to please rafe, to show him that you could be really good.

for rafe, you were another girl that he led into his cult, another lamb in the troop. you were perfect, you always had the profile. he knew it as soon as he saw you.

he had come to the church only to see you. he attended every mass and ceremony hoping to corrupt you. you were so innocent, so kind and so sweet, and above all, you were ready for anything.

you prayed every day and read the Bible. so you had a desire, a goal, a faith.

he had placed you on his legs, his hands caging your waist, wrapping each part of your hips. “I’m going to make you an angel.” he had said, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet entrance.

“I’m going to go to heaven?”

"it's heaven that will beg for you to come to it, I can even say. but you still have to do one thing for me..."

“tell me. I’ll do anything.”

" good. i really want you to take that dick. show me how much you want to reach eden, i want to see god in you when i'm fucking you. i want to hear prayers in that mouth for how i make you feel, how perfect i am to you and that sweet cunt of yours.”

you rubbed your dripping pussy against his cock, feeling the feverish, leaking tip against your slick folds. you had gently entered him between your impenetrable walls until now, letting out a long and loud moan when you felt his dick getting even harder inside you. It took you several bounces on his thighs to get used to, your pussy stretching around him. you could feel every inch of his length filling your canal but also widening it.

his large hands covered your ass, gripping the gummy flesh of your cheeks, his body moving and following your movements. he had grabbed your face to force a kiss from your already open lips, sliding his tongue against yours. a drool dripped from your jaw, as your pelt slammed and bounced violently against his. your hands were around his neck, trying to keep up the pace.

seeing you struggling and jiggling, he laughed. “even if you had prayers, you couldn’t even say them, too fucking dumb for that shit, right now ? ”

and it was true, you weren't even able to say a word without gurgling. you had tears streaming down your face, your moans were locked against rafe's glossy and pretty mouth, and you were trying hard to take his big cock as best you could. his dick was stuck between your sticky walls, your breasts hitting her toned chest.

“keep going, you’re perfect…” his smile was evil because it motivated you.

you were riding him without even being able to think. you were a fragile little thing doing bad things with a bad guy.

but you wanted to please him. you wanted rafe cameron to think you were good and deserving. you wanted to go to heaven, so you did your best.

and he knew it. you had broken your purity for him.

you were convinced to do something right, convinced that god saw you and that he would be proud to see you so devoted to him.

you didn’t see the harm. you were an angel and you let a demon corrupt you.

you had succumbed to man and his vices, you had let sin enter into you, and let it do you good.

rafe knew what he was doing. you had been his prey. and he couldn't wait to see you at his feet, to make you his perfect doll that he could handle so easily.

because it was only the beginning before you were completely his, completely in control of you, choosing what you eat, what you want, what you wear, what you think.

you were his and his only.

you were his nice girl, not god's one, the one who smiled at everyone, who always prayed in the church pews, who helped those most in need.

he had found you and snatched you from god. because it wasn't him to whom you owed your life. you were wrong and he had to correct that.

you were an angel, and he loved seeing you cry for him. your tears was made for being looked by his ocean eyes, to felt loved by his kisses.

he was completely buried inside you, plunged so deep that you were completely dizzy. and every time you thought he couldn't go any further, he surprised you. you were pretty sure he could put a baby inside you right now, just from the way his cock thrusted inside you, invading your shaking body.

you had squirted and cried, accompanying your tears with apologies. "you're fine. it's just means you liked it. it will also happen to me, angel. don't worry.”

the more he called you angel, the more you began to believe that you were one. you had squirted again but now you weren't scared anymore because he had reassured you. you had been afraid that it would be a disgusting thing and that he wouldn’t want you anymore.

but it was so strange. he was both gentle and cold.

“stop...I’m going to be pregnant!”

"that's not how it works...but if that's what you want, I can take care of it...whatever the angel wants.”

after that day, your life had been totally different, completely transformed by rafe.

you were part of this community now. you were all brothers and sisters, united for a common goal. you always prayed. but above all, you were completely manipulated. you were so controlled that you forgot your family, your friends, your entourage, your involvement in church. only god remained with you. he was still there.

you wore the outfits rafe wanted you to wear, you ate the food he wanted, you only talked about topics he allowed, you became someone else. you were what he wanted you to be.

but one night you heard god. you were sure it was his voice in the darkness. you were sleeping in rafe cameron’s arms, his bicep resting on your stomach. it was strange to see him sleeping like a child when he behaved like that.

you had begun to follow god’s voice in the darkness, your feet pacing and pacing through the empty hallways. the light guided you, it was he who accompanied you. he pulled you out, into the huge garden.

“do you think you can leave? do you think you can leave me ? are you that fucking dumb ? ”

Rafe’s voice made you jump. you weren't sure if you woke him up because you were a quiet person. but now he was in front of you, and he really didn't look very happy.

"I have to leave..."

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

“god spoke to me.”

"oh really? god may be talking to you but you need to listen to me. aren't you grateful for the life i gave you? didn't you want to be good? you're tear up your ticket to paradise. just bury yourself alive at this point."

tears had started to fall down your cheeks. you felt trapped because you didn't know who to listen to. god or this man?

your feet moved towards rafe. as you approached, his arms stretched out as if to reassure you.

“i’m sorry….i'm really sorry…..”

“i know you are but you also know that it’s not enough.”

“so tell me what i need to do to be good enough? ”

“you must sacrifice yourself. ” he said with that deep serious tone.

you looked at him with fear. you couldn't kill yourself.

“ i can’t kill myself, rafe…”

“i know, angel but don't worry, i will. ”

“ what do you mean ? i always did what you wanted me to do, i always been so good to you, i never be against you and your rules ! you promised me heaven, you promised me....everything. was that a lie ? you 'ever be serious to me ? answer me...never ? rafe, i was all what you wanted me to be, even that was not enough for you ? ”

“ i really wish you were. any last word, baby? ”

“ can you at least shoot me in the heart ? ”

“ tell me why...”

“ it's the last part of me you never took away from me. but now that i will die, you can take it. it's all yours. ”

[yeonzzzn]

consequences: sim jaeyun

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 4.4k

synopsis: folding your boyfriends laundry is a normal for you, mostly when his schedule is busy. so being the good girlfriend you are, you fold his laundry and stumble upon his soccer jersey, deciding to tease him with it and ultimately dealing with the consequences of your actions once he returns home.

genre: established relationship, non-idol!au, soccer player!jake, smut

warnings: swearing, sending nudes, bratty reader, masturbation, degrading, unprotected sex, dom!jake, jake rips readers panties, he is rough with reader, hair pulling, sex on the counter top, finger sucking, edging, MINORS DNI, lmk if I missed anything ♡

this is specially dedicated to @alvojake for helping me create this masterpiece ♡

You let yourself into your boyfriend's apartment, finding the hidden spare key inside the fake potted plant by the door, and strolling on inside. You knew he didn’t mind, you practically lived here anyway, preferring his bed over the shitty one you had back at the dorms. You might as well just move in with him at this point, most of your clothes and belongings are here as well. 

Again, it was perfectly normal for you to randomly show up at his apartment even when he wasn’t home. Sending him a quick text letting him know you’re waiting for him to come home from work and soccer practice, to which he responds back with three heart-eye emojis. 

Jake is always working so hard, not just at his job and college, but also at his sport, and on top of being a great boyfriend and always making time for you within his busy schedule. Taking the “if they want to they will!!” to a whole other level. Jake spoils you, cooks for you, always makes sure you feel loved and cared and most of all, he communicates. 

And because he is always giving everything his one hundred percent in all areas, the least you could do is help keep his apartment clean, fridge and pantry stocked with food, and keep up with his laundry. 

Which is the first thing your eyes are laid upon when you walk into the apartment, seeing all his clothes tossed onto the couch with his clean clothes laundry basket sitting beside the coffee table. 

The apartment smelt of his laundry detergent and soap, the sweet smell of lavender and honey filling your senses as you stepped closer to the couch, on instinct sitting down in the middle of the couch and picking at the clothing one by one to fold them. Separating them into categories as you folded: jeans and sweatpants, boxers and socks, shirts, tanks, and sweatshirts, his hoodies, his dressier clothing, and last but not least, his soccer jerseys. 

Not only did Jake have a couple extra jerseys from the team he plays on for the college you both attended, but professional jerseys from his favorite teams. 

One by one, you took the now folded laundry to his bedroom, placing them neatly in his dresser. But once it was time for the jerseys to be played neatly in, you accidentally dropped one onto the floor. 

With a sigh, you gently pressed the other jerseys into the drawer, then picked up the now unfolded one. You stared at his last name printed in big bolded “SIM” lettering, your eyes roaming at the blue and white stripes of your college's colors, then wandering up to the full-length mirror that rested against his bedroom wall, seeing your reflection. 

You rubbed your thighs together at the thoughts that came into your mind, tucking your lip between your teeth. 

You didn’t think twice about removing your clothing, leaving you completely naked until you pulled his jersey over your head, your hard nipples poking through the thin fabric. 

Sitting yourself on the floor in front of the mirror, you snapped a few photos, spreading your legs wide enough to expose your cunt and sitting straight enough that your nipples could obviously be seen. You turned yourself around, sitting pretty on your legs, lifting his jersey up enough to get a perfect view of your ass, and snapped a couple more photos. 

You grinned at yourself as you double-checked each photo, being satisfied with the outcomes. All you had to do now was send them on their way to your boyfriend. 

Jake sat at his computer desk, picking the lint out of the pockets of his jeans while watching Heeseung and Jay play rock paper scissors out of pure boredom. Usually, on a normal day, there’d be something to do. Whether that was paperwork, speaking to clients, scheduling meetings, or placing orders. But today? Not. A. Damn. Fucking. Thing. It took everything in Jake to not purposely sit back into his chair far enough that it tipped over and caused a panic just to help give everyone something to do. 

He checked the clock at the far end of the office, still two hours left before he could dip out and head to soccer practice then return home and be in your arms. Which was the only thing keeping him from jumping out the second-story window from this boredom, by the way. 

As if the thoughts of you were enough to manifest your text, he couldn’t hold back the smile at seeing your name on his phone. 

you: I folded your laundry jakey <3 jake: tysm baby <3 what would I do without you fr fr? 

The love Jake felt for you in this moment made him feel all warm and content, you were so good to him and for him. He literally couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend. 

you: I did more than just your laundry.  jake: oh? you: [6 image attachments]

Jake nearly dropped his phone to the floor, his pants growing tighter the minute those sexy photos popped up in his texts. Quickly locked his phone and with a swift motion glanced over his shoulder making sure none of his co-workers were behind him when he received those photos. 

You smirked at seeing he read the message, already knowing he was probably panicking while being as hard as a rock. Leaning back on your ass to spread your legs further apart, you slide your fingers down your folds, spreading your lips apart. The very thought of Jake squirming at his desk to hide his raging boner had you completely soaked. 

Jake tried to clear his thoughts, to take deep breaths to keep calm and soften his cock but not having any luck. The images of bending you over this desk in front of him and railing the fuck out of you in his jersey wouldn’t leave his brain. His pants grew ever more tighter against him. 

He knew he had to take care of this boner and fast before anyone noticed and he became the laughing joke for the next month. 

With anger now fueling him, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and held it close to his lower stomach as he stood from his chair, “Gonna take a quick break, be right back,” he said to Heeseung and Jay, they giving him a quick nod before returning to their rock paper scissors game. 

Jake slammed the bathroom door shut and locked, tossing his jacket to the counter. Unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down feeling the relief of his throbbing cock not being restricted, slamming his back against the door. 

Jake fumbled with his phone in his hands, fingers shaking as he texted you back after saving each photo one by one. 

jake: that was risky sending nudes like that while I am working.  you: but you loved it, didn’t you? ;) jake: what if someone saw them? i’m the only one who gets to see you like that.  you: oops you: [2 image attachments] 

He clicked the two new photos, seeing the way your fingers spread your folds apart, your cunt glistening against the sunlight that beamed into the room from your slick. 

Jake gritted his teeth, immediately dialing your number and pressing the phone to his ear, the call instantly going to voice mail, “ugh fucking whore,” he grumbled, redialing your number again. You knew better than to ignore his call a second time and answer. 

With a shaky voice, you said, “Hey baby,” 

“Hmm don’t hey baby me,” he growled, his free hand palming himself through his boxers at your voice, “you’re being so risky right now sending me those nudes, YN.” 

You could tell by his voice how hard and turned-on he was. You could hear it in his voice that he was touching himself. It made you circle your fingers on your clit and cunt clench around nothing, “Hmm but you’re enjoying it, aren’t you Jakey?” 

He slid his boxers and jeans down to his thighs, seeing how red and angry his cock was, how the precum slowly dripped down the side of the tip. He took himself in his hand and slowly pumped himself, “You’re being so naughty right now, being so slutty.” 

You softly moan at him degrading you, rubbing your fingers against your fuck hole, the lewd sounds making their way into Jake’s ear. 

“You better not be touching yourself,” he snapped, pumping his cock faster, tightening his fingers. He was so angry and so horny that the lines were getting blurred. He wanted nothing more than for his fingers to be the ones rubbing your clit, sliding his fingers in and out of you. 

“And what if I am?” you cooed, hovering your fingers over your hole. 

“Stop,” he demanded, “Stop pleasuring yourself without me there as punishment for sending me nudes while I am working.” 

Jake had to admit this was so fucking hot. Even if your bratty behavior was driving him up a wall in more than just one way. 

“And if I don’t?” you cooed again, licking your bottom lip. 

“Keep being a brat and find out.” 

You pushed your fingers into your cunt, releasing a soft gasp. 

“You better not be fucking touching yourself,” he said again. 

You giggled, then ended the call. 

Oh, now he was pissed. 

Jake dropped his cock against his abdomen, both thumbs moving at the speed of light in anger, texting out a message about your bratty behavior, but stopping midway through to see a photo and video coming up. 

The photo made his jaw clench. His jersey was now pulled up over your breasts, your perky nipples on full display as your legs are spread even wider than in the last couple of photos, with two of your fingers pushed knuckles deep into your pussy. 

What a fucking brat.

The video was worse. You moaned loudly as you circled your fingers around your clit, then slowly slipped them between your legs, gathering your juices from your seeping hole, rubbing it up and spreading it around your lips. A small amount of it leaked from your cunt, slowly dripping down to the hardwood floor of his bedroom and then the video ended. 

WHAT. A. FUCKING. BRAT. 

He spit in his hand and took his cock back into his palm, stroking himself faster than before, head tilting back onto the door, biting his lip to keep his moans at a minimal level as his thumb worked to text you back. 

jake: it’s all over for you  you: oh yeah? jake: yeah jake: i’m going to fucking ruin you

You smirked, locking your phone and tossing it onto his bed, and pulled your pretty dark blue panties back onto your body. 

While you were smitten at what you’ve created, Jake is drawing blood from his lip at how hard his teeth bit down. His hand pumping him in a pit of anger. How dare you disobey him? Even if it made him even more horny, how dare you? It was one thing to be bratty while with him, but to be so brave to do it while he’s away from you? Did you think you were safe? Nah. It’s over for you the minute he steps foot into that apartment. You wouldn’t know peace. Getting everything but being gentle with you. 

Jake flipped through the photos and video you sent him, watching again and again how your slick drips from your cunt and onto his floor until his cum shoots out, coating his stomach. He loved seeing you wearing his clothes, mostly his jersey. Loving seeing his last name printed on the back with your gorgeous fat ass out sitting so perfectly on your perfect legs. Jake didn’t hesitate to make that his new home wallpaper. It was so fucking hot even with how mad he was. 

Jerking off might have taken care of his boner problem, but the main issue here is the fact he still has a little over an hour before getting off work and still had soccer practice to attend. The only thing Jake knew was you definitely made his workday entertaining. 

You were banking on that by the time Jake gets off work and attends practice, he would be way too tired to even punish you. So you pranced around his apartment in his jersey and your dark blue panties with a big ole smile on your face. 

Your stomach growled and decided to push your bratty, naughty girlfriend persona off to the back burner and go back to your sweet, caring, loving, and cute girlfriend persona who takes care of her boyfriend’s apartment while he’s away. 

You cooked dinner, which you don’t often do but still will on days Jake has longer schedules like tonight—putting together the perfect recipe for spaghetti and meatballs. 

Once the food was done, you checked the time, seeing Jake was probably off work now and heading to practice. You felt good knowing that once he returns home he’ll have a warm meal to eat. 

Except, you weren’t expecting what was about to happen. 

Jake skipped practice. 

Being way too damn horny and couldn’t wait a second longer. Jake was lucky he was able to keep a perfect boner (that unfortunately resurfaced) during the last hour of work. Made a phone call the minute he was out of his company building to his coach about how something urgent came up and he’d be missing practice tonight. 

Urgent as in him fucking you until you could no longer stand or walk. For a whole fucking week. 

Jake was sneaky as he carefully pushed his key into the doorknob and tip-toed his way in. Slowly and quietly closing the door behind him and slipping out of his shoes. 

The smell of dinner filled his nose as he turned the corner, seeing you stand at the counter with your back facing him. 

Jake carefully made his way across the living room, removing his shirt from his body, stopping at the couch to quietly yank down his jeans and boxers and slide them over the back of the couch. 

You hummed to yourself as you finished up your dinner, wiggling your hips to whatever song you had stuck in your head. 

Jake adored you, he really did. The feeling of endearment filled his heart at seeing how happy and cute you looked right now. Jake almost—almost—forgave your behavior from earlier at the sight before him and the smell of dinner waiting for him. But his raging hard cock and the flash of your dark blue panties pulled him back. He’ll give you his forgiveness another time.

You barely pushed the empty plate away from you when you felt a pair of hands touch you. One at the back of your neck and the other on your back, shoving you forward onto the counter. Your face is now pressed against the cool marble. 

Your breath hitched at feeling your boyfriend’s long, hard length connecting to your ass. You don’t even need to look at him to know the hands and cock touching you’re his. You could be blind and you’d know your boyfriend's hands without a second thought. 

You finally saw him in your peripheral vision as his chest connected to your back, hot breath hitting your ear, “You think making dinner would put you in good graces?” 

“Jae,” you whined, “You’re home so early.” 

He chuckled into your ear, “Skipped practice, had more important matters to take care of.” 

Important matters being to punish you for your behavior. You could already feel your slick pooling in your panties even as your heart raced, mind wondering what he had in store for you. You could also tell he was already naked, meaning Jake meant business and no amount of apologizing would save you. Not that you wanted to be saved anyway. 

The hand that was at your back slid down, aggressively squeezing your ass before slipping his hand around your thigh and between your legs, feeling your wetness pool onto his fingers. Jake hissed at the feeling. You were soaked. He didn’t even need to prep you. And that drove him insane. 

“I told you to not fucking touch yourself,” he growled, his tongue licking up your ear, “But you had to go be a slut and disobey me.” 

You backed your ass against him, both hands shooting to your hips and gripping them tightly, “Don’t,” he warned, “Don’t fucking move.” 

You obeyed, keeping as still as possible. Trying so hard to not rub your thighs together in anticipation of what is to come. 

Jake lifted himself off of you, eyes drifting down to your dark blue panties, seeing the wet spot from your cunt on full display, all for him. 

Jake didn’t want to wait those few couple seconds to slide your pretty panties down your legs and throw them across the room. No, no. That wouldn’t be fun. He looped his index fingers into the fabric and the sound of them ripping filled the kitchen. 

“Jake!” you snapped, starting to lift yourself off the counter, only to feel his hand right back on your neck and face meeting the marble once again, “Those were my favorite panties!” 

“Womp womp,” he cooed, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your neck, as his fingers slid down to your clit, “Shouldn't have been acting like a fucking brat today. I also told you to not fucking move.” 

Jake violently, and fastly, circled his fingers on your clit. It took everything in you to not moan out in such pleasure. Not wanting to give your boyfriend the satisfaction of hearing you. He wanted to call you a brat? You’ll act like a brat. 

Jake wasn’t stupid, he knew you were purposely holding back those sweet moans he desperately wanted to hear all in a way to get back at him. Unfortunately for you, Jake knows your body inside and out. Know what gets you going. Knows how to get you cumming with just his words alone. Knows how to work his cock in your pussy that will have you scream chanting his name at the top of your lungs for the whole apartment complex to hear. 

He released his hand from your neck and wrapped it in your hair in a makeshift ponytail, yanking harshly to pull you up, your back now pressed to his chest.

“Wanna act like a fucking brat with me, hmm? What will be happening next is the consequences of your actions.” 

Your bratty behavior was short-lived as his fingers worked faster against your clit, his breath whispering how much of a slut you were, his little whore, how bad of a girl you were acting today. 

Your body tensed, and Jake removed his fingers, “Jae,” you whined at the loss of his fingers, feeling the climax you so badly wanted fade away, taking it upon yourself to slide your own fingers to your heat to finish yourself off, only for Jake to slap your hand away, and you were back to being bent over the countertop, your arms being pinned above you. 

“Nah,” he groaned, his free hand gripping your thigh to bend it up and onto the counter, “Bad girls don’t get to cum, not when they disobey their boyfriend.” 

You groaned against the marble, feeling your hot breath push back up at you, “Jae, I’m sorry,” 

Jake smirked, he finally broke you. 

“Oh, yeah?” he whispered, taking his cock between his fingers and lining the tip up to your fuck hole, “You’re sorry?” 

You nodded, fingers gripping the hand that held yours. You wanted his cock so far up inside you so bad you were willing to beg, to apologize if it got you what you wanted. 

Jake slowly pushed the tip in, “Use your words, baby,” 

“Yes,” you pant, “I am sorry for being a brat.” 

“Hmmm,” Jake hummed, “You’re still going to be punished.” 

Jake aggressively pushed himself into you, completely bottoming out. 

You chant out a string of “yes yes yes,” at him filling you up. But to your dismay, he didn’t move. 

His fingers found your clit again, going just as fast as they did before his palm pushed down on your tummy, putting more pressure on his dick wrapped in your walls. 

You let out wet moans, drool sliding out your mouth and onto the countertop. 

“Louder, baby,” he groaned, “let me hear those sounds,” 

You moaned louder, cunt clenching around him, and his fingers were once again gone. 

You hissed at him and he just chuckled, “I told you bad girls don’t get to cum,” 

He continued to edge you, dick still not moving inside of you, reminding you over and over again that this was your punishment, this was the consequences of your actions. Being denied the release you so desperately wanted. 

Tears filled your eyes, head softly tilting up to make eye contact with him. 

His pupils were blown out, full of lust, want, and need. You could tell by his facial expression he was losing his fucking mind. But Jake was strong-willed, and all it took was you locking eyes with him, batting those pretty eyes at him with those little tears for his grin to grow wider and decide to finally let you release. 

Jake loved edging you, loved being so dominant and in control over you. Most importantly, he loved seeing how he’s ruined you. 

“Cum,” he whispered into your ear, “Cum for me my love, make a sweet mess on my cock.” 

You clenched around him, his fingers continued making their circles and showing no sign of slowing down until he felt your release on his cock. 

“Fuck, yes,” he moaned, slowing his fingers. 

Jake could feel your cum seeping out of your hole and down his thigh. He lifted your leg on the countertop even higher, spreading you so wide for him.

Then he started moving. 

You yelped, your back arching, hands scrambling to get out of his hold to grip the counter. He fucked into you at a primal rate. The hand on your thigh squeezing the plush so hard his nails dug into the skin sure to leave bruises. 

His hand released your hands and found their way back into your hair, pulling you back up against his chest. 

“Scream my name,” he moaned into your ear, breathing unevenly from the pure pleasure his cock was feeling as he railed you against this counter, “Scream my name.” 

And you did, using every ounce of air in your lungs to scream his name, his cock hitting your g-spot as your climax built up again. You already knew you’d have bruises on your hips from hitting the counter by his fucking, that your voice would be nonexistent in the morning, your legs would be jelly, and barely be able to move. 

But you loved it. Loved every bit of it. These were the consequences of your choices, after all. 

You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, mouth gaping open as you continued to moan out his name in pleasure. Jake couldn’t help himself, your mouth looked so pretty all open for him and shoved his fingers into your mouth, the middle pushing down onto your tongue. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, tongue swirling around his digits the best you could with the pressure he had on it. 

Jake was losing his mind as he looked down at you, seeing the way your breasts bounce as his dick fucked up into you, seeing the way your nipples graze against his jersey. 

Fuck he was so in love with you. 

His thrusts became sloppy and not as aggressive. He was reaching his climax. 

“Ughh m’gunna cum,” he moaned, your lips wrapping around his fingers and slightly biting down onto them, making him hiss in response. 

Jake wanted to cum so fucking bad, wanted to feel you tightly around him as he came. 

He shoved your leg off the counter, groaning as he forced your thighs to touch, making you so much tighter around him. You came right then and there from that pressure, sending Jake’s head spinning. 

He bent you back over the countertop, removing his fingers from your mouth and gripping the other side of the counter, his hand that was in your mouth slipping from your saliva and accidentally shoving the plate that once held your dinner off the counter and onto the hard floor with a crash. 

He pressed his chest to your back, using all his leg and hip strength to fuck harder into you in a way of begging for his release. His knuckles turned white from the grip he had on the counter, teeth biting down into your shoulder. 

The last moan you let out in sync with his final thrust sent him over the edge, his cum painting your walls. Jake thrust a couple more times to chase his high, milking his cock with your cunt of every last drop until it was leaking down your leg. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he pants, releasing the counter and running his hands down to your waist, softly squeezing as he plants soft kisses on your back, “I fucking love you.”

With a shaky breath, you told him you loved him too. 

He pulled out of you, and lifted you from the counter, already seeing how wobbly your legs were, it boosted his ego. 

Jake embraced you, kissing all over your face before landing on your lips in a soft, passionate kiss. 

Just when you think you’ve paid your dues, Jake’s cock hardened against your stomach, and his eyes went dark again, his index finger pointing at the broken plate on the floor while his other hand gripped your chin, “Clean it up please for me baby while I eat the delicious dinner you made for me, can’t let it go to waste.” 

You nodded, watching as Jake removed himself from you and walked to the stove, grabbing a plate. You studied his back muscles, lip tucking between your teeth at how sexy he was shirtless, how sexy his back was. 

“Oh, YN?” you hummed in response, watching as he slowly turned to face you, “Drink some water to soothe that throat of yours will ya? You’re going to suck me off after I eat.” 

You rubbed your thighs together in excitement. Hands playing with the ends of his jersey. 

Maybe you’ll be a brat when he’s away more often.

[yoursjaeyun]

enhypen’s hyung line reaction to their 3-year-old daughter being angry at them ᡣ𐭩

pairings. enhypen x fem!reader | genre. fluff, imagines | wc. 1k+ (?) | warnings. not proofread | an. hai i have returned from my grave :] /gen hope you all like thisbekdnd promise i’ll come back w something better ! just starting off with something small for the time being <3 didn’t expect this to be so long so i apologize :[ love n miss u all.

이희승 (lhs)

it was a typical afternoon in the lee house, but today, a dramatic showdown was in full swing. your 3 year old daughter, with her puffed-up cheeks and a frown that could rival a storm cloud, was clearly upset with her dad. you watched from the kitchen, trying to hold back a laughter, as heeseung crouched down at her eye level, desperately trying to placate her. "sweetheart, what's the matter? did daddy forget something?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and confusion. she crossed her arms and glared at him. “you didn’t let me use the purple crayon!” she declared, as if this was the most grievous of parental offenses. heeseung, ever the diplomat, knelt down and tried to reason with her. “but princess, the purple crayon is for special drawings, remember? you promised to use it for your masterpiece.” her response was a huffy, “but i wanted to color the sun purple!” heeseung blinked, clearly trying to understand the logic behind a purple sun. he scratched his head and gave you a helpless glance. you only stifled a giggle and watched as he continued to negotiate. “okay, how about this,” heeseung began, putting on his best ‘super serious dad’ face, “i’ll make you a deal. you use the yellow crayon for the sun today, and tomorrow, i’ll let you draw a purple sun, a purple moon, and even a purple spaceship.” her eyes widened at the promise of interstellar coloring adventures. she uncrossed her arms and considered the offer. “deal,” she said, but not without giving him a stern look. as heeseung breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, you could see the sheer relief in his eyes. “you’re the best, daddy,” she said, her pout melting into a smile as she grabbed her yellow crayon. heeseung ruffled her hair and gave me a warm glance, his eyes twinkling with affection. “glad to be of service, princess,” he said, smiling as he watched her eagerly scribble away and winked proudly at you as you leaned against the counter, catching his eye with a loving smile.

( the rest under this line! )

박종성 (pjs)

it was one of those rare, peaceful evenings when the chaos of daily life seemed to take a break. you were curled up on the couch with a book, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility, while your husband was in the kitchen, attempting to cook dinner—a task he was only slightly more adept at than his three-year-old daughter as she created abstract art with spaghetti. the quiet, however, was abruptly shattered by a high-pitched wail. you looked up, immediately recognizing the sound of your daughter’s tantrum. you sighed and set your book aside, heading towards the source of the noise. as you reached the kitchen, you saw jay standing there, looking bewildered, while your daughter sat on the floor, her face scrunched up in a fierce scowl, tears streaming down her cheeks. jay was holding a spatula in one hand and a half-cooked piece of chicken in the other. “what happened?” you asked, trying to suppress a smile as you took in the scene before you. jay looked up, his eyes wide. “i don’t know! i was just trying to make dinner, and she—” he pointed to his daughter, who was now dramatically flailing her arms. “she’s mad at me for some reason. i didn’t even get to ask her how she wanted her chicken cooked!” you knelt beside her, who immediately stopped crying as if she’d just noticed you for the first time. “sweetheart, what’s wrong?” you asked gently. she glared at jay with all the intensity her tiny frame could muster. “daddy’s mean! he put peas in the pasta! i hate peas!” jay’s eyes widened in surprise. “i thought you liked the green bits of happiness!” she shook her head angrily. “no! no peas! only noodles!” you suppressed a chuckle and gave jay a sympathetic glance. “well, jay, it looks like you’ve got a culinary crisis on your hands.” jay groaned and you only smiled, your heart softening as you looked at the chaotic but lovable scene before you. “it’s okay, baby. just talk to her. maybe she’ll understand if you explain why you added the peas.” jay took a deep breath and crouched down to her level. “my sweet angel, i’m really sorry. i thought the peas would make the pasta taste better. can you give daddy another chance?” she stared at him, her little brow furrowed as she considered his plea. “but... no more peas?” jay shook his head earnestly. “no more peas. i promise. just delicious, no-green-thing pasta.” her frown slowly began to waver. “okay... but i want a strawberry smoothie please..” jay looked at you, his face a mix of relief and exhaustion. “do i look like a smoothie-making machine?” you laughed softly and gave him a reassuring kiss on the lips. “you’re doing great. and don’t worry, i’ll handle the smoothie.” jay smiled weakly and reached out to her. “deal?” she nodded, finally letting go of her anger and allowing a small smile to form. she reached up for a hug, which jay gladly accepted, pulling her into his arms. you watched the tender moment between them.

심재윤 (sjy)

jake’s face twisted into a comedic mix of confusion and concern as he tried to navigate his three-year-old daughter’s latest meltdown. you watched from the kitchen, holding back your laughter as jake, ever the doting father, attempted to reason with his little girl, who was currently giving him the coldest of shoulders while clutching a teddy bear like it was her lifeline. “baby girl,” jake said, crouching down to her level with a look of exaggerated seriousness, “i’m really sorry about the ice cream. i didn’t know you wanted bubblegum, okay? i promise i’ll get you the bubblegum next time.” her little brows knitted together, her lips in a small pout that would’ve melted anyone’s heart, except she seemed intent on maintaining her grudge. “no, daddy! you forgot the sprinkles!” jake’s eyes widened as if he’d been struck by a thunderbolt. “oh no, sprinkles! i knew i forgot something!” he straightened up, looking around as if sprinkles might magically appear in the room. “i’ll get you some right now.” as he stumbled off to find the elusive sprinkles, you couldn’t help but interject, your amusement barely concealed. “jake, honey, i think the sprinkles are a lost cause. maybe just a hug will fix this?” jake’s face fell slightly, but he quickly squared his shoulders and marched back over, now armed with a massive, exaggeratedly apologetic grin. “baby, i’m so, so sorry for forgetting the sprinkles. how about a hug and a promise to never forget them again?” her stern face softened just a fraction, but she still shook her head. “no hug! i’m mad!” you watched as jake’s comedic struggle continued, every attempt met with her determined frown. “okay, what if i also give you a big, extra special hug from me?” jake tried, eyes wide with hope. she looked at you, then back at jake, as if weighing the merits of his offer. with a dramatic sigh that would put a soap opera star to shame, she finally relented and held out her arms. “okay… but only if mommy hugs me too.” jake practically beamed with relief, enveloping her in a bear hug, which she returned with all the fierceness a three-year-old could muster. you joined in, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around them both. “there we go, the family hug fix.” jake looked up at you with a mock-solemn expression, his eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief you knew all too well. “i’m really going to work on those sprinkles. maybe i should just carry them with me at all times.” you raised an eyebrow, smiling. your daughter now placid and cuddled in the middle, looked up at her parents with a satisfied grin. “but daddy has to do better next time.” jake nodded solemnly. “you got it. i’ll be the best sprinkle-and-ice-cream-daddy there ever was.”

박성훈 (psh)

sunghoon’s reaction when his little princess gets mad at him is always a sight to see. one afternoon, as you were trying to tidy up the living room, you heard the telltale stomp of tiny feet approaching. your daughter, with her pouty face and crossed arms, stormed into the room, her small brow furrowed in the most dramatic fashion. "daddy, i’m mad at you!" she announced with the seriousness only a three-year-old can muster. sunghoon, who had been helping you clean the coffee table, immediately straightened up, his eyes wide with concern. he was always so attentive, especially when it came to his little girl. you couldn’t help but chuckle at how seriously he took her tantrums. he knelt down to her level, “why are you mad at me, princess?” he asked, his voice as soft and gentle as it could be. she folded her arms tighter and gave him the classic toddler response: “because you didn’t help me with my puzzle!” she pointed to the half-finished puzzle on the floor, her tiny finger jabbing at the pieces as if they were to blame for her frustration. sunghoon’s face fell into a comically exaggerated look of guilt. “oh no— i’m so sorry! i was just finishing up, but that’s no excuse. let me help you right now.” he scooped her up with a dramatic flourish, and she squealed with both surprise and delight. as he carried her back to the puzzle, you could see the determination in his eyes as if he were about to perform a rescue mission. sunghoon took his job as a dad very seriously, and his efforts to mend the situation were both endearing and slightly over-the-top. “okay,” he said, placing her gently on the floor next to the puzzle. “i promise i’ll make it up to you. daddy’s going to fix this puzzle like a superhero,” with exaggerated movements, he started picking up the puzzle pieces and placing them in the correct spots. he made goofy sound effects with each piece, “whoosh!” and “bam!” as if he were fighting a villain instead of just putting together a puzzle. your daughter watched him with wide eyes, her previous anger melting away into giggles as sunghoon made silly faces and pretended to struggle with the puzzle pieces. as he worked, you could see the loving glances he would cast your way, his silent way of saying, “i’m doing this for us.” despite the chaos of parenting and the little disagreements, his devotion to both you and your daughter was always evident. his playful attitude and willingness to dive headfirst into whatever made his daughter happy were qualities you adored. after a few minutes, the puzzle was complete. sunghoon triumphantly held up the finished product with a loud— “ta-da! daddy’s superhero skills save the day,” he declared, his grin as wide as ever. your daughter clapped her hands and giggled, her earlier irritation forgotten. she threw her tiny arms around him in a hug, her face lighting up with joy. “thank you, daddy!” you walked over and gave sunghoon a quick kiss on the cheek, your way of showing your appreciation for his efforts. “looks like you’ve earned the title of super dad,” you teased. sunghoon beamed at you, his pride evident. “anything for my girls.”