#corner glass wine cellar

[scherzyhamilton]

Ottawa Wine Cellar Medium

Mid-sized modern wine cellar design with brown flooring and dark wood floors and storage racks

[geofdarrow]

Medium in Ottawa Inspiration for a mid-sized, modern wine cellar renovation with storage racks that has a dark wood floor and a brown floor.

[galerijaskc]

Large Wine Cellar in Vancouver An illustration of a sizable, minimalist porcelain tile wine cellar with racks for storage

[beating-of-your-heart]

Medium Wine Cellar in Miami Wine cellar - mid-sized contemporary light wood floor and brown floor wine cellar idea with storage racks

[athousanddresses]

Medium Wine Cellar in Miami

Wine cellar - mid-sized contemporary light wood floor and brown floor wine cellar idea with storage racks

[treskoff]

Traditional Wine Cellar - Wine Cellar Wine cellar: Traditional small wine cellar design with a dark wood floor and display racks

[chicavegan]

Compact Wine Cellar Ideas for a small, traditional wine cellar renovation with display racks

[thereisanother]

Display Wine Cellar in New York Ideas for a small, traditional wine cellar renovation with display racks

[blogresources]

New York Wine Cellar Inspiration for a small timeless dark wood floor wine cellar remodel with display racks

[ollypopwrites]

Bite Down

Rolan x F!Tav (she/her, AFAB) [** Tav's class is not mentioned. There's discussion of how she is not a tiefling, but no other hint to her race. Her appearance is also not discussed aside from some mentions of her being curvy/plus size/etc. There's not a lot of body diversity in the game, so I wanted to write a softer Tav. Other than that I tried to keep it as general as possible.]

Summary: Tav and Rolan seemed to always find their way into each other's beds, but it was never meant to be anything serious. When he finds out Tav lets her resident vampire feed from her, he realizes just how serious he would like it to be.

Rating: M (18+ MDNI)

Tags: Smut [PiV, f!receiving oral sex, biting, nipple play, marking, dirty talk, very light dom!rolan -- mostly feral!rolan who takes the lead, light blood play, light pain play, overstim] possessive behavior, jealous behavior, pining, and after care.

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: is it still pining if technically they've fucked already? not sure.

Read on Ao3

In some way it felt like being a teenager again, hiding away with Tav for a moment of privacy. She had told him she knew a spot, away from teasing siblings and tadpole connected companions. When she tilted her head conspiratorially and nodded to the Elfsong’s kitchens he had waited a few moments before meeting her back there. The cooks had said nothing when she grabbed him and dragged him to the cellar, and then into a secret room hidden behind some huge barrels of wine. 

It was filled with cobwebs and cages, along with a few racks of weapons. The only semblance of comfort was a small nest of bedrolls and blankets tucked away in one of the corners. 

“It’s not romantic but when I need a minute away from the camp it does just fine.”

“The rusted halberds certainly add… ambience,” he looked at her with a slightly bemused expression.

“There’s another less creepy hidden room I’d show you if it weren’t for,” she pulled a face, “the fact it’s currently filled with the corpses of a githyanki scouting party.”

Rolan blinked a few times at her, still finding himself at a loss at some of the things she said. Her life was a truly chaotic and absurd string of events. She shrugged, giving an adorably embarrassed half giggle and looked away from him. Pulling out a bottle of wine, she waved it enticingly at him before procuring some glasses and started pouring. 

This was the ritual, thus far. It had started at the party after she and her friends had saved the Grove, it had meant to be a single night tryst. He had the slightest hope he would find her in the city after they all made it, but he was under no delusions about what she was facing. Her entire life revolved around getting the mindflayer tadpole out of her head and his focus was getting to the apprenticeship at all costs. 

Then the Shadow Cursed lands happened. Where he was a real bastard, and she somehow forgave him. It was piss poor timing, to realize he was entirely enchanted with her in nthat place. At the time even just looking at her filled him with complete rage and shame. He blamed her, but mostly himself, and he wanted to bare his teeth and gnash and growl because it was better than giving into despair. He wanted her comfort, but he didn’t deserve it, and he hated himself for not being able to do it on his own. Yet there she was, bright and sweet and always so willing to help. Even worse, she always managed to succeed despite the odds making him feel so inadequate. 

It brought out a insecurity driven hostility that he was not at all proud of. He hoped by the time she saw him again he would be on his way to being a properly trained wizard and just altogether less of an ass. Someone worth knowing. 

After Lorrokan he’d felt raw and foolish and disenchanted. He was happy to be free of him but he was such a mess of mixed emotions. He needed some time before facing his siblings, who he had all but ignored besides sending money and short letters. If Lia ever found out what Lorrokan had been doing she would have done something stupid and Cal would have joined her, so he'd kept them away. Facing them and explaining what had been going on felt like such a heavy task. 

Tav hadn't judged. She had even. gone out of her way to further humiliate Lorroakan by making his corpse admit what she seemed to already have known: Rolan was more powerful than he ever was. When her companions took their leave, she had stayed behind and tried to distract him by suggesting they raid what had to be an incredibly expensive wine collection. It ended with her in his bed, a quiet gentle night where he buried his face in the crook of her neck afterward and she just held him. Vulnerability he had scarcely even exposed to his brother and sister came so easy for him with Tav. 

After that he had hidden away with his siblings to figure out just what the hell to do as the master of a tower. It wasn’t until she had turned up at Sorcerous Sundries a few days  later that he had gotten the courage to ask her if she was interested in having a glass of wine with him again. 

Drinking wine and talking always led to her kissing him. She always made the first move to lean in close and wait a beat for him to either allow it to happen or reject her advances. He was always keen, and never even tried to hide it. He had thought her beautiful from the moment she butted into his argument with Lia in the Grove, despite being annoyed at her intrusion. Even when he was determined to hate her his mind had turned to the softness of her while he pulled at his cock in fleeting moments of alone time at the Last Light Inn. 

As usual, her touch made Rolan suck in a sharp breath when her hand came to his cheek and gently caressed over a still healing bruise left over from Lorroakan. She always was so gentle, and generous with her touch, making him crumble and forget his pride in an instant. He cared about her a concerning amount, despite the shortness of their acquaintance, and he was always painfully obvious about it whenever she broke the fragile wall of his demeanor. He softened so easily for her. 

Her lips, just as plush and soft as he remembered, parted as tongues began to move against one another. Hers searched, tickling over his own lips and trailing over sharp teeth. It felt like the world stopped for a little bit, as they leisurely kissed  in a hidden back room, the quiet stillness making each excited breath and soft sound of enjoyment plain to hear. His tail curled around her, loose and leisurely. 

Rolan ducked his head, going to press his lips against her neck. His mouth met with a slightly rough scabbed hole. It was not unusual for her to have left over bumps or bruises from whatever fight she found herself in. The pair of puncture wounds on her throat, however, were perfectly spaced apart for it to have come from another person’s mouth. 

“What is this?” He asked, his fingers coming up to trace the wounds. 

“Hm?”

“Something bit you,” he said, his tail beginning to flick in short angry patterns. “Some one .”

Had she been with another tiefling recently? Perhaps Karlach or maybe even Wyll, who was a devil, but the distinction hardly mattered in this instance. These were bite marks from someone with sharp teeth; it could have been either one of them. The nasty flame of jealousy sparked his already quick temper, and he scowled as he looked at the pair of punctures on her skin. 

“Oh,” she said, “yes, Astarion needed to feed before we got into the city. There was nothing he could hunt in the Shadowcursed Lands.”

“You feed him your blood?”

“He’s a vampire, it’s all he can really get sustenance from.”

“I know that,” he said, shortly, “but I didn’t think you let him drink from you.”

“Normally he doesn’t,” she raised her eyebrows. “He usually picks off whoever is trying to kill us that day. But as I said, he’d been low on options until we got here.”

If Rolan were feeling more reasonable he could listen to the logic of it. She was their leader, she took the responsibility very seriously: if one of them needed something she was going to provide it. And the Shadowcursed lands had been entirely inhospitable to life, there was honestly almost nothing for Astarion to feed off of. 

“Rolan?” She asked after a few moments of his angry silence.

“Do you sleep with him?”

“What?” She pulled back to look at him in slight shock and disbelief. "No.” 

She didn't say as much, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t really any of his business even if she did. There was no agreement of exclusivity between them. No discussion of intentions or anything of the sort. They’d had sex at a party and then once again his first night in ownership of the tower. It didn’t matter that he thought of only her when he pleasured himself, or that he had spent hard nights after Lorrokan’s beatings imagining she would walk through his door with an easy smile. She wasn’t his but he couldn’t deny the needling reality that over the past few weeks he had started to consider himself hers. 

“Do you like it?”

Tav looked at him quizzically. “Being drained of blood isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

“But the biting?”

The hard truth was he could hardly blame Astarion, vampire or not. Tav was soft in shape and feel, she was strong of course, but at least in appearances her skin was plush and delicate. Rolan had only ever slept with tieflings before, and while their infernally ridged skin was not rough to the touch it was just naturally a bit more durable. They had to be with their sharp nails and teeth, he'd never had to worry about if he was being too rough. That first night with Tav he had been shocked and intrigued by the easy way scratches raised on her skin and how her flesh was indented by his teeth. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about biting into her again and again, just to feel what it was like.

Tav’s breath hitched, and her defensiveness had melted into uncertain embarrassment. “I - I suppose I would? If it weren’t for the bloodlessness —“

Rolan leaned in to kiss her again, messy and possessive, tail wrapping around her wrist. His body pushed hers back a bit onto the bedroll, and when he pulled his lips away his teeth latched onto her bottom lip. The gasp she gave made it slip from him, and she got shoved entirely onto her back as he went for her throat. Tail and one hand pinning her wrists to the ground, his other tilted her chin up and aside. The column of flesh was almost entirely unmarked, save for Astarion’s work. He opened his mouth wide enough to clamp down and each of his sharp canines dug in. Beneath him, he felt her body tense up at the sudden sensation. 

But she moaned. And he heard a rumbling groan leave his throat that sounded alarmingly like a growl. 

His mouth sought after more untouched skin. Tav kept making soft, helpless little noises that spurred him on, it felt so good to have her flesh between his teeth. When he looked down at her she was a bit of a mess, covered in new love bites, parted lips swollen and her eyes lidded as she looked up at him. 

Adorable , he thought to himself. 

Besides being so beautiful and powerful and capable he couldn’t help but think about how cute she was. Sweet despite the trail of bodies in her wake, and always giggling and smiling — tits and ass bouncing with every step she took. So cute, in fact, he couldn't help but keep squeezing and biting. At the juncture of her shoulder and neck, he dug in harder than he intended to — Tav hissed in pain. The slightest hint of iron bloomed on his tongue. He pulled back, seeing he had broken skin. It was much smaller than the vampire’s bites, more like pinpricks in her skin beneath the discoloration of a bruise. 

“I’m sorry —“ he breathed. 

“S’okay,” she shook her head. 

“Do you like it?”

She licked her lips. A brief flash of bashfulness ran over her face; she chewed on the inside of her lip before she nodded a little. “Yes,” she said meekly. 

“Me too.”

“I can tell,” her hand pulled out of his tail’s hold, coming up to the tented fabric of his robes over his crotch. 

He grunted. “Y-yeah.” He swallowed, grasping onto the remaining capability of thought, “if it’s too much —  we can stop, we don’t need to —“

“I trust you,” her smile was genuine, just slightly hazy, but her eyes sparkled with affection. He was mesmerized. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” he answered too quickly, and too earnestly. Were there more blood for him to spare between his cock and his already heated body he may have blushed.

“I’ll tell you if I need to stop.” 

“Good.” He kissed her. 

Clothes were clumsily pulled off, until they were both all but naked in the lowlight of the candelabras in the room. With her bare before him, he kept biting every bit of skin he could get to, ignoring her attempt to reach down and stroke his cock. He felt an unignorable need to keep marking her, to clench his teeth around her beautifully adorable body. He was being incredibly greedy, wanting to make sure that anyone who saw her knew that he had been there. 

Taking the weight of her breasts in his hands he pressed them together, ducking his mouth to one nipple and swirling his tongue around it. She gasped, hands gripping into his hair. Her nails were hard enough that he felt the scratch of them on his scalp, but not nearly painful. The feeling had a shiver starting from the base of his tail up to the top of his head. 

“Gods above, Rolan,” she murmured. 

His thumbs took over in teasing the rigid peaks, as he moved his mouth onto the impossibly squishy and generous swell of her breasts. Sucking and biting until he was satisfied with the discoloration before he moved onto the same spot of the other. His knee came between her thighs, and she ground her cunt against it the moment she felt it there. Wet and somehow warm enough for him to tell she was burning for him despite his infernal blood keeping him always a fair bit warmer than her. His teeth wrapped around a nipple, extremely careful but she faltered in her breathing and tensed up in anticipation. 

But he just ran his tongue over the tip until she whined, letting it go easily when she bucked her hips against his thigh. 

“I want to taste you,” he said. 

Tav laughed a little, “as if you haven’t been trying to eat me alive already.” 

“Shall I stop?”

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“It sounded like you were complaining,” he grumbled. 

“You would know all about that,” she teased. “It’s one of your specialit — ah!”

Rolan repaid the teasing with another harsh bite on the side of her neck. Her fingers tugged at his hair, and he bit down harder. His fingers tweaked her nipples, his thigh pressed against her cunt, and she twitched a little before going limp. Tav whined and clenched her eyes shut against the sensations. 

It was a strangely satisfying show of submission. He felt his cock drip precum, his tongue dancing over the dent in the shape of his teeth in her skin.

“Let me taste you,” he said again. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” she breathed in response, frantically. 

Rolan dragged his canines along the softness of her tummy, liking the small scratches they made in their wake. When he was finally between her thighs, he groaned into the skin. As was his desire, he started nibbling into the skin there too. Her fingers still tugged at his hair, scratching his scalp and making him groan in pleasure. When he licked along the lush seam of her cunt he shuddered, her needy little whine and the taste making him feel dizzy. The vampire may have tasted her blood, but now so had he. The privilege of knowing what her arousal tasted like on his tongue was something he was sure none of her companions could claim. 

He got to hear the way she keened as he found the way to make her hips nearly buck him off of her, and the needy noise she made when he shoved them back down. There was no force in Faerûn that could pull him away from pushing down her hips and devouring her. In his haste and mindless goal to simply claim and consume, it took him longer than he would have liked to admit to keep track of what had her gasping for more. But once he did he didn't stop until her legs tried to close in on him, and even then he let himself be squished between the strength of them. Her high pitched moan echoed off of the ceiling, reverberating through his skull in a blissful ring, his eyes nearly rolling back. Soft skin bracketing his face, the smell and taste of her invading his senses all the while her moans tickling his brain made his hips grind down into the blankets beneath him. He felt her pulsing against his tongue, and dipped it into her hole greedily tasting the rush of wetness that followed after. 

“By Ao, you —“ she cut herself off with a hiss as his mouth latched onto her clit again, “fuck!”

No God’s name would do coming from her lips, only his name, only pleads for more, for him. She was sensitive, and it was plainly obvious by the way she devolved into helpless sounds as her hips ground against him. This was what he wanted, to have her entire world fall away to nothing except him between her legs, her unfettered attention as he made her feel so blissful she forgot how to speak.

He got carried away, not keeping track of how many times she came on his tongue until finally she yelped and grabbed his horns. When she tugged him away from her he admired his victory — she was a wreck of love bites, kiss swollen lips open as she gasped for breath, and eyes swimming with unspilled tears. Rolan felt her wetness on his lips and chin against the cool air of the cellar, tongue swiping over his lips for another taste of her. 

“Too much,” she gasped. 

A darker voice in him wanted to tell her it would be too much when he said so, but he was still himself despite whatever had come over him. Perhaps one day they could experiment, perhaps one day they could do this right and he could see how far he could really take her. He could make those tears spill over, making her come over and over until she was incapable of speech let alone thoughts. A shudder ran down his spine, tail lifting excitedly at the idea. 

But this was a spur of the moment tryst underneath the Elfsong, and he wasn’t going to stop everything now to negotiate limits and safewords and the like. 

“Do you,” he breathed, lifting himself up to get away from the temptation of her so close to his mouth, “do you want to stop?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I want you to fuck me.”

His so far ignored cock bobbed between his legs, and he closed his eyes as he moaned at the words. With haste he brought himself onto his knees, grabbing her thighs and tugging her half into his lap. Nestling between her thighs, he watched as he slotted himself against her, rubbing through the wetness and nearly choking on the air he was breathing. Her hand came between them, grabbing his cock from where he unthinkingly kept rubbing it against the silky wetness, and pressed it to her entrance. 

Rolan went rigid. Tav gave a little smile. His hips pushed forward, savoring the slow penetration as she surrounded him. He waited, enjoying the soft squeeze of her, and gasped when her hand came to his cheek. The unspoken hung in the air, she had him, he was safe, he was doing good -- he was perfect the way he was cupped in her palm like this. He opened his eyes, meeting hers and very nearly confessed an undying love he was unsure he was aware of before. 

There was some unknown magic in Tav that seemed to bring down the walls of almost everyone she met. He fancied himself a logical, and practical, man. He’d known this woman for mere weeks, a very short time in the grand scheme of his life, and yet it felt like he could tell her anything, and be his worst and still get that sweet smile from her. In fact, he had been the worst version of himself and she had shown him patience and compassion anyway. 

He knew he liked her, otherwise why would he be in this creepy hidden back room rutting like a beast on a makeshift bed, but love? 

Despite the constricting bliss of her cunt around him, sharp reality bled into his mind. He told himself he would properly court her once she was free of her tadpole. Then he could entertain the idea of love. Until that day came, he had a tower and unending resources of a magic nature to keep her safe, and the privilege of being the one she turned to for a reprieve from the horrors of her new fate. Which, he admitted, also granted him the pleasure of being able to bury his cock in her. 

“Alright?” She asked him, thumb trailing over his lips before she moved her hand to rub at the center of his brows which where furrowed. 

Rolan felt his throat tighten. She was so incredibly gentle with him sometimes he had no clue how to properly react to it. He just nodded. 

He needed to get out of his head, he needed to get back to the warm wetness he was currently feeling. Sliding his hips back and then thrusting forward, her hands fell to his forearms and her body laid back against the bedroll again. The skin of her hips dimpled under his grip, and he tightened his hold. It was a sinfully delicious feeling to slide against her walls, and he felt every other thought start to slip away again. His eyes danced over her body, now riddled with his own marks, but when he caught the vampire’s bite his jaw clenched, remembering where this all started. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t wait until the present danger was cleared. Perhaps he should just go against his usual self-preservation and simply tell her he wanted her to be his, only his. A harsher thrust had her tits bouncing with the force of it and kept going at the same intensity to watch it happen over and over again. 

“Gods, Rolan,” she moaned. “You feel so good.”

His jaw went slack at the praise, spurring him on to keep going. When her hips met his, rolling to meet each thrust, the slap of skin on skin started to fill the room loudly. One hand reached for her breast, fingers dancing over the bite mark he had left. 

“Will you let your cleric heal these away?” He asked breathlessly. 

Tav gulped, her hand coming over his on her breast. “I don’t want to. Do you want me to?”

Stupid question , he thought, and maybe said aloud given the way she laughed. It was hard to think now that he was thrusting in and out of her. He covered her body with his, arms wrapping around her so her own were pressed to her side. All she could do was grab at his arms, holding on as his weight pushed her legs further apart and pressed him deeper into her. 

“No,” he said, biting down on her shoulder hard enough that she yelped in pain. “I want you to go back to camp, hardly able to walk,” he said between making another bruise. “Covered in my marks — fuck, I want them to know I nearly had you in tears fucking you with my tongue.”

Gods, that was vulgar — he nearly apologized until Tav let out a gasp of his name, her cunt clenching around him. His mind went fuzzy again. There was no need to be proud and dignified for her, he could just say what he was thinking, even the deepest filthiest thoughts that came to his mind while he fucked her. 

“I’ll send you back with my cum, dripping out of you —“ he gasped. 

Tav’s back arched, her eyes rolling back a little as she came, surprising them both with the suddenness of it. Rolan was losing his rhythm, body pulsing with a need for release. No more words came to mind, just the ringing sound of her voice chanting his name and her walls fluttering around him. It was a chain reaction, as he suddenly felt the tension snap and came, whining as he did, desperately thrusting into her heat as his vision whited out. 

When he went limp against her, he took a couple breaths, the haze of the possessive flames in him subsiding. He had proved himself, he had her exactly as he wanted, and she had eagerly let him. Rolan lifted his head to kiss her. Softly, wordlessly gentle, only pulling away to press their foreheads together. The desire to say something, to tell her just how much she meant to him, but self-preservation was back in full force. The words wouldn't unstick from his throat. He helped clean her up, kissed softly at some of the harsher marks. He wanted to murmur words of encouragement and care as they curled up together, but he couldn't trust himself to not say too much. Rolan's arms, legs and tail wrapped around her as he breathed in the quiet of the afterglow. At the very least, he could trust his body to communicate what he was too afraid to say. 

“Rolan,” she said gently. 

“Hm?”

“I —“ she started shyly. “I don’t want — I haven’t been with anyone else, not since… “ she chewed on her lip, trying to decide what to say but coming up short. “I’m trying to say, I’m not interested in anyone at camp. Or, anywhere else, actually.”

Rolan’s tail wrapped around her leg, and he finally felt himself start to blush a deep crimson. “Good.”

Really? That’s all he had to say? He’d just told her more filthy things than he’d thought he’d ever said in his life but all he could come up with was ‘good' when she told him exactly what he had been wanting to hear. He cleared his throat, steeling himself to not fuck this up before it ever had a beginning. 

“You’re incredibly busy, what with the tadpoles and the cultists and all of the characters you run around with, but,”  he started, “perhaps when all of that is over we could… begin a courtship.” 

“Doesn’t courting come before sex? Bit out of order, don’t you think?” She smiled. 

“You deserve a real courtship,” he said seriously. “I owe you that, at least.”

“You owe me nothing,” she kissed him. 

“You’ve changed my life in unimaginable ways. Are you this altruistic with everyone?” 

“Don’t know if I should answer that,” she bit her lip to stop a smile, “I’ve learned you have a jealous streak about you. I’ve got dozens of bite marks to show for it.”

“Yes,” he grinned, “you do.”

Thank you for reading!

[itsnotsoobiebobbie]

BTS REACTION: "YOU ARE MY WORLD"

i'm not fluent in english, forgive me for any mistakes!

genre: fluff

photo credits: @koovias

KIM SEOKJIN

In a small coastal town, where the sound of ocean waves mingled with the cool night breeze, you and Seokjin found yourselves at a special candlelit dinner. The restaurant, hidden among old alleys, was known for its cozy atmosphere and delicious dishes.

You had planned this night for weeks, aiming for everything to be perfect for Jin, who had always supported you through your toughest times and made you smile in your happiest moments. The candles placed around the table softly illuminated your faces, creating a glow in both of your eyes.

As you enjoyed red wine and talked about memories and future dreams, the soft music in the background seemed to accompany the harmony of the moment. Your boyfriend, with a serene smile, looked at you with admiration, feeling like the luckiest man in the world to have you by his side.

The main course arrived, and you savored every bite together. You noticed a small dab of sauce at the corner of Jin's lips and chuckled softly. "You're always making a mess," you said affectionately, wiping it off with a napkin.

When dinner ended and dessert was served, a comfortable silence settled between you. You gazed deeply into your boyfriend's eyes, your heart beating fast with the intensity of the moment. Slowly, you reached out and cradled his face in your palms, feeling the softness of his skin.

"Jin," you began, your voice soft and filled with emotion, "I'm holding my world."

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he covered your hands with his own. "(Y/N)," he replied, his voice choked with emotion, "you are my universe."

The world around seemed to fade away as you both remained in that moment, feeling the depth of the love you shared. The candles continued to burn, casting dancing shadows on the walls, silent witnesses to the promise of eternal love.

MIN YOONGI

It was a golden afternoon, and the sun poured over the vineyards of the picturesque winery where you and Yoongi had decided to spend the day. You walked hand in hand among the rows of vines, admiring the green leaves and the clusters of grapes hanging lazily.

The winery had a rustic charm, with old stone and wood buildings that told stories of decades of winemaking tradition. The air was scented with the aroma of ripe grapes and the faint smell of oak barrels. It was the perfect setting for a romantic date.

You took a tour of the winery, guided by a passionate winemaker who explained every detail of the wine production process, from the grape harvest to fermentation and aging in the dark, cool cellars. You listened attentively, but your eyes sparkled differently when you looked at your boyfriend.

After the tour, you were led to a tasting. You sat at an outdoor table overlooking the vineyards that stretched as far as the eye could see. Crystal glasses were filled with wines of different vintages and types, and each sip was a new discovery of flavors and aromas.

While tasting a full-bodied red wine, you placed your glass on the table and looked deeply into Yoongi's eyes. You leaned forward, with a soft smile on your lips, and cupped his face in your hands.

Yoongi was surprised, but your touch was so tender and filled with affection that he couldn't help but smile. He felt the warmth of your hands and the depth of your gaze, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear.

You then said, with a soft and emotional voice, "You know, Yoon, when I hold your face like this, I feel like I'm holding the entire world. You are my world."

Your boyfriend felt a wave of emotion wash over him. Your words touched his heart deeply. He placed his hands over yours and squeezed gently, feeling an indescribable connection.

"(Y/N)," he replied, his voice choked with emotion, "you have no idea how much that means to me. I feel the same way. You are everything to me."

You stayed there, in silence, enjoying the moment, feeling the gentle breeze and the warmth of the sun setting on the horizon.

JUNG HOSEOK

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and you and Hoseok decided to turn the day into something special. You had set up a home spa, a sanctuary of tranquility. Soft aromas of lavender and eucalyptus filled the air, and lit candles cast a warm, golden glow over the space, creating an atmosphere of calm and intimacy.

You had prepared a selection of facial masks, bath salts, and essential oils, lighting scented candles around the house, while Hobi took care of the music, choosing a playlist of relaxing nature sounds. You started the afternoon with a bath full of rose petals, followed by a massage with essential oils that left both of you relaxed and refreshed.

After the bath, you sat on the sofa, dressed in soft robes. You began applying a clay mask to Hope’s face. He closed his eyes, feeling your hands working gently on his skin. When you finished, you wiped your hands and sat beside him, watching his face covered by the mask. There was something soothing about seeing your boyfriend relaxed, trusting you completely.

In a moment of pure tenderness, you cradled Hobi’s face in your hands. He opened his eyes, surprised by the delicacy of the gesture. Looking deeply into his eyes, you said softly: “Hope, you know that when I’m holding your face like this, I’m holding my world?”

Hobi felt a shiver run through his body. Your words touched his heart in a way he had never felt before. There was something powerful and comforting in the idea of being someone’s world, in the certainty that for you, he was everything.

He smiled and held your hands that were still on his face. “(Y/N), I never thought I could feel so special. Thank you for making me feel this way.”

You leaned in for a gentle kiss, sealing that moment of love and mutual understanding. The afternoon continued with more moments of affection, heartfelt conversations, and laughter, strengthening the bond that united you.

KIM NAMJOON

On a sunny summer afternoon, you and Namjoon decided to spend the day at a farm on the outskirts of the city. The farm was vast, with fields of sunflowers, apple orchards, and a stream winding through the land. Upon arriving, you felt the fresh air and the scent of nature.

You walked hand in hand through the blooming fields, laughing and talking about your lives, dreams, and plans for the future. With your hair blowing in the wind, you couldn’t contain the happiness you felt being there with your boyfriend. He, with his captivating smile, seemed like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

At one point, as you approached a majestic tree, you stopped and looked intently at Namjoon. He watched you with curiosity, not quite understanding what you were thinking. You moved closer, gently cradled his face in your hands, and with eyes shining with emotion, said: “Namjoon, I’m holding my world.”

He was surprised and moved by the declaration. He felt a wave of love and gratitude flood his heart. With a shy smile, he asked: “What do you mean by that, (Y/N)?”

You looked deeply into his eyes and replied: “You are my world, Joon. When I’m with you, I feel like I have everything I need. You make me feel safe, loved, and complete. At this moment, holding your face, I feel like I’m holding everything that is most important to me.”

Touched by your words, he pulled you into a tight embrace. He felt the warmth and sincerity of your love. With a soft kiss on your forehead, he whispered: “You are my world too, (Y/N). And I will do everything I can to make sure you always feel this way, safe and loved.”

You stayed there, embraced under the shade of the tree, listening to the sound of the wind through the leaves and the distant chirping of birds. The world around seemed to pause, leaving only love to fill the space and time.

PARK JIMIN

It was a summer afternoon, and the sky was clear and blue. You and Jimin decided to have a picnic in the park. The place was perfect: a large tree provided pleasant shade, and the lush green lawn seemed to invite you to spread out a blanket and relax.

You prepared a basket full of goodies: fresh sandwiches, fruit, homemade cookies, and a bottle of orange juice. Jimin brought a soft blanket and a small speaker to play your favorite songs.

You laughed and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. The gentle breeze made the leaves of the trees whisper, creating a peaceful melody. After eating, you lay down on the blanket, gazing at the sky.

“Look at that cloud,” Jimin said, pointing to a formation that resembled a dragon.

You laughed. “It looks more like a winged horse to me.”

“Maybe it’s a winged dragon, then.” he teased.

You fell silent for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s company. Then, you sat up and looked deeply into Jimin’s eyes. Without saying a word, you gently cradled his face in your hands.

Your boyfriend furrowed his brow, curious: “What’s wrong, love?”

You smiled, your eyes shining with a mix of love and seriousness. “You know, mochi, when I’m holding your face like this, I feel like I’m holding my world.”

Jimin felt his heart skip a beat. He knew you were serious. To you, he was more than just a boyfriend; he was your safe harbor, your confidant, your best friend.

“You are my world, (Y/N),” he said, his voice full of emotion. “And I would do anything to make you happy.”

You leaned in and kissed him gently, feeling the warmth and sincerity in every word. You spent the rest of the afternoon together, laughing, talking, and dreaming about the future. As the sun began to set, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange, you snuggled into Jimin’s arms, feeling truly at home.

KIM TAEHYUNG

It was a Friday night, and you and Taehyung decided to spend time together in a different way: a game night with punishments and rewards to spice up the competition. The living room was illuminated by soft lights, and the coffee table was filled with board games, cards, and snacks.

“Ready to lose?” you teased with a mischievous smile.

“We’ll see who loses!” Tae retorted, determined.

The first game of the night was Jenga. Each block removed increased the tension, and both knew that whoever toppled the tower would face a punishment. After several rounds, it was Tae who, with a trembling hand, toppled the structure.

You laughed loudly. “I think you deserve a punishment. How about dancing the Macarena for a full minute?”

Your boyfriend blushed but accepted the challenge. He stood up and began dancing, eliciting laughter from you.

After Jenga, you moved on to Uno. The cards flew across the table as you tried to outplay each other. When you finally won, you demanded your reward: a shoulder massage. Taehyung, ever the gentleman, agreed and started to gently massage your shoulders.

Later, you decided to play Truth or Dare. The game took an intimate turn when you chose dare and Taehyung asked you to say something you had never said before. You thought for a moment, looking into his eyes.

“Tae, I want to hold your face,” you asked softly.

He complied, and you placed your hands on his face, your thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Tae,” you said. He opened his eyes and looked directly at you. “When I hold your face like this, I feel like I’m holding my world. You are everything to me.”

Taehyung was left speechless, his eyes shining with emotion. He leaned in to kiss you, a kiss full of love and gratitude.

The night continued with more games, laughter, and confessions, but your declaration remained etched in Taehyung’s heart.

JEON JUNGKOOK

It was a sunny and hot summer day, perfect for a trip to the water park. You and Jungkook decided to spend your day off together, seeking moments of fun and relaxation. The park was filled with families, children laughing, and adults cooling off in the various water attractions.

After going down the colorful slides several times and enjoying some laughs in the wave pool, you decided to explore the lazy river. You grabbed inflatable rafts and let yourselves be carried by the calm, refreshing current. The sun shone brightly, reflecting off the water and creating little sparkles that danced around you.

With your wet hair and radiant eyes, you looked at Jungkook while holding onto the edge of his raft. He smiled back, feeling a tranquil happiness that only a perfect day like this could bring. The trees surrounding the lazy river provided shade, creating a pleasant contrast to the heat of the day.

As you floated along, you talked about everything and nothing, laughing at the little things and sharing secrets. The sound of the flowing water and the laughter in the background created a gentle symphony that filled the air.

Suddenly, you stopped talking and moved closer to Jungkook. With a gentle motion, you cradled his face in your hands, your eyes meeting his in an intense and affectionate gaze. He was surprised by the sudden action but returned the look, feeling the warmth of your hands on his skin.

“Kookie,” you said softly, with a smile that lit up your face. “I’m holding my world.”

He blinked, not immediately understanding. “What do you mean?”

“You are my world,” you explained, still holding his face. “When I touch you, I feel like I’m holding everything that’s important to me. You are my happiness, my peace, my love. And being here with you, on a perfect day like this, makes me feel like I need nothing else.”

Jungkook felt a wave of emotion wash over him. Your words touched his heart in a deep and unexpected way. He held your hands, still on his face, and leaned in, giving you a soft kiss.

“I feel the same way, (Y/N),” he said, looking into your eyes with tenderness. “You mean everything to me.”

You stayed like that for a moment, just looking at each other, feeling the deep and sincere connection you shared. The world around seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, floating together in the lazy river of the water park, holding your worlds in your hands.

[mykneeshurt]

Can u PLEASE write me a little drabble abt Simon with his wife (me)?? Maybe some fighting, ft. Some makeup sex??? Thanks bestie 🫶🏻

Bestie am so sorry this has taken months. It’s been half done in my notes for ages. But it’s done! I hope you enjoy ❤️

Mine

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut, jealous behaviour (we do not like this in relationships irl)

Gaz sat opposite you, smiling as he nursed a pint of Guinness. The busy hum of the pub buzzed around you both, the joyful laughter of jokes shared, the clinking of glasses and the gleeful rowdiness of patrons enjoying their time together. This was your favourite pub, built in 1800, dark beams adorned the ceiling and a gorgeous stone fireplace hugged the corner.

You sipped your wine, the warm hug of alcohol coursed through you as you allowed the tangy taste wash over your tastebuds. This was your fourth? Fifth glass of wine? You were waiting for the rest of the boys to turn up, to celebrate a mission well done. Soap was going to be late, of course, and the Captain was on his way. No word from Ghost though, something you were used to.

Gaz glanced down at the sparkling band on your left hand. ‘How is married life then?’ Smiling you shrugged ‘exactly the same.’ He let out a hearty laugh ‘well that’s a good thing! Just goes to show a piece of paper doesn’t mean a thing. Is he just as allusive at home as he is in work? Ghost by name Ghost by nature?’

‘Actually no, and he’s not that allusive in work. He just likes to get the job done. And anyway…’ you smirked as you tapped his knee ‘I don’t kiss and tell.’

Gaz rolled his eyes, blinding you with his dazzling smile. If Ghost hadn’t have made a move on you, you would have definitely asked Gaz out. You worked for the intelligence sector, which is how you met Taskforce 141. Laswell introduced you during a briefing and the rest was history. You gelled well with the team, dishing out the banter just as well as you took it. Calm, collected and logical, you were an asset to them and they knew it.

‘So…’ you asked inquisitively ‘how’s your lady friend? Is it still going well?’ Gaz dropped his shoulders before he lowered his gaze. ‘Nah, we split up last week. I’m ok though.’

‘Oh Gaz! I’m so sorry! What happened?’ You asked as you pulled him into a hug. ‘Eh. Just wasn’t meant to be. Plenty other fish in the sea. I’ll be fine. Promise.’ While you believed him he still looked crestfallen, you knew how much he liked her.

Before long Soap and the Captain joined you, pints in hand as they scooted around the table. ‘Know when he’ll be joining us?’ Soap asked as he took a long sip. ‘No idea, you know what he’s like. He just materialises out of no where. Still does it to me in the house, can’t hear the fucker’ you giggled. The boys followed suit, laughing into their drinks at the expense of your husband.

Your husband who had been watching you from a small corridor next to the bar. Having felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention you gazed around the room. Until your eyes connected with his, a devilish twinkle illuminating within the darkness. He stood leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, biceps bulging beneath his black t-shirt.

With a swift ‘excuse me gentleman, need to use the ladies room’, you scurried to the toilet. But before you could enter he pinned you against the wall. ‘How the fuck do you do that?! You just fucking appear!’ Your tone was half playful, half annoyed. He ran his thumb along your jaw, ‘not here.’

Pulling you through a door he very hastily led you to the cellar. Dull lightbulbs barely lit the damp and musty cellar, plenty of dark corners amongst the barrels and crates of alcohol. ‘What are you doing?’ You huffed as you skipped wooden steps to keep up with him. His hand gripped your arm tightly. Almost possessively. ‘Simon for fucks sake!’

He swung you round a corner and pushed you up against the stone wall, both hands placed next to your shoulders as he crowed you in. ‘Havin fun with Gaz eh? Didn’t think he was your type.’ He chewed his jaw, lips pressed into a tight line. ‘You better not be implying what I think you are’ you spat back.

‘You tell me. Patting his knee, hugging him for everyone to see.’ He lowered his lips to your ear, breath tickling the fine hairs on your neck, ‘you’re mine.’

Raising your ring finger you waved it in front of his face ‘I told you, till death to us part, and that will be here much sooner than you think unless you take it back.’ Holding your ground you stared up at your husband, daring him to imply something else. ‘Now can we go?’

As you went to leave he gripped your hair, pulling your neck back forcing you to look at him. This time against your will. ‘I take it back sweetheart, but first I think you need reminding of who you belong to.’ A wicked grin spread across his lips, that glint in his eye you knew all too well twinkled in the low light of the cellar. ‘Don’t you?’ He cocked his head to the side as he narrowed his eyes.

Hovering his lips barely above yours he whispered ‘I’m gonna fuck you. You’re gonna thank me. And you’re gonna sit next to Gaz with my cum dripping out of your beautiful pussy. Understand?’ Every word was perfectly spoken, his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth with every syllable.

Your mouth suddenly went dry, all moisture having suddenly evaporated. Pressing your thighs together you desperately tried to relieve the ache in your groin. But it was no use. ‘Yes’ you barely managed to whisper back ‘please.’

With an arrogant scoff he smiled as he placed his lips on yours. His kiss invaded your senses, his taste; a weak sting of bourbon, his smell; a mixture of fresh linen and sandalwood, his touch; firm, soft but demanding. Coaxing your mouth open he slowly worked his tongue into it, rolling it on top of yours, leading the dance between them. Making you deepen the kiss before he snatched it away, his kisses moved to your jaw, to your neck, to your ear. ‘Bet you’re fuckin soaking’ he muttered before nipping your ear.

And soaking you were.

A small moan escaped you which only confirmed his statement. With one hand on his shoulder you kept the other on the cold damp wall, something to try and keep you grounded. The muffled sounds of conversation upstairs penetrated the floorboards, reminding you how close you were to every Tom, Dick and Harry. You couldn’t lose yourself here, not like you wanted to.

With your mind being lost somewhere in between nirvana and reality, you hadn’t even noticed that he’d undone your jeans and was gently working his hand towards your pulsing core. Before any words of objection could even be spoken he’d moved your panties to the side and swiped a finger along your slit. A whine, much louder than you’d wanted slipped past your lips. Causing him to place a firm hand over them. ‘Shhhh sweetheart. Don’t wanna be caught do we?’

Shaking your head you tried desperately to keep composure as he slipped his fingers inside. Slowly but firmly he began to work up to a rhythm he knew you loved so well. Rolling your hips closer to him your chest heaved, his fingers filled you perfectly, they reached every spot you needed them to. The palm of his hand rubbed against your clit, adding a welcome wave of pressure as he continued working your cunt with one hand.

He removed his hand from your mouth, instead muffling your moans with his lips, his tongue, inhaling every sound with each kiss. Your mouths moved together in unison, deep and passionate.

This was exactly why you married him.

You allowed yourself to give into the pleasure, to feel every movement, every inch of his skin on yours. So much in fact when the door to the cellar opened you jumped, instantly trying to push him away. But he relented. Staring at him, eyes wide with panic he carried on, but slower. The person came down the rickety stairs and began searching for something. All the while Simon was knuckle deep in your cunt, feeling now tight you were getting.

The thought of getting caught was turning you on.

He kept going, adding more pressure to your clit. Your breath staggered, chest tight with anxiety or adrenaline you weren’t sure. But you were close, that you knew for certain. The person moved closer and closer to your position, which only spurred him on further. You could see their outline creeping further and further towards you. Again you tried to stop him, but he relented, instead placing a finger to his lips. Your hips squirmed beneath him, you high creeping closer and closer. That tightly wound spring ever so close to snapping. The walls felt like they were closing in, your hearing was replaced by white noise as tiny prickles of light invaded your vision.

He shook his head, knowing full well you were about to cum. Within the panic you faintly heard the person leave the cellar, the door closing with a click. ‘Fuck sake Simon!’ You panted, ‘that was so fucking close! We need to leave.’ Nipping your neck once more he spun you in one fluid movement, so you were now bent against the wall. Cheek pressed firmly into the cool stone. He snaked his hand through your hair forcing you to arch your back. ‘Not till I see my cum dripping outta that divine cunt love.’

A pathetic whine left your throat.

Pulling your jeans and panties down he held you in place with one arm. His belt and jeans rustled behind you and with one push he bottomed out inside you. Both of you released a breathy gasp at the very welcome feeling. ‘Si … oh fuck’ you moaned, voice cracking under the pressure. ‘Shit’ he muttered under his breath as he began to thrust. Calculated thrusts, firm, demanding and possessive, just like his kisses. You knew he was sending message, and it was clearly received.

You were his.

He was yours.

‘Touch yourself. Cum on this cock sweetheart’ he drawled, voice slurred and thick. You dropped your hand and began to play with your clit, your lost climax suddenly rushing back. He kept his pace, thrusting deeper into you with each movement. The sound of your pussy devouring his cock echoed in the cellar. ‘Fuck you’re so good. Pussys made for me eh?’

You tried to answer but no words would materialise. Eyes rolled back in your head, hair tussled and pussy dripping as he expertly brought you closer to euphoria. Instead small broken cries filled the silence in between thrusts. ‘Fuck … gonna … cum Si … don’t stop’ you barely managed to whisper. ‘That’s it, just like that sweetheart, lemme feel it.’

With a final stroke to your clit the white noise returned, the walls closed in and your breath caught in your throat as you came around him. A strangled yet muffled cry oozed from you, you bit into your arm to stifle the noises. ‘Good fucking girl’ he praised, you could hear the smirk in his voice. Cocky prick.

He wasn’t far behind, his thrusts suddenly became longer, sloppier, messy. To help him along you arched your back further, tightening your pussy around him. He choked out a moan as he fell over the edge. You felt him cum inside you, filling you completely. Looking over your shoulder at him you met his gaze, slight disbelief at what you’d just done, but filled with so much love and adoration.

‘Have you got a tissue?’ You asked whilst trying to catch your breath. With a light spank he hit your bare ass, ‘I meant it love. You’re gonna sit next to him with my cum dripping out of you.’ Scoffing at him you braced yourself as he pulled out, but not before he placed a tender kiss on the small of your back.

[medicinal-doll]

Hurt.

Daddy!Henry x little!reader

Summary: You only wanted to make a simple home cooked meal for your husband but after a recent accident his cautious nature decides to make itself known.

Warnings: Fluff, love bombing, babying, kisses,petnames,injury,hint at ddlg themes,slight Dom/sub dynamic

A/N I hope this helps a bit anon

*Please don't repost without permission If you use my writing as inspiration please ask first and credit me*

..............

You try to ignore your husband's looming eyes on your body. ever since he got home from work...no.. ever since the accident he's been acting as if you're made of glass.

"Let me get that for you sweetie" A strong dominant hand encircles your waist keeping you firm as Henry reaches over your head. grabbing the pasta box from the high shelf.

And now you're frowning in the corner. not only watching him start to cook the meal you planned, but every now and then he gives you a sympathetic smile.

You stand there arms crossed with a pout trying to work up the courage to say something. to tell him that you're far from helpless, and that you can take care of yourself even though you're healing.

But you know that argument would just fall on deaf ears. Henry babied you before you hurt your back. but now, apparently you can't even manage to make dinner without his assistance and under his watchful eye.

You wait until his attention is turned to stirring the basil ridden spaghetti sauce before you sneak out of the luxurious kitchen and make your way to the wine cellar. You scan the dusty shelves looking for the perfect taste to take your mind off of your overbearing husband and the dull ache of your spine when you finally see it.

The 1942 bottle of sauvignon blanc. only it's netted to an old wooden crate. fueled by determination and denial of your altered state you instantly crouch down. gripping the handles of the crate and start applying force as your husband's warnings ring a faint lullaby in the back of your mind.

You pull your hardest with all your might before a sharp seething hot pain shoots through you. causing an involuntary drop of the heavy box with a thud and a loud cry of pain.

"Shit!"

You drop to the floor as you caress your back in anguish.

And not a moment later do you hear heavy rushed footsteps come flying down the cellar stairs. finding yourself scooped up within an instant cradled in a protective embrace. You look up to meet Henry's panicked eyes as his irises wander your form looking for any sign of further injury.

"Are you alright honey?.." he looks at you with a sincere gaze as he brushes away your hair to get a good read on your expression.

But as embarrassment starts to settle in. you just give one simple nod as you feel your tears well up. clinging to his chest for comfort, sniffling lightly in shame.

Henry sighs, his concerned expression slightly settling. relieved that you're okay but then his brows furrow as he takes on a more stern look. taking a hold of your chin as he makes you face him hesitantly.

"Look at me babygirl..." He says in that gentle tone he knows you're weak for. shyly you look up at him your face still guilt ridden as ever.

"you're hurt honey" he says gently not wanting to lecture you too harshly.

"So now... You need to be a good girl and let your daddy take care of you, Okay?"

He feels his heart flutter as he watches your little eyes cling on to his every word.

"Papa knows how big and strong you are...and I love that. but now you need to stop being so stubborn and let me take care of you"

"that's what I'm here for angel" he nuzzles your face and you can't help the giggle that slips.

You pout at your husband feeling self conscious of your silly behavior and needless display of false strength. You bury your head into his soothing chest as you feel him carefully lift your feeble form from the ground.

.........

Settling onto the soft bed he seats you on his lap. gently rocking you back and forth. making sure to avoid shifting your injury as he places sweet kisses on your forehead and against your temple.

You meld so easily into his warm and comforting presence. relishing in the delicious concoction of his natural pheromones and faint cologne.

"I love you so much sweetie"

His big hands roam your body lovingly. caressing you from your soft thighs to your hips.then finally nestling around your ribcage delicately pulling you closer to his chest.

"Stay here and relax for me honey" he leans down giving you a deep passionate kiss to the lips. you whimper lightly savouring the softness and the light tickle of his facial hair.

"I promise i'll wake you when dinner's finished" he says in a low accent cuddling you close to him.You nod absentmindedly, not having it in you to prove your strength anymore. only wanting to be good for him now.

Grabbing at his collar for one last tender kiss. He then hushes you under the sheets. whispering his love and adoration for you. before leaving you to rest that pretty little head of yours.

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Attention

An Outer Banks Imagine

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Based on this ask. It's short but I'm working on a smutty part 2 if anyone is interested ;)

“C’mon, Y/N, please?” Your best friend Sarah begs, pouting at you from across your bedroom.

“A Pogue party, though? Really?” You wrinkle your nose. Neutral territory boneyard parties were one thing, but the thought of crossing over to the other side of the island to drink shitty beer gave you the ick. Sarah widens her brown, puppy-dog eyes and gets up from your vanity to flop down on your bed next to you.

“Pretty please? Just this once, and if you hate it I’ll never bother you again.” You knew that was a lie, but you also didn’t have anything better to do, so you shrugged and sighed.

“Fine. But we’re bringing our own booze.” Sarah drowns you in squeals and flailing limbs, and you shove her off, giggling.

An hour later, you’re dressed and ready; properly fizzed up thanks to the bottle of Moet and Chandon you grabbed from the wine cellar in the basement.

When Sarah’s boyfriend pulls into the driveway, you put a stopper in the bottle and tuck it into your tote bag.

John B’s nice; you’ve met him a few times through Sarah, and you have to admit that he’s one charming motherfucker. He keeps you entertained with stories of his friends’ antics on the drive back to his house. You’ve heard about them from Sarah, but you don’t know much about them save for Kiara, who you used to go to school with, so it helps to give you an idea of what to expect from the night.

“Aaaaand this is JJ,” Sarah says, gesturing to the tall blonde boy on the right with a red solo cup in one hand and a lit joint in the other.

“Wassup, baby?” He says, slurring his words together a little bit. Sarah winces and turns to you. Her frown contains a thousand apologies.

“No, sorry, apparently, this is drunk, horny JJ.”

You feel your cheeks heat up—from embarrassment, yes. But also? He’s so fucking hot with that lazy, half-up-half-down grin. His lips are plush and pink except for the purple-black bruising tucked into the corner of his mouth, like he’d dodged a punch and almost got away with it.

“Drunk, horny JJ at your service.” JJ sticks the joint into his smirk and holds his now free hand out to you for a shake. You roll your eyes but take it anyway. He tightens his hand around yours, blue eyes glinting in the flickering firelight for one, two, three seconds before he ducks his head and brings your knuckles to his lips. “If there’s anything I can help you with, please let me know.”

“Ohhhkay, and Drunk, Horny JJ needs water. John B, will you take JJ inside and get him a glass?” Sarah turns her boyfriend and JJ lets your arm drop to your side, winking at you before he turns around to follow his friend.

Sarah’s apologies are wasted on you because the heat from your cheeks has migrated south and you’re too busy thinking about swallowing that smug smile to process what she’s saying.

[mythicamagic]

Slow Dance: a Sylus oneshot

Summary: “It's not like you to drink alone though, sweetie,” his rich cadence purred above her ear. “Usually we'd have something together.”

She huffed. “I felt like raiding your wine cellar, is that a problem?”

“In what world would it be?” a smirk could be heard in his voice.

Rated T

Short fluffy oneshot for @nebuchadnezzar

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

The beat was a slow, lulling tune that wrapped her in a relaxed embrace. Lazy yet tantalizing like the flow of wine traveling through her system, warming whenever it touched.

The luxuriously furnished room held a sole occupant tonight. Instead of its owner, a decorated Hunter swayed in place. She took another sip of her wine, humming, rocking her hips slowly to the beat while tiredly watching Sylus’ record player as the disk spun and spun. The minutes had crawled into hours, and there was only so many times she could play Rock, Paper, Scissors with Mephisto before it got old.

It wasn’t as though they’d had plans or anything. She’d dropped by unannounced and found the place empty, but he knew to expect her in the evenings. The hour now approached midnight, and the moment she’d begun to feel cold and foolish in her deep red silk slip, she’d reached for the Romanée-Conti.

“I see you started without me.”

The muscles automatically tensed in her lower spine, before she relaxed. Sensing him approach from behind, she kept her gaze forward and continued swaying, taking another swig. 

Her hand was seized the moment she lowered her glass. Warmth pressed against her back. His free hand came into view, resting on the deep black shelf before her. The wine glass was tipped a little for him to inspect, swirling the red liquid around inside. 

“It's not like you to drink alone though, sweetie,” his rich cadence purred above her ear. “Usually we'd have something together.”

She huffed. “I felt like raiding your wine cellar, is that a problem?”

“In what world would it be?” a smirk could be heard in his voice.

Though he caged her, his grip on the glass fell away to her hip, allowing her to keep swaying. She set the wine down and turned in his embrace, sliding one arm up to perch on Sylus’ shoulder as they mock danced, gently moving their bodies in sync. She kept her gaze low, pretending to be enamored with his mouth. Her freehand carefully skimmed his waist, moving to roam the expanse of his back. No wounds there either, but the scent of gunshots filled her nose.

His lips lost the amused tug at the corner, downturning slightly. “Were you worried?”

She laughed, moving her attention to the lights above his head. “Only a prized idiot would worry about the leader of Onychinus after agreeing to be with him. You're going to get shot at and come home late sometimes, it's nothing unexpected. Nothing to…make a fuss over.”

Sylus’ calloused palm brushed her cheek, and she fought the urge to lean into it, inwardly sighing as he grasped her chin and forced their eyes to meet. He smiled slightly, wrapping his arm more snugly aroundher waist and back as they swayed like they were back at the auction where they’d first danced. 

“I suppose so. But, hm…turning that around, I know of a woman very dear to me, who runs around as one of Linkon’s Hunters. She faces fearsome Wanders all day, and she’s very strong. Comes back battered and bruised for her cause. She’s reckless too. Self righteous. She’d foolishly sacrifice herself to save others.”

Opening her mouth to argue, she stilled when his thumb brushed her mouth and he leaned in close, swallowing her in his shadow. “I still worry about her, despite knowing the type of woman I signed up for. I guess that makes me a prized fool too.”

Stupidly, tears actually stung her eyes. Her mouth pressed into a thin, grim line, stubbornly holding them back as heat flooded her cheeks. She grabbed him by the collar in an effort to distract him, standing up on tip-toe to meet him halfway as their lips met. 

Sylus muffled a chuckle against her mouth, stroking her back in a long, indulgent drag before grabbing her under her thighs and lifting her up- letting her wrap both legs around his waist. “You’re such a bad liar, kitten,” he mumbled in-between heated kisses. 

The woman in his arms ignored him, moving her touch to his face and cradling it gently in both hands for a moment, as if he was something incredibly precious. She combed her fingers through silky silver hair, massaging his scalp, before dragging one hand down his firm shoulder and under his-

Her fingers traced a hole in the material of his shirt. She pulled back with a frown, pinching the spot for good measure. Sylus hissed against her teeth. “Easy, there. It’s healed but still tender. We can play rough later.”

“It shouldn’t be tender at all. There shouldn’t be a hole- or an exit wound,” she groped at his upper back, finding a similar hole. “Are there any others? How bad is it?”

Sylus just looked up at her as he continued swaying them gently to the jazz music playing on loop. His eyes twinkled, smile deeply satisfied. 

“Sylus!” his lover hissed, swatting his shoulder continuously. “Let me down now. March yourself to the bathroom this instant. We’re going to go over every single trace- no, every hint of an injury you probably received tonight- and you’re going to explain each one. Do you need first-aid anywhere? Your Evol only heals so much if you overuse it,” she was rambling, checking him over as best she could.

He hummed contentedly under her care, turning and striding with long legs towards the door. “Sounds exciting, Darling. Next time you come home injured though, I fully expect to receive the same perks of examining your body from head to toe.”

—-

End

[geniemillies]

Yearning For Spring | Ch. 1 | Tamlin x Oc

◇— Chapter 1 - The Green Handkerchief

Ch. Warnings: implied sexual harassment, implied animal cruelty (I swear not by any mc), things get extreme in Hybern ok, Hybern as a place should be a warning on its own :^

✧ masterlist

||◇|| Ch.2>>

Hybern Castle — Two years after the Treaty

Another party. Another night of standing beside his chair on the dais, overlooking the crowd of Hybern officials as they partied, their faces a mask of joyful expressions, their bodies too rigid as they moved about the floor like puppets under their marionette's gaze.

“Incredibly uneventful.” I hear Brannagh whisper beside me. Her twin mimics her dead expression beside her. Guess I'm not the only one who thinks so.

“Quiet. Don't slouch or he will punish us again.” I scold through gritted teeth and feel their posture shift at the command. “Just until past midnight and we are dismissed.”

I feel them sigh in unison before stepping off the dais to stand in some corner away from the throne, away from where the King might see them. Yet I stay still, unmoving despite my legs and neck beginning to sore at the lack of movement.

Just until past midnight.

The ball went on as usual, the music getting louder with each hour while the dance floor remained filled with rigid dancers. Wine continued to flow and stomachs filled and this party seemed to go on for an eternity.

I hear the King's laughter echoing throughout the room, followed by several others as they clash glasses and exchange vulgarities. Mainly discussing political and military matters that did not need a child's attention but I listened in anyway. Nothing eventful. The King would find a way to spin the subject towards his hatred for humankind to which his circle were more than happy to indulge him in.

In a corner of the ballroom, I spy through the tiny slits of my mask a servant tripping over a lady's gown, echoes of breaking glass did not do as much as startle the dancers but their nervous eyes dart to where the servant was dragged to the kitchens, crying and spilling his apologies, his voice muffled as the door closed and then– nothing.

The dancing and laughter did not stop.

In a corner of the ballroom, I spy through the tiny slits of my mask, the twins gossiping amongst themselves in quiet solitude. They spot me from all the way over here with pleading eyes, I want to leave. But I only shook my head and they already knew my answer. Not until we are dismissed. And with that, they continued to sulk.

In a corner of the ballroom, I spy through the tiny slits of my mask… Amarantha. With her wavy locks of red hair and a dark dress that outshined every other lady in the room. As always, heads turned as she walked, whether or not it was out of respect or admiration or fear, they turned their heads and I knew she basked in the attention.

Before I could roll my eyes and turn the other way I spotted— green amidst a sea of dull colours. Amarantha makes her way to a boy.. strikingly close to my age. His hair was gold in colour. Gold like I've never seen before. It is a rare thing. Hybernians mostly have dark hair but there is the occasional rarity born with red locks.

Right. The King has once again invited a Prythian Lord, our closest ally from the neighbouring island. The High Lord sits with him now in his circle of friends, bearing the same golden hair as the boy Amarantha’s currently harassing. I felt unease as her hand brushes against his shoulder, how he'd shiver and say words I could not hear. Stop, maybe. Most likely. Because she always does this. To him especially, none of the other brothers are treated that way, much less spared a glance by her.

“Niamh.” His voice jolts me from my thoughts and I almost flinch to his direction. “More wine, dove.” The King orders, slouching in his seat.

“Yes, my King.” I turn to one of the servants ready at my command. “Three more bottles of Crimson Oathe. And tell the others to fetch a dozen more from the cellar. We'll be here for quite a while.” Seeing as they're already drunk and craving for more.

The servant came back in a flash with what I requested and I hurried to the King and his little circle of friends. “Pour.” He orders simply and I could feel his friends’ gaze in my direction. I do as I'm told, pouring scarlet liquid onto everyone's golden goblets before pacing three steps away, standing straight with the bottle still in my hands.

They continue their conversations and I stand there until I am dismissed. It is the rule. I cannot walk away from him unless I am told so. Sometimes I thank the Mother for the mask on my face, hiding the discomfort in my expression. I never liked being too close to his circle. Do my best to avoid them, really. His group mainly consists of highborn Lords of Hybern, however few they might be, and military officials that control his armies.

I stay there with my head down, listening to their horrid conversations, unable to mute out their loud voices.

Then I felt it. Felt it before it could even touch me— the hand of an older fae hovering up my arm that I felt all the hairs on my body stand.

Go away. Go away. Go away. Go—

I grabbed his wrist before he could go any further, earning a grunt of pain from the older male. The conversation ceased around the King's circle and all eyes were on me and the death grip that was my small hand around his bedazzled wrist.

“If. You could refrain. From touching me. Good sir.” I do not look at him. I do not do as much as move. I cannot. I might kill him.

“My hand! My hand!!” He cries out. I feel his pulse on my skin, the blood desperately flowing in his wretched veins. I felt my nails digging into flesh, scratching against skin and drawing blood. I smelled it, rotten and unsweet.

“My King!” He looks to the King, hoping to find his aid.

But he only looked, a simple grin on his face as he watched red seep out of his wrists, tainting my own skin. “Niamh. Drop the poor thing's hand.” I hear a chuckle leave his throat. Being used to following his orders— I do just that.

“Careful with this one, Lord Galdiir. She is.. a fascinating one. She will not hesitate to feast on your bones right at this very table. Perhaps then we'll have a real show.” The King laughs once more and other people follow. He snatches the wine bottle out of my hands, his eyes wandering to the blood that smeared my palm. And even with the mask I spot his smile curling into a smirk.

“And next time I hope you'd be wise enough to remember not to touch something that is not yours. I will have your head ripped from your shoulders if you ever touch her again.” He threatened and the circle went quiet.

“Now.” He doesn't face me, only flicks his wrist. “Go.”

And so I left that corner of the room, my left hand shaking, the smell of blood that isn't mine violating my nose. I did not return to the dais and as I passed guests I saw a glimpse of the twins’ face, riddled with worry. Yet they do not follow me.

The music and chatter from the ballroom faded as I now find myself in the empty terrace just outside. I let myself breathe in air that I couldn't find inside that wretched room. Yet, not even fresh air could calm me down. Couldn't really call it fresh as there's always a rotting smell that came with it.

Because this place is rotten. Void of light, life, anything, really. It is a cage.

The terrace overlooked a large garden of shaped trees and bushes that formed a maze. I'm glad for the night's darkness as I knew the dead colour of the leaves in morning light would only sour my mood. At least the sky looks peaceful. Though, I wish the fog would show more stars. I could not even see the moon, only a blur of reddish white light.

I look down at my hands, dark crimson taint the my palm. I press my fingers to it, feeling it sticky and warm and vile. Then my touch lowers down to the golden cuffs etched on my skin, smudging red on it.

I urge to curse, to rip this stupid mask off my face and storm to my room. More often than not, I think about it. But I know the consequences of leaving the King's presence without permission. And so I suck it up and inhale the rotten air, rubbing my bloodied palm, willing myself to believe that midnight would come soon and I could return to my room.

But I sense a presence approach, quiet footsteps make their way to the terrace. Then the intruder stops, standing at a good distance from me.

I froze and thought that if I turned around and left it'd be considered rude. So I shift uncomfortably, looking to the side and to my hands below, glad for the mask on my face for once. But when I caught a glimpse of gold at the corner of my eye, I was forced to look to to the person who had interrupted my solitude.

It's him.., the youngest son of Spring.

He dons on green fabrics, golden accents throughout his outfit that matched his long locks that cascaded down his shoulders. He smells like flowers and morning after a storm. His gaze is fixed to the garden forward and I wonder if he felt my gaze on him.

“Good evening.” He says, his voice quiet and soft and nice.

I snapped out of my thoughts and did a subtle curtsy to the young Lord. “Good evening.” I was told to treat our guests from Prythian with the warmest welcome and yet I forgot to greet him first or address him by his name.

“Forgive me, I was simply–”

“In need of some quiet?”

“I've been in search of it all night.” He said, his gaze torn away from me again. There is a stiffness on his shoulders, a longing for home in his eyes. He does not wish to be here any longer. And neither do I.

“It was beginning to feel suffocating. In there. With all the tense dancing.”

I slightly turn to face him again.

“Sorry. I meant no insult. It's a nice party.” A nice attempt at a lie.

“No.” I hesitate. But no one else is here. No one to hear me speak ill. “It is not.”

I hear a pause, a flicker of surprise maybe. That someone actually has a mind of their own around here. “It is not.” He repeats and maybe I heard a smile in his words, a quiet relief that someone understands.

“Perhaps we could enjoy the silence together?”

I look at him again, my face betraying the look of surprise at his suggestion. I did not say anything when I looked away from him.

But I stayed. And quiet company has never been so peaceful.

My shoulders relaxed as the minutes passed us by quietly. I could still hear the music in the throne room, the sounds of the King's laughter and the clink of glasses. In the stillness of the night, away from the noise and commotion of the party, the gardens below lay silent, and the only sound to break it was the gentle breeze rustling the leaves of trees.

And for a brief moment, I felt respite. I don't know why. Maybe because of the silence. Maybe it is because of him and his very presence that brought a calmness that I didn't know existed. The air seemed more bearable in his presence and for the first time tonight my heart was at peace.

My eyes faltered ever so slightly as I fiddled with my palm, the blood now cold on my skin.

I never want to go back inside.

“I'm sorry that that male has made you uncomfortable.” He quietly said as I felt him extend an arm to me. So I looked and he handed me something..

A green handkerchief.

I stared at it for a good while, confused as to why I am being given such a present. Then I realised that my bloodied hand was still visible and he had seen my outburst earlier.

I take the handkerchief slowly, inspecting it as if it were a strange thing. And it was strange, this kind gesture. I felt my lips curl up into a soft smile.

I began wiping the blood off my palms, smudging red onto the green fabric. “I'm sorry, too.” I mutter.

“About what?”

“About Amarantha.”

He goes silent and looks away in discomfort. “She always does this.”

“I know.” I continue to wipe, fighting the urge to scoff at the mere thought of that female. “She does not take kindly to ‘no’.”

I hear no reply. As I finished wiping the blood off my hand and cuff I looked at the fabric sullied in crimson. “Thank you..,” I trail off, forgetting his name despite going through the guest list just hours before the party.

“Tamlin.”

“Tamlin..” I finish wiping off the blood and I hand him back his handkerchief, completely facing him this time, letting myself see his face through the tiny holes of my mask. “Prince of Spring.”

He only seems to look towards the cloth in my hand. “Forgive me but I do not know your name either..”

“Niamh.”

“Miss Niamh..”

I nod my head and offer him back his handkerchief. He looks at it for a moment.

“Keep it.” He said, reaching for my hand with both his, closing my fist around the piece of cloth. A gift.

I was taken aback for a mere second. I've never been given a gift before. Never had much to say thank yous to. Never had to be grateful. A very foreign and yet.. welcome feeling.

He closed my fist and my eyes failed to remain averted. I look back to his face to see emerald eyes looking back at me. An expression of gentleness that couldn't be found in the eyes of Hybernians. I wonder if there are more like him back on the land he hails from. More people with genuine smiles and golden hair. I wonder if he deems the garden before us a pathetic piece of land compared to the endless fields of flowers back at his court. And maybe if I look into his eyes long enough I could see a glimpse of what that may look like.

I felt myself lost in them. Because I’ve never really seen green like that. Green that swirls with other colours of the earth. Strange and pretty. Even Hybernian trees are of lifeless colours. So I couldn't help but let my gaze linger for a moment longer.

“I cannot–” I gasped.

I flinched, my back arching slightly, the words stolen from my throat.

'What–?'

I grip my neck as I felt something pierce through my back, to the centre of my chest. Like a sword, a needle—No. A spark. Like lighting from the calmest of storms—struck me, right through the heart.

I staggered backwards and I stared at him like he might've inflicted such pain on me, the mask I wore hiding the horror on my face. But when I looked at him again, my heart beat so strongly against my rib cage I thought it might've broken out of it. Every bone in my body seemed to falter into brittle stones as if every part of me was faltering then and there. I wanted to touch him, grab his hand and take him away–

“Miss N–” He reaches out to me, his face riddled with concern. But before he could touch me again I gathered every bit of my common sense and— disappeared.

I panicked and winnowed away, appearing in my room disoriented from the sudden shift of my surroundings, as if I hadn't winnowed all of me, my back hitting against a table as I breathed heavily. I fall to the floor and grip my throat, desperate to stabilise my breathing before letting that hand fall to my chest where I could very much feel the beating of my heart. I still feel it. The spark. Like it's sentient, living inside me, telling me to go back to him.

The thrill of that spark dies inside me when realisation sank, replaced with nothing but dread and fear as I recall back to the books I've read on the matter. The romantic, forbidden tales of fated mates. Libraries are a rare thing in Hybern, the King deeming it worthless to record our histories when he alone exists to remind every single soul in the island just how we were robbed of everything in the Treaty that happened just two years ago. He does not care much for stories outside of those that he only thought mattered. Education of the most basic things are not encouraged, instead he favours military training, condemning all fae, high or lesser, young or old, to be trained ruthlessly into military submission.

Father thought the concept interesting albeit useless. Brannagh thought it a curse. Dagnan doubts its existence. How the Mother bonds two souls together on a whim, on a baseless calculation that the two might work well together. And now she dares pair me up with the youngest son of Spring. Someone so different. So out of reach. So out of my league.

Someone I can never ever have.

She dares play cruel jokes on me. Or perhaps she is simply cruel. That would make more sense. She’s always been cruel when dealing with my fate in her hands.

I did not return to the party. I lay in bed awake that night, my head filled with nothing but images of his face. There wasn't a moment where I wandered to other thoughts, afraid that if I did I couldn't burn his face into memory hard enough. And a hundred years may pass and I might forget his face. The thought alone broke my heart.

The bond didn't seem to snap for him and I could only sigh out of relief. Good. It's for the best. I know well what happens to the things that bring even the smallest amounts of joy into people around here. He takes them, breaks them, ruins them in the cruellest of ways and he makes sure there is an audience to bear witness to his acts. I still remember how her growls of pain echoed throughout the throne room while my body froze, my eyes locked into the eyes of a direwolf I had secretly snuck into the palace. I stood and cried as she whimpered, the light, the life fading from her darkened eyes, her head rolling to my feet as I tried my best to hold the vomit urging up my throat.

The King does not like hope festering the hearts of his people. Says that hope makes way for want. A want for something other than what he has to offer. He seeks only for total control. That is why every waltz at his parties are always rigid, always controlled. He liked it that way. Liked puppets more than people.

He would ruin me in ways that will kill me slowly if he ever finds out. Because I was born into a life of servitude. Everything, even my body and mind, leashed to the King. And this bond swirling inside me, this string of fate.. He will take it too.

And so I held my aching heart as I closed my eyes. And in the darkness it's not a wolf’s head before my feet that I imagine.

It’s his..

I will take this bond to the grave.