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brain-rot-central · 1 year ago

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Unholy Desire

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x female!Tav (the reader is Tav)

Warnings: 18+, religious kink, breeding kink, innuendo, dry humping, mutual pining, reclaiming sexuality through kink, they talk out their feelings

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Takes place in Act 3, pre-Cazador. You've finally made it to Baldur's Gate. You take time to offer prayers to your God after coming upon a small church on the outskirts of the city. You and your lover have grown closer over these long weeks, healing past wounds within your hearts, minds, and souls. Your desire has grown to become... sinful. You have a choice to consider: your Oath, or your lover?

This is the third camping spot you and your team find on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. Rotating spots every few days was probably the best course of action, lest the Flaming Fists come to chase you away in the middle of the night.

You find an old abandoned church during your inspection of these latest campgrounds. It has been a while since you had a proper spot to sit and pray. Lathander has been kind in your journey, thus far. You hadn't offered thanks nearly enough for shining light in the darkest depths of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Despite the challenges you faced, you and your companions arrived safely to Baldur's Gate. You kneel down behind a bench within the church and fold your hands in prayer. You hang your head and close your eyes. The sun begins to warm your skin as it shines through a crack in the church ceiling. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; Lathander is receptive to your prayer offering.

You don't recall how long you remain in that position, praying to the Morninglord. When your eyes lift up, you notice that night has fallen. You see a faint glow in the distance, surely that of the campfire. Faint bits of conversation travel along the night air. The conversation sounds jovial; it's probably fine for you to stay here a bit longer.

Astarion stands in the doorway to the small church, eyes fixated on you as you kneel once again in prayer. He'd come searching for you after your companions failed to reveal your whereabouts. He scoffs softly upon entering the abandoned structure. He thanks the tadpole nestled in his skull for affording him the luxury of waltzing straight into a church. Were this a few months ago, he surely would have burst into cinders upon the first step.

You hear a small 'crunch' off to your left; your head shoots up and your eyes settle on Astarion, who is frozen in place. You will your features to soften at the realization it was only your partner, your lover, who came to check on you. "Are you certain you're a rogue?" you speak to him through the darkness.

Moonlight pours through the ceiling and bathes his face as he comes closer to you, now within full view. He looks ethereal in the pale light. The moonlight reflects off his silver hair in a halo. His eyes glint like newly-polished ruby gemstones, his skin glows like the finest cut ivory. You find it challenging at times to believe he is your mate on this journey. Difficult to accept that the two of you had shared a bed on multiple occasions. The thought makes your mouth dry and your head swim. You shake your head slightly, clearing your mind of such perverse thoughts.

"My dear," he begins, his signature posh tone dripping from each word, "if you've truly forgotten just how deft I am with my hands..." Astarion sits next to your knelt form. He drops a hand to cup your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his, "...then perhaps you need reminding."

You swallow thickly as he holds your face, and watch his eyes begin to hood. A smile graces his lips and he releases your chin. He scans the church briefly, snickering. "What in the hells are you even doing here? It's rather... drab, darling."

You stand up and brush yourself off. You proceed to then sit next to him on the bench. "I'm praying, Astarion." You take a deep breath in and meet his eyes. "Lathander has been most kind on our journey. I haven't given him nearly enough of my thanks."

Astarion audibly scoffs. "Ugh, I can clearly see that. But why, is my question."

"We made it safely to Baldur's Gate," you explain. "That's more than enough to be thankful for."

Astarion suddenly stands up and over you. A scowl graces his visage, "And you didn't think to tell me you'd be here?" He places one hand upon his hip. "No one had any idea where you'd gone!" His face falls and he averts his gaze to the side. "I was... concerned that you were still out in the city."

You chuckle. Astarion has a softer side to him that sometimes slips out of his otherwise gruff facade. It makes your heart sing with delight each time you see it.

"I'm Baldurian, my love. Remember? I know the city streets quite well." You reach out to hold the hand at his side, and his palm wraps around yours. "I also happen to be a Paladin."

You follow his eyes as they fall upon the floor. The grip on your hand tightens. "And it's not exactly a daily occurrence to have a blood-thirsty vampiric master hunting you." He sighs, soft eyes regaining their focus on you, "Please, darling, just give me some warning next time."

Ah, he's worried you may have been snatched by Cazador. You stand to meet him and wrap your arms around his neck. "My apologies, Astarion. It was not my intention to make you worry." You bury your face in his neck and breathe in. Bergamot, rosemary, and brandy; his signature scent. You feel your body slowly mold against his as the smell floods your olfactory receptors. There have been many nights you've fallen asleep dreaming of this scent. It was oddly comforting to you. It makes you feel safe and secure.

Astarion rests his hands upon your hips and leans his cheek against your temple. You stand together in the small ruined church, holding one another, bathed in moonlight from the cracked ceiling above. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me," a low rumble escapes his chest as he speaks. His hands begin to snake up your back, his palms resting on your shoulder blades, "Any clue what I think about when I'm alone in my tent at night?"

You slide a hand up into his hair, twirling the locks between your fingers. You litter featherlight kisses along his jawline, and he tilts his head back to give you better access. The hand in his hair tightens, holding him in place. A soft groan escapes his lips as you lick a stripe up the center of his neck. "I don't think you've ever told me," you say.

He shivers within your touch. You watch his eyes flit to the back of his head as you suckle at the scars upon his neck, "Hells, Tav, I've told you so many times..." his voice comes as a soft whisper into the night air. Astarion's hands slide down your back and to your waist, gripping your hips.

"Remind me," you insist as you watch a purple mark bloom on his neck. His hips stutter into yours, and you feel the hardening length of him ever so lightly brush across your mound. You tilt his head to gain access to the opposite side of his neck, and your mouth descends once more.

Another moan escapes his lips and he lowers his face to your ear. "I..." You feel his hands sink lower, coming to rest on your backside, "I think of you below me." Astarion’s breath is cool yet heavy in your ear as his hips begin to meet yours in a soft rhythm, "Or, bent over, with my cock splaying your darling little cunt."

Your hands drop to his biceps as a shutter passes over you. Your hips involuntarily grind against his, pleasured groans slipping free from both of your lips at the joint friction. His hands grip your ass and he holds you against him. You feel the outline of him press against your sex; your walls clench around the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you.

You lean back in his hold and he dips his face to your neck, nose tracing the outline of your pulse point. You shiver as Astarion begins placing chilled kisses against your carotid artery, and you once again lace your hands through his hair.

"I think about your greedy pussy milking my cock for as much of my spend as it can…" Astarion takes a hand off your behind and guides it to your clothed mound, pressing his fingers slightly upward as he swipes across the general vicinity of your clit, "...until you’re positively overflowing, and my seed weeps down your folds into a pool under us." You buck into his palm at the pressure of his fingers. Your hips grind down instinctively against his hand, and you mewl into his neck.

"Please," you beg, "what else do you think about?" Your voice is airy and ragged. You notice the door of the church is open, meaning anyone could see your current state, were they to come over. You feel a sensual twist in your abdomen, and your hands begin untying Astarion's trousers. You need this man stripped and bare before you, getting caught be damned.

His hands come to rest upon your own. "Oh dear, whatever could I have possibly said to put you in such a state?" he feigns coyness as he takes over for you, undoing the knots to his pants. “Are you certain you can handle knowing more?” You raise your head to meet his gaze and nod, slowly. Your eyes are hooded over in lust and you feel a warm blush begin to creep across your face.

Astarion raises a hand to cup the side of your face in his palm. His lips come to grace the shell of your ear, nipping at it softly with his blunted front teeth. The hand on your cheek begins to slide down to your throat and his fingers wrap around the column of your neck. His grip tightens into light pressure against your throat. “Do you truly want to hear…” his tongue traces the curve of your ear down to the lobe, “how I bring myself to completion…” his teeth tug at your earlobe, “...at the thought of you, swollen, with the ultimate consequence of our couplings?” His voice is a whisper in your ear, and you feel your knees threatening to buckle. You groan and extend your neck, a silent offering to the hand on your throat to hold tighter.

He guides one of your hands between the apex of his thighs and cups his swollen length in your palm. Even clothed, you could feel how hard he is. It sends electric shooting down your spine, resonating as a throb of your sex. He sucks in a breath at the pressure of your hand. A broken moan escapes his lips and he speaks into your ear again, “Have you any idea how terribly my body yearns to breed you?”

Your head swims, slowly losing all connection to this material plane of existence. To carry the child of an undead would be blasphemy; you would lose your Oath and fall out of favor with Lathander. Yet… you breathe heavily at the thought of being pumped so full of cum that your womb no longer has room for it. Your pussy throbs at the thought of falling pregnant from such a situation. You feel wetness gathering at the center of your thighs.

“Wouldn't that be the epitome of a holy offering to your God of life?” Astarion moves to press his forehead against yours, and kisses the tip of your nose.

“He's…” you try to rasp out a reply, but your voice fails you. Your face is burning and your thoughts are a muddled mess.

“He's what, dear?” You can hear the amusement in Astarion's voice, knowing he has gotten you to the point where your mind can no longer form coherent thoughts.

“He's… also the God of birth,” you force out. You feel his cock twitch against your palm as the words leave your lips. A shiver passes through you at the thought of giving birth to an undead child, Astarion's undead child. Would it even be possible?

“My, my…” You manage to open your eyes and catch the devious smirk gracing his lips, “how entirely sinful that would be. Your holy womb, thoroughly disgraced by the planting of my seed.” Astarion's lips form into a pout, his voice taking on a soft mocking tone, “I wonder if your God would forsake you for such a thing?”

You often forget Astarion is an undead; he played the part of the living so well, would easily blend into any crowd. Yet, during times like these, he relished in his unholy attributes. He'd long teased you about your devotion to Lathander, went on long monologues about how the Gods were graceless and inevitably forsook everyone. He'd told you how he prayed to every God he knew of during the year he was sealed in a tomb by Cazador. None had answered him. He was bitter, you knew this. And yet… he was also enamored by your devotion. Jealous, even, that your attention was divided between him, and a God.

Your arms come to rest upon his shoulders once more, and you move your head slightly back from his. Your eyes find one another; you hadn't noticed before, but your chosen conversation is having an impact on him, as well. Astarion's pupils are blown wide, the reds of his irises becoming thin rings. “...Could we even do that?” you question, “Could we actually… could I… Now?”

A chuckle escapes his chest. The corner of his tips turns upward into a smile. “Now probably isn't the best time, my sweet. Unless you'd like an audience.” He nods his head in the direction of your companions sitting around the campfire.

Suddenly, your periphery vision returns to you. You recall you're in the small abandoned church within camp, with your companions mere feet away from you. You'd almost begged Astarion to take you within earshot of your companions… in a church, after having just finished your prayers. A scowl graces your lips at the thought.

“Oh, don't be so sour,” Astarion says, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, “We can always try to make this a reality later tonight?”

“Astarion, is it even possible for you to sire a child?” You watch his lips purse into a flat line with your questioning, obviously offended, “I mean, with your… condition.”

Silence stretches long between you. You watch his gaze fall to the laces of his trousers and he begins to retie the knots. The silence is uncomfortable, and you begin to fear you'd said the wrong thing. Yet, you genuinely did not know. Could it happen? You'd not taken precautions during your past encounters. Could it have possibly… already happened? You shift uneasily and remove your arms from his neck.

“...I read a book while out with Gale one afternoon,” he finally says, grasping your wrists before your arms return to your sides. His fingers weave between your own, joining your hands. “He'd been raving about visiting ‘Sorcerous Sundries’ again. Something about an old, dusty tome of some sort,” he scoffs. “I haven't a damned clue what he was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. “You went out shopping, willingly, with Gale?”

“I know,” he sighs, “rather unbecoming of me. Though, I often have reasons for my madness.” He raises one of your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand, “One being… us. And what our future could be.”

“Astarion…” It dawns on you: he took the afternoon with Gale to research this very topic. To find out if this could ever be a reality for you both.

He unlaces one of your joined hands and brings his palm up to hold the side of your face. “As it turns out, so long as you keep me well-fed, that of which you already do…” a genuine smile graces his lips, “this could very much be a thing between us.”

You smile and raise your hand to cover the one on your cheek, turning your face into his palm. You kiss the inside of his palm, “I think it's best we return to everyone else, lest we get tempted again to start.”

“Of course, dear. I would have to agree,” Astarion turns toward the doorway of the abandoned church, holding out a hand toward you. “Our chosen company of weirdos may turn up with pitchforks should I not return with you in tow rather soon.”

You place your hand in his and follow his lead toward the doorway. “Another night, then?” you suggest.

“No, my sweet,” he says, kissing the back of your hand once more, “tonight would make a lovely opportunity to start.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion/reader #astarion/tav #inspired by ruby #thank you ruby #your writing is always *chef's kiss*

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shibaincubus · 3 months ago

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How to stop being a doormat.-

-> . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [By a healed people pleaser] ࿐ྂ

Being nice to others is not a bad trait, but becoming THE NICE GIRL is.

Excessive people pleasing brings you nowhere and makes you vulnerable to becoming a doormat, disrespect, and sacrificing yourself.

People pleasing isn’t just about being nice to everyone all the time; it actually messes with your head and how you think about yourself deep down.

We can look at people pleasing from an conscious and subconscious side.

Conscious People pleasing

This is what we typically associate with people pleasing:

You can't say no: Every request feels like an obligation.

You prioritize others over yourself: Your needs take a backseat.

You apologize for everything: Even when it’s unnecessary.

You avoid conflicts: Peace at any cost, right?

You make yourself small: Shrinking your presence to fit in.

Subconscious people pleasing

This is the impact people pleasing has on your mindset and behaviours

While breaking people pleasing one should focus here more

Servant mindset -> catering to others drains your energy.

Emulating others -> You lose sight of who you truly are.

Seeking validation: "I need to be ... to get validation 'love' from others

Ignoring your feelings: Suppressing your emotions to keep the peace.

Feeling judged: Worrying about what others think of you.

Anxiousness about acceptance: "Do they really like me?"

The Why of People pleasing

The first step in breaking free is understanding why you engage in people pleasing.

Here are some common reasons:

You might be people pleasing because of...

Anxiety: fear of disappointing others or rejection

Low self esteem: "pleasing others is the only way to get acceptance and love"

Past trauma: can link others' needs to safety and affection

Cultural or family expectations: Pressure from those around you.

Perfectionism: The need to be flawless in the eyes of others.

Insecurity: Doubting your own worthiness.

Avoidance of Conflict: Preferring peace over confrontation.

To get the exact cause you should also utilise journaling.

Use 15 min. for three or more of these journaling prompts each

Does People pleasing really help me? How do I feel when I please people? Happy or drained?

Do I get something back by pleasing people. Is it one sided?

What is my earliest memory of people pleasing? Why did I decide to please people at that time?

How do I perceive the people that I please in reality? Do I even like them.

What is the thing I really want in this situation that I might feel too scared, vulnerable, or ashamed to ask for?

What is one thing that I'm scared people will think of me, and how is this actually true and useful for me?

What do I want to change about my people pleasing habit

This reflection makes it clear why we do it and what caused people pleasing to be ingrained in us in the first place.

Recovering from People pleasing

Start small.-

Begin by setting boundaries in low stakes situations

declining invitations to events etc.

declining requests that you don't have time or desire to do

Gradually work yourself up to more significant situations practicing assertiveness along the way.

Learn to tolerate discomfort

Recognise that asserting yourself and setting boundaries may initially feel uncomfortable or cause anxiety

Embrace the discomfort as a sign of growth and remind yourself that it's necessary to prioritize your own well being.

Strengthen your sense of self

When we are people pleasing we are placing our self worth on another person

With journaling, self care, setting personal goals and new hobbies, you can construct and identity independent of others opinions.

The Intention Interrogation

Ask yourself a specific question before agreeing to a request:

"Am I doing this because I genuinely want to, or because I'm afraid of potential consequences?"

This can delay automatic people pleasing reflexes

Cut toxic people off

If someone is using you for their gain, it’s time to create distance.

Limit your availability and emotional investment

Create space between yourself and toxic relationships

And Trust your instincts

The 24-Hour Rule

Make it a commitment to not immediately respond to requests.

Give yourself a full day and then decide if you actually want to do this.

Get therapy

If people pleasing has a deep impact socially or otherwise on you consider therapy

It's really helpful against people pleasing if nothing else helps

That's it lovelies

People pleasing is a destructive social mechanism of ours that we developed in young years.

Unfolding these behaviours and taking a stance against pleasing others frees ourself for positive change and levelling ourselves up

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americanwh0rerstory · 4 months ago

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KINKTOBER DAY SEVEN

inappropriate use of mutation - quicksilver

stalker!peter maximoff x f!reader

SUMMARY: after months of obsession, he finally claims what he saw as ‘his’

CONTENT WARNING: SLIGHT NONCON, drugs (weed), sorta stalking? p in v, hair pulling

A/N: I AM SORRY FOR THE DELAY. it unfortunately will happen sometimes but i’ll post the fics asap <3

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW. CONSUME AT OWN RISK

Peter wasn’t controlling, he was far from it. but whenever he thought of Y/N he found that he couldn’t help but feel that way. he wanted you all to himself, he wanted you to be his.

he couldn’t help but feel jealous whenever he saw you talking to some of the other guys around the school, however he wouldn’t know that if he wasn’t following from a distance. he always thought of it as ‘protecting’ you, just incase anything happened but deep down he knew what he was doing

he craved those brief moments of eye contact, the way you obliviously smiled and said hi to him whenever he made his presence known to you. he always wondered what it was that he saw in your eyes, so innocent yet he could see that hint of desire beneath the surface; he had to act on it

“sooo… wanna go out one time?” peter blurred out when you greeted him, his lips moving faster than his brain. when you accepted a grin overtook his face, his plan truly was coming together with you being completely oblivious

the date went smoothly: he used his mutation to take you wherever you wanted to go, he made the date as perfect as possible for you. it wasn’t about his enjoyment, it was all about yours.

he brought you back to his place, sharing a joint with you whilst you sat perfectly on his lap. he chose a strain of weed he knew to be an aphrodisiac, just wanting to boost his chances of you giving him that ‘yes’. he had you sat on his lap, which you happy obliged with, whilst the two of you shared a joint.

“i can tell you want it y’know” peter murmurs softly, one hand gently trailing up your thigh whilst his arm snakes around your waist. you went to protest, not wanting to give away your feelings but you was cut off by his cocky and amused scoff “don’t deny it, i can feel you dripping through my jeans”

his hand snuck under your skirt as he spoke, rubbing small circles on your clit through the dampening cotton of your panties, causing your breathing to become heavier and your eyes glazing over with lust. the effects of the weed were hitting you hard,

he gently tugged your panties to the side, the sudden chill hitting your slit caused you to shiver against him. he smirked and slowly began to push his index finger into your tight hole, his middle finger soon following

“i know you like it” he mumbled, his warm breath hitting your ear. he wasn’t wrong though, your body betrayed you and only made you even wetter around his fingers. he scissored them back and forth within you; stretching you out and scoffing with amusement whenever you let out one of your ‘cute little moans’ as he’d call it

he kept fingering you, using his mutation to turn his hand into a human vibrator and bring you just to the brink of orgasm before pulling out. he bent you over the foot of his bed, making sure you could see your fucked out face in his mirror headboard whilst he slid into you and resumed the fast pace

“c’mon babygirl, it’s me. thought you’d know it’ll be fast” peter taunted as he pulled your hair, yanking your head back whilst he mercilessly pounded into you from behind; forcing your back into an arch. his mutation made his movements so fast you couldn’t tell whether he was pumping in or out of you anymore

your walls squeezed around his dick which caused him to let out a whine of pleasure, blabbering curses of euphoria. he threw his head back in satisfaction, letting out shamelessly loud and lewd moans which coincided with your own pleasure filled mewls.

his thrusts remained fast but occasionally grew sloppy as he neared the edge, his tip ramming against your cervix with each thrust that only brought you closer too, until your joint orgasm

white-hot flushes of pleasure crashed over you in waves, your eyes squeezing shut as tears of satisfaction began to prick in your tear ducts. you felt the warm ropes of his milky seed spurt into you and paint your insides white.

peter felt that intense euphoria too, low moans escaped his lips whilst occasionally letting your name spill. he felt his release pump out of his tip and into you, satisfying his desire to claim you which he had felt for so so long

“youre mine now, babycakes” he grinned before planting a kiss to your forehead “if you want to be, that is” he said despite already knowing the answer

A/N: once again i’m sorry for the delay, i hope this was worth it <3

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azullumi · 2 years ago

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“everyone adores you, at least i do” ; prince kamisato ayato

summary — it was a political marriage between two people for the sake of peace, it was a sacrifice you were willing to take, a role that you must fulfill, however, ayato seems to have different plans, different feelings ; alternatively, the prince you were politically wedded to is pining over you.

pairing — prince!kamisato ayato w/ fem!reader

tags — fluff, pining, sweet and gentle ayato, not proofread, alternative universe ; headcanon

words — 900+

note — i feel like he’ll be the type to say “where’s my wife?” like those books do

It was a marriage to solidify the relationship between two kingdoms, you were merely a princess sold for the freedom of your land, there was nothing more to it.

So when you first met him for the sake of introduction and familiarity before he became your husband, there was nothing but silence in between you two, only a small conversation that would fall apart before being picked up with a different topic as you walked around with him. But no one is to blame here, you were strangers to each other (maybe) and what you two had during that time wasn’t awkwardness, it was just tranquility.

Although it did go on until the first night of such a significant event, the wedding,—the night of passion, or whatever the servants had told you—as it was nothing but stillness. He told you that it’s best to just sleep instead and so nothing happened. He simply laid there on one side of the bed while you were on the other, trying to get rid of your thoughts: it’s alright, you two were strangers that were practically forced into a couple and to bed together.

But, oh, if only you knew the thoughts that raced inside his head during that night as he laid there beside you, if only you knew how much he yearns for you, how much he wants to touch you. He wants you but he could not act on his desires as he was too afraid, afraid that he might scare you, that he might accidentally hurt you in the process. Ayato is a brave and confident person but in front of you, he was nothing, stripped of his title as a noble prince, he was nothing but a man who fell in love with a princess from what once was their rival kingdom.

“Your highness, why—“

“Ayato,” he corrects you with a small smile on his face, there was no malice or sign of annoyance in his tone, just gentleness and warmth, “We’re already husband and wife, we have no need for such formalities. Unless you're still not comfortable or used to it, do not fret, I am not pressuring you.”

He was letting you go at your own pace, to tread on the path that is comfortable for you without anyone ever pressuring you, you can take your time—it was hard to trust and find comfort in a place full of strangers. especially more so when it’s a place that your kingdom once considered as the enemy—, he’s not rushing you, nobody is, and if ever there is someone doing so, he’ll get rid of them. All he wants is for you to feel safe and warm, that you’ll soon grow to trust him; he only wishes that his touch will soon become your peace and this place will soon become your home.

Until you are ready, until you are willing to accept him, he’s not going to make a move on you but he will be there by your side—just like how he sleeps beside you and will be willing to comfort if ever you were to wake up from a nightmare or have a hard time falling asleep—, until then, he’ll settle on a distance.

And though you might think he might have gone crazy—just like what some of the people in the palace have murmured to each other about him—but maybe he actually has, he wakes up and he immediately thinks of you, the corners of his mind and the edges of his thoughts simply form into you, ever since you came into his life, it was all just you—as if he never existed for his own, as if his soul was meant to spell out the letters of your name. He built a garden made out of your favorite flowers, a library filled with books you love to read, servants and maids that swore their loyalty to you, and everything. He professed his love by providing you with such things even if you were to never realize his feelings.

He likes waking up first before you do, loves being able to see and admire the lines etched and carved on your skin, to see and intertwine himself the rhythm of your breath, and watch the way you tangle yourself in the sheets—and he wishes it was all him, the honeyed light passing through the window spilling on you and casting a soft ethereal glow on the bane of your existence. He likes taking walks with you when he needs a break from all his work, likes eating or resting with you, and especially likes going past the walls of the palace to head to the bustling streets and the busy market together with you, pretending that you were simply just people; the scolding you’ll get with him when you two return after escaping is worth it.

He looks at you, in your sleep, in your waking hours, in his dreams, and he loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you, and it terrifies him how much he would do for you, what he would do for you. You can say anything and he will not abandon you, no matter what you think, no matter what the words that will come out of your mouth, he’ll love you just the same and perhaps more.

“Because I love you in ways more than one.” He kneels in front of you, eyes with longing and affection in it looking up to you, his gaze warm as well as the smile on his face. He brought your hand that he took hold with his own to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles, he holds you as if you’re the most fragile thing in the universe. Darling, dearest, beloved, he was yours as well as that you were his.

How is it that he holds such feelings for you so much so that it’s spilling into his hands? A complicated question for some but for him, it was easy to answer: it’s simply because you’re loveable. You’re not hard to cherish, to love, you’re simply human in a way that should be treated as one, not because you’re a princess and his wife. He loves you as if he’s meant to do so.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin #genshin x you #ayato genshin #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #ayato x you #ayato fluff #ayato headcanons #genshin fanfic #kamisato ayato #kamisato x reader #genshin impact fluff #azul.writes

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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Yandere Roronoa Zoro Headcanons (General)

''I would sacrifice everything and everyone for you.'' — Roronoa Zoro.

❝ 👒 — lady l: It gave me a burst of energy at 4 am and I wrote this headcanons out of nowhere, but I really like Zoro (both the anime and the live action) and I ended up having fun. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💚🖤

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of stalking, jealousy and mention of murder.

❝👒pairing: yandere!roronoa zoro x gender neutral!reader.

Roronoa Zoro has always been indifferent to many things and people and one of those people was you, at first. When you joined the Straw Hat, he didn't think much, he just accepted you as a member of the crew and thought that his life would continue as it had always been before you. Needless to say, he was wrong.

He warmed to you slowly and gradually, in a way so subtle that even he hadn't noticed. Like sitting next to you to drink, looking at you subtly and helping you with common Going Merry tasks. All these activities became commonplace and he found himself yearning more and more for more time by your side.

The way he became uncomfortable and irritated when another Mugiwara spent too much time by your side, time that he should have spent. His gaze hardened and his grip on his swords became stronger.

Zoro had never felt like this before, this need for protection, the desire to protect what was his. He never felt this way about anyone else. He loves his friends deeply, but he didn't feel the same connection with them that he felt with you. You were more special, he just didn't know why.

He wanted to stay by your side, protect you. It was a need, an instinct that threatened to consume him from the inside out if Zoro didn't do it. You became his friend, his duty and his obsession.

Zoro is always on the lookout, watching you carefully, protecting you from a distance. He has his eye on anyone who breathes too close to you. They can be a threat, hurt you and he would rather be cursed than let that happen to you. And even with his own friends, his own Captain, he was watching.

He defends your honor fiercely and proudly, anyone who dares to say a bad thing about you will have a bad time with him. You're his, there's no way Zoro would let someone talk bad about you and get away with it. He will get into fights to the death if necessary.

You're the only one who really knows Zoro's soft side, so to speak. He comes across as serious and abrasive, often grumpy, even with his crew, but with you he's almost always smiling. He often says that your presence makes him happy when someone questions him and usually curses the person for being so nosy.

He loves you more than he loves sake and that means he really cares about you. Even if you don't like drinking alcohol, Zoro will be drinking next to you, just enjoying your company. He likes to sleep next to you too, even if it's in an innocent way. He feels more comfortable this way.

Zoro is extremely possessive of you and doesn't feel guilty about it. You are his, from his crew, so you must stay away from the others. He will never blame you for something, it's others who are to blame and Zoro is more than willing to cut them to pieces if someone crosses you, if they cross him. He will give you that person's head as a gift later.

It's not uncommon for him to be jealous, but he will never admit it. The deadly looks that are thrown when someone approaches you, the grip on the sword and eventually that person's head rolling can give some clue as to how jealous he is.

Zoro is very overprotective and this combined with his possessiveness means that you have no privacy around him. Although he's not the biggest fan of physical contact, he has no problem holding your hand or even hugging you. He loves his friends, he loves his crew but if he had to choose between you and them, Zoro would choose you without thinking twice. He would sacrifice them if you asked.

He is a pirate, a pirate hunter who has become one of the most wanted pirates in the world. Zoro has important connections and he knows how to fight very well, after all, he wants to become the greatest swordsman in the world. He knows how to get rid of the mess he's made, how to get rid of someone.

Roronoa Zoro is your protector, your friend and your obsessed stalker. Every time you arrive at a new island, he doesn't leave your side and observes the surroundings attentively, while keeping you tied to him. He can't let anything happen to you and that's why he's so overprotective. He won't lose someone he cares about, not again. He's not that bad, just be careful with other people around him and everything will be fine.

#yandere one piece #dark one piece #one piece #yandere roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #yandere roronoa zoro x reader #yandere zoro x reader #zoro x reader #headcanons #yandere headcanons #roronoa zoro x reader #yandere zoro headcanons #yandere zoro #yandere roronoa zoro Headcanons

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caplanbuckybarnes · 4 months ago

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Shadows of Love (Mafia loki)

summary: why cant he just love you?

Warnings: angst, unrequitted love

WC: 800ish

A/N: i'm not writing accepting requests, part 2's or anything liek that from marvel any longer. please do not ask.

Read on Ao3!

The dimly lit backroom of the nightclub throbbed with the heavy beat of music, but you felt far removed from the revelry. You leaned against the cool bar, a glass of whiskey untouched in front of you, your thoughts consumed by the man who dominated your heart—and your fears.

Loki, the cunning and enigmatic head of the Midgardian crime syndicate, had drawn you into his dangerous world with his charm and dark allure. But as you watched him from across the room, surrounded by his loyal men, the weight of his unspoken warnings echoed in your mind: “Love is the greatest weakness.”

You had always dismissed his words, thinking they were merely part of his playful banter. But now, seeing him strategize with his crew, you realized how true they were. His world was built on betrayal and bloodshed, and the moment you had stepped into it, you had become a target—a pawn in a deadly game.

As if sensing your gaze, Loki turned and caught your eye, a smirk forming on his lips. He walked toward you, confidence radiating from him like an intoxicating perfume. “Ah, my dear,” he said, leaning against the bar, his voice smooth as silk. “You look like you’re lost in thought. Care to share?”

You met his gaze, a mixture of love and fear swirling inside you. “I’m just worried about you, Loki. This life… it’s dangerous. You’re playing a game that could get you killed.”

He chuckled, but there was an edge to his laughter. “And you think your concern changes anything? This is who I am. You knew that when you stepped into my world.”

“Maybe I didn’t fully understand,” you admitted, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. “But I love you, and it terrifies me. You could lose everything.”

His smile faltered, a flicker of something dark crossing his features. “Love is a weakness, you know. It clouds your judgment. It can make you vulnerable to those who would use it against you.”

You took a step closer, the desperation in your heart pushing you forward. “But it doesn’t have to be that way! We could have something real. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He straightened, the playful facade slipping away, replaced by the cold, calculating kingpin you had come to fear. “I can’t allow you to be a part of this, darling. It puts you in danger.”

“Loki…” you pleaded, your voice shaking. “You’re pushing me away. Don’t you see that? I’m not afraid of your world—I want to be with you, no matter what.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you could see the internal struggle etched across his face. “And what if I fail? What if my enemies find out what you mean to me? You would become a target, and I won’t let that happen.”

“Then let me fight beside you,” you urged. “Let me be your strength, not your weakness.”

He shook his head, the pain in his expression cutting you deeper than any knife. “You don’t understand the kind of people I deal with. Love only makes you weak. I can’t risk your safety for the sake of my own desires.”

“Is that really how you feel?” you asked, your heart breaking. “You think that loving you would make me weak? I’d face anything for you, Loki.”

He stepped back, the distance between you feeling insurmountable. “You don’t know what you’re asking. This isn’t a fairy tale. I live in a world of chaos and blood. I can’t afford to care for anyone—especially not you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a lump forming as you fought back tears. “So this is it? You’re choosing your empire over me?”

“Choosing?” he spat, frustration lacing his tone. “I’m trying to protect you! If you love me, you’ll understand why I must do this.”

“Love shouldn’t be a burden,” you said, voice trembling. “I want to be there for you. I want to share this life, the good and the bad.”

“Love is a burden in my world,” he countered, his voice cold and distant. “And you deserve a life free from this chaos, not tangled in the web of my mistakes.”

Silence enveloped you both, heavy with the weight of unfulfilled promises and unspoken fears. Finally, he turned away, walking toward the shadows of the club, leaving you standing alone, heart shattered.

“Loki…” you whispered, but your voice was lost in the pulsating music.

You were left with the bitter truth of his words echoing in your mind: love was indeed a weakness, a vulnerability he couldn’t afford. And as you stood there, feeling the emptiness of his absence, you realized that while he feared the strength of love, it was the very thing that would have saved him.

But in his world, darkness reigned, and you were just a flicker of light—too fragile to survive.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x y/n

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beegalactica · 1 year ago

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The real 'glow-up' is all mental.

With it being the prime season for the 'how to glow up' guides to make their rounds in the media we consume, it is always worth reminding yourself that the only way you are going to 'glow up' on the outside is if you 'glow up' on the inside.

I personally get annoyed with the whole glowing-up phenomenon because it perpetuates this idea that there is some kind of 'end goal' in life and once you reach it, everything will be perfect. In a world where the idea of what it means to be attractive, intelligent, successful, or desirable in any way is constantly changing, there is only one constant: YOU.

You are a lifelong investment, and you are worth every penny, second, and ounce of effort you put into yourself.

Let's go over some of my glow-up tips and habits for you this year and examine how much of your levelling-up will really need to take place in your head.

Invest in your hygiene. This doesn't mean buying the most expensive skincare and having a 30-step routine, this means brushing your teeth every day, taking showers regularly and looking after your hair. Of course, we all want to achieve that 'clean girl aesthetic' but to me, simple hygiene is the best way to send a message to your body and mind that you care. Nothing says "I love you just the way you are" to your body like taking the time to clean it, care for it and pay attention to what it needs.

Invest in your surroundings. Now I know, making your bed every morning can be an unnecessary waste of time, especially if you're just going to end up getting back into it at night, but I like to think that my surroundings reflect my mental state, so if my room is a mess, best believe my mind is a mess too.

Invest in your interests. Start a hobby, pick up a new skill, try to find a book that interests you, or even start a Tumblr blog 😉😉! This year, I am focusing on really cultivating myself and becoming an interesting person who has things to talk about with people, instead of mindless gossip or resulting in self-deprecation to entertain others.

Invest in your happiness. Do what makes you happy. Distance yourself from those who seek to pull you down, to prop themselves up. You are worth so much more than that. Sometimes, those people are in our households, and the only way to cope is to know what makes us feel good and chase that happiness. Know that whatever issue you are facing shall pass and you will feel good again.

There is a common belief among people who may struggle with their self-image that once they fix this, or change that, everything will be perfect, but as someone who has had that mentality, it won't. If you want to lose 10kg for example, but hate your current body, waking up skinny tomorrow won't fix that voice in your head that tells you that you're still not good enough. If you love yourself as you are, and acknowledge that exercising is a form of self-love, and it doesn't take away from it, that mental glow-up will begin to manifest itself physically.

What's the point of others complimenting you daily if you don't believe it or can't accept it because you don't think of yourself the way that they do?

Trust me when I say this, my biggest milestone on my 'glow up journey' was not losing x amount of weight, but looking at myself in the mirror, first thing in the morning with no make-up or styling, and still being able to say "Damn, I'm so beautiful." And I can confidently tell you that to reach this point, I didn't set the intention of losing weight and trying to become more beautiful, I set the intention of loving and accepting myself the way that I am and all the actions that followed after stemmed from this love that I have. I didn't feel the need to exercise because I wanted to be skinny, but because I knew that it was what my body needed, and I loved my body so much that I was willing to do that for her.

It's easy to get wrapped up in so many things and lose sight of yourself, but when that phone is off and you're all alone, disconnected from the rest of the world, what do you say to yourself?

P.S. If you're reading this thank you all for the love on my first post! Opening Tumblr every day to new notifications has created this sort of excitement and extreme joy that I didn't even know was possible! Stay safe and take care of yourself 💗💓

#lifeblr #girlblogging #girlblogger #it girl #that girl #becoming that girl #glow up #it girl energy #clean girl #glow up tips #self improvement #self development #how to glow up #self care #self love

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ctimenefic · 2 months ago

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omg i am not above begging for that conceptual mean dom george gax part two holy fuck i’m hooked so badly

part two of what i am tentatively titling 'that monday feeling' aka the dom george gax rollercoaster. many thanks to @latecomersprivilege and @lagerloutfic for reading this over and stopping it being just pass agg gax chatting

part one here

They are in the same fucking hotel as Mercedes again at Qatar, which is fucking ridiculous, Qatar is maybe 40% hotels, all as overdone and ugly as each other. It's not a coincidence, of course. It's a Christian thing, rubbing it in Toto's face that they're not the competition now; that McLaren and Ferrari are worth treating as a threat, but not them.

Whatever, Max leaves that mind games shit to Christian - it's still fucking annoying, Monday morning, to head down to the gym and see George fucking Russell there.

He will talk to Christian about it, for Abu Dhabi. Never mind that they travel out tonight. It is not acceptable.

They were meant to play padel. Him and George, and two RB mechanics. But obviously, Max told him it was cancelled (well, to fuck off, if he’s being specific), and Lando hadn’t wanted to take the court. So.

George is just getting off the treadmill, some stupid distance at a high incline, like next week is Singapore instead of Abu Dhabi. He looks pleased with himself, of course. Then he spots Max, and that nearly blank, faintly amused expression glides onto his face. He’d worn it since they’d stepped out of the stewards room, all the way through Sunday, even in the fucking media after the race. Max had watched, afterwards, to see George prove his point. So polite.

It was the same face he’d pulled in Las Vegas, when he’d trapped Max in his duvet and his desire, caught him off-guard with a cheap trick.

Max doesn’t share space. He doesn’t yield.

He racks up 20kg below his maximum on the bench. Starts a set too fast, hips not sat quite right, grunting with it by the end.

“Need a spotter?” comes George’s voice, too light. Like he’s smiling. Max doesn’t look.

“Fuck off.”

A hum. Max pretends not to hear it over the low techno of the gym’s sound system. “Still on one, then?”

Max ignores him. His second set is smoother, a gradual build to the burn, even if he shouldn’t be lifting this heavy. It’s not today’s program. But his way tends to work, regardless.

That stupid blank face appears at the bottom of his vision, George lurking at the end of the bench. Max wants to kick him. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the bar. It’s only when he reaches up for his third set, and George straightens, suddenly tall and broad in Max’s eyeline, that he realises what a picture they make. Max, flat on his back, arms above his head. George, watching.

“Don’t let me interrupt. Hands on the bar, now.” He does that obnoxious head tilt, tongue wedged in front of his teeth, bottom lip bulging. Max glares, pulls his hands back to his chest like the bar is white hot.

It’s a mistake, looking at George. It just makes him angrier, that mild look, the smug superiority. Like Max hadn’t been there in the stewards room, watching him frown and grouse and whinge his way to nothing at all, in the end, nothing that lasted more than ten seconds off the line. All that bitching replaced by joking and smiling and his fingers on Max’s neck afterwards, like Max hadn’t seen.

He should be embarrassed, to want it so much. Max would be, if he wanted like that. Needed.

He doesn’t, of course.

He should’ve started his next set by now. His thirty seconds rest are long gone. But George is still watching, neck bent like one of those ugly wader birds, all legs and beak.

“Are you angry that I screwed you in the stewards room, or that I didn’t fuck you in Vegas?” he asks, voice low and measured.

“I don’t want you to fuck me!” The gym’s mostly empty, but Max still sounds too loud to his own ears. There’s warmth prickling up the back of his neck that mingles with the exertion, even as it feels distinct. Dangerous.

“If you say so.” George checks his watch. Max’s eyes track down as he drops his wrist back to his side. George’s t-shirt hangs close to his body. Probably too small, showing off. Needing, again. His shorts are the same. Light grey. Light enough to show a shadow where they’re stretching over-

“If you change your mind, I’m in room 402,” George adds. “My flight leaves after lunch.”

Max stares at weights racked above him. Breathes through his nose, the way his mother taught him, the way that wouldn’t let on that he was hurt, or angry, or scared. Reaches up for the bar.

Before he can start, the toe of George’s right foot digs into the side of Max’s. Right into the edge of the inner arch. It doesn’t hurt, not through inches of rubber and whatever scientific innovations their trainers are built out of, but the pressure is sudden, deep. It jolts up Max’s leg, through the nerves in his knee, to his hip. When he jerks his foot away, he knocks against George’s other trainer. Penned in.

They’re big, he remembers from nowhere. Clown feet. It doesn’t seem as funny now as it had when Crane had sent him all the grid’s Wikifeet entries.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarls.

The pressure stops at once. George’s eyebrows flick up, but he doesn’t step away. “We can play it that way, if you’d like. 402, remember.”

He leaves, then. Abrupt. Rude.

The bar is cool under Max’s hot palms. He has to adjust his grip twice. He finishes his third set puffing, arms shaking. Hard in his shorts.

---

The workout doesn’t ease the buzz under his skin. The last of the Kinder bars, snaffled away for a treat, goes down chalky. When he shuts his eyes, he can feel his stomach lurching about. Like the swoop of a lift, rising fast.

---

It’s eleven o’clock when George answers the door. It feels like a long time, between Max knocking and him opening it. Not a good wait, not the easy time between green and lights out. Like a rain stoppage, when the FIA are being cowardly, no sense of when he can get back in the car.

He wants Brazil. Rain under his wheels. Certainty. George Russell kicked off the podium and seething about it.

Or-

He pushes gold handrails and gilt mirrors out of his mind. The sensation remains, though, the press on his chest that had made his lungs unfurl, warm and open. Floating. His heels lifting off the floor.

He’s- he shouldn’t feel skittish. He won. He’ll win again, but for now, 63 is a satisfying number. He could ask the graphics team for a post with it in the middle. They’d laugh with him. They always laugh at George. Everyone does.

The door opens. Max jumps a little.

George’s smirk is an ugly thing.

“Cutting it a bit fine.”

Max scoffs. “I do not have much to say to you.” Still, he ends up inside. George closes the door behind him, leans up against it, disgustingly casual, as Max takes the middle of the room for himself. It’s not as nice as Max’s. Less spacious. The bed’s too close.

“Of course you don’t. You ’didn’t come here to talk’, did you? It’s fine, I don’t mind a cliche. Oh,” and there it is, that fancy polite tone the FIA rolls over for, “shoes off, please.”

It’s not obeying if George says please, Max tells himself. If it is what he would do anyway. When his toes dig into the carpet, it feels new, plush. Some of the soft fibres sneak through the weave of his socks.

“If you cannot beat me on the track-”

“No,” George cuts him off. Not loud, but determined. Maybe angry underneath. That second face, lurking. “You didn’t come here to argue, don’t pretend you did.”

Max doesn’t pretend. That’s all George. He tells him as much – “a fucking princess for the cameras, a prick in private”. “And,” he adds, “all the time you are hiding this, what you were- how you were in- in-”

He can feel it again, the press against his sternum. It clings, hot as tar.

“In Vegas?” George smiles, mean. “Would you rather I told you to strip in the stewards office? Bent you over your rear wing on the grid? There’s a time and a place, Max.” George pauses. Runs his tongue round the inside of his mouth, then outside. Considering. Then: “Maxxy.”

It’s like being hit. “Don’t call-”

“Oh, shut up. You’ve made your rules, I’ll make mine. You want to call me names, I’ll do the same.”

“My rules?” Max is incredulous. He hasn’t done anything but show up. He didn’t even say he wanted-

George ticks off on his long fingers. “Don’t fuck you. Don’t touch you. Rule anything else out and I’ll be down to ASMR and obscene gestures. Unless,” he looks at Max through his eyelashes. It is probably meant to be sexy. Max snorts. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

Max juts his jaw. “No.”

It is stupid, of course. That is not what George will want. Max’d seen him. The twist of his mouth as he stabbed through his evidence in front of the stewards, delta data and past decisions, all of it wrong but pointless. Max had seen him skinny and hungry and desperate for the kill. Max had seen the clench of his jaw and imagined the strength of his bite.

Max had seen him in Vegas too, even if he’d forgotten, for a bit. Fuzzy. Frustrated. Until George had reminded him in the media pen, grin sharp. Crisp orders. Looming and bullying his way into Max’s space, Max’s mouth.

Max knows a cruel man when he sees one. A violent man.

Max has wanted them anyway, sometimes.

George cannot beat him on the track, has to pull dirty tricks. He’ll want to beat Max off it. Bruise him.

He pushes off the door, pads towards Max. He’s not wearing shoes either, Max realises, feet bare. Just as big as he thought. “Is there anything else I should know? That’s off the table?” He sounds solicitous, the English gentleman. Fake.

Max shrugs. “You don’t scare me.” He resents being interrogated. “What do you want?”

George looks surprised to be asked. Good. Max is sick of being the one off balance. “I want to race hard and safely. I want to win whenever I can. And I want to put you on your knees until you’re sweet and drooling for it. I think you’ve got quite a fuckable mouth. But you’ve taken that off the table, so I’ll settle for getting you down and getting you off.”

Liar. “I will not be- sweet,” Max grits out.

“You already have been,” George muses. “Trying to suck my neck in a public lift like a proper little slut, weren’t you?”

Max flinches. His mouth is dry. “I thought- I was drunk. And you- we didn’t. It does not count.”

“Maybe not for you. I found it enlightening.” He’s looming again. Max tilts his chin up.

“Are you going to do anything or is this just talking again? Because I had enough of that on Saturday.”

George pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s a gesture familiar from half a dozen teachers, before karting took over. Max bristles. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

Max shrugs his lower lip. His smile has too many teeth; George makes a small disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

“Get on your knees.”

Max squares his shoulders. Smiles again. “No.”

George looks incredulous; then, briefly, apoplectic. It flashes over his face as fast as the streak of passing a yellow flag. Then that horrible blankness is back. No amusement this time, just pure neutrality. It makes Max want to scream.

“Fine. Stand there and be quiet until you have something useful to contribute.”

“Wha-” He can’t even get the word out before George fucking waves a hand at him, dismissive. He sits down in one of the godawful hotel chairs, ankle popped on his knee, and picks up an iPad.

“You can stand there or you can go, but don’t pretend you got what you wanted if you do.”

He doesn’t like it, this trap George has built around him. Leave, and George will say he is a coward, pretending; that they are the same, faking, two-faced. Stay, and George will say he is- can be- sweet. Not like George on the face of it, but similar deep down. Needy.

Max’s feet curl in the carpet. He stays still.

“Finally. Now, no talking for ten minutes. I know self-control isn’t your strong suit, but I’m sick of the sound of you.”

When he opens his mouth to protest, George shoots him a quelling look. It turns into a long stare, both of them motionless. George’s disdain is etched on his face. Something is juddering in Max’s belly like a loose part.

“If you’re going to behave like a child, I’ll treat you like one. I’ve had enough of that from your lot today.” There’s a real spark of irritation to his face; Max feels glee at putting it there. Of course, George ruins it when he keeps talking. “Hysterical, honestly, am I a woman or am I gay, Horner needs to pick one side eventually.”

Max frowns. “Obviously you are gay.” Everyone knows it, despite the pretty girlfriend.

“I didn’t say you could speak. Shirt off.” Max folds his arms. “Now, Maxxy.”

It hurts, the nickname. An achey, hot sort of hurt, somewhere in his chest. Embarrassing, too, to realise that when he’d seen George, the rotting wolf at the heart of him, George had been looking back. He struggles out of his shirt, throws it at George’s feet.

George keeps scrolling through the iPad, but he says, “Thank you, Max,” and there's a gentleness to it that soothes the ache, a little.

He lasts another four minutes after that, toes curling under him. The weight of being ignored builds on his shoulders slowly but surely – every flick of George’s finger across the screen another slight. The ache is ebbing away, but a hot and wet feeling lingers on the inside of his chest, like his ribcage is a half-boiled egg, fresh and leaking. He wants to pace, or drive, bleed it out of himself.

He stays still. But he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“This is boring,” he tells George, even if it isn’t - not entirely. “Aren’t you going to do something? Use something?”

“Jeans,” George orders. Max wrestles them down as far as he can without lifting his feet; when he does, his balance is lower than he expects. He wobbles. It’s a relief to get both of them under him again. It almost beats the rush when George’s eyes flick up from the screen. His gaze travels up the length of Max, once, twice, then settles – Max’s neck heats – on his crotch. “Thank you. And funnily enough, I did not spend my morning trying to buy sex toys in Qatar on the off-chance you came over. Anyway, you don’t seem bored,” George adds, dryly.

George can tell, then. That he’s hard. Max wears boxers; sometimes it isn’t obvious. Not- Not because-

“You know, I’d heard it was smaller? But below average is perfectly respectable.” George laughs. The egg-cracks in Max’s chest splinter wider, down his thighs, his arms. “But you really were made to be fucked. Hm. Shame.”

Max chews his bottom lip. His stupid normal-sized dick is getting harder. But he won’t speak. He won’t give George the satisfaction.

“Do you like being fucked, Maxxy?” That whine- it’s not a word, it doesn’t count, and George seems to agree, because he doesn’t order Max to take his boxers off, just tilts his head. His tongue is tucked in the side of his cheek - when he smiles, it’s all lopsided. “Oh, you haven’t. What, just shoved fingers in yourself without enough lube and wriggled about like an amateur? Fucking yourself in your drivers’ room hoping someone would come in and sort you out-”

“Suck my balls,” he blurts.

“Suck mine,” George retorts, far less petulance and far more authority to it. To Max’s horror, his mouth waters. “But that’s off the table, of course.”

Max’s hands go to his boxers, but George tuts. “Socks next, please.” And that’s not fair, socks don’t count, Max wants- he wants-

He balls them up, chucks them at George’s stupid iPad. The corner of George’s mouth lifts. “Thank you, brat.”

He’s starting to leak a little, in his boxers. Enough that the wet cotton drags over the head of his dick if he adjusts his balance. It is bad, he knows, being this naked in George’s room. He should not want George to look at him so badly. His dick shouldn’t jerk every time George presses a long finger to the screen instead.

He can be still. He can be quiet. He can win.

He doesn’t want-

He won’t-

“George,” he-

His mind shunts away from the word. But it’s there, in the tone. In the hitch of it.

“George,” he begs.

“Boxers,” George says, far too indulgent. Max rushes to comply. His hands tremble, a little. And then: “Thank you. Now. Get on your knees.”

He drops.

George sets the iPad aside, looks at Max properly. The runny-egg feeling intensifies. Max feels his mouth fall open, damningly wet. George’s fingers lift from his knees for a moment, like he might shove them inside, tell Max to suck, before he recollects himself. He adjusts himself in the chair, both feet on the ground, a space between them big enough for- for Max.

George is hard too. Thick, spoiling the line of his slacks.

“There you are,” George croons. “Come here, Max.”

He doesn’t even have to say it. Max crawls.

As he does, George draws himself out of his slacks. His dick is curved, a little pinker than Max had expected. His mouth is still open. His teeth click when he shuts it, and George grins. “Maybe next time. Head down now, hands and knees.”

Something soft lands on his back. Velvety. A cushion. And then two points of pressure pushing it down into his spine. George’s heels. He’s a footstool.

And still, George isn’t touching him.

Above him, he hears the slick sound of George taking himself in hand. Slow strokes. Long.

His own dick jerks, hard enough to tap against the low swell of his belly. When he looks down his body, he can see it twitching. Desperate.

“Eyes on the ground,” George reminds him, not unkindly. Max’s arms are starting to shake. He can feel the morning’s workout, and so much more besides. His eyes are hot. But the shell around his chest is gone now, no cracks, no shards, nothing to stop the runny mess at the core of him pouring out and out and out. He’s so full, and soon he’ll be so empty, so light.

“Can you hold this with one arm?” George asks. It’s patronising, so fucking patronising, Max is an athlete. A better athlete than George. He nods anyway. “Use your words, Max.”

“Yes.” Can George hear how wet his mouth is, the drool pooling behind his teeth? “Yes, I can. George.”

“Good. Do it. Touch yourself. Get yourself off.”

Max shakes his head, side to side like a dog. “You should.”

“Off the table,” George hisses between clenched teeth. The sounds are faster, now, slicker. Max can see How George’s legs are tensing either side of his head. “You’ll have to ask nicely next time.”

Max gets a hand on himself. It feels horribly too much just to touch. “I won’t,” he wails. He knows himself too well; knows he can’t give like this, yield like this, without a fight. “But you should anyway. I want it. I want it.” He comes as he says it, all over his belly, a single stroke enough; too much and then perfect and too much again.

“Fuck,” George pants above him, “Fuck, Max, sit back and let me come on your face, please, I won’t touch just-”

Max falls forward instead, his chin on George’s knee. Like a pet. It doesn’t count as touching, if it is through George’s clothes. If it is Max who starts it. He opens his mouth, and drool drips down his chin. It’s warm, but not as hot as the splatter of George over him, his nose and cheeks and thick waiting tongue.

They are both quiet, in the aftermath. They are alike in this. Max turns to rest against the side of the chair; George eases out of it, tucks himself away.

He’s careful, still, not to touch Max. He floats in and out of Max’s vision; a bottle of water appears on the side table, cap already cracked open. A hot flannel. There are new spaces in Max’s chest he has to fill with cool, dry air. His bones feel light. He appreciates the space.

It takes him a few minutes to register George has somehow magicked an iron out of thin air. A few more to realise he’s running it gently over Max’s clothes.

“You are psychotic,” Max croaks out. George’s long face quivers, so he explains: “Ironing jeans. And a t-shirt. These are not ironing clothes.”

“Just warming them up. It’ll help with- well. It’s my cuddle-free approach.”

Normality is beginning to restore itself. George is a freak who irons jeans. Max does not find this an attractive quality.

Still, yes. It is nice to put them on and be warm.

“The penalty was still bullshit,” he tells George as he laces up his shoes.

George’s groan is theatrical. “Oh, good, I was worried we might have finished the argument for a second there.”

Max folds his arms. George isn’t listening properly. The penalty was bullshit. But perhaps George is not all bullshit, all the time. “I am done.”

“Not quite,” George says, almost to himself. Then his gaze snaps back into focus, back to Max. “You off then?” He crosses back to Max in a few strides, hovers a safe six inches away. “May I?”

His hand reaches out to Max’s cheek. Not quite touching. Max swallows. Nods.

The kiss is filthier than he expects, like George is chasing the taste of his own come in Max’s mouth. He goes gentler at the end, though, his grip on Max’s face sliding down to his neck and softening.

Max just catches the whine in time.

“Thank you,” George says. His eyes are glinting; Max senses trouble a hundredth too late. “For being so sweet.”

Max tries to slam the door behind him, but there’s a soft-close mechanism. He charges down the corridor as fast as he can, George’s laughter far too loud behind him.

#gax #f1 rpf fic #my fic #that monday feeling

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pamicakery · 6 months ago

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₊✩‧₊˚౨ You're not a THAT GIRL ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Let's have a real talk here, maybe people will disagree but I don't care, I want to be honest with you.

What is wrong with Law of Assumption on tumblr? Like.. You may not have noticed but the mix between LOA x Clean girlish Bad Girl Won-youngish pinkish stuff... We are leaving and distancing ourselves from the real main subject.

Loa is not having a bad bitch mindset who says '' fucks the world I'm gonna rule ''. There is a thin line between arrogance and confidence.

You don't value less than a Bad bitch because you have insecurities or you are scared of your manifestation not gonna happen. Stop shaming people about their '' Victim mindset ''. I know, I talked about that in a previous post. But I will never judge someone because they have it, it's normal to have a victim mindset but you shouldn't dwell in that. You can surpass that.

Waking up at 4 am, doing pilate, buying expensive products, drinking lemon water and eating fruits and yogurt won't give you a better self concept.

And NO

If everyone is THAT GIRL then no one is!

You just want to be like everyone and what about you?

If you want to be pretty, be pretty for yourself.

If you want your SP, they will love you for who you are with your flaws, your personality. I bet you don't want to be loved only for your look right? :(

I am not belittling coquette, pinky girls. But let's not transform the Loa into a '' pretty popular and arrogant girl '' club.

The real glow up is inside, in your mind.

You need to grow from a '' I can't do it '' mindset to '' I can do it '' mindset. This is the real glow up.

There is no '' Better version of yourself ''. There is just one version of yourself and this version evolve.

The better version of yourself is not the version approved by society.

You are worthy, you deserve good things and you can evolve.

You can change your appearance, you can have your celebrity SP, be abundant, healthy.

Life is not True Beauty. You will not glow up physically and everyone will love you. You will be obsess with your appearance, and hide yourself behind diets, work out and when everyone will find out how you look without make up, your world will fall appart because you don't truly love yourself as who you truly are and your insecurities will blow out on your face making you realize that despite everything you don't like yourself.

Where is the confidence when you can't be yourself? For real? Stop thinking that you can't do this because you don't have that fire confidence, if you want to be shy be it, you want to be kind, be kind. Don't lower yourself, and don't look upon anybody because they manifested their dream life.

Be yourself.

I came at a point that, as long as I have myself, I have someone. The only one you should compare yourself is with yourself.

The real glow up, is in your mind. Accept yourself with your flaw and accept that you can change and have a better life, opportunities, love, beauty.

Loving yourself as who you are will be the best success you can achieve.

Macha latte and pink eyes patches won't give you your manifestation and your desire life. It won't.

Persisting and knowing you deserve better will.

Don't limit yourself upon what society call success. You can manifest huge mansion, ton of cars, being a model. I wanted to be that, a model, loved by many. Mostly because I have toxic parents who always criticized me. I'll be honest with you, I cry sometime, asking myself '' where is my desire? '', I am jealous, envious and I ask myself '' What's wrong with me? ''.

I wanted to be a model and be called '' the most beautiful woman in the world '' just to brag about it with my celebrity SP. Thinking that if I become a model, he will notice me.

But you know what?

I want to know my worth, I want to have confidence in my manifesting abilities, be healthy, have friends who love me for who I am, and my Sp accepting me as who I am.

know that you deserve the world no matter who you are.

Just like the gravity works the same for everyone. Don't destroy yourself thinking that you will manifest better, don't downgrade yourself because '' Only the pretty popular girls '' manifest.

The real glow up is accepting that you can have your dream life no matter what.

I want my mindset to be strong, I want it to believe that it can change my life, I want my mindset to know that it is powerful. I want to look into my imagination and be sure at 100% that it's true. I want to be myself, to believe in myself.

Be your own validation & believe in yourself.

#loa tumblr #law of assumption #loassumption #robotic affirming #manifestation #loa blog #loa assumptions #affirm and manifest 🫧 🎀✨ ִִֶָ ٠˟#affirming loa #affirm and persist

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heartshapedcigaretteburns · 1 year ago

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Ex!Gaz who's still in love with you:/

(Look at my handsome boy💞)

Ex bf! Gaz who never wanted the relationship to end in the first place but you just couldn't handle how little time you got to spend together. He fought tooth and nail to try and make you stay but it wasn't enough. When that doesn't work he tries convincing you to stay friends but you know deep down that wouldn't work out so you reject the idea.

Ex bf! Gaz who low-key stalks you. I mean is it really stalking if he means well? He just wants to ensure you're doing okay so he keeps tabs on you. Initially, he maintains his distance by checking your social media, but gradually, he starts appearing in the places you frequent, coincidentally running into you at the grocery store or gym more often than usual.

Ex bf! Gaz who worms his way back into your life subtly. Getting more involved with your mutual friends so that they invite him along to outings he knows you'll be at. In every group setting he manages to stay at your side despite how hard you try to get rid of him.

Ex bf! Gaz who is ecstatic when you warm up to the idea of remaining friends but he doesn't stop there. He's desperate to make you see that you're meant to be with him. He firmly believes that he was destined to marry you and grow old with you and he just doesn't understand why you can't accept that. In his eyes, you are his fate, his ultimate destiny.

Ex bf! Gaz who can't cope when you start going on dates with other people. Nobody else is deserving of you. You're meant to be going on dates with him, holding his hand, smiling at him. In his mind, no one else can treat you the way he can. Sooooo naturally he resorts to sabotaging your love life. He'll find a way to make every new potential partner suddenly change their mind about dating you. And when you get stood up for the third time, he's there to hold you and comfort you, offering solace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were convinced that this new guy actually felt something for you. Things were going great - you had been on a few dates and really hit it off. It wasn't anything like what you and Kyle had but it was a step in the right direction.

However, everything changed when he stood you up at the restaurant, leaving you waiting for 40 minutes without responding to your numerous texts. Finally, he replies, but the message crushes you.

"Sorry, I'm not coming tonight. I don't think this is going to work out."

Your entire body crumbles inward and you shrink into the booth as you process those words. You desperately tried to text back and ask what went wrong, but he had already blocked you. What a dick.

You apologize to the staff for the inconvenience, collect your belongings, and start walking home. As you left the fancy establishment, hot tears streamed down your face. It didn't take long for a familiar car to slow down beside you.

“Why are you walking alone so late, love? C’mon, hop in.” Kyle spoke with a caring tone that both comforted and hurt you.

As much as you wish he wasn't so comforting, you find solace in his presence. You felt disappointed, frustrated, humiliated, and above all, unlovable. It's only natural you fall into his reassuring company.

You allow yourself to get into his car and let him drive you home while you sob pathetically and pour your little heart out. You're not even certain he can understand you with the intense blubbering you're doing but he can, he always can. He listens to you vent to him, gently rubbing your exposed thigh until you get it all out.

“God am I just not desirable enough? It seems like nobody wants me." You cried softly, your voice hoarse.

He pulls into the driveway of what used to be your shared house.

“You're incredibly desirable, lovie. Anyone would be lucky to have you, he's just an idiot. He doesn't deserve you anyways." Kyle reassures you as he guides you inside to show you just how desirable you truly are.

Okay this idea I've been toying with in my brain a lot lately and I think I executed it pretty well but let me know what you guys think. Hope you enjoyed! Ignore spelling and grammar errors though 😽😽😽

#cod fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader

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tokkiwrites · 9 months ago

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FAWN HEART, PART ONE : The night's desire.

dark!joel miller x f!reader

part one | part two | part three | more coming soon.

summary: After a few months of being together, you move in with your boyfriend, 'Adam'. His landlord, Joel Miller, takes a special liking to you.

tags: murder, stalking, spying, mention of abuse, mention of blood, violence, age gap, vulnerable reader, stalker joel, mentions of abusive relationship, pet names, she/her pronouns (let me know if i missed anything.)

ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ staring my first series ever !! of course, I will continue it only if this first part does well ( so no spice for now!! ). for now, we're starting off a bit mild, & I'm leaning more on the double storylines . this is short with only 1.5k words, but it's a little gift since i was gone for so long. sorry if it sucks! remember, requests are opened, and your feedback matters the most to me 🐰

【commencing】 : a heart as soft as the embrace of spring. She welcomed everyone with open arms, seeing the best in people, and never turned anyone away, no matter the pain. Her kindness boundlessㅡ she gave without expecting anything in return. But this gentle nature often left her defenseless. she continued to believe in the goodness of others, her fawn heart resilient and unwavering, oblivious to those trampling on it. her fawn heart, her weakness.

「may 04th ㅡ O2:08 AM」

he didn't know her. didn't deserve her. the nerve he had saying he loved her when he doesn't know what love is...he doesn't know what kind of love she needed.

so when he left for work every night, her true love would sneak in. Joel wasn't the romantic type, but for her, he'd do it all. he'd sit there, watching her sleep, staring as her soft lips puffed out when she took her shallow breaths as she slept - how her lashes laid so perfectly onto her cheeks.. that's all he could do - stare. no touching. It killed him. how that asshole could do all that he pleased to her and how she would accept almost nothing in return.

she was sweet. bitterly. her soft, gaze a testament to the trials she's been through. she could've had so much more, yet she chose this moron. Joel couldn't understand why? not just why she chose that - but why everything when it came to her. why? everything about her, she was an enigma. when Joel first set eyes on her, that's all he could think of. why? and how? how could he have lived so long without his angel by his side.

that was 6 months ago. Tonight, it's a little less cold outside- its may, and the summer smell fills the air, as branches sway next to the window in a tireless dance. cars sound in the distance, as late night chatter of the streets fill Joel's ears and her scent his nose. drowning - suffocating him in the anticipation that maybe for one night he'd have her. he never wanted to scare her - to hurt her. she's precious, a porcelain statuette he had to have. Joel was adamant. kissing her only with his gaze, he got up only as the moon kissed the sun goodbye, and the chickadees started their long-awaited song.

「june17th ㅡ O8:42 PM」

late again. he's always late, letting her wait with no sign for hours. it was his birthday, not that Joel cared, but the thin walls provided him with utmost soundㅡ any and all sounds.

she was crying, and he didn't want to budge in making it weird for her, but his heart twisted when he knew she wasted tears on a shit-head like Adam.

but he let his heart get the best of him, and maybe, just maybe, this was the moment when he let his heart dictate, and she finally realizes that she's better than that. better than Adam. Better for Joel. He makes his way to the apartment next door, thinking if he should be honest with her or make up a lame excuse like late payment on utilities or donations for a new front door. He knocked twice, his palms sweaty. This girl made him feel all giddy like a teenager again, heart racing, his dreams full of her. The door cracks open, revealing just half of her red, puffy face with make-up pushed around.

"Y-yesㅡ"

"Hey, there, Iㅡ is everything alright, fawn darling?" his eyes furrow, a weight settling down in his stomach. he couldn't stand seeing her like this. her eyes finally reach his, a glint of gratitude glimmering within them. "hi, Mr.Miller. I'm fine justㅡ" she sighs. "Adam bailed on me.. again!" she tries to laugh it off, wave it as a joke, but the pain in her spirit is apparent. "Sorry if i was, you know... crying too loud. I'll keep it down -"

"fawn...darlin', you know-" Joel's gaze softened "you know you can always come to me if you ever need a shoulder to cry on. As corny as that sounds, 'm all here for ya." looking down at her, he dares not break eye contact.

"Thank you, Mr.Miller.."

"I told you to call me Joel, didn't I?" he tsks, straightening his back. "I feel too old when you call me mister.." Joel admits, in a playful manner. "Got it. Joel." How it rolls off her tongue like honey. how he wants to lick off every drop and indulge into her like the powerful drug she is, so deeply coursing through his being, wishing he'd hear her scream his name underneath him one day. "Right, so- if you ever want anythin'.." he scratches his rough beard. "I'm one door away."

"Thank you, Joel." she steps out barefoot, throwing herself into Joel's arms, hugging him whilst her sweet perfume envelopes them both. Joel breathes inㅡ so close. At last, the hug is broken, and she scurries back inside, leaving Joel stuck in his fantasy.

"My sweet fawn."

「july 3rd ㅡ OO:35 AM」

"Why so hostile, little bird? I thought you liked it when i touched you like this.. a little rough." he rasped, voice scratching at her chest like a knife. "Adam, you're drunk. let's justㅡ get inside." she manages to huff out as her palms lay flat on Adam's chest, pushing him away. "Baby- c'mon, be a doll."

"stop, Adamㅡ stop!" you could hear the frustration in her voice, and the tears that were brimming at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall.

he couldn't just stand there and witness this. he'd regret it forever, unquestionably. " 's everything alright here?" Joel tries to play it cool. He doesn't want to let off too much. He doesn't want it to escalateㅡ for her to get hurt.

" Mr.Millerㅡ"

"Yeah, none of your business, man. Just leave, okay?" Adam scoffs, staring down the hallway where he heard Joel's voice, thinking to himself, 'what this old geezer was doing up so late'. "careful, boy. don't want ya to hurt your pretty lady, ok? just makin' sure everything is -"

"yeah, i fucking said everything is alright, so mind your fucking business, dude!" he spat "Jesus, man." Joel does nothing but smile. Does this Adam guy know what he has gotten himself into? Surely not.

He stretches his neck, making it crack as he takes one step closer to where the couple was. By this time, she was already starting to panic, soft pleads leaving her mouth as that jerk held onto her frame, shaking it up whilst he threw rude remarks towards Joel.

"Let go of her, boy."

"Fuck outta here, old ass. Don't make me come to you, I'm not nice when I'm drunk."

"Oh, I know." Joel promptly comes closer so that only a part of his face is visible by the light of the moon shining through the large window.

"Adam, let's just -"

"Quiet, bitch!" With a swift turn, Adam managed to deliver a harsh backhanded slap to her head, the pounding pain sending her a few steps back, right into the wall. "See, if you weren't here I would've gotten some pussy tonight. But you had to show up." Adam laughs, shaking his hand to recover from the hit. "You a knight in shining armor, or what?"

"You apologize to her, before I rip your fucking legs off and shove them up your sorry ass." Joel was calm. he tried his hardest to not run towards her, embrace her in his tight armsㅡ but he had other plans for now.

"Spare me the threats, old man. one wrong move, and your whole body dislocates." Adam laughs hungrily, shoving joel. or at least attempting. " I don't even know why you care so much. This bitch was onto me the whole night, but when its time to finally get the dick she shys away." he raises his arm again, oblivious to the knife Joel had aimed straight to his jugular, all this time, impatiently thirsting over the thought of Adam's blood gushing onto him. At first Adam is confused, but as he catches a glimpse of Joel's dark grin in the moonlight he finally realizes― he'd been stabbed.

with one palm over his mouth, joel grabs Adam closer, the knife slitting further into his flesh, now reaching his ear.

"You gotta know how to respect your elders, boy." Joel sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, staring deep into Adams eyes as he retracts the knife and promptly shoves it right between his eyes, with enough force that you could hear a faint 'crunch' sound. "ㅡand your lady." In a failed attempt to reach for the girl that was frozen in place, Adams pathetically tries to grab onto her dress as he collapses to the ground.

everything is silent for a moment.

So she stood there, watching as the blood from the splayed body pooled at her feet, the only sounds bouncing off the walls that bathed in darkness were her short breaths and slow steps approaching to where she practically turned to stone.

"'s alright, baby fawn . he can't hurt you no more. i promise."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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sink-me-in-your-ocean · 11 months ago

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The Light Over the Darkness

Lucifer Morningstar x Lilith!fem!reader

WC: ~5300

A/N: @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus thank you for reading this first. And no thank you for getting me obsessed with a new fictional idiot.

Content warnings: fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise kink (if you squint and tilt your head). 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

It is a gorgeous day in the Garden. Though, every day is a gorgeous day. Every single day is perfect beyond comparison. It would be even better if your companion did not exist.

You went off on your own again, wholly unwilling to submit to Adam’s irritating daily routine of assigning uninspiring names to all of the things and creatures. Or - even worse - the non-routine version of simply lounging about lazily. This was your only course of action. You wandered far off into the Garden, and just as daylight began to break over the horizon, a sound caressed your ear in the lightest touch.

In the distance, you heard a voice. It sang a melancholy tune so far from the triumphant trumpet sound of heavenly melody you’d heard before. It was like a dream.

No, not a dream. This was a voice emitting an enticing tune you couldn’t resist. It called to you, pulled your very heartstrings. Your brows knit together in concern.

You must find this beautifully tragic voice.

You strolled further through the Garden, clinging close to an idle river. As the voice drew closer, you stepped along a fallen tree that cast itself as a bridge over the river. You made it across and walked into the line of trees posing as guard to what lies beyond. Past several rows of thick trees there was a clearing, open and spacious, and filled with wildflowers.

Wildflowers and the most beautiful creature you had ever seen.

Lucifer was lonely, although not any more lonely than he had felt in Heaven. His brothers and sisters never accepted his way of thinking and there was no chance of him and his Father ever seeing eye to eye.

He had purposefully gone to a most remote corner of the Garden, knowing his father would do something drastic again if he found him interacting with his two perfect human pets.

Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes and singing how he felt. The agony in his chest flowed out and he felt slightly better. He figured that was as good as it would ever get.

Until he turned over his shoulder upon hearing a snap of a twig, and he saw her.

The being attached to the - now silent - voice turned towards you and your breath caught in your chest. His face was beautiful, pale as the brightest cloud in the sky, with eyes that shone golden like the sun. His hair was the color of the very light itself, gorgeous and silken.

He wore strange, white billowing coverings, and something nagged in the back of your head at the lack of your own cover.

“Are you alright?” You chastised yourself for the tremor in your voice, but you couldn’t help it, your communication skills were lacking. Adam wasn’t a conversationalist in the slightest and the times you did speak to him left much to be desired.

“No, no I-I’m not.”

“What happened?” Your gaze snagged on the red pigment on his back, his covering gaped open - torn and bloody. You started approaching him before realizing you were moving, then you stalled out of apprehension.

“I was evicted from my place in Heaven. I am… I was… an angel. Now I’m here in the Garden, though I surmise I’ll do something to get myself kicked out of here before long too.” You had never known someone to sound so utterly defeated and broken.

You walked further towards the angel. “The blood. You’re hurt.” You shook your head, realizing you were quite literally just stating the obvious.

“Oh, this?” He gestured to his back and you nodded, continuing to draw nearer. “He took my wings. I can’t ever go home without them.” His eyes met yours, and concern colored his expression, “But don’t worry about me, the bleeding stopped, and it doesn’t hurt anymore. Well, at least not physically.”

The pity you felt for the creature grabbed your heart, wrenching it tightly within its grasp. You were about a handful of steps away from him now, and you stopped, leaving him his space as you changed the subject. Continuing to ask him personal questions felt too intimate and wrong. “Your song, it sounded beautiful.”

The sigh he let out was almost musical, “I was simply expelling the ache from my chest.”

“I see.” Your expression softened. “If you ever sang when you were joyful, I suppose it could move the very mountains.”

His demeanor changed, he tried to hide it by looking down, but you saw the smile on his face. He shook his head and raised a brow at you, “Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, with a certain someone?”

“Who, Adam?” Your accompanying laugh was breathy and uncomfortable, “No, he, uh,” your tongue temporarily tangled itself, “he’s the worst.” The last three words were an admission of guilt, coming out like a tiny whisper.

His eyes widened exponentially. “He’s the worst?” He began to cross the last bit of distance between the two of you, ending up a step away.

“The worst.” You reply, feeling a weight lifting off your chest with the confession.

“Hm.” There was a glint in his eye, something was inside him waiting to get out, you could sense it. “Would you like to spend your time with me today?”

The question left you temporarily silent, then you composed yourself.

“With a fallen angel?” You paused in faux contemplation, he watched you closely, his eyes begging for an answer, “Yes.”

Relief covered his face, “Take my hand.”

“Okay.”

He led you through the flower field and back to the edge of the river you had crossed. He walked with you at a leisurely pace as the river carried along beside you, flowing downstream.

The water rushed louder and louder as you continued down its serpentine path, and soon there was a drop off. Mist curled up from the edge and you followed the flow of water with your gaze.

A glorious waterfall cascaded down the cliff side. Luscious greenery and florals edged the water - a soft border contrasting the roaring of water.

The spray of water made a strange coloring appear seemingly out of thin air.

“A rainbow.” He offered in explanation, following your line of sight.

You looked at him, the happiness that filled your soul at that very moment overshadowed anything you had previously felt in your life thus far. Even the day you discovered the taste of ripe peaches.

His smile was brighter than the morning sun cresting the horizon. It was warmer than the sun too, you felt it skin deep.

The rest of the day continued in a similar fashion, with him guiding you to new sights and sounds and life. It excited you, enticed you. It made you feel almost like light itself, like you were glowing in his presence.

You returned to Adam that night, for no other reason than you felt that was what you were supposed to do. As Adam fell asleep nearby, your thoughts were on Lucifer. His beauty, his ethereal grace. He captivated you with a mere look and you were helpless to resist his complete charm.

When he had spoken of the heavens, you were left with one question: Why?

Why would his brothers and sisters not stand by his side?

One final realization permeated your thoughts and settled in an ache within your heart as you succumbed to rest: How lonely it must be for him. A former angel. Now cursed to walk in the Garden without anyone like him. Doomed to be without his family for… forever.

A single tear slid silently down the side of your face as you stared up at the stars from your place on the cool ground. You didn’t know how long it took you to fall asleep that night, but once it took you, you were deep under.

You heard his voice in your dreams that night.

The next day you rose before dawn as you always did, though this time with a fuel hurtling you along you had never felt before. A giddiness tingled in your fingers and toes with every step as you retraced your steps from yesterday.

Days, then weeks passed in a manner just as your first day of meeting the fallen angel, sans the melancholy of his newly fallen status as he accustomed to life in the Garden.

His life with you.

He never brought up Adam again, not since your first meeting. In consideration, you didn't bring up his Father to him. It was an unspoken truce.

Lucifer took you everywhere you had not seen before, and he frequently hummed and fabricated sweet, alluring songs throughout the days. New creatures, new flowers and fruits of the trees. New feelings as well. Though that you figured was caused only by yourself, and you pushed it down, listening to him tell you about creation.

“He said, ‘Let there be light’ and I was here.” He paused, “Well, not here in the Garden here, but here. Alive. Existing.”

“So, you just floated up there somewhere?”

“Yes and no. It’s hard to explain. It feels impossible, actually.”

“If anyone can think of the words so eloquent as to describe something, it’s you, Lucifer.”

A pink color tinged his cheeks, and he looked down at the grass tangled beneath his feet. “You’ve got to stop saying things like that.”

“Have I made an offense? Oh, Lucifer, I only meant that you would be the most capable person to describe something so beautiful. You’re so beautiful so it must come easily to you to describe the beauty around you.”

His gaze timidly met yours. “You… you think I’m… beautiful?”

You felt compelled to say more than just a ‘yes’. “Of course. Lucifer, you’re the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen, or could ever dream of imagining.”

His cheeks reddened more. His golden eyes softened in a way that told you he had been waiting to hear those words for an eternity.

“Lucifer?” You took a shy step towards him.

“Yes?” He finally met your eyes fully, but took a step back until he was firmly against the bark of a willow tree.

You continued forward, propelled by a pull within your chest, until you were toe to toe with him. “Can I…” You searched his face. His soft, sweet face. “Can I do something?”

A slight smile lit up his face, brightening the space even under the dimmed canopy of the willow. His voice came out as a whisper. “Anything.”

Your hand brushed the light hair that had fallen between his eyes to the side. Your other hand touched his jaw, tracing along to the underside of his chin and tilting his face up. You angled your face slightly downward, eyes still locked on his, and leaned in. Then, you closed your eyes, letting your instinct guide you the last bit further.

Your lips met in a gentle kiss.

His apprehension and yours melted into the softness of the touch you shared. You pulled back for just a second, searching his face for reassurance. He responded by kissing you back, over and over and over again. His hands went to your face, as though he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a moment.

Your fingers entwined themselves in his silken hair and he did the same with yours.

The two of you didn’t part from each other’s hold until the sun had almost slipped away completely.

You barely had time to bathe in the stream before night fell around you. You missed his light.

The rest of the evening, even feeling the comfort of the fire made by Adam, you closed your eyes and your thoughts belonged to Lucifer. You watched Adam pass out unceremoniously and touched your fingers to your lips. The memory held there still tingled.

You felt something powerful surge within your middle. It was a deep hunger. An ache as sharp as a burr or a thorn. It dug into you, pulling and twisting within you. A thirst that could not be quenched by even the coldest stream water.

An urge within you begged to return to Lucifer tonight, but you knew you couldn’t. You needed to wait.

Wait and see.

See if he felt the same way when the sun gleamed upon you tomorrow.

The instant you saw Lucifer the next day, warmth traveled from your head to your toes.

You smiled at him and he beamed at you, holding out his hand for you to take. Your fingers intermingled with his and you let him lead you to a part of the Garden you hadn’t been to yet. The grass began to fade into dirt and small pebbles, as though this part of the world had been forgotten by the green.

“Where are you taking me?”

Lucifer reassured you with a grin, “To see something I discovered last night. It’s not much further.”

He led you to a cave entrance. It greeted you with open jaws, its mouth stretching far and wide, ingesting the light with a neverending pitch darkness.

You froze, your feet rooting themselves to the ground. You dropped his hand, placing your palm over your heart. “Lucifer, it’s dark in there. We’re not going inside, are we?”

He gave you one of those brighter-than-the-sun smiles again. “Don’t worry, we won’t be going far. It’ll be much lighter inside, I promise.”

You couldn’t so easily wipe the unsure expression from your face. He noticed.

“Take my hand. Please?” Lucifer extended his left hand to you. As you took it, the air around you cooled, bringing goosebumps to your arms, and you had a feeling that something was about to change.

You allowed him to lead you inside. The nervousness you had felt seemed to melt away with his soft hand enveloping yours. Once you were past the cave mouth, the darkness swallowed him and then you. You grounded yourself in the sounds of his feet and yours along the cave floor, which was covered with soft dirt and devoid of any sharp rocks.

“Lucifer?” The trepidation came flooding back as soon as his hand left yours. You quavered and the darkness drowned out your voice. “Lucifer?”

“This way, my dear.” His voice offered you a beacon of hope in the black void of the space. You thought you heard him lightly chuckle, the sound beckoning you, guiding you onward without form or shape.

Suddenly you saw a blue-green light. You approached it just as it faded out, leaving you in complete darkness again.

Your foot nudged something soft, then your other foot stepped into a puddle that glowed around your toes as the water rippled. You squinted and the color faded away once more.

A bright light made you wince, almost uncomfortably. Your hand covered your face to act as a shield.

“Here.” You heard Lucifer speak close by, and as your eyes adjusted, you realized he held a ball of warm, yellow light in his hand. You also realized that the soft thing laying next to your foot was his rumpled white covering.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. A tension wound its way into your chest. His pale shoulders, his trim waist, his…

“Watch this.” He said, lifting his palm up and the ball of light suspended itself in the air. Lucifer created another ball of light, then another, warming the cavern with soft light. When he was finished, he grinned at you, “Are you ready to see what I found?”

“Wait, that wasn’t what you wanted to show me? That was - I, I have no words, you just - you just made light with your hands.” The startlingly impressive feat had you staggering between words.

That satisfied smirk of his was enough to silence the entire world and every question in your mind. He shook his head from side to side. You could barely believe it, he had even more to show you. There was nothing left to say, so you answered his question with a resounding, “Yes.”

“Watch me.”

As if you could do anything else. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, you were entranced as you watched him step into the pool of water which you realized, connected to the puddle you were standing with one foot in already. It was shallow at this end and he waded further out.

A light blueish-greenish color swished with his every movement in the water. Lucifer paused, waist deep in the water. A sharp exhale ghosted between your lips as you tried not to focus on the small of his back. The color went away when he stood still, but came back when he dipped his hand in, bringing it under the water and then to the surface, letting the water drip down from his fingers and open palm.

You didn’t know if it was intrigue or the allure of Lucifer that guided you further forward, to be ankle-deep in the water, but you divert your attention to watching the color grow and fade around your feet. “Lucifer, what is that?”

“It’s bioluminescence.” He replied, and sunk down into the pool, his body now mostly shielded underneath the water.

“What is bioluminescence?”

He turned towards you with a look that said ‘I’m so glad you asked’, and explained in great detail what it is.

Your eyes were wide as you listened to him speak. Sure as it did before, the water sparkled to life within the ripple you made, with blue shimmering below your feet as you stepped in, the water encircling your ankles. You couldn’t help the contented smile that made its way onto your face. You also couldn't help but move closer to him, going back and forth between watching the colors fan out from around your calves, then knees, then thighs, and watching his mesmerizing expression as he shared his knowledge with you.

You stood next to him, where he sat with his head and shoulders well above the water, and you couldn’t resist touching him. Gingerly, your fingers brushed through his hair, bringing it out of his golden eyes again. He looked up at you as you spoke, “Lucifer, thank you for bringing me here. For sharing this with me.”

Even in the dim light, you could see his face turn the color of a rose, his expression becoming timid suddenly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re divine when you teach me new things.” You answered honestly, you didn’t know any better.

His eyes softened. “Will you join me? Please?”

“Yes.” You took his offered hand. The gesture was innocent - he was bracing you as you fully got in the water - but it made you feel a way that you couldn't name yet.

His hold on your hand tightened slightly and his other hand slid up your thigh as you lowered yourself in.

The two of you settled in the water, the blue fading out at the surface which sat at about mid-chest level.

You slowly moved your hands through the glowing water, when you broke the surface tension the glow ran in rivulets down your fingers and forearms. You repeated the action, mesmerized by the incredible color. Then, you flicked the surface of the water, sending a splash in Lucifer’s direction.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, returning fire by sending a tiny splash your way. “You’ll get my hair wet!”

“Oh sweet and wondrous Lucifer, I’d hate to ruin your majestic hair.” Your tone was saccharinely sardonic. You sent another splash of water his way.

“Stop that.” His gaze changed as he spoke. Something dark hid beneath his surface, and you wanted to find out what it was.

“Why?” You playfully splashed at him again, your body succumbing finally to the warm temperature of the water, relaxing in its embrace.

“When you do things like that, it makes me want to kiss you again.” His gaze drifted downward.

“When I do what, exactly?” You crawled towards him, to the shallower area. “Tease you? Or when I tell you how perfect you are?”

He just nodded, biting his lower lip. You knew it was in response to your praise. “May I kiss you again?” His words were soft, contrasted by the heat of his stare. He looked at your lips with a hunger that dwarfed the pangs you felt before a meal. This was a predatory gaze, but you gave in nonetheless.

Absolute certainly colored your voice. “Yes.”

With your permission, he leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a gentleness that rivaled a feather’s touch. You stayed stock still as he closed his eyes and pressed his lips ever so softly to yours.

Lucifer pulled back slightly, and upon seeing your eyes still open, a question formed in his expression. He didn’t get to ask it before your lips were back on his.

You kissed him like you needed him more than breath in your lungs. Your whole body felt ignited by the action. You kissed him over and over, planting close-mouthed to open-mouthed kisses to his soft lips.

The kiss continued to deepen from there, and soon you were tasting him with your tongue. Your tongue led an exploration inside his mouth that made your head feel light and airy. His taste was intoxicating. And he was just as committed to discovering your mouth with his tongue in an even give and take.

Lucifer was the forbidden fruit, and you were too weak a woman to resist.

You were temptation incarnate, and he was too prideful to concede. Not when he had come this far. Not when he had already lost so much. He needed you more than anything.

You opened your eyes to be greeted by a comfortable darkness surrounding the two of you. “Lucifer? Your lights, they’re not glowing anymore.” Though this time, you were no longer afraid. The blueish shimmering in the water was brighter without the yellow lights. It was enough for you to see the shape of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the sparkle in his devilish eyes.

“I’m sorry, I guess I forgot about them when I was kissing you.” A tremulous breath left his lungs. “I could forget about the entire universe when I kiss you.”

“Then kiss me again.” The demand spoke itself before you could even think.

With the way he responded, you would have assumed he never intended to ask your permission. His kiss stole the breath from you, stole the thoughts from your mind. Every press of his lips to yours, every stroke of his tongue to yours, was shatteringly delicious. You could think of nothing except him. Him and a previously unknown need rapidly surfacing.

“Lucifer.” You felt a change happening in your body, a fire that started from the kindling of his kiss. Almost weightless in the water, your hands clung to his shoulders as you crawled into his lap and he sat back to welcome you. Your legs were bent on either side of him, your knees resting in the soft silt of the shallow pool.

You lowered yourself down to sit in his lap and almost moved back, jolted by his body’s reaction to yours. Something hard and thick pressed against your middle.

He pulled back, breaking a particularly heady kiss to offer an explanation you didn’t ask for. “This is how you make me feel.”

You understood. In that moment, your base instincts took over. His feeling was evident on the outside, while yours was purely internal.

At least, you thought your reaction to him was all internal, until he moved his hand from your waist. His hand moved slowly around the swell of your bottom to where your leg met your center.

“Lucifer,” you jerked slightly, nibbling his bottom lip, “that tickles.”

“I mean to please, not to tickle you, my sweet.”

You were about to ask him what he meant when his long fingers swiped along your center. A sound escaped your lips that sounded animalistic, almost a whine.

“I truly mean to please you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Tell me if you want me to stop at any time.”

You shifted in his hold, seeking his delectable fingers again. When you spoke your voice was low and demanding, “You’ve already stopped, and I want to feel that again.”

“Yes, my lady.” He nodded his head in reverence to you and his fingers found your center again. He parted your folds, rubbing the length of his fingers along your slit before brushing them against a part of you that sent a shockwave to your spine.

You jolted this time slightly, your eyebrows pulling upward in surprise at the foreign feeling.

He noted your reaction. “If you need me to slow down I will.”

“Don’t you dare.” Your lips found his again, the blueish glow of the water sloshing up between the two of you as you sought to be closer to him. You slightly rose back up on your knees to give him better access to your intimate flesh.

Lucifer continued his ministrations. He was only too happy to take advantage of your position. His fingers caressing your sex made you whine again. Then, he pressed one finger inside of you and you inhaled in a ragged gasp.

“Is this okay?” You barely registered his words as he languidly pumped his finger inside of you.

You nodded, delighting in the sensation his finger was providing, and delighting in him. Once you were used to the feeling you whispered, “More.”

He pressed a second finger inside you. Your body temporarily shuddered as it adapted to the intrusion.

You felt an ache eclipse your body, deep inside you, and your instincts told you you needed to be closer to him. In a way that two people could be joined together. His fingers continued to stroke you and he kissed you deeply again, tasting you, cherishing you.

“Lucifer,” you pulled back, lightheaded, a pleasurable feeling was building in your middle, but you needed more. “I -”

Your words failed you as he removed his fingers. You were about to protest when you felt his hardness between your legs. Your center was throbbing with need, and you felt fevered and frenzied without him. Your body craved him.

“I need you inside me, Lucifer.” You wiggled your hips, sloppily kissing his neck and up to his earlobe.

“Are you sure?” His voice was so dark and low.

“Yes.” Holding to his shoulders, you dragged your wet center along his length to punctuate your answer.

“How could I possibly resist you?” Lucifer’s expression was that of a man starved, and you were certain he meant to devour you. “Eyes on me, I want to see those beautiful eyes of yours as we do this.”

You obey him as you feel his hand reach between the two of you. Then you felt the tip of him. Right there. Right against your core. Just the tiniest movement and he would be inside you.

Greedily, you shifted your hips down slightly, never taking your eyes from his gaze. Unable to stop yourself from the all-consuming closeness you felt to Lucifer. Watching him, wanting him; all the while knowing there is no going back now. And yet, not wanting to miss a single moment. The sensations below and Lucifer - curse his name - drove you to this madness, this ecstasy. He pulled you down, his fingers digging into your waist.

There was a sharp pain as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate his length. A burning sensation that made you want to move in the opposite direction. Then, as soon as it came on, the pain subsided. It was replaced by a delicious, honeyed heat that speared through your middle as he gave you more and more. He moved slowly, holding you as delicately as he could.

You watched his lips change from a thin line of steely determination to an open-mouthed pant, a groan escaping from his throat. The two of you were finally hip to hip, as close as you could possibly be, with him hot and heavy and incredible inside you.

You couldn’t tell if it was you that was trembling or him. Maybe it was both. His grip on your hips tightened, drawing you up, your sensitive spot grazing the plane of his pelvis in a torturous motion.

“Open your eyes, my sweet, indulge me.” You didn’t realize you had closed them.

You obeyed his ask, “Oh, Lucifer.”

“How does it feel?”

“You feel - ah - better than anything,” you cried out as he snapped his hips to you, “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m acting on our desires, my sweet.” His breath stuttered, as though he was fighting something internally. “No one else will ever have you like this.”

“I’m yours, Lucifer, all yours.” Your sensitive spot grazed his pelvis again, making you gasp. “You’re perfect.” Your fingers tangled in his soft hair as you kissed him deeply, fervently.

He responded by groaning into your mouth, and when you broke the kiss to lay siege to the skin of his neck, he moaned breathily in your ear.

You were a quick learner. “Darling Lucifer, do you like it when I tell you that I’m yours?”

“Yes -” He hissed. His breath was rapid now, and he picked up his movements, meeting every thrust and guiding you with his hands on your hips.

You felt a buildup starting again in your center, picking up from where his fingers had left off earlier. The friction was driving you to a point of no return. A moan tore its way through your chest, reverberating off the cavern walls.

“Lucifer, I’m yours, all yours.” You cried out his name as he slipped one hand between the two of you, using his finger to gently apply pressure to that spot that made the edges of your vision cloud over.

His name was a litany of prayer as he thrust into you over and over while his finger sated your clit. You clung to him with your remaining strength as you felt your body collapsing under waves of pleasure. The sensation was enough to drown you, to pull you under, but his continued motions kept you afloat.

You gasped, whined, moaned for him, telling him with and without words how you felt. Your legs shook and your hands trembled as they went from his shoulders to around his neck, pulling him in so you were chest to chest. Your entire body felt like it was falling apart and being made whole simultaneously. Your release crashed over you in a multitude of waves.

“I’m yours, Lucifer.” You felt him still inside you, thrusting as deep as he could as he breathed raggedly, filling you with a deep, pulsating heat, a broken sound leaving his lips. He held you like that for a while, the two of you clinging to one another tightly. The rising and falling of your chests and shared breaths returning back to normal.

How could anything return back to normal after this?

With one hand you caressed his cheek, opening your eyes and seeing the weight of his expression, “Luci-”

“You meant that, didn’t you?” His eyes searched your face, looking for hints.

You didn’t need to confirm what he was asking. You knew. He knew the answer as well, but he sought reassurance. “I do. I’m yours.”

He sighed heavily, resting his forehead to yours.

You kissed him, savoring the feel of his lips against yours. “And you’re mine.”

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