#the colors… delicous… making a rainbow…

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Sister Act - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Silco recalls Jinx's nail journey...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Gently, Silco cradles her good hand in both his own. The fingers are an artist's—fine and delicately jointed, with a hint of calluses.  He thinks of the vast casts of characters that'd leap routinely from those slender digits: disembodied heads doodled on his ledgers; an entire circus troupe sketched across the length of a map; a labyrinthine cityscape scrawled at the corners of his napkin.

And of course, her weapons.

Those deft fingers that fashioned death from the most prosaic materials. Revolvers lovingly polished to a high shine, their bullets gleaming like rows of pearl teeth.  The tiniest detonator, tucked inside a ballpoint pen, that could bring an entire tunnel down around their ears. Grenades, smoke bombs, incendiaries—spotless save for her clever, clever fingerprints all over them.

Perfection and ruination; entropy and order. It was all the same to her. All simply a matter of scale.

Heaven and hell, rolled into a single girlish package.

Her fingers are cold in Silco's. He rubs them together, his breath a warm mist over the fragile digits.

The cuticles are split; the nail polish is peeling. Yet another detail that'll upset her when she wakes. She'd always taken such care with her hands. A natural teenage sensitivity that was endearing even at its most finicky. She'd reveled in the grease and grime of her workshop. But her skin, her hair, her nails, she'd kept scrupulously clean.

It hadn't begun that way. In the beginning, she'd been a grubby armful of girl, with black-rimmed crescents for fingernails, and the worst case of nits he'd ever seen. Sevika used to make a game of plucking the little bastards out and pinning them to her grease-stained overalls, one by one. Silco's teeth-gritted endeavors with soap and scissors—and the fiasco at the salon—are well-known.

Then there was her nail-biting habit.

So often he'd admonished, reprimanded, blown his stack—'Nervous tics are the telltale of a weak mind, child'—to no avail. She'd carried on shredding her fingertips until they bled.

Finally Silco hit upon the perfect solution:

Getting them painted.

She'd been dubious at first. The nail polish fumes made her face pucker like a dried prune. Her incorrigible wiggling—the girl was more worm than human—resulted in disaster upon disaster of gloopy, half-dried coatings. As did the inevitable accidents: a careless wave and a smear of candy pink would stain a silk cravat beyond repair, or a swipe of impudent little mitts would leave a baby-blue streak across a newly-purchased settee.

Silco, who'd never painted so much as a fence in his life, had his work cut out for him.

But he'd never regretted a moment of it.

Under his careful handiwork, the grubby nubs transformed, day by day, into the daintiest delights. She ceased gnawing and fretting; she began to cherish the lacquer, the way she did anything shiny. For Silco, there was a strange tenderness in watching her preen. The way she'd flutter her fingers, posing and pantomiming, as if she were stealing his signature flourish and making it her own.  There was pride, too, in knowing that it was she, all unawares, who'd taught him a newfound patience, and brought a rare grace to his cutthroat's hands.

Remade them into a father's.

And when the paint would inevitably chip or peel, she'd come running.

"Silly! Heeeelp!"

The Eye of Zaun—scourge of the Undercity—reduced to a manicurist.

It never failed to summon a smile.

She'd adored the color palettes: the glittering gold, the fiery red, the neon green. She'd desired every hue of the rainbow, and Silco had obliged her, as he'd always did. Her favorite, of course, was blue and pink: a shade the Undercity cosmeticians called 'Sister Act'. One half, a pastel, pearlescent blue. The other, a bright, electric pink. The colors were always carefully divided, like a barber's stripes. 

As the years passed, her palette evolved. There were the gothic blacks and dramatic purples; shimmering metallics and hypnotic gradients. At one point, there was a craze of studded rhinestones and stick-on sequins. And, as she matured, her love affair with the decal: a tiny, perfect, painstakingly illustrated scene on each finger. The most elaborate one took her nearly three hours to complete: a delicate watercolor sunset, complete with fluffy clouds and a flock of tiny seagulls, all painted across a background of turquoise sea.

But her true passion remained the Sister Act.

Gently, Silco squeezes her little hand in his own.

How fast the years go. How short their time together feels. How many years since those little starfishing hands clung to his neck, as his blue menace demanded a piggyback ride? As she skinned her knees and bruised her elbows; as she stumbled and screwed up and found her feet again? As her voice, a tiny piping thing, changed to a scratchy soprano; as her body, a wiry little twig, grew supple and soft and killingly sleek. As she grew out of his arms, and out of his reach.

Gods, he should've held her more.

He should've never let her go.

[l3m0nflavoredst1mz]

Ode to Crayola Stimboard

🖍️ 🌈 🖍️

🌈 x 🌈

🖍️ 🌈 🖍️

[readychilledwine]

Odd One Out pt 2

Summary - After 500 years of friendship, the last thing you ever expected was the Inner Circle to miss one of your symphonies. But you know what they say, time changes people.

Warnings - 10 year time jump, groveling, Fluff, reader forgives Azriel, loosely edited (Liz will fix and check for mistakes she and her friend missed with fresh eyes 💕)

A/N - forgive the name picked for Kal and Vivienne's daughter. So many of you are playing with Disney princess themes I couldn't shake it.

Odd One Out pt 1

✨️ Azriel Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

Dawn was beautiful. In the past 10 years, as you had toured the Realm performing, you had realized that quickly. Every court always brought you back to Dawn. Every High Lord brought you back to Thesan. Thesan had allowed you to build home here, welcoming you and your talent with open arms, and tonight was a true testimony of his love for you and your music as he paid you a high honor.  

Thesan had spent the day hosting the quarterly High Lord's Meeting, and tonight, his gift of relaxation to the other High Lords was you, your orchestra, and a night of candle lit music, champagne, and food. 

You smoothed out the dress Thesan had commissioned for you tonight. An off the shoulder tulle number with long sleeves. It was soft and buttery, flowing with every step. The top hugged you perfectly, and two long slits sat on each leg, exposing them and the heels you were wearing. The fabric was a soft white color, a stark opposite to your conducting gowns in the Night Court. Jewels were sewn into the fabric, dripping down your body like you had been wrapped and bathed in starlight. The only sign of your home was that star-like glow and the earrings Azriel had bought you many years ago. The rough diamonds set in rose gold had backs that dropped on delicate chains with another diamond sitting at the bottom. “something delicate for my gentle girl,” he had whispered that sentence to you, letting it sink into your skin and mind. 

How odd it truly felt to compare that moment to when Azriel sat there in silence as Elain lashed out against all you had built, all your hard work, studying, you're very being. 

You took a deep breath, silencing your nerves as the theater went quiet. Dinner had been served, drinks flowing left and right, and now it was time. You watched as you musicians took their places, sitting and preparing themselves as well. Most had followed you from Night, and last you tragically heard, the Rainbow had grown silent in your absence. The new musicians ranged from every court, every walk of life. You smiled fondly at what you had remade, at their outfits so finely crafted of black fabric and silks. 

Thesan took the stage next, doing something Rhysand never had, “High Lords and Ladies, faithful emissaries, friends. After a long day of tense negotiations, words said in anger and frustration, and Rhysand's horrible father jokes,” a loud “hey” came from the audience making you laugh softly, “I could not think of a more enchanting way to end our night. A decade ago, a talented female came to me, offering to exchange a week of shelter and security for her playing music nightly for my court.” 

Thesan looked so softly towards you, “An offer many of you would go in to receive as well as she traveled our lands studying our music and history. Her talent had touched my fae and myself so deeply that when the time for her to make a home base came, I was honored when she approached me and built this theater to her exact wants and needs.”

He continued after a long breath, “Tonight is her first performance and opening night. I felt it would be wrong for anyone besides all of us to see her newest pieces first. Pieces inspired by every court, by all of our stories, of our fae’s stories. She wrote a collection of 7 songs, for us, about us.”

Silence refell over the room, a quiet appreciation for what they were about to see. “Without further ado, y/n.”

Clapping began as the faelights turned off, and candles took their place, glowing and reflecting off your gown. You bowed gracefully before turning and raising your hands as soon as Thesan took his seat. You began the concert in Tamlin's court, playing a piece inspired by his own love of music and the sounds of a spring storm. The music rose before a gentle fall where everything became more gentle as if it was quiet after a hard rain. You couldn't see as Briar took his hand at the swell, the soft moment where the violin went from the jig of a fiddle to the formality was a reflection of the moment Tamlin's dreams were lost to him, but new dreams began.

Summer was a symphony to the magic of bioluminescence. The sound was heavily inspired by the night of laughter and fun you had watched Varian and Amren enjoy. It had been the ancient female's first time seeing the ocean turn to waves of stars, and Varian had hired you to play for them that night. She cried as a familiar harp solo came, one that she had turned to Varian on one knee as you played it. 

Autumn was the sound of battle and passion. Eris's rise as high lord was captured in every note, every building drum. The high lord openly smiled during the peak. The moment where drums of war faded to the sounds of peace. The sound of peace after war was shown through a soft wood flute playing. An instrument that was born in Autumn's halls.

Winter had been the most unique to compose. Kallias and Vivienne's story was so well known, but their daughter, their darling Elsa, the 10 year old princess, was an unknown and protected factor. You took a deep breath before beginning this piece and looked to the white-haired girl, “For you,” you said softly to her bright grin. Elsa had written on sheet music for you during your stay there, lyrics to accompany the notes on your page, you held out your hand, welcoming your only singer for the night. The song was a desperate plea, a singer begging to be noticed for who she was, for her talent to be noticed before her beauty. You had picked the singer based on how young and fragile her voice sounded, the way it truly felt like a cry as she begged to be looked at for who she was. 

Dawn's turn came and the music felt like taking flight, it encompassed the thrill of the air, of an early morning sunrise adventure. The piece left you breathless due to the amount of movements it took. It was intricately layered and as lively as Thesan's court while maintaining an air of class. 

The Day Court was music of love and sex. Tender moments mixed with playful notes and chords that screamed sensuality. The tone was overall seduction, but moments of tenderness came through as well. It was a tribute to the biggest flirt you knew. The biggest flirt who became the most faithful husband. 

You were left with one court. You turned to begin your thank you and took a deep breath, “Over the past several years, you all have welcomed me into your courts and homes with open arms. You allowed me to study the music of your homes, your culture, and learn to play them to perfection. For that, I will always be grateful and so humbled by the generosity and kindness shown to me.”

You took a deep breath, stilling the last of your nerves. “My story begins in Night, though. My childhood began a long friendship between myself and someone who pushed me towards my dreams. This last song is dedicated to him.”

Azriel heard as Rhysand held his breath. He watched as his brother laced his fingers with Feyre. Feyre began to cry immediately. Of all the songs you composed, this one held the most strings, a clear call to Rhysand and your humble beginnings in the streets of the Rainbow playing. Azriel watched you in awe. 

You turned and a voice you had heard countless times played through magic. It was the moment they had met and a soft purr of, “There you are. I've been looking for you," echoed before the music began.

10 years, 10 years without even so much as a whisper or note. He watched you move with grace, watched as a violin sang softly. The tune was a call to the Inner Circle, and before Azriel could stop them, his shadows began to dance. 

Every movement of your arms and body was like watching liquid starlight sparkle and gleam to the fantasy inducing tune you had created. As your hands fell to indicate the end, Azriel felt his heart stopping. 

It was the bond that drew him to you. 

It was the years of friendship, of quiet nights listening to you play for just him, or long hours with you hands over his, so soft and warm, teaching him to play piano. 

It was the fact that he was in love with you. And he realized he had been for a very long time. 

Kind, talented, beautiful, you. 

He watched as you wiped a few quick tears as you and Rhysand held eye contact. He felt his breath hitch as you bowed during your queue before walking out. 

The orchestra played a familiar tune as everyone stood to leave and feyre began to cry. You had played this song during Feyre's first Starfall, hoping the romantic tune would have been enough to make the high lord and his mate kiss. It became a song they begged you to play every second they could. Rhysand held Feyre while looking at Azriel. 

“Get. Her. Back.”

You did not attend the after party. Seeing the Inner Circle had been too much. You had hoped that after all these years, that pain would be gone. You leaned against your balcony, humming a new tune you wanted to write. A shadow caressed your skin as you moved inside and sat at your harp. “I know you want me to play your song.” The shadow swirled and began to dance as you plucked the taunt strings. 

“You spoil them.” Your breath hitched at that familiar voice. “Don't stop,” Azriel sat down in the corner of the room. “They've missed dancing for you.”

You let out a shaking breath and began again, watching with a soft smile as the shadows weaved and played. The sight always memorized you. They always memorized you. These beautiful shadows were more like children than darkness. Each had a personality, a voice, a preference in instrument. You finished and lowered your hands.

“Elain is probably wondering where you are.”

Azriel rose a brow, “Elain and Lucien are on their honeymoon, sailing the world.” 

You knit your brows. “I'm sorry. I know you loved her.”

“Not the way I love you.” Silence fell over the room, “I have loved you for so long and been blind to it. I will never get back the time I wasted in my stupidity. I will never be able to take back the hurt Elain caused you.” 

You went to open your mouth and speak, “No. I want you just to listen to me, y/n.” You nodded and looked at him. “I love you,” he stated it like a finality. “The bond snapped for me the night you left, but in your absence, I have realized I loved you long before that blessing and that I would love you long after.”

He paused and continued, “I was silent when Elain spoke to you because I was in shock, but that isn't a good enough excuse. She hurt you, and I stayed silent. I will never forgive myself for that, so I do not expect you to. I'm not even worthy of asking you for a chance to make things right, but I am here as a desperate male. A male who wants nothing more than his mate, his love.”

“Azriel-” 

“Listen,” he moved to you, getting in his knees before you and taking you hands in his. He placed one on his face and smiled. “I dream of this gentle hands, of the joy they bring. I dream of you. Of your love and light. Your heart. When I sleep, I pretend I can hear your heart dancing for me, luring me like a siren spell.” 

Your bottom lip trembled and a tear fell, his love for you poured down that neglected bond, warming every inch of your being. “Azriel..” 

“Y/n, I am so sorry I wasted so much of your time, of our time.”

You threw your arms around him, holding him tight as he continued. “I beg you to allow me to try to make this right. To show you how special you are to me, to our home, to our family. I am begging you for just a chance.” 

His words left like a healing and soothing balm on unseen wounds. “Our family is at a party just below you. Waiting for me to either come back with you or to mourn the loss of you forever. Tell me what I am doing. If I have failed us.”

The party was in full swing as Rhysand watched Nyx and Feyre dance. He held his empty whiskey glass, debating on another one when perfectly manicured hands grabbed his empty glass and placed a full one in his grasp. He grabbed that soft hand instantly, “y/n darling.”

“Rhysand,” He turned and kissed your palm, violet eyes on yours. You continued the greeting softly. “Your presence makes my mind sing the most beautiful song.”

Rhysand held back tears as he answered, “And my heart longs to hear you play it.” He nuzzled your hand. “Come home to us.”

You sighed happily as Azriel rested his hand on your back, “I believe we can negotiate that." 

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp

Odd One Out Taglist:

@gabbiskylar01 @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @blacktreacle22 @buttermilktea11 @heartless-tate @nerdy4itall @eep500 @tele86 @cleverzonkwombatsludge

[gurugirl]

Dress up

sugardaddy!harry x yn | An extra for The Arrangement

Summary: Y/n dresses up in diamonds and jewels and thinks she looks sexy so she secretly makes a solo video of herself. But then she goes out on a limb and sends the video to Harry while he's working.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've given you an update for these two! This was requested! Here

Word Count: 4,548

Warning: 18+ only, smut, use of toys, spanking, sharing of a solo sex tape

The Arrangement Masterlist

. .

Y/n remembers a time when she’d wear clothes that were slightly unkempt. Clean but perhaps maybe a little wrinkled. Shirt hems and collars would be folded funny, buttons misaligned, sweaters and dresses not fitted properly…

Back then she relied on the drier to de-wrinkle her clothes. Nowadays a professional service delivered her freshly cleaned and pressed items to her door. All of which were tailored to fit her perfectly.

So it wasn’t unusual for Y/n to play dress up with herself when Harry was away at the office and she was at home alone. She enjoyed having such nice clothes and things filling her closet. It’s something she never had before.

She’d layer on a silk Chanel dress with her Ferragamo belt, a Hermes scarf, and the expensive custom disk hat with silk roses Harry bought her when they went to the Kentucky Derby. She’d watch herself in the long floor-length mirror and practice walking like a woman who owned the kind of clothes she was wearing.

But sometimes she focused on the jewelry. The pretty shiny rocks and jewels, delicately woven precious metal bands and chains… Harry had bought her more jewelry than she’d ever seen in her life. Diamonds, gold, platinum, rubies, emeralds, pearls, silver… Rings, watches, brooches, necklaces, anklets, earrings, belts, and bracelets. You name it.

And on this particular evening, Harry was at a dinner meeting that was going to run late. She’d bathed and put on her perfumed moisturizing balm and then walked naked into her massive walk-in closet where she opened up her lingerie drawer and spotted the elbow-length velvet opera gloves. She’d only ever worn them once but she remembers the way they felt on her arms and how luxurious it made her feel.

Watching herself in her mirror she slid each glove up her arms and posed, raising her arms over her head to lift her tits and make her tummy appear more svelte.

She grinned as she turned and then she had a sudden idea. Opening up her jewelry armoire she was presented with shiny, sparkly bobbles and jewels.

“Siri… shuffle music by Sara Vaughan to the master bedroom speakers.”

When the jazzy slow music began to play she traced her gloved fingers over the diamond necklace she often wished she could wear every day. It was littered in diamonds, the drop cutting down to just above her cleavage. Lifting it up she placed it gently over her head and laid it over her bust. It was spectacular. Heavy and twinkly and chilled on her skin. She smoothed her hands down her body and stared at her figure in the mirror wearing nothing but gloves and the ridiculously expensive necklace Harry had bought her.

Which then gave her the idea to add on the pretty rainbow jewel body belt. The thin chain was loaded with various colored diamonds, emeralds, rubies, topaz… The end of the chain draped down her back, laying just over her bum with a pretty pearl at the end. Then she put on the drop diamond earrings that matched the necklace. The bottom diamond was so big it nearly reached her shoulder when she shrugged.

She layered pearls and opals and her diamond bracelets over her gloved wrists and then slid on her black high heels, doing a dramatic twirl and bending to see her backside with a giggle.

She swayed her hips to the sexy music crooning through the speakers and then grinned at herself in the mirror, “Look how pretty… Daddy would love this.”

Feeling her naked skin under her gloves was a dream. The way the velvet ran smoothly over her flesh felt sexy and the more jewelry she layered on the prettier she felt. All sparkly and fancy with soft skin and perked nipples.

Sitting her video camera on its stand next to the mirror she hit record and began dancing slowly with herself, all decked out in diamonds. Running her hands over her curves and up to her tits she bit her lip and looked at the camera, “There isn’t anyone that wouldn’t want to have this…” She spun around and laughed to herself before bending at the waist and spreading her thighs just enough that the camera could catch the view of her pussy from behind.

Peeking over her shoulder she stared into the lens and drew a hand down her back and over her bottom before swatting a cheek and moaning softly, “Not so bad with the glove,” she spoke aloud as she lowered her fingers until she could feel the velvet sliding over her pussy, back and forth.

Humming she looked at herself in the mirror and then pressed her finger over her other tight hole, “Needs a little sparkle, doesn’t it?”

She stood up and pulled open her toy drawer to select the plug of the night. It was an easy choice. The anal plug with diamonds. Real diamonds. Another thing she didn’t often wear because it was the least practical of her plugs. But it was pretty.

Stepping back up to the camera she held the plug up and drizzled lube over the tip then repeated the words of the song Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets…

Bending at the waist, ass aimed toward the camera she took her left hand and pulled at her cheek as she began to push the plug into her hole with her right hand. Y/n had become quite the expert at putting in her own plugs. She was used to it now. Even though Harry always told her to not do it when he wasn’t present, she often did it anyway. They had fun with it every time he found out she disobeyed him (but she knew he secretly loved it).

“Oh!” She squeaked when the cool metal fit into place and stretched her out. “Feels so good…” she swayed her hips as she spread her ass cheeks for the camera and hummed to the music.

Turning around to face the camera she tutted at herself, “Beautiful… So sparkly. Think I deserve a treat,” she grinned at her reflection and brushed her hand down her torso to her hips, and raised the other arm over her head as she toyed with her clit and gasped.

Of course, she was putting on a little show. Something to watch later on in private. She’d gotten in the habit of making little videos of herself dancing naked or masturbating. Or just talking about nothing really. She’d started to feel so confident and happy with herself thanks to Harry. And the videos were her naughty little secret. Sometimes, with the extra sexy ones, she’d even touch herself as she rewatched them later on, loving the way she looked.

This time was no different. She was stunning with sparkly jewels and velvet gloves. Long stretched of bare skin, breasts bouncing as she swayed and twirled.

Reaching for her breasts she squished them together with a moan and then jiggled them at the camera before swiping her thumb over each nipple, “Get those nice and hard. We know how much I like hard things don’t we?” She laughed to herself.

Reaching into her toy drawer she found her tiny pink vibrator and turned it on, “Gonna feel so good,” she ran the small toy down the center of her body, between her breasts, over her belly button, and then circled it over her pussy with a sharp inhale.

Moving to the music she kept her eyes on the camera and continued pressing the toy against her clit, “Oh… I’m getting so wet.”

Her breathing picked up and her nipples tightened more, goosebumps covered her skin as she felt the yummy sensation of arousal fill her veins.

“Mmm… I do it so well. Always get myself off. Don’t need Daddy every time, do we?” She chuckled and then gasped when she pressed the toy harder against her bud.

“So wet already. Such a dirty, horny girl…” she bit her lip and turned off the pink toy before placing it on the counter and running her velvet-covered fingers up and down her swollen, wet pussy, “So messy… mmm… Gonna get in so much trouble doing this. I think Daddy’s gonna have to spank me.”

The more she stroked her pearl the wetter her gloves got. She clenched her empty hole and moaned, “Need more. Like all my holes stuffed,” she spoke breathily as she peeked into her drawer and pulled out her clear silicone dildo. The extra long one that was ridged thickly and made her come so fast. She needed to get on with the show. Harry would be coming back soon.

Pulling her soft chair in front of the mirror and the camera she gently sat and cooed at the feel of the plug shifting under her bum, “Oop! Fuck that’s feeling really good.”

Y/n lifted her legs, planting her heeled feet on the seat cushion and spreading her thighs so there was an excellent view of her plug and her pussy.

“I’ve gotten myself all wet,” she drew a finger over her inner thigh and licked at the velvet-gloved finger, “Mm! I know why Daddy says it tastes so good. So yummy,” she sighed as she spread her legs wider and placed the dildo against her pussy lips, running it through her slippery folds before finally pushing it in slowly.

She parted her lips and stared into the camera as she began to work the silicone toy in and out until she could push it in deep and it pressed into the shared wall where her anal plug was. The toy tucked in her ass bobbed every time she thrust the dildo in deep and she moaned at the sight, “Oh my god… that’s so hot isn’t it? Look at how both holes take everything I give them so well.”

Fucking herself with the dildo and rubbing her clit with her gloves she stretched her neck back and whined loudly.

The slick sound of her cunt around the silicone toy filled the spaces between the notes and the music playing, just loud enough for the camera to pick up the sound. Going in faster she lulled her head forward to keep her eyes on the camera but she was in a bit of a daze. She always tried to keep her eyes open for the camera when she came because that was her favorite.

“Good girl, baby… Taking your toys so good. Fucking look like a goddess right now. Oh shit… that’s it… doing it so good…”

Her chest was rising and falling and she heard the chime of an incoming text, which she was sure was Harry, “Daddy’s trying to reach me,” she laughed playfully, “But his little girl is busy fucking herself, isn’t that right?”

It wasn’t long before she was shaking and her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her velvet gloves were ruined with her arousal as she fingered her swollen clit and clamped down on the dildo and the plug with a soft cry, “Oh god! Right there… Fuck…”

Her orgasm had wiped her out. She tried keeping her eyes on the camera but her whole head was swirling with pleasure and lust as she trembled and moaned, creaming all over her dildo.

She heaved and pulled the toy out, dropping it to the floor, and leaned back into the cushion to recover for a moment, “So good. You always do it right. Even better than Daddy sometimes,” she snorted a laugh and sat up to look at the camera teasingly before wobbly legs took her across the space to turn off the recording on her camera.

.             .             .

Y/n had watched her newest home video at least four times. And she was so turned on every time she watched it, she’d make herself come in record time, rubbing her clit and feeling so proud of how pretty she looked and how brave she’d become since she’d been with Harry.

And the recent video with all the jewels was her best work yet. She really loved it. So much so that she was thinking about sharing it with Harry. She wondered what he’d think about it. She was positive he’d just go nuts over it like she did. He’d act all upset and stoic. Probably give her a good spanking (at least) but she knew he’d adore it.

So, in a moment of sheer insanity or bravery (she wasn’t sure which) she tucked her top row of teeth into her bottom lip, attached the video to a text message for Harry, and squealed when she hit send. She couldn’t believe she’d sent it. All of her solo videos had been her little secret all this time but now she was bringing Harry into the mix by showing him.

It was 2 pm on a Wednesday. He was at the office and probably just getting out of his most recent meeting. And she knew he’d see it shortly after she sent it.

She kept her eye on the screen of her phone, waiting for the message to say ‘read’. It only took a few minutes. She giggled to herself as she snuggled into the couch with her laptop and watched the video, trying to time it so that she was watching it at the same time he was. Wondering what he was thinking with every minute that drew on.

Her heart was racing in anticipation of his response. She knew she’d be in for a bit of punishment but she didn’t know exactly what to expect from it.

But then minute after minute drew on. The video had ended and there was no word from Harry. No bobbing dots to indicate he was texting. No phone call. Nada.

She felt heat creep over her skin as she thought about all the ways Harry would teach her a lesson. Y/n knew Harry was making a plan. Surely he was devising some kind of punishment for her misbehavior. She couldn’t wait.

Less than an hour later Harry was walking through the front door. Y/n peeked over the back of the couch toward the foyer entry and she saw him pass through but he didn’t look in her direction. He breezed by cooly and went into the kitchen.

Y/n scrambled off the couch to follow after him. He was pouring a glass of water for himself silently when she rounded the island and put her hands on his shoulders, “Hi, Daddy.”

He grunted and moved away, making her hands fall from his back as he put the water pitcher back into the fridge before taking a long gulp of his water.

Waiting silently for him to award her a glance she watched her man place the empty glass into the sink as he sighed, placing his palms flat onto the marble countertop, “So you think you can take care of yourself better than I can? Is that right?”

She knew that line would stick out to him.

“I was just teasing. You know no one does it better than you, Da–“

“And you disobeyed me. Looked like you were having the time of your life, Y/n. Did you enjoy wearing all the expensive jewelry I bought you? Enjoyed getting yourself off while I was working hard to keep a roof over your head?” He turned and looked at her. Stern and serious.

Now she knew he was being dramatic. The whole keep-a-roof-over-your-head comment was a bit silly. Harry could retire right then if he wanted to.

“I did enjoy it, actually,” she quipped back before biting her lip.

“Well now at least you’re being honest with me. When did you make the video? Was this today?”

Shaking her head she leaned into the counter, “A week ago.”

He nodded slowly, his green eyes trailing down over her body. She was only wearing one of his t-shirts.

“And what were you up to today that compelled you to send me this one-week-old video?”

 She gulped, “Nothing really. Um… I just wanted to share it with you because I liked it. Thought you’d like it to.” She said blinking her eyes innocently at him.

Harry sniffed, “It was very pretty to look at. But you went against my explicit rules. Does Daddy not give you enough orgasms every day? Every morning and every night I work to keep you satisfied. Are you so desperate for an orgasm that you can’t wait a few hours until I get home?”

She breathed shallowly and looked down, “I just sometimes like to do it myself. And I felt so pretty.”

Y/n felt Harry’s touch on her arm, “Come.”

She followed him upstairs to her closet where he opened up her drawers until he found her toys and then her gloves and opened up the jewelry armoire.

“Put everything on that you had in the video. Meet me in the bedroom when you’re ready.”

Y/n felt her nerves bubble as she put everything on. The jewels, the gloves, the plug, and her heels. She sighed as she gave herself a once over in the mirror before stepping out into the bedroom where Harry was seated at the end of the bed facing the TV. Her video on the large screen paused at the beginning. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, ready to get to work.

“C’mere,” he patted his lap. He kept his eyes focused on her body as she neared him and placed her hand on his shoulder to sit down but he pulled her over his thighs, tummy down, and ass up where he gave her a very swift smack and then massaged at the meat of her bum, pulling her plushy cheeks apart and tapped her plug, “Good. Looks like we’re all set.”

Her head was hanging down and the weight of the necklace was especially heavy in her new position, the earrings pulling at her lobes as she rocked over him to stabilize herself. She imagined she was going to need to hang on to something.

“Watch with me. Lift your head. Let’s see this dirty little video my spoiled girl made.”

She scoured the screen with her eyes, her body in view and the jewels glinting off the light from above her. Y/n had to strain to keep her head up. She leveraged herself up with her hand on the bed next to Harry’s thigh.

She had seen the video enough times that she had the whole thing nearly memorized. The music, the moment she bends and shows the camera her plug, the lines she spoke…

Harry spanked her ass, two stinging open palmed swats to each side and she winced at the pain and gasped as she slid down, losing her balance when she kicked a leg up.

“Stay still for me and keep watching,” he spoke gruffly as he grasped the front of her neck and tilted her head back up so she could watch with him.

Gulping into his palm she arched her back when he spanked her bottom again, “Look at how pretty you are in my lap, baby,” he ran his hand down her spine to the little jeweled belt where the pearl hung at the top of her crack, “All these expensive things on your body, ass up for me,” he twisted the plug, “Pussy wet.”

She moaned when he ran his fingers between her crease and pressed his middle finger inside of her cunt before pulling it out and wiping it on the back of her thigh, where he then gave her another smack.

“Who bought all this for you, baby? Hmm? Who made this whole thing possible?”

“You, Daddy!” She didn’t hesitate to answer him.

“That’s right. This video wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for me. This pussy wouldn’t be wet if it weren’t for me.”

She nodded against his palm and moaned when his fingers circled her clit.

“Always my desperate, needy little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped when he pinched her bud and she wiggled her hips but he gripped her neck tighter, “Don’t wiggle. You got yourself into this mess. These are the consequences.”

She squeezed her eyes closed as he swatted her again before he continued speaking, leaning down to groan into her ear, “Do you know how hard I got the moment I opened up that video at work? Walking down the hall to my office I had to hide my boner and click the volume off.”

She felt him pinch at her inner thigh, giving her clit a moment of respite from his fingers, “Had to calm myself down and lock the door. But then I finished watching your little video and I had to excuse myself to leave work early. Do you know how disruptive that was?”

She grunted as he pressed over her plug, “Right now, I’m supposed to be in a meeting with a potential investor. This was a big deal, Y/n. But I physically wasn’t able to stay at the office for a moment longer, and it’s your fault. Every time I thought about the way you came with your legs spread and this little plug flicking around from the dildo you were fucking yourself with… had to calm my cock. Was gonna burst in my pants.”

His fingers slid back into her cunt, two this time as he pumped into her walls and continued gripping her neck, “Look.”

She shifted her eyes to the screen and her voice filtered through the room, her gasps and moans as she began to come. And just as he described, her little plug was twitching in time with the way she was pressing the dildo into her cunt. It was a pretty sight.

She moaned when he kissed the back of her ear, “Fucking gorgeous when you come, baby. But this video? S’like a work of art. But you were still naughty. Didn’t get permission to do any of that did you?”

“No, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

His fingers were filling her up and squelching with every thrust, “You look so proud of yourself too. So confident. Like a big girl playing dress up with Daddy’s things. And if my cock weren’t throbbing right now I’d really teach you a lesson but I need to come inside of this little pussy. Been aching for it.”

She felt his legs shift and her body was moved, heels on the floor as he steadied her hips before he stood up and began to undo his pants, “Bend over the bed, spread your legs.”

She wanted to watch him pull his cock out. Wanted to see how hard he was but she knew better than to hesitate. She laid herself tummy down on the mattress and spread her thighs apart.

One of his hands was on her hip, lifting her slightly when she felt his thick cock drag against her pussy and then his chest was pressed into her back, “No one does it better than, Daddy.”

The moment he finished his sentence, lips against the shell of her ear, he slammed his cock inside of her. He took both of her hands in his, the velvet gloves keeping her from feeling his palms, as he pulled her arms behind her back and took both wrists in one big hand as he continued rocking into her.

She felt a sharp smack on her ass again and he grunted, thighs flexing as he worked into her. Her shoulders burned as he kept her arms held down at the middle of her back, one hand groping her ass cheek.

The view he had was gorgeous as always. Her plug pushed and pulled with every thrust of Harry’s cock and he could feel the press of it gliding over his cock through her tight warm walls.

The necklace was digging into her chest but she welcomed the way it felt on her skin as well as the burn of another swat to her bum because her body was giving itself over to him.

“My spoiled girl just keeps getting whatever she wants. Even when she’s naughty she gets all these pretty things; gets Daddy’s cock inside of her, gets all the orgasms she can handle. Guess you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you, baby?”

“Umph!” She croaked, her cheek smushed into the comforter, letting go of her ass as he leaned over, palm on the mattress, and drove into her with the kind of force she loved. It felt so much better than anything she could do to herself with her meager dildo. Harry’s cock was exactly what she needed.

“Yeah? Didn’t hear you make that noise in your little video.” He buried himself in, bullying another lewd sound from her throat as his hips rutted against her ass.

“Can’t help those pretty little noises can you? Daddy’s cock will always feel better won’t it?”

She was jolted forward, her mouth open with drool pooling over the blankets, “No… your cock… aoohha!”

Harry grinned at her inability to answer properly as he continued pounding into her, still holding her wrists together at her mid-back.

“Squeezing the fuck out of me baby. There you go… fuck…”

Y/n’s orgasm wiped her body out. The way the plug was stretching her out and Harry’s big cock was slamming into her guts she couldn’t hold on for a second longer.

She heard Harry panting between grunts and then felt both of his hands on her ass as he pressed in deep and unloaded himself, filling her insides with his come.

“My pretty baby. Love seeing you dripping in diamonds and all fucked out of your mind. Does it make you feel good baby? Wearing all these expensive things?”

He had his chest pressed into her back as he spoke quietly into her ear, hips pasted to her ass.

“I love it. It’s so nice, Daddy.”

He moved off of her, reaching an arm under her waist to pull her up to standing, and turned her in her arms, “Look at this,” bringing her gloved hands into his, he lifted them upward, “Ruined. Need to buy you new gloves it appears.”

She realized the cleaning job she’d done on them after making the video had been shoddy at best and now the tips of the fingers were steaky and lighter than the rest of the material, “Maybe dry cleaning?”

Harry pursed his lips as he began to take off her bracelets, unhooking each clasp, “Maybe. Not sure these can be salvaged, though.”

When he pulled her gloves off he reached around her neck to undo the necklace and then her jeweled belt before running his hands up and down her arms, “Gorgeous with or without all the diamonds,” he smirked.

“I like the diamonds, though. Fun to play dress up.”

He raised a brow and brought her left hand up to his mouth pressing his plush lips over her ring finger, “Thinking about what you’d look like with a pretty diamond right here.”

Y/n parted her lips and kept her gaze locked on Harry’s, “Like a… ring?”

Harry laughed at her shocked expression and pushed his fingers between hers as he cupped her cheek with his free hand, “Yeah. Like a ring.”

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[elixirfromthestars]

Usual

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: Bucky keeps to his usual routine every week. On Mondays, it includes you.

Word Count: ~700

Warning(s): none. fluffy goodness <3 established nickname ⟶ tulip

a/n: This Bucky has been swimming in my head for a while, so this little drabble came out as a result. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🤍 Also I'm hosting a little writing challenge if you want to check it out. 🤍

the whole collection ♡

The bells above your shop door chimed a short melody as it opened. The steady thud of heavy boots followed suit. You turn to face the entrance with your usual welcoming demeanor. 

It was Monday. He always comes on Monday. 

“ Hey, Bucky. Here for the usual?” You ask like clockwork, already knowing the answer. 

“ ‘Course, Tulip,” he replies, smiling at you with that usual twinkle in his eyes. The one that only shows up when he talks to you. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he uses that nickname he gave you months ago. 

“ Coming right up,” you respond, turning to the small shelves behind the counter. The ones lined up with your homemade jams and honeys. Every Monday he buys three of each to serve at his bar in a mix of different snack dishes. 

His favorite happens to be the one he named after you—Tulip’s Sweet Special.  

Bucky strolls over to the flowers that align the walls adjacent to the front counter. Rows upon rows of an array of colors and different-sized petals. A rainbow of the prettiest blooms nature has to offer. 

Meanwhile, you’re putting the mason jars of sweet spreads in a small wicker basket. Glancing at him briefly to stare at his side profile and the way he looks at the flowers intently. Almost as if waiting for them to speak to him. 

You wonder what flowers he’ll choose today. 

You don’t have to wonder for long as he walks over to the counter with a bouquet of white and pink daises, adorned with a touch of lavender. You look at them with a knowing smile on your face. The rugged biker almost looks comical—in the sweetest way—with the bouquet in hand. 

“ Will that be all?” You ask him, motioning to the flowers and the goods in the basket. Bucky nods, lightly scratching at the stubble on his face,“ That’s all, Tulip. And I’ll get ya that basket of yours later. Forgot it back at the bar,” he mentions the basket he borrowed a week ago to transport last week’s items on his bike. 

Of course, he forgot it. He always does. 

“ No need. I’ll just come by the bar later and get it,” you say to him—this little forgetful exchange an excuse to see each other again. It's about the fifth time you’ve done this little rendezvous in the last two months. 

Bucky grins in a way that would make any woman swoon,“ I’ll be waitin’ on ya then.” You can’t help the warmth that finds its way to your face. 

You ring him up, and as you’re getting his change ready he places the flowers in the empty vase on the counter. The one you leave for whatever flowers he buys for you that week. You look at them and the way he delicately places them inside, with a tender care you were one of a handful of people who’s ever seen him dawn. The action envelopes you with a doting affection.

“ Thank you for the flowers, Bucky,” you say with a soft sincerity. No matter how many times he buys you flowers the action still causes your heart to flutter.

“ No need for the thanks—or the change,” he says, lightly closing your fingers around the change in your hand with his calloused one. The slight touch is electric and it makes you both yearn for more. 

You give him that look. That usual look that says you’re doing this again and he replies with a look that conveys hell yeah I am.

You know better than to argue with that look. 

“ Come spend it at my bar later instead,” he suggests shrugging nonchalantly—but his eyes and grin reflect everything but nonchalance. There’s a deep rooted sentiment there that is desperate to be freed and brought to the surface.

You hum, pretending to think about it,“ Alright, deal.” Bucky responds to your agreement by giving you a pleased nod.

Bucky grabs the basket of goods. The rough exterior of his hands contrasted with the gentle almost tender way he held the basket. He was always delicate and careful with anything that belonged to you.

The basket looked so much smaller when he held it. 

Bucky sends you a farewell wink,“ See ya later, Tulip,” and then he turns to leave with a small wave of his hand.

“ See you later, Bucky,” you reply before leaning on the counter, hands resting in your palms. You watch him walk back out to his motorcycle with a longing stare. 

When he was out of sight, you listened intently to the revving of his engine bike, anticipating the day you two would go past the usual.

Until then you’d cherish this routine affair.

[cowgirlcherrie]

florist! abby Headcanons ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

a/n: something quick n sweet you knowwwww got this random thought and had to write it I couldn’t resist I couldn’t. I also saw that no one done florist! abby(?) so I wanted to be the first to hop on! plus I missed writing for Abs — my baby, so enjoy ♡

warnings: 18+, MDNI, some fluff, gets smuttier halfway in, strap, blowjob (strap), eating you out, mentions of obsessive behaviors, polaroid nudes-ish, fingering, edging, public-sex-ishh, soft dom! Abby, tatted! Abby. Hinted at smoker Abby if you squint, petnames, fingers in mouth, masturbation, use of the word mommy, use of the word pussy, fem reader.

divider creds here

ೀ florist! Abby wears a basic white cropped t-shirt and black dickies under her beige apron. Her apron has a rainbow flag pin, with black pliers in one pocket. Doc Martins on her feet, tied miserably into a bow, it’s a miracle she doesn’t trip around the flower shop. She has a carabiner on her belt loop that jingles every time she walks. 

– apart from smelling like the flowers (obvi bc of where she works) smells like heavy pine and fresh soap, like forget the additives – just clean if ykyk

ೀ florist! Abby gets little patchwork tattoos in random places: a dainty lavender tattoo on her wrist, a little crescent moon behind her ear, paw prints on her bicep for her late dog Alice, a ‘gentle artist’ in bolded times new roman font – but dainty on her forearm. Her knuckles are tatted spelling out “FUCK YOU”.

ೀ florist! Abby that has a ‘Save the Bees!’ sticker on the back of her phone case. Super Bee activist.

ೀ florist! Abby who spends all day in the floral shop, playing music from her playlist on the shop’s aux, slightly swaying to the music as she works on a bouquet. She works with such prestige, god her hands work so quickly at building arrangements but the outcome is so beautiful and that’s why she has many customers. She definitely uses any leftover flowers as bookmarks for her books.

ೀ florist! Abby who’s aux will go from Lauryn Hill to Boy Genius to Mac Miller — she gets compliments on her music taste by customers all the time.

ೀ florist! Abby stops working on a bouquet when you walk into the store because of how confused you look. Wanting to save a damsel in distress. Abby moves from her place at the counter walking over to where you stood looking at the different types of flowers, creeping behind you. You smell divine to her, driving her head crazy knowing that your scent alone will be stuck in her head all day. The floral shop is a slow yet steady business, so Abby definitely doesn’t forget a face or a smell. The form-fitting dress you wore that day, the way your hands bunched at the fabric in confusion had her head spinning!

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Abby whispers from behind you,

Actually scares the living shit out of you when you see her standing behind you, but the way the sun was hitting her face from the big window panels made you less nervous. Rather in awe at the beauty in front of you. Her sunkissed skin, and silky blonde mane, were raveled in a delicate braid with wispies around her face. The raspiness from her voice – which honestly sounded like a smoker's voice now that you thought about it. 

ೀ florist! Abby who makes small talk with you while making your boquette for you (taking her slow sweet time), asking you where you’re from and what you’re doing in town? Absolutely praying that the flowers aren’t for some significant other of yours, Abby letting out an exhale when you say that they’re for your mom who you are visiting for dinner. When you mention you are unsure of what flowers to get don’t worry Abby will help you!

“So pretty girl, are you more minimalistic, talking Lilies, Gardenia’s, Jasmine – which is over there...or colorful? Which I think your beautiful self enjoys a nice Orchid, Camellia, or Begonia?”

Definitely shocks you with how well she knows her stuff

ೀ florist! Abby zones out when you are speaking and stares at your lips for far too long, looking at the way your pink gloss shines wondering how your pretty lips would look taking her strap. Percase covered in spit, from your saliva that has built up from blowing her off. Abby wanted to do nothing more than take the pretty little fabric ribbon from your hair and tie it around your hands as she went down on you while you beg her to touch you in all the right places – it was all a dream to her. Wet dreaming with you right in front of her.

Undeniably horny and touch deprived…she spends so much time in the floral shop she doesn’t have time for dating apps and finds shit like Tinder CORNY LOL. 

Meanwhile, you are trying your hardest not to stare at the way her arms are flexing or how her fingers are paying delicate attention to your bouquet, mentally laughing at the “FUCK YOU” on her knuckles, it contrasted her soft nature so much.

ೀ florist! Abby who slips in a little note into your tote back when you’re not looking, with her number on it, hoping that you would find it and call her soon, Which you do find when you are scrambling for your keys on your way back to the car. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to give the overly, steaming attractive florist a call. 

ೀ florist! Abby when the two of you start dating, she would teach you how to make a bouquet, standing closely behind you – her body right up against your back as you feel her breath tickling your ear as she whispers to you what to do

“Atta girl, look at that my sweet girl – woah! watch your hand there’s a thorn baby.”

Will definitely put her hands over yours as she works with the knife to make sure there isn’t any thorns so you don’t prick yourself. 

ೀ florist! Abby fucking you in the flower shop, when the shop is closed. Having her head in between your thighs, as her jaw slacks – the sound of your juices sloshing against her mouth as she sends hums into your pussy making you let out low mewls. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth but she slaps it away so that she can see you

“Don’t hide from me baby, I wanna see you…look at how beautiful you look whining for me doll”

ೀ florist! Abby who kept your lace underwear in her pocket after she fucked you in the floral shop keeping it for safe-keeping (pft…we all know what she is doing with that)

ೀ florist! Abby who shows you her small pocket-sized notebook full of different flowers and arrangement ideas she had. Even the sketches of a flower bouquet that she made inspired by you and all your favorite flowers.

ೀ florist! Abby definitely tucks flowers behind your ears, specifically a white or light-pink Carnation. Especially loves putting one behind your ear as she fucks you with her strap, missionary style so she can see your face – just loves your face honestly. Bending down to kiss your lips, her cheeks dusted red with the pressure she applies.

Tucking her head into your neck swiftly smelling the carnation that she put behind your ear driving her even further insane as she drills into you — makes her go faster.

ೀ When she starts teaching you more about flowers, Definitely uses sexual enforcement to get you to remember it. Will have you sat on her counter as she stands in between your legs – locking you in as she lunges two fingers into you, edging you and not letting you cum until you say the right name of the flower that she taught you. But you could hardly focus staring at her inked knuckles as they pump in and out of you which only makes you reach your climax even further. 

“You wanna come don’t you my sweet girl? I know you want to…just say the name– awh don’t whine at me…I know you know it dollface, I don’t buy that you don’t.”

Sometimes she’ll give you a hint if the flower starts with one of the letters on her knuckles she will stick the corresponding finger into you, working at getting you just about there as her finger curls into you. Your vision is blurry as you can hardly tell what the letter is, moaning out as you try to focus on the order of the letters on her knuckles to catch the hint.

“C’mon baby I’m giving you a hint…pay attention sweetheart– focus!”

ೀ florist! Abby when you get it wrong and she finally lets you come — is fake-mad at you, shoving the lettered finger down your throat as you gag on her fingers covered in your juices.

“Baby the hinted letter was C, and the other finger was U, flower: Curcuma. You’ll get it right next time right sweetheart? You won’t let mommy down hmm?”

ೀ florist! Abby is definitely a soft dom just saying… soft as hell, loves when you hold her – kiss her, and skin-to-skin contact is important as hell she just wants to feel you and loves when you baby her. 

ೀ Definitely keeps a Polaroid of you holding flowers in pink floral lingerie in her beige apron and another one of you in her wallet, that way she has you on her at all times (honestly probably touched herself to blow off some steam after a hard shift while looking at it)

ೀ Depending on how far the relationship goes, especially if y’all start talking marriage will get your favorite flower tatted and not tell you until you see a dainty tattoo of your favorite flower on her collarbone slightly above her heart as she is filling you up, you questioning her in between moans about it.

“Mmhm…fuck is that new? Shit..abbyplease – wait is that my favorite flower?” You ask, as she grinds into you – your finger dragging against the tattoo

“Yes baby, you’re all mine. Mine…mine…mine” As she pounds harder into to you each time she says mine. Obsessive, possessive + territorial, let’s talk about it 

ೀ florist! Abby is overall just a sweetheart who loves you so much and just wants you to be her pretty flower – her muse, you definitely inspire most of her bouquets and she is so happy you ran into her shop looking for flowers that day.

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- exploratory

it’s giving anakin and padme in the fields in that one scene from attack of the clones except add in smut 💐

warnings: smut, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, missionary (also yes i am aware that this is fantasy and theres no protection here, she's not gonna get pregnant from this time because i say so lol i make the rules!)

Under the vast expanse of the open sky, the gentle clip-clop of hooves resonated through the serene countryside. You and Ghost rode side by side on your horses, the wind playing with your hair as you explored the winding trails and rolling hills of Kastron. You were rarely let out of the castle, so this little day trip with Ghost was meaningful to you. You were excited to see the natural beauty of Kastron. There was an air of freedom around you, the two of you escaping your responsibilities just for today, finding solace in the beauty of nature. 

As you rounded a bend, the landscape before you transformed into a breathtaking sea of color. A ginormous flower field stretched out like a living painting, petals swaying in the breeze like waves on a tranquil sea. Your eyes widened in awe, a delighted gasp escaping your lips. You reined in your horse, a large grin forming on your face. 

“Simon, look at this!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with excitement. 

Ghost pulled his horse to a stop beside you, his gaze following your pointing finger. The corner of his lips quirked up as he studied your reaction, his normally stoic expression softening in the presence of your sheer delight. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice warm.

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling. “I've never seen anything like it! I’m going to see it up close.” You slide off the saddle, patting your mare before turning to face the fields. 

"Of course," Ghost replied, his tone holding a hint of amusement. He sits high atop his horse, studying your form. 

The scent of flowers filled the air, wrapping around your body as you entered the field. The world was a carousel of colors – vibrant reds, delicate pinks, and radiant yellows, – all coming together to create a rainbow. 

Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you let out a joyful whoop, throwing your arms up in the arm. You spin around, your arms outstretched, face upturned to the warm sun. Your laughter blended with the rustling of greenery in the breeze. Turning your gaze to Simon, you found him watching you with an affectionate glint in his eyes. Your elation mirrored his expression, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

With a mischievous grin, you whip around and take off running through the field, your feet sinking into the soft earth with each step you take. Simon’s gasps for a moment, watching you take off. He jumps off his horse, following you as you twirl and skip amidst the flowers. His heart swells in his chest at your joy, in your simple infatuation with the fields of flowers. You’re dozens of feet ahead of him, your dress whipping in the wind as you frolick. 

Yet, as you looked back to see where Simon was, you stumbled over your own feet, your laughter mixing with a surprised yelp as you fell to the ground. Simon’s heart lurches, and he breaks out into a sprint towards you, his concern immediate. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks, chest heaving, falling to his knees beside you on the ground. 

You roll over onto your back, your hands hiding your face. He can’t tell if you’re laughing or crying. 

“D- don’t cry,” he says gently, hands hovering over your form. 

You bring your hands down over your mouth, and he sees your eyes are filled with mischief. 

You burst into laughter, unable to contain the amusement bubbling within you. As your eyes meet his concerned gaze, you can’t help but laugh even harder, your mirth contagious. 

“I- I’m not crying, Simon!” you manage to get out between fits of laughter.

Simon blinks at you, clearly confused by your reaction. Relief starts to mingle with his confusion as he watches you laugh, and then his lips slowly curl into a reluctant smile. 

“You scared me for a moment,” he says, letting out an exhale. He looks at you, your smile, your beautiful face, and it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. He rips his balaclava off his face unexpectedly, catching you off guard. You look up at him, mouth slightly agape as your laughter dies down. 

Suddenly, he straddles you, swinging his legs on each side of your body. He presses his hands into your shoulders, fingers gently squeezing your soft skin. You gasp at the feeling of his body on top of yours, and you bring your hands up to hold his wrists. You grin up at him, your eyes dancing with amusement. The flowers you’re laying in surround you like a colorful crown. The sight of you laying amongst them makes Simon’s heart pound. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just clumsy…” you murmur, brushing his tousled hair with your fingers.

He just looks at you. Your eyes flit to his mouth, his lips slightly parted. He hovers over you, unspoken desires hanging in the balance of the moment.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all day,” you whisper, trailing one of your hands up his chest. 

Before he could respond, you closed your grip on his tunic and gently tugged, pulling him down towards you. The surprise in his eyes turned to a mixture of warmth and anticipation as your lips met in a soft, tender kiss. 

He groans quietly into your mouth, his hands drag up from your shoulders to cup your face. 

As you pulled away, Simon’s lips curved into a genuine smile. "That was worth tripping for."

You chuckled, your fingers tracing patterns on the fabric of his tunic. "Definitely worth it."

He kisses you again, pressing his hulking body on top of you. He slides his tongue into your mouth, his hands cupping your cheeks to deepen the kiss. You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so full of anticipation and your body has gone to jelly because Simon is engulfing your senses, so big and strong, so perfect, as he kisses you. 

The warmth of his body against yours ignites a fire within you, the moment intensifying as he gives you more, more, more. Every touch, every caress means something more than it ever has before.

He breaks away from the kiss, panting with his face flushed. He licks his lips, pupils blown as he stares at you with nothing but adoration. 

“Si, please.” 

That nickname, the breathy please that fell from your lips. 

It was over for him. 

In an instant, he’s latched onto your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your skin, hands running down the sides of your body. He presses his hands into your sides, squeezing your soft curves. He lifts his head up from your neck when you let out the quietest, breathy moan. He looks down at you, your mouth slightly agape, his eyes search your face. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You lick your lips, nodding your head.

“No, no, darling, I need to hear you. Use your words.”

You shudder at his words, at his implications. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

He delves back into your neck, sliding his hand behind your head to push you closer to him. 

“Wanna make y’feel good,” he mumbles into your neck between kisses, nipping at the sensitive skin. Warmth floods your face as he speaks, your core growing wet with arousal. You press your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in your core, your clit throbbing as he kisses you. 

Your hands brush over his broad shoulders, swallowing as he works on your neck. Suddenly, he starts sucking hard at your skin, putting pressure into the curve. He kisses a trail from your neck, up to your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You gasp quietly, and he pulls away, admiring his work. The feeling of his feather light breath on your skin makes you shiver ever so slightly, arching your body up into him. He lets out an amused huff, running his fingers through your hair. 

“What do you want, lovie?” he coos, twirling your hair in his fingers. 

“Everything,” you moan lightly, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him close to you as your heart races. 

He nods once, then tilts his head to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. He’s so gentle with you, methodical and patient in a way you’ve never experienced or expected from someone like him. 

“‘M gonna take my time with you,” he says gently, searching your eyes. “Tell me, please, tell me if it’s ever too much at any point.” 

You cup his face with your hands. He flicks away a stray flower petal that fell into your hair. 

“I trust you,” you smile at him, stroking a thumb along his cheek. 

With that, he slowly makes his way down to your legs, hands pressing into your ankles as he starts to lift your legs over his shoulders. He starts to bunch up the skirt of your dress, pulling it up ever so slightly to give him access to your dripping core. 

“Wait, won’t someone—”

“No one will see, I promise,” he says firmly, giving you a reassuring squeeze before delving under the skirt of your dress. “Besides, there's no one around here for miles,” he chuckles under your skirt. 

The anticipation nearly kills you as you feel his hot breath on the insides of your thighs, your pussy throbbing for pleasure. He peppers light kisses on the insides of your thighs, calloused hands gripping onto your supple skin with purpose. One of his hands cups your clothed sex, a finger tracing the thin cotton of your panties. You’re so wet already, and he had only kissed you.

“S’ wet already,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.” 

You gasp, hands reaching out to your sides in the earth as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulls your panties down your legs and around your ankles. 

And then, as soon as he fully pulls your panties off, his mouth is on your core, licking a single stripe up your wet pussy. A light moan slips from your lips as this newfound sensation, grasping the grass and flowers around you, pulling at the flimsy stems for support. Simon starts to run his tongue in circular motions around your clit, applying pressure into it as he expertly explores your pussy. You moan louder now, more freely, as he applies pressure, thighs quivering as he sucks on you, lapping your wetness like a man starved.

You can’t take it anymore, you pull your dress off his head, raking your hands through his hair as he laps at your sweet cunt. You watch as he delves in and out, watch as his nose presses against your clit just right, his tongue pressing into your hole ever so slightly. Your back arches as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, tugging his hair as you moan. Simon flits his eyes to you, still lapping at your pussy with an eagerness as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. That cheeky bastard. 

“Si,” you whimper, a plea for a moment to take in what you were feeling. You make another sound, a mix between his name and a moan, all high pitched and breathless, and he groans, his pants feeling extra tight and restricting. He exchanges a groan into your core as he holds you tighter.

“Taste s’ good f’me,” he grunts against you, “such a beautiful girl."

His groans are muted but dripping with desire against your wet cunt, pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You writhe under him, moans freely slipping from your lips, pressing your core up against his face as you arch your back into him. You can feel him salivating against you, worshiping you like a man starved, like you were the most precious thing in the world. You are to him, though. You’re everything and more to him.

The coil deep within you starts to build towards a climax, your muscles tightening as he works on relaxing you, on helping you reach the pleasure that you so highly deserved.

“Let go,” he says against your clit, squeezing your thighs in encouragement. The huskiness of his voice, the way his tongue expertly explores your core is enough for the coil in your abdomen to unravel, and you cum on his tongue. You moan breathlessly, muttering his name, chest heaving as you let go. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he breathes as he pulls away, licking your dripping wetness from his lips. “Perfect, beautiful girl.”

You keen at his praises, tugging at his hair harder as he lifts up from your core. His cheeks are flushed, lips swollen. You’re panting, heart racing, staring up into the sky, blissed out from your first orgasm. You whimper as you watch him lick his lips, and you reach your hands out for him to come to you. He immediately obeys, and as he hovers over you, you can see how his cock is straining against his pants. You push yourself up onto your elbows, eyeing his bulge for a moment before he kisses you, hard and deep. He shoves his tongue in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. 

“So good,” you say in between kisses. Your hands dragging up to the collar of his shirt. You start to paw on it, wanting him to take it off. 

“Take this off, please,” you beg, fingers sloppily moving to the buttons of his shirt. 

The way you say please so prettily, he’ll do anything for you. Anything.

He doesn’t wait to unbutton each of the buttons of his shirt, so he rips the shirt off, popping the buttons off as he rips the shirt off. 

“Ohhh-kay,” you whisper, taking in his bare chest. This wasn’t like when he fell into the lake, no, no, this was better. You run your hands over scars littered across his coarse skin, feeling him shudder under the touch of your soft hands. He lets you just, touch him, feel him. It’s quite nice, honestly, he thinks. He studies your face, your eyes growing wide as you run your hands across his chest and up to his broad shoulders, and squeeze them tightly. 

Absent-mindedly, Simon reaches up by the side of your head, plucking a rather large wildflower from the ground. Slowly, he slips the flower behind your ear, pushing away stray strands of hair from your face. 

“So beautiful, darling,” he sighs contentedly, his voice confident and full of pure affection. 

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away. A warm blush creeps onto your cheeks as you smile at Simon, your heart fluttering in your chest. His touch is gentle, and his actions speak of a tenderness that leaves you breathless. You find yourself lost in his deep, brown eyes. 

“I’m yours, Si,” you murmur, as you start to slip the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. “All yours.”

He watches, entranced, as you pull your sleeves down lower and lower, and immediately he reaches up to help you. He takes the fabric of your gown into his hands, and he shimmies it up and off your frame, casting it to the side. 

His breath is caught in his throat as he takes in your naked form, eyes unabashedly raking down your body. You swallow the lump in your throat, the nervousness once taking a hold of you dissipating as he looks at you with nothing but adoration and devotion. His hands trace down your shoulders to your breasts, an animalistic desire to take you then and there strong. But no, no, he was going to take his time, be gentle, focus solely on you. 

“You really don’t understand what you do to me,” he says, kneading the pillowy flesh of your breasts in his hands, tweaking your nipple, pulling a string of light moans from you. 

He lowers his head down, latching onto your nipple with a contended hum. His hand grazes from your side, past your thigh, and down to your dripping core. His fingers tease your clit, and you gasp with a jolt. He chuckles against your breast, mouth moving to your other. His finger traces down from your clit to your entrance, and just before he pushes a finger in, you gasp out. 

“I– I’ve never—”

He raises his head immediately, looking at your flushed face. You bite your lip, eyes looking away with embarrassment. Simon’s face morphs into a gentle, reassuring smile. 

“Shh, shh, I understand. Let me take care of you, darling,” he coos, stroking your skin. “Relax f’me.”

With a breath, you nod your head, and try your best to relax your muscles, breathing in and out steadily. You stare up into the sky for a moment, grounding yourself, watching passing clouds casting shadows all around. 

He agonizingly slowly plunges a single finger inside you, stilling for a moment as he feels you adjust. You shudder for a moment, your mouth open slightly as you take in his thick digit.

“Good, good girl,” he encourages, slowly pumping his finger inside you. Your back arches involuntarily, your hand sweeping in the flowers, plucking some out of the ground from your grip.

Simon grabs your hand with his free hand, allowing you to squeeze it as he works his way into you with a second finger. He starts curling his fingers inside you, reaching places you never knew existed. You let out breathy moans, gripping his hand as he picks up the pace, fucking you with his fingers. 

“So perfect,” he mutters, pressing his thumb into the thumb of your hand, massaging it slightly. 

“Simon, feels good,” you manage to spit out, your eyes fluttering closed as you just feel. Your wetness is gushing around his fingers.

“That’s it, lovie,” he encourages, voice sickeningly sweet. “Just one more.”

He plunges a third finger in, and you have to hold yourself back from screaming. 

“My perfect girl,” he praises as you take in his third finger, now reaching deep inside you. A deep set moan releases from your throat as you take in three of his fingers, wincing just a bit from the large adjustment, but feeling pleasure nonetheless.  Simon remains the embodiment of thoughtfulness and care, taking you in as you are, knowing that he has the privilege of being intimate with you. The way he stares at you in amazement, in awe, in affection has something growing even deeper within him. He loves the way he can make you come undone, the way he’s the only one who is allowed to see this side of you, the way he’s the only you trust fully and completely like this.

And with that, he can’t hold back anymore. He kisses you deeply, his fingers working in you slowly, methodically. 

“Simon, please,” you beg, panting between kisses, your core aching for more than just his fingers, “need you.” Your clit is throbbing as he presses into it, building up another orgasm. The way your fingers flutter around his fingers makes his cock jump, suddenly painfully aware of how badly he wants to be inside you right now. 

“I know, darling,” he soothes, yanking his pants down, his aching cock springing free from the confines of the fabric. You start to feel your muscles pulling, your wetness building up as his fingers hit a spot inside you, beckoning you to cum.

“Cum on my fingers,” he grunts, the pressure of your velvety cunt around his fingers making him move faster, reach deeper. You swallow heavily, your hips bucking into his hand a few times before cumming, soaking his fingers. 

“I need you, Si,” you’re practically crying, pawing at his chest for more. Your clit is throbbing, cunt aching for his cock. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says again, sucking your slick off his fingers with a satisfied hum. You watch him, mouth agape. 

“Please,” you groan again, wrapping your legs around his waist, beckoning him towards you. 

In a rush, he’s checking you over, making sure you’re comfortable in the plush grass before lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

Slowly, he pushes the tip inside you, letting you adjust to the size of his cock for a moment. Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head as he barely pushes his way inside you, but this feels better than his fingers. Much better. The stretch wasn’t without some pain, but you bear with it, gripping onto him as he starts to push himself inside you further.

“I know, I know, you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear, his deep voice rattling your eardrums.

He lets out his own moan, feeling the way your pussy squeezes him just right. Your back arches at the sensation, a gargled moan slipping from your lips, encouraging him to slide the full length of his cock into you.

“F– fuck, lovie,” he moans, his voice high-pitched and husky. “So perfect—”

He finally bottoms out, hips meeting yours as you both pant, the stretch feeling so fucking good. He stills for a moment, relishing the way you squeeze and flutter around him, relishing the way your face is contorted into nothing but pleasure. 

“Fuck me,” you plead, hands reaching to his shoulders as he hovers over you.

He grunts and thrusts himself into you as deep as he can. And it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. You can barely breathe as he sets a pace, slow yet not teasing. He works his way into you with a reigned fervor, his hands gripping onto you like you could break into a million pieces. You feel like you’re floating on air, your back arching, pressing into him as he pumps inside of you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your vision being taken up entirely by Simon. His eyes meet yours and for a moment, you swear he falters. He’s taken with you entirely, your eyes on him is all he needs to be happy in this world, he decides. 

He hisses as you drag your fingernails down his back, holding onto him as he starts to move faster, harder. 

“My beautiful, perfect wife,” he grunts, rocking into you. He beckons you to wrap your legs around his waist, yanking you closer to him. 

“So soft, so soft,” he groans, lips meeting your neck in an open mouthed, sloppy kiss. “S’ happy you’re my wife.” 

Your face flushes at his words, too flattered by his words to say anything. Pure bliss courses through you as he praises you, fucking into you like a man starved. He hits a region deep inside you, and you moan abruptly. 

“That’s it,” he groans, his own eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head as he watches you intently. A coil builds faster by the second, your stomach muscles clenching.

“Si—” you manage to moan, your hands moving up from his back to cup his face.

Tears blur your vision as you stroke his cheek, and he almost stops thrusting in you at the sweet action. In a flash, he’s moving faster, the colors of the flowers around your body becoming a blur as his vision narrows in on you, you, you. 

His hands slide down to grip your waist, his hold on you tightening. Your hands move to clasp around his neck, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck, your movements sloppy as he fucks you so nicely, so perfectly. He has to will himself to stay upright on top of you, wanting to pass out from how fucking beautiful you look, how fucking perfect you are to him. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, my perfect wife,” he moans, trying to express just how much he fucking loves this, how much he holds you in high regard. 

“I love you,” you blurt out, yanking him down on you. And then he’s pulling all the way out, just to slam into you again, and he can’t even find the proper words to respond, just absolutely fucking you into the flowers. 

“I love you,” he strangles out, bucking his hips helplessly into yours, and you press a kiss on his shoulder. “I love you, I love you,” he groans, letting you pull his face towards yours as you give him a deep, sloppy kiss. 

“I’ve loved you–” you try to say, your mind foggy as you leave open mouthed kisses along his face and neck, going down to his collarbone as he ruts into you. Simon mewls, his head dropping to your neck as you work on his skin. The coil within you is about to snap, your wetness coating his cock perfectly.

“Let go,” he says, pumping into you deeply, hitting a point that his fingers couldn’t even reach. “Let go, sweetheart.”

With that, you let out a garbled moan as you cum on his cock, clenching your eyes shut as you ride out your orgasm, the world fading away as if it's just you and him. His cock twitches inside of you as your walls flutter around him, his cock pulsating and throbbing, pent up from fucking into you. He breathes heavily, cumming into you with no remorse. God, you think you see stars as you feel him fill you up, moaning lightly as he slows to a stop. Simon is hovering over you, his hands planted on both sides of your face. 

“I love you,” you say again, wrapping your arms around his neck, prompting him to lay on top of you. He stares at you, mouth agape, blinking slowly.

“I thought I dreamt you saying that,” Simon says quietly, before letting himself drop on top of you. You grunt as he lets his full body weight rest on top of you, but you didn’t mind. It felt good. Felt so good having your husband laying on you like this, after the most intimate moment you’ve ever shared with him up until this point. 

He turns his face to press a kiss to your cheek. He picks more flowers from the side, stuffing them behind your ear, pushing stray hair out of your face so he can see you clearly. 

“I meant what I said,” you whisper, voice hoarse. You brush some stray grass out of Simon’s hair as he goes to lay his head down in your neck. 

“I know you did,” he whispers back, inhaling your scent.

“I love you, too,” he says, leaving a gentle kiss on your pulse. 

. . . 

After laying together for a little longer, he begrudgingly gets up to slide his pants back on. He goes over to your dress and undergarments, again, begrudgingly helping you get dressed again. You blush as he slides your panties back on your legs, breath seizing in his throat. When he finally pulls up the sleeves of your dress, you take his hand in yours. 

“Si, I honestly don’t think I can ride my horse back home,” you blush, securing the flowers behind your ear. 

“Ah,” he nods, looking down at you with a small smirk. “Of course.”

Suddenly, he scoops you into his arms, carrying you as though you weigh nothing. You let out a small yelp, fastening your arms around his neck securely as he makes his way over to the horses, both grazing on some grass a while away. 

As he approaches his horse, he sets you down for just a moment, reigning in your mare. With a lead, he attaches your mare to his horse. You watch him for a moment before he’s back on you, lifting you up so you can sit side saddle on his horse. With a grunt, he swings on behind you, gripping your waist so you can sit steady. 

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning your cheek on his chest. 

“Anything for you,” he says, motioning the horses to go home. 

You didn’t notice the bouquet of flowers he had shoved in his back pocket.

A souvenir to remember this day by. 

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[m1d-45]

room 11-13

summary: albedo is weird. no, not just weird- disgustingly strange.

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: implied stalking [him -> you] ; he is a weird creep!! brief + non described mentioned nudity (of reader, within a drawing)

-> gn reader (you/yours) in a modern au !

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

your roommate was… interesting, to say the least. not that you really had many expectations—unlike apparently everyone else, you didn’t come to university with a plethora of friends packed in your bag. you had no names to list on your housing contract, no familiar faces to look forward to when you came home, just you, a handful of cardboard boxes and a lingering sense that you’d forgotten something.

there was nothing you could pin about him. nothing in specific, no one catalyst you could point to. sure, you don’t see him often, but that isn’t inherently a bad thing. there’s nothing wrong with not going out much, there’s nothing wrong with being a quiet person when you’re living with a stranger. the common room is clean, the sink is (relatively) empty, and none of your things in the fridge have been eaten. he really, by all standards, should be a perfectly fine roommate, but…

albedo was a quiet man. you first met him when you moved in, delicately pouring exact amounts of water into a small tins over the sink without a single sound or stray droplet. he looked up, you exchanged names, and that was that. the rest of your day was spent unpacking in your room, barely hearing the click of his door closing.

you never quite asked what he was doing that first day, but you could put two and two together. he had a habit of leaving pencils or erasers or other supplies on the coffee table, and you often ran into him when he came out of his room to fetch them. you’re not quite sure how you never see him in the living room when you never told him your schedule, but… well, whatever. it didn’t take a genius to know that the guy with charcoal smears across his hands was an artist. and, if you’d somehow missed those, you sometimes ran into half-used palette in the fridge, beads of paint in a myriad of colors sealed neatly in plastic containers, changing every time you checked.

you weren’t sure why they were always there, as you’d definitely seen one when he was in the dorm, but… well, it’s not really your business, is it? maybe he’s busy, maybe he doesn’t want to paint, maybe he’s taking a nap, who cares. you grab what you need and go back to your room; there’s more important things to worry about than a stranger’s hobbies. honestly, you shouldn’t spend so much time thinking about him. you could hardly claim to know someone you never saw.

well, except when you did see him.

you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as you came back from your chemistry lab, not minding the usual palette of paint beside it. also as usual, you heard his door open as he remembered some random item, not minding the sound of his footsteps as you receded into your own room-

“wait! ah- please…”

you forgotten what his voice sounded like. it’s mostly out of shock, not recognition, that you turn around, seeing him lingering in the entrance to his half of the dorm. his hair is loose around his shoulders, catching the light from the window and glowing gold. his apron is stained with a rainbow of paint, matching the perpetual lines across his hands, and he seems a bit too nervous to be talking with someone he’s been living with for a few months now.

“…i couldn’t make it to the lab today,” he starts, words measured and not at all like his original call, practiced instead of panicked. “could i borrow your notes?”

…you’re in the same chemistry class? you’d never noticed. then again, you’re not sure you could pick him out of a crowd—it’s not like you two were exactly close… but giving him your data was honestly a non-issue. normally you wouldn’t think twice about it, except if he was in your lab section then he should know the rules about missing them.

“you’re going to have to retake the lab anyway, aren’t you? my report won’t help you at all.”

he blinks, like he’d forgotten that fact, and you half hope that’ll be the end of it. you still have your own work to get to, after all.

“still… it would give me something to reference, so when i do it i’ll know if my results are reasonable.” his brows are drawn, genuinely worried, crystal blue carrying a surprising amount of emotion despite the careful cadence of his words. “i’d greatly appreciate your assistance on this matter… i don’t have a reliable way to contact anyone else in the class.”

it only takes you a few moments to weigh the pros and cons. at worst, your partner can back you up if he tries to steal your work. at best, nothing happens and you’ve earned a bit of goodwill.

you shrug, taking off your bag and setting it on the counter, unzipping the main pocket and digging for your lab manual. you find it and flip to today’s lab, mentally wondering what an artist would think of the irritated scribbles down the side of the page. whatever the case, you hold it out toward the hallway he was before, only to find him barely a foot away. he’s stood over your shoulder, letting your manual bump into his chest without a flinch, without an ounce of the worry from before.

without an ounce of anything at all, really. his face is flat, empty, just staring down at the words in front of him without seeming to read them at all.

“…sorry,” you start, “i didn’t hear you-”

“don’t be sorry.” with a blink, he’s back, taking the manual with a gentle smile. “thank you for your help. i’ll return it by tonight.”

“…yeah, take your time.”

you’re not going to question what or why whatever happened did. it’s.. just easier if you don’t. you grab your bag and go to your room, focused on anything else.

you don’t find it in the common area, on the coffee table or by the sink or in any reasonable area. he doesn’t knock on your door to return it. no, instead, you trip over it the next day as you leave your room, squinting in the dark to see it laying on the carpet, a note taped to the front.

yeah, you’re not reading that. not now, at least. you’re certain albedo is a nice guy, if socially awkward, but… you can give him the benefit of the doubt later. you shove the note in a drawer and forget about it, going to class. if you just ignore it, you won’t have to deal with it.

it must not have been anything important, because he doesn’t ever bring it up again. it’s almost as if nothing happened. there’s a new pencil on the common room whenever you walk by, he ducks his head and smiles sheepishly when grabbing it, and nothing is new. you try to look for him in the lab, if only to be courteous, but never find him. it’s not a big class… but whatever, you’re not too familiar with his face anyway. after a week or two, you stop trying.

it’s wishful thinking, really.

you have to do a double take when opening the fridge one day, the paint on the palette looking, from the corner of your eye, like a human hand. it’s just skin-toned paints, delicately mixed into a color that somewhat looks like yours.. by the looks of it, he must have fussed with the tint for a while. normally there’s only small bubbles of paint, but this is excessively fine refinement.. he must just be a perfectionist.

you can’t leave your room without running into him. not just like before, with brief intersections as he grabs what he’s forgotten, but actual interactions. he sits on the couch, drawing in a small notebook, asking you about your classes like he’s not supposed to be in his own classes. sure, he could be taking some online, but it’s like he never leaves the dorm.

he asks as usual, one day, what class you’re going to. when you finally gather your courage and ask why he himself isn’t going to the lab, he startles, like he’d forgotten he was attending. there were plenty of reasons why he wasn’t going—maybe he was in a different section of the class, or he had a car and had reduced travel time, or quite literally anything other than silence. but he sat there, staring at you like you were the one who had mixed up your schedule, with the same painfully empty look as before.

you left soon after that.

if asked to describe albedo in three words or less, you’d fumble for a few moments before landing on “fine, but weird.” if asked to do so with any other level of detail, you’d probably end up saying the exact same thing.

and that’s fine. you didn’t really expect to become best friends with your roommate. but for archons’ sake, he’s just so… uncanny.

you’ve never seen any other food in the fridge but yours. you cannot remember ever seeing or hearing him leave or enter the dorm, or ever remember not seeing some sign of him being there. his door was perpetually closed, the faint sound of scratching coming from behind it, and he’d just… freeze at random. like he recedes into himself, leaving a hollow husk until he returns, eyes left as flat disks set into an unfeeling face. there’s nothing inherently wrong with not showing many expressions, but whatever he’s got going on is far more concerning than that.

so really, who could blame you for being curious? his sketchbook is just there, laying open on the table, only partially masked by the small bag of supplies next to it. the door to the bathroom is closed, you really shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this, but it’s not like he even bothered to close it.

still, it’s wrong.

still, having something solid to point to could really help if you ever need to make a complaint to an RA.

oh archons, this is such a bad idea.

before you can convince yourself not to, you walk over and sit in his usual place on the couch, picking up his sketchbook and gritting your teeth through the fact that there’s no way this is morally justified.

the current spread is plain. it’s entirely in pencil, repeated iterations of different kinds of jewelry. rings, with ornate spirals and diamonds along the sides, leading into a gem of many different cuts. some simple stud earrings, some hoops, a necklace draped around a half-drawn bust, the chain sketched to look like blooming flowers strung together. there’s some notes in another script, but other than that, it’s entirely normal. there’s nothing weird about a guy that draws bracelets in his spare time. but your mind itches to find a justification, searching for proof, and you’re already in too deep. despite your better judgement, you turn the page, doing your best not to drop it when you do.

it’s you.

you, at least six times on two pages alone. smiling, waving, fixing your hair, by the seven you feel faintly sick, fingers digging into the pages as you try to rationalize what you’re seeing.

it could just be a one off. maybe you have a particularly interesting face to draw? except the next page is the same, and so is the next, and you flip through them all with the edge of your thumb and it’s all you.

all of it. every single page that has ink on it has your face. from the very front to the very back, with only a page or two of white left, and it’s clear that the jewelry was an intentional decoy. there’s a spread dedicated to just your hands, one to various outfits he’s seen you in, one- archons, one in various stages of undress, barely granting you the dignity of keeping them from the waist up. the worst part, really, is how accurate they are, clear proof of just how much time he’s spent staring at you.

you recognize his voice now, quiet and measured as he calls your name. that could just be your heart in your ears, though.

he has that same blank expression again, standing in the doorway, looking between you and the book. you’re certain he can see the paled fingertips of your grip on the cover. “do… do you not like them?”

“…what?”

he settles back into himself, sad, shoulders slumping and eyes downturned. “they’re just practices, i promise. the actual painting looks much better…”

bile threatens the back of your throat. “the painting?”

“yes, the painting. the one i mentioned in my note…”

…the note. his note. the one you didn’t read. the one he gave you after a grand total of one significant interactions, before which you all but considered him a ghost. and he decided that making a painting of you was a normal thing to do?

“…it makes sense you forgot it. i can’t imagine i’ve ever come close to properly capturing your beauty… it doesn't matter the medium, i never seem to get it right...”

he crosses his arms, picking idly at his lips with one hand, like he’s discussing a particularly annoying problem on his homework and not the fact that he has drawings of you topless. after a few moments of mumbling, he shakes his head. “i’ll do better. i promise i will. one day i'll draw something that finds even a fraction of your perfection.”

you don’t care. all you want is to get out of here, to lock your doors and try not to call the cops while he’s in earshot. “it’s fine, albedo”

the lie is a poison that seems to sting him upon arrival, a ripple of shock crossing his impassive expression. “it's not fine, not at all. how can i call myself an artist if i fail to impress my muse? please, give me time, i promise i can do better-”

“it’s fine,” you repeat, setting the sketchbook down and realizing with another stab of disgust that he’s written your name on the front cover. you stand, hands buzzing with the echo of what you’ve witnessed, not caring for the crestfallen look on his face. “…you’re a talented artist,” you grit out.

and you’re going to be sick.

[thesunshinebunny]

Hey, can you do TWST form leaders crushing on/having a s/o with fairy wings please? (Fem or Gender Neutral)

Yes, yes, yes, I know, I'm super late. A lot of things happened and a lot more is still happening, but finally…FINALLY, I'm writing for you again. I hope that, after so much time, this hc is to your liking. Have a nice night.

Riddle

Throughout his childhood, Riddle didn't have the chance to meet many people, much less people with animal features Meeting Chanyan and being in Night Raven for two years, his perspective on human features changed completely.

And at no time did anything racist cross his mind.

Even so, seeing you in your ceremonial robe, with large holes in the back, instead of the hood and pants that he was so used to seeing, was a complete surprise.

If by chance you were to be chosen for Heartslabyul, Riddle would personally take care of arranging your room to your needs, including your uniform. Unfortunately it wast'n the case, for you being sent to Ramshackle, but that virtue of yours wouldn't be monopolized by dust and dirt.

Your visits to his dorm never go unnoticed. The sunlight coming into contact with your wings always creates a beautiful rainbow, even light effects, on the walls or around you.

It's like you have a multi-colored halo following you around wherever you go.

The animals also, for some reason, love to be on your lap. Your sensitive hands, your wings moving in the air, coiled in warm sunlight…

Riddle was fascinated.

You really did look like a fairy… a beautiful garden fairy, straight out of a fairy tale.

And then we can see Riddle's heart start to beat even faster, making his cheeks blush in the process.

Leona

A person with animal features…what a suprise. Although it was unusual to find someone with wings instead of ears and a tail; he also assumed that you were one of that species of bird.

It wasn't until he saw you in the botanical garden, next to a small fountain, surrounded by multiple flowers and plants, that he could see your wings more closely.

They had no feathers, they were transparent.

Anyway… an anomaly or something like that. Nothing that would prevent him from taking his daily nap.

But that was the problem, he couldn't, since the light that filtered through the glass of the botanical garden made your wings radiate and reflected those same rays, causing some to hit his eyes.

It wasn't until he opened his eyes furiously that Leona saw a multicolored aura on your back, accompanied by small flashes of light, as if it were stardust.

“An angel"... was what escaped from his lips, agape, seeing you turn towards him, letting your hair delicately run along the profile of your neck, and a smile formed on your face to greet him.

Leona from now on likes to take his naps with you, allowing himself to be lulled by your non-stop chatter about your land, while he watches your wings flutter delicately, even fragilely.

He is extremely protective of you, not allowing you to visit his dorm since he doesn't trust the strength, or in this case, kindness of his dorm mates… It isn't a dorm that is characterized by being precisely gentle and soft in its touch.

But Leona is. And he loves to feel and run through the multiple bifurcations that your wings have on the tips of his fingers. He loves to feel the small breeze the small movement of your wings generates when you are resting.

And above all, he loves to see your wings relaxed on your bare back first thing in the morning.

Azul

What a beautiful and peculiar sight, something new to investigate. Even manipulate. It's not every day you see a fairy at school.

Let's agree that Azul was one of the few people who remembered that Malleus was half fairy, and that… after countless failed attempts to ask and experience his race, your figure appearing through the doors of the Monstro Lounge was like a sign directly from heaven.

Obviously you weren't there for Azul, no. You had entered simply and plainly to see the multiple aquatic creatures that had been mentioned to you on the surface, but you were unable to see them from so close. So, what better place to have an excursion to the sea than the very dorm that housed those very creatures.

Azul, seeing he was being ignored over a common fish, was about to kick you out of the lounge, with the excuse of “no drink, no show”

And he was close, ohhh, he was so close…but when his eyes saw your transparent wings and the way the water distorted even more over them, how your wings generated small rays of sunlight that created paths for the fish and other creatures…he was simply enchanted.

VIP access for the rest of the year.

Azul is always inventing some excuses to go see you. “I brought you a potions book, maybe they will help you for the next exam.” “Jade baked a couple of cookies and asked me to bring them to you.” “I saw you liked a creature from our fish tank, so I brought it to you in a medium-sized one so you can admire it as long as you want.”

“I want to draw your wings” It wasn't the excuse he had planned for this day. His mouth betrayed him when he saw you in a dress characteristic of your lands. You looked so… beautiful.

“Sure, let me open the window to let in some light and sit on the couch.”

He nearly had a heart attack when you sat so delicately on the tangled couch, your ensemble lighting up the whole room.

Gods, Azul was in love with that light you emanated.

Kalim

“When you fly, do you loose fairy dust?” was the first thing Kalim said when he saw you in the ceremonial robe in front of the mirror.

He was ready to take you to Scarabia immediately and leave you under the sun to admire those huge, shiny wings. His disappointment was no less when he heard you're going to Ramshackle.

But that didn't stop him from visiting you, he even spent hours in your dorm next to you, admiring and tracing lines on your wings, tickling you and laughing under your breath.

One day Jamil had to come and take him out by the ears since he was neglecting his duty as dorm leader.

Kalim walked out the door with a face of a wet dog, he even almost started crying. Being away from your wings, from you, broke his heart.

He always found a way to sit next to you in class, he even went into classes that didn't apply to him, just to see you. And obviously he got a hard time from the teachers.

One night, Kalim invited you to a party at his dorm, preparing a grand banquet, a grand decoration, asking his dorm mates to wear their best robes.

And speaking of clothes, Kalim even prepared a change of clothes for you, if you were comfortable with that, obviously. He wasn't going to force you to wear something you felt uncomfortable or unpleasant in.

His face lit up when you told him it was no problem, that you loved to wear multiple and colorful clothes. The bigger your closet, the better.

And his face lit up even more when he saw you descending the stairs in his traditional red and white hindu outfit, adorned with the finest rubies and gold medallions. A bit ostentatious for your taste, but of an exquisite and soft finesse.

But the greatest ornament you wore was not the jewelry, nor the small and half headband that circled from the middle of your forehead back; but your smile. That ear-to-ear smile that he loved to admire so much.

The intention of the evening was to get you dancing, to make you spin to the tune of cheerful music, even to chat for hours. But Kalim was only interested in one thing. And that was the way the starting of your wings was delicately embraced by the soft fabric of the sari.

Vil

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the most beautiful creature in the school?”

It was no surprise for Vil to see his reflection on his huge magic mirror, he was still the most beautiful person in the school…but he was disappointed to know that the same mirror had ignored his question. He didn’t ask about person, but about creature.

Now, don’t get me wrong, your own being was that of a person of flesh and blood, but your structure had a beastly part…like the Savannahclaw motto.

Vil was disappointed not to see your image in the mirror’s reflection.

Yes, Vil was enchanted by the beauty and brightness that characterized fairies, features he had never seen, and that you, who possessed the brightest and most beautiful wings that he had seen in his short life, were in this school specifically for villains…well, it was an opportunity he wasn't going to waste.

Whenever he could, he left his duties as dorm leader to see your profile in the corridors or sitting in the gardens. He admired the silhouette of your back, perfectly upright to support the weight of the wings, although to the naked eye, they gave the sensation of being made of paper, breakable and fragile paper.

Vil fantasized day and night being able to touch them, feel them with the tips of his fingers. He wished with a fierce intensity to be the owner of the laughter and small sounds that would surely be caused by the caresses he oh so deliciously wanted to give you. So much desire happened, without warning.

And from that day on, Vil only had eyes for you, for your figure, for your eyes, for your smile, for your light.

Yes, Vil was initially obsessed with the beauty of your fairy side, but now, deeper in their relationship, Vil was in love with your own beauty.

The way your back curved to change your top garment, the way your hair seemed like a continuation of those transparent wings. The way your figure fit so well with his when taking pictures, as your smile was the most striking thing in the shot.

The way the violet color reflected on the bifurcations of your wings and when the morning light hit them, it generated a beautiful and delicate violet ray.

Vil had never loved the uniform's violet color so much until you tried it on and wished with all his inner fire that you had been assigned to Pomefiore.

Idia

He saw you in flying class, without a broom, and yet you were flying with a grace that even the best flying wizard had.

And not to mention the little sparkles that floated around you as your wings fluttered. He was so mesmerized that he almost knocked over a tree.

Despite his reserved nature, Idia was irresistibly drawn to you. There was something about the way your wings unfolded, as if they were an extension of your own essence, that aroused in him a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

One day, after a long period of observation from a distance, which lasted for months, Idia decided to make an effort to get closer. He decided to approach the botanical garden, your little space of rest and relaxation to start a first conversation. Finding you lying on the grass, with your back to him, Idia couldn't help but blush.

There was something about the combination of natural elements and magic that felt like an extension of your personal charm. He blushed so much that he had to close his eyes to calm his poor, mortal heart, which was pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest.

Then he opened them again, you were floating above him, head down, letting your hair float in a strange way and your eyes were at the same height as his.

Idia realized that there was something more than fascination in his heart. Every time you laughed or moved your wings, he felt a spark in his chest, a warmth that couldn't be explained only by his fascination to that same sparkle your own wings gave off. It was something deeper, something that had slowly begun to blossom inside him.

From that day on, Idia began to look for excuses to spend time by your side, not only in the gardens, but also in the most common corners of the school.

He looked for you at your dorm, he took you to his. You showed him how wonderful nature could be on your lap, he showed you how peaceful time could be in a glimpse of the underworld.

Even at your side, he could feel like an eternal spring was lodged in his heart, waiting to receive the rays of your smile every day.

Malleus

Malleus, seeing you for the first time, a new student with fairy wings, someone of his own race, was captivated not only by your ethereal beauty, but also by the sense of ancient magic that emanated from you. To him, those wings represented a connection to the ancient myths, legends, and cultures he had studied so much for centuries.

Every time he saw you running through the grey halls of the school, his heart beat with a mix of intrigue and admiration, an unusual curiosity he had never felt before.

Malleus began leaving small gifts in the garden. Enchanted flowers and jewels that seemed to resonate with a soft glow, as if they were meant to be worn by you.

He felt an enormous sense of protection towards you. He saw you as tiny, fragile. He always made sure, from a distance, that you were safe. Even if it earned a reprimand from Lilia “you seem like a pretty shady stalker”

In your presence he often found himself in a state of silent admiration, caught up in the contemplation of your elegance and natural magic.

Malleus took any opportunity to be near you, even in everyday situations like walks around campus or visits to the library. Just being by your side was more than enough to melt his heart of stone.

Sometimes, at night and with the brightness of the stars as the only things present, Malleus surprised you with little surprises: an enchanted melody that only you could hear or a series of handwritten notes, full of sincere and tender confessions. A real Don Juan.

It wasn’t until the evening of a school festival that Malleus gathered the courage to ask for your hand…for a dance together under the moonlight. And dance, you danced, until the music stopped, until all you could hear were their moderately agitated breathing, until the light of dawn began to shine and welcome a new day.

Both of you danced until a bright, multi-colored aura surrounded you.

[nyctoaerah]

𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

“𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐔𝐒

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: You found yourself stripped of your immortality, a punishment for daring to flout the edicts laid down by your father. Your transgressions? Two-fold. First, the grave sin of disobedience, and Secondly, the cardinal offense of falling irrevocably in love with your Lady in waiting. In your father’s eyes, the sanctity of your divinity was tarnished by a same-gender relationship, a concept that he vehemently repudiated as aberrant and abhorrent. Such unforgivable love, he pontificated, dulled your goddess-like essence. Thus he used his powers and casted you adrift into a parallel universe suffused with curses and sorcerers whose love aren't really the healthy type of love, a punishment to show you that ‘Love’ isn’t all about sunshine and rainbows.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Homophobia, Gore, Abuse, Mentions of Abortion, Slow Burn Yandere, Love Percentage Au.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Jjk x Fem! Isekai’d! Goddess Reader.

╰┈➤𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieri, Yuki Tsukumo, Kento Nanami, Utahime Iori, Choso, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen.

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: the jjk stuff will start at chapter two, since chapter one is just more like a prologue or something, and chapter one is more like an explanation of the reader’s backstory and how she ended up in the jjk world. Make sure to read the info at the end!! Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3. Also posted on Quotev and Wattpad.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 7161 words.

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

╰┈➤𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

LEISURELY AND GRACEFULLY STROLLING along the intricately designed and curving hallways of your grand fortress, the melodic echo of each step you took resonated harmoniously in the peaceful atmosphere, while the  touch of your heels met the gleaming crystal ground beneath you, causing your very own image to disperse and reflect through the pristine transparency of the exquisite material.  

The  chandelier hanging above emitted a light gleam, resembling the vibrant shade of crimson red, while the light bathed the corridors in a delicate crimson glow, illuminating the exquisitely detailed drawings adorning the fortress walls, and suspended in mid-air was a red colored crystals, floating on the air, their movements seemingly autonomous.  

As you took each step, your hair swayed and bounced in synchrony, its lustrous strands reflecting beams of the crimson light of the chandeliers. The delicate pearls and intricate jewelry that adorned your figure jiggled with every move you make, However, as you strode forward, your attention was suddenly drawn when a voice spoke.

“Lady [Name],”

A soft and melodic voice, seemingly hollow yet penetrating, reached your ears.The words flowed from their lips with a delicate sweetness. You turned and spun around, the tinkling sound of your jewelry resonating through the momentary silence. 

Meeting the gaze of the caller, whose eyes resembled the  depths of the ocean, the caller’s eyes reflected adoration, their pupils dilated, and so did your own.

And your solemn expression transformed into a beam.

“Ataraxia!”

“Mhm, it’s me, princess,”

Ataraxia offered a subtle nod and  bowed before you. A smile graced her succulent lips, Her sleek black tresses cascaded down her neck as she lowered her head, revealing the intricate crystal blue and golden jewelry that adorned her neck and collarbone.

Your excitement over seeing her was palpable, evident by the rapid clicking of your heels against the crystalline ground. It almost seemed as though the force of your footsteps could shatter the delicate surface, yet somehow it held strong. Without hesitation, you enveloped her in a tight embrace, drawing your bodies close together.

As the warmth of your hug enveloped her, ataraxia couldn't help but release a soft, joyful giggle. She couldn't help but wonder why you were particularly affectionate today, as you weren't usually so physically demonstrative. Typically, you were filled with boundless energy, though your quirks occasionally teetered on the edge of eccentricity.

However, she understood that being unconventional and weird  was simply a part of who you were—and she loved you for who you are. It didn't bother her, especially considering the fact that you had lived a sheltered life within your own empire, with minimal interaction aside from the servants and your father. 

“Missed you so much, ‘raxia, haven’t seen you in days..” you murmured, burying your nose into the delicate nook of her neck, your warm breath ghosting over her skin.

Ataraxia reciprocated your sentiment, her voice just above a whisper, “I missed you more.”

Her azure eyes darted around the area, on the lookout for any prying eyes. The relief that washed over her when she realized they were alone was almost palpable. 

“We should probably find a more private place, yeah?” Ataraxia gently suggested, pulling away slightly from your embrace, head tilting to the side inquisitively and pretty ocean blue eyes observing the confused look on your face.

“It’s improper for us to show such affection in public, where prying eyes are everywhere.” She explained gently.

“We musn’t indulge in it, do you not agree, sinta?”

Ataraxia inquired, observing the subtle movement of your eyebrow and the way your smile abruptly transitioned into a frown. 

“Right..” you acknowledged, releasing a sigh filled with disappointment. 

She raised one eyebrow in curiosity at your reaction, her  fingertips firmly holding onto your chin as she observed the subtle movement of your hyoid bone with every breath you exhaled.  

“Are you mad?”

She queried gently, the hues of her bright blue eyes delving into the depths of your own [E/c] orbs in search of a response, pondering if her words had caused you offense. Releasing your chin, she shifted closer to you, leaning in as her lips hovered just above yours.

“Don’t be.” Her words were barely audible as you released a sigh, moving your face closer to the curve of her neck, taking in the fragrant aroma of jasmine that surrounded her like a cloak.  

“I’m not, don’t fret,” you assured,.

Upon hearing your reassurance that you are not upset, she visibly relaxed, you could see the faint movement of the muscles on her neck relax from its previous tense state, and it made you smile as you pulled away.

“I’ll never get mad at you, you’re my world after all... My soul.” You said with a closed eyed smile.

“I know, but i can’t shake this nagging doubt that perhaps you are  teetering on the precipice of anger...” Ataraxia revealed, her lips contorting into a  pout that stirred a quizzical arch of your eyebrow, followed by a chuckle that bubbled up from within your throat, finding her cute.

“Not mad, m’love. ‘just realized that you’re right” you murmured tenderly, taking her hand and pressing a reverent kiss upon it.

“Are you certain, love? I harbor no desire for a rift to fester between us,”

With a decisive nod, you assured her,

“Beyond doubt, my dear.”

A warm smile enveloped your features as you tenderly placed a hand upon her shoulder, guiding her with deliberate care towards the shared sanctuary of your quarters.

Throughout the whole walk, you were silent as the realization of ataraxia’s words set in—that displaying affection in public was not an option for several reasons. 

Firstly, your father held homophobia and despised homosexuality. Secondly, your relationship with Ataraxia remained clandestine. Thirdly, homosexuality was considered a significant taboo in your world, as men were presumed solely for women, and vice versa. The idea of men loving men or women loving women romantically was shunned and a taboo.

And yet, that was precisely what you were engaged in—a same gender relationship. Furthermore, there was the final obstacle of being in a relationship with a servant. 

Ataraxia, much like yourself, was a goddess, but her family had assigned her as your lady-in-waiting. From the time you were on the brink of adolescence, Ataraxia had been faithfully by your side. Despite the societal constraints, both of you had developed a deep affection for one another.

Because How could you not? You cherished the way Ataraxia provided guidance on various matters, the way she imparted knowledge, the way she described the world beyond your secluded existence dictated by your father's iron fist, her personality is pleasant and Her physical appearance was an added bonus, as she was undeniably beautiful. 

Conversely, Ataraxia adored your lively spirit, a stark contrast to her own calm demeanor. However, as they say, opposites do really attract. In addition to that, the contrast between you and other members of royalty is remarkable. They communicate in a regal manner, exuding power and elegance, while you express yourself with a delicate, sweet, and casual tone, yet you still manage to uphold an air of grace, thus you stand apart from them as someone who remains untainted, despite being influenced by your own father's manipulation and brainwashing during your upbringing.

But therein lay the predicament. Regardless of the depths of your love for one another, being together was an impossibility as long as the absurd laws outlawing homosexuality lingered and your tyrannical father reigned.

If it were ever discovered that the two of you engaged in a romantic relationship, severe consequences awaited. While you were willing to take the risk, Ataraxia hesitated. She feared that her family would suffer the wrath of your father alongside you, and you couldn't blame her for feeling that way. After all, your father was known for his merciless nature.

Your father, he who rules the universe, Aionarch, held the esteemed title of the ruler of all gods, and the god of eternity, reigning over both the realm of the living and the deceased. As a primordial god and the creator of the world, he was extremely powerful and was immensely respected and fear, and under normal circumstances, you would have taken great pride in being his offspring, but Alas, his despicable personality and tyranny had tarnished any sense of admiration you could have harbored for him.

As a goddess and his child, you inherited certain powers from him, such as the ability to shape-shift and communicate with animals and the dead. However, your primary abilities consisted of pyrokinesis and cryokinesis.

Nevertheless, you had yet to fully master your cryokinetic powers, leaving you reliant on your pyrokinetic abilities, which proved to be relatively simple to wield. Regrettably, you had only primarily employed these powers for mundane tasks, such as culinary preparations, and never in a battle, because your father would get mad in seeing your precious and delicate skin get ‘tarnished’, or as he claims.

Although you possessed a retinue of servants, your father, Aionarch, insisted on teaching you the culinary arts, proper etiquette, and other artsy stuff, deeming them necessary for a goddess like yourself, solely because of your gender. This notion infuriated you, as his misogynistic, homophobic, manipulative, and overall abusive behavior had become all too familiar. 

Throughout your entire existence, you had been confined within your father's realm, only interacting with him, the other divine servants, who comprised both goddesses and gods, fairies, arcanittes, cheirovile, and a small number of demigod slaves.

As the gods forbade any interaction with humans, as they considered such relationships repugnant, since mortals could never be on par with divine beings, thus, only divine beings could reproduce with each other, and Consequently, anyone who dared to engage in a romantic relationship with a human faced severe punishment and their offspring, if any, were promptly reduced to the status of slaves—The demigods.

You empathized deeply with these unfortunate slaves, as a single misstep could result in unimaginable torment. They were not treated as individuals but rather as subhuman creatures, subjected to degrading treatment and regarded as mere training dummies, an object at that. An object that is to be degraded and to be destroyed.

You vividly recalled your father urging you not to extend pity to these individuals, asserting that they deserved the divine punishment, for disobeying the ridiculous rules he had made, thus, he insists that they brought forth the misfortune that has bestowed upon them.

Divine punishment, or as people calls it.

Divine punishment was the worst punishment anyone could ever suffer. According to him, anyone who dared to defy him would suffer his wrath and endure divine retribution. 

Another thing, is that divine punishment was not the typical disciplinary measure—where people would go to jail or get whipped 30 times. it was absolutely more brutal than that.

Every single day, those condemned to such a fate endured relentless torture, both day and night, for all eternity. Moreover, anyone who extended a helping hand to those subjected to divine punishment would inevitably share the same fate.

And the punishment, wasn't very pleasant, and you know it too well.

Because you had experienced it too, albeit, a less worse than the others, because you had attempted to alleviate the suffering of one of these tormented souls. Fortunately, your father's retribution towards you was not as severe as that inflicted upon the other nefar.

Nonetheless, the dreadful experience left behind a permanent scar on your back, each stroke of the whip searing through your flesh and delving into your inner muscles, striking your spine repeatedly till it shatters and your divine powers would work to heal the wounds and prevent you from dying, but albeit, it was all useless, because they wouldn't stop until Aionarch had deemed that you had been disciplined enough.

It gets even worse than that. Not only were they subjecting you to painful whippings, but they were also adding fucking salts into your wounds. These salts would seep into your open flesh, penetrating deep into your inner muscles, causing them to contract and intensify your pain.

The irritation they caused your muscles was unbearable, inflicting excruciating pain upon you. Furthermore, they haphazardly sliced off two of your fingers and thrusted a sword infused with acid into your skull. They even twisted it, resulting in a sickening squelching sound that merged with the painful thwacks of the whip striking your  back. 

However, amidst this horrifying ordeal, there was a slight glimmer of mercy. Fortunately, the torment inflicted upon you lasted only for a duration of two hours. This was due to the benevolent intervention of your father, who, in his somewhat twisted display of kindness, believed that you had been adequately disciplined. Consequently, he saw fit for you to embody the qualities of a true goddess rather than resemble a pitiful princess who defies her father's commands.  

However, it may come as a surprise to many individuals as to why you would assist one of those individuals who had endured the consequences of divine punishment, ultimately resulting in your own torture. 

The individual you extended your help to happened to be Xeranthi, your biological mother. 

Similar to you, your mother possessed the abilities of a goddess and could manipulate both flowers and light. Xeranthi, just like you, was a victim of aionarch. Despite her tragic circumstances, Xeranthi exuded a sense of sweetness, gentleness, and care towards others.

Her inherently cheerful and lively nature captivated the hearts of numerous individuals who admired her exceptional beauty and heavenly demeanor. Moreover, her pleasant personality added to her allure and charm. She had been living a blissful life, filled with contentment and satisfaction, until aionarch abruptly entered the scene, shattering her tranquility as he forcefully snatched her away from her freedom, coercing her into an unwilling marriage.

After aionarch had taken advantage of her, she eventually ended up having you, and she held a profound hatred towards you because you were never intended to exist. You were the unwanted consequence of her pain and suffering; you embodied the repercussions. It was unsettling for Xeranthi to see that you inherited your father’s [E/c] eyes and even his features, which evoked a shiver of unease within her. 

The expectation was for her to despise you, but how could she? The moment you entered the world and locked eyes with her, your innocent and doe-like gaze instantly melted her heart. The way you giggled and radiated sweetness towards her was something she didn't experience with aionarch, and it brought her immense joy. Xeranthi was grateful that you didn't grow up to resemble aionarch; she found solace in the fact that you were different.  

Xeranthi made a brave attempt to protect you from the harm caused by your father. She desperately sought to remove you from that dangerous environment when you were about sixteen years old. Being your loving mother, Xeranthi could not bear to witness you enduring the same suffering she went through.

Tragically, her plan was foiled and she faced severe consequences, as she was accused of kidnapping the cherished daughter of aionarch, which was you.

This divine punishment was imposed upon her due to her audacious act, and you tried to help her but ended up getting harmed too.

Suddenly, Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a thunderous, resonant voice that belonged to aionarch, causing your stomach to instantly sink with trepidation. The chamber, otherwise deserted, seemed to reverberate with your father's commanding tone, making your heart race and threaten to burst from your ribcage.

“Fair maiden, come to my chambers. We shall discuss matters of utmost importance. Do not dawdle, for my patience is dwindling”

Ataraxia's face displayed concern as her brows knitted together, and you could see the tension in her clenched jaw, a clear sign that she was worried for your wellbeing.

“Have you done something wrong?” she asked, her concern evident. You shook your head in response, assuring her that you were innocent. 

“No”

”Do you think he knows?” she asked with a breathy voice, her worried eyes searching yours as she grasped your hand in hers, seeking comfort and support. Trying to dispel her fears, you spoke,

“I highly doubt it,” you replied, trying to ease her concerns

“Perhaps he wants me to do something or maybe i fucked up another etiquette lessons again ”

Frustration laced your words as you almost snarled, punctuating your frustration with vulgar language.

“He’s so fucking—”

Ataraxia gasped at your choice of words, immediately tightening her grip on your hand, her pointed nails inadvertently pressing pressure and piercing your flesh to abruptly halt your speech.

“Please refrain from using such vulgar language! It is improper,” she chastised you, causing you to wince as your wounded hand began to heal naturally, your anger still simmering beneath the surface.

“You and your overly strict morals,” you grumbled, Criticizing her for her perceived excessive moral standards and observing as your skin regenerated and the blood disappeared.    

“It's not strict; it's simply adhering to basic societal norms,” Ataraxia retorted, releasing your hand.    

“Whatever,” you muttered dismissively.    

"You will face consequences for your behavior. Acting un-princess-like is unacceptable," Ataraxia murmured, prompting you to raise an eyebrow. 

“Is 'un-princess-like' even a word?” you pondered, realizing that you had never come across it before.   

“Whether it's a real word or not, you will be punished,” Ataraxia brushed off your question, causing you to groan. 

“Punishment here, punishment there, punishment everywhere,” you grumbled, feeling overwhelmed by the constant discipline, because this is seemingly like an endless cycle of retribution. 

“Yes, exactly,” Ataraxia agreed.    

“I'll be fine,” you muttered, noticing the tension in her body language. Leaning closer to her, you pressed your lips against hers in a tender kiss. 

“Promise me,” Ataraxia pulled away from the kiss and gazed into your eyes, seeking reassurance. 

“I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, i take an oath by my father's name.” you vowed, placing your index finger over your heart and making a cross-like motion.    

“But then, if i don't come back unscathed, that wouldn't be a problem, for i would die for you.”

You said with a smile.

“You’re making it sound like you’re gonna die...” Ataraxia murmured, feeling a sense of foreboding creeping over her.

She surely hoped that you’ll be okay.

After all, she knows how cruel aionarch is.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As you entered your father's chambers, a wave of coldness washed over you, causing the breath you're exhaling through your mouth to visibly frost in the air and come out as puff of breaths.

The red lights overhead flickered intermittently, casting an eerie crimson glow throughout the room. With cautious steps, you walked on the crystal floor, the sound of your heels clicking on the ground echoing in the otherwise silent chamber. As each footfall connected with the crystal, it began to emit a soft, illuminating glow, mirroring the radiance of the chandeliers. Shadows twisted and danced on the walls as you continued forward. 

With a mixture of reverence and trepidation, you knelt down on one knee, dipping your head low as a sign of respect.

“Dearest ethereal Father,” you whispered, the words barely audible in the stillness of the room. It felt as if the entire atmosphere held its breath, waiting for your next move. 

“I have come as you beckoned,” you spoke, maintaining your lowered position and avoiding raising your head. The delicate fabric of your dress brushed against the floor, its threads resembling the softness of fine wool.

“Rise, fair daughter.” commanded your father, his voice deep and resonant, carrying an air of authority that never failed to send shivers down your spine. Slowly, you stood up, straightening your posture with great care. You lifted your chin high and puffed out your chest, mindful not to display any sign of weakness or disobedience. Back then, your father had chastised you for slouching, claiming it was unbecoming of a goddess like yourself. The memory lingered in your mind, a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon you and you couldn't help but feel bitter.

Such expectations on you was placed upon your shoulders ever since you were a child.

“Thank you, father,” you responded, feeling a twinge of discomfort in your voice. At this moment, all you wished for was to be safely nestled in the arms of ataraxia, far away from the intense presence of your father. But alas, you remained in aionarch's chambers, bound by duty and obligation. 

“Did I grant you permission to speak?”

You were overcome with a sense of dread as a chilling sensation coursed through your veins, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. This unsettling feeling made your hand involuntarily twitch, and in response, you clenched your fists tightly, causing your nails to dig into the soft flesh of your palms. 

“No, you did not, i apologize” you mutter, the words escaping your trembling lips, you quickly lowered your head in a submissive gesture, attempting to apologize for your foolishness, because that's what Aionarch liked—Submission and control.

“Please find it in your heart to forgive your poor daughter's indiscretion,”

You fought the urge to wince, the words just felt so fake coming out of your mouth.

Your heart raced in your chest, and your throat felt constricted as your father finally revealed himself before you. His imposing figure towered over you with an astonishing height of 370 cm, a mere glimpse of his human form or whatever. In contrast, you stood at a mere 7'9 feet tall, making you feel incredibly small and insignificant. 

His hair, was heterochromic colored, the other one was white as freshly fallen snow and the other one was as black as an obsidian, it flowed down his broad shoulders like a cascading waterfall. It had a softness akin to the finest wool, and intricate carvings in the form of letters adorned his face. Some of these carvings bore the words "eternal" and "death," among others. His eyes shared the same [E/c] shade as yours, but his sclera were as black as the endless void. His skin was pale and delicate like a lily, accentuated his succulent lips and well-shaped nose and Overall, his physical appearance was undeniably attractive.

His long, slender fingers gently combed through your [H/c] hair and a shiver ran down your spine, sending a tingling and an unpleasant sensation in your body. His fingers effortlessly weaved through your locks, leaving a trail that felt as smooth as fine sand. Despite feeling discomforted by his touch, you kept your head bowed low, acquiescing to whatever he wants to do, but admist it all, you knew that there was a patronizing quality to his touch that unsettled you to your core.

“Tell me, my dearest daughter,” Aionarch whispered, his voice as cool and calming as the night breeze by the sea.

“What do i hate the most?”

His question made you shift uneasily, even as you maintained your low posture. It struck you as odd that he would ask such a question when he already knew the answer himself. 

“Disobedience and disloyalty,” you answered with a tightly pressed line of lips, aware of the consequences your response might bring. 

But still, curiosity sparks within you—why is he asking you that?

“Very well, my dear,” Aionarch murmured approvingly, his voice dripping with satisfaction. 

“And what did you do? haisayu?” he suddenly inquired, causing a sickening feeling to churn in your stomach. The intensity of his presence grew, and it felt as though he controlled your very breath, taking away your autonomy. It was as if his penetrating gaze could pierce through your flesh and bone, causing the wind to howl loudly and the ground to shake in response. It was clear that he was enraged, but the reason remained unknown to you. 

Your brows drew together.

It was a vague question coming from your father, however, a feeling of foreboding formed a pit in your stomach.

What have you done?

“What have I done...?” you repeated, perplexed, only to let out a choked yelp as his fingers tightened their grip on your hair. His sharp, black nails dug into your scalp, causing pain to shoot through your head as he forced your gaze upward, meeting his intense stare. 

“You have disobeyed,” he growled, his teeth grinding together in the dim light. The pressure of his fingers against your skull intensified, causing the pain to escalate without piercing through. As blood trickled down your face, you could feel his fury boiling over.

“You dare have the temerity to use my name in an oath?” Aionarch exclaimed, his grip on your head tightening, his sharp nails penetrating your skin, causing more blood to trickle down your face. 

“And to compound your audacity, you have committed a forbidden sin. You have allowed yourself to become infatuated with a servant, no less, and a woman at that!” he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. When you had sworn your oath in his name, he had overheard it and began piecing together the puzzle, realizing the romantic relationship you had with your lady-in-waiting—Ataraxia. 

“How dare you love that woman?” he snarled, his anger palpable. 

Your eyes widened in realization and your heart sank to the pit of your stomach as you comprehended your grave error. You had indeed taken an oath for Ataraxia, using Aionarch's name. 

Undoubtedly, this was the gravest mistake of your life. You had truly fucked up, and the weight of that realization sent a shiver of fear down your spine.

Make a move. Something whispered in you.

Don’t be scared of him. All the whispers insisted, and you slowly found yourself getting agitated.

Why are you so scared of him? Fight back. You told yourself, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

Stop shaking. Damn it  You grit your teeth.

Fight back.

He thinks that your love with ataraxia is nothing but a nuisance

You felt your fingers curl instinctively into your palms, the bones of your knuckles pressing harshly against your strained skin until it became bloodless. The heat of his grip sank deeper, an branding iron searing your flesh. 

You wanted to retaliate, your body just wouldn’t move.

You searched internally for memories, recollections, anything within that could fuel your want for vendetta. But none came, no ember of indignation could be fanned into flame. 

That was, until a single word passed his lips—a phrase so caustic it ignited a fuse that had run its entire length within you.

“I suppose that i should just get rid of that woman, so that your puppy love will finally dissipate. Such audacity you have.... how dare you?”

How dare he judge your love, your heart, as if it were a mere plaything to be discarded at his whim?

You took a deep breath, staring back at him defiantly.

“I dare to love because love knows no bounds, father,” 

“Yes, i dare, i do love her, very much so,” You declared, causing him to halt in his tracks, his gaze fixated on you with a mix of shock and revulsion. His fingers remained firmly entrenched in your skull, a lingering reminder of his hold over you.  

“And it’s not puppy love it’s true love— Ack!”

You yelped when his fingers dug deeper.

“You forget your place, daughter. You are bound by the laws of our kind, and your dalliance with a woman is a betrayal of everything we stand for.”

A hiss of pain escapes your lips as you scowled.

“And what of your dalliances, father? Are they not equally condemned by your own laws?” you shot back.

“Do not force my hand, [Name].” He warned.  His fingers penetrated your skull, reaching deep into your brain, specifically targeting your cerebrum. With a firm grip, his fingers curled upwards towards your frontal lobe and you winced—he was probably searching for your memories.

“What has that woman fed my daughter?”

Aionarch muttered curses under his breath as he  tried to search your brain for any recollection of the witchcraft that ataraxia may have used on you.   However, all he could see were images of laughter, giggles, kissing, and just straight up a cliche love story.

This sight caused him to recoil in shock and disgust, as he never expected to witness his daughter engaging in such actions with another woman.  His teeth clenched, his eyes widened, and his blood boiled with anger at the disturbing scene before him. 

 

Despite his intense feelings of rage, the only thing that prevented Aionarch from killing you right here and then in that moment was the fact that you were his own flesh and blood and his only child. He struggled to control his impulses, torn between his paternal instincts and his moral beliefs. 

 

In response to Aionarch practically twisting some parts of your brain you clenched your own teeth and glared back defiantly.

“Have you satisfied your curiosity now?” you spat.

“This is pure love, father.” you asserted, refusing to apologize for your feelings or actions.  Your words only served to further enrage Aionarch, who struggled to come to terms with the reality of the situation.  

“And father, do stop the hate on homosexuality. There is absolutely nothing wrong with loving the same gender,” you firmly stated. However, this declaration triggered a strong reaction from Aionarch, testing his patience to its limits. In an instant, your head violently exploded, causing your skull to shatter into pieces and your brains to be scattered on the ground. The ground beneath Aionarch became tainted with the ichor color of your flowing blood. 

Filled with anger and frustration, Aionarch’s words escaped his mouth like a venomous serpent.

“How dare you, you insolent brat, challenge me with your disobedience?” he spat out with an intense rage burning in his eyes. 

Despite the horrific ordeal you had just experienced, your body began to regenerate. As this process unfolded, your eyes transformed from their usual [E/c] hue to a  shade of fiery red. Your teeth clenched tightly smeared with blood, and determination etched across your face as your head slowly but surely regenerated itself, healing from the violent outburst. 

“Loving someone of the same gender is perfectly acceptable,” you proclaimed.

“Loving that abhorrent and wretched goddess, is absolutely repulsive.” Aionarch uttered with disdain towards you, causing you to slowly lift your head in a tremulous manner. Anger filled your wide eyes, and the tension caused a blood vessel in your eye to pop, leaving a gold trail and tainting the whites with an eerie hue of ichor. 

“She’s not.”

“Don’t you fucking dare call my ataraxia wretched.” You seethed, your divine powers manifesting as the room’s temperature surged, as if engulfed in a raging inferno. In an instant, the very room was consumed by flames, with all objects in Aionarch’s chambers reduced to ashes but neither of you were affected nor perturbed by the scorching heat. 

“I love ataraxia with all of my being, and not even you, could change that.” As you raised your hand, a blazing fireball materialized and swiftly hurled towards him.

“You and your disgusting puppy love.” 

With ease, Aionarch evaded the attack effortlessly. Meanwhile, your scythe began to take shape in the air, crafted entirely of fire, its burning flames dancing. Firmly gripping the weapon, you charged towards Aionarch, who simultaneously summoned his halberd.

“You’re really trying to anger me, huh?”

“I’m only fighting you for her.” you spat.

“Besides, you’re already angry.”

“Such a funny little girl you are, haisayu.”

The clash of your scythe’s blade against his halberd reverberated through the air, showcasing his superiority in strength with a simple exertion of pressure.

Refusing to succumb to the overwhelming force, you valiantly pushed forward, releasing your grip on the scythe’s handle with one hand and launching fireballs at him using your free hand, Your muscles strained against the relentless pressure, the sounds of crackling flames and clashing metal echoing through the air.

Without any concern for his clothes catching fire, he  charged forward. In a swift motion, his hand swooped towards you, but you crouched down, however, he brought the blade southwards too, slashing your shoulder, causing you to emit a pained hiss and stumble backward.

It hurts.

His attack burns.

you instinctively evaded when he aimed directly for your heel—the area you knew was your weakest point. 

Reacting swiftly, you made a counter attack and tried to slash at his stomach, but he managed to evade the attack. Undeterred, you continued your assault, each swing of your weapon leaving a trail of blazing fire. 

“You’re really serious on insisting in being with that wretched woman...”

“I admire your dedication. Very well, daughter. Since you had taken an oath that you would die for her, then death shall you suffer.”

Suddenly, he raised his hand and conjured a massive sphere composed of eerie shadows, resembling dangerous spikes. Your eyes widened. What the hell are those?

In an instant, the shadowy projectiles began to fall from above, relentlessly targeting their intended victims. Unfortunately, one of these malevolent spikes found its mark, plunging into your head. It seemed as if the spike possessed a life of its own, resembling a leech as it descended deeper. 

To prevent the shadowy intruder from reaching your  weakest spot, you made a decisive choice and severed your own head.

Your head exploded in an instant one it was severed and you continued the fight using your body, relying on your regenerative abilities to regrow your severed head. With your fists clenched, an immense ring of fire erupted and surged towards the direction of Aionarch. Observing this unexpected move, a subtle furrow appeared on his brow, marking the first sign of his reaction in this battle.

“I see, so you have mastered your pyrokinesis.”

Aionarch lifted his halberd to block the attack.

However, the circular blaze abruptly transformed into a crescent-shaped assault, catching Aionarch off guard, and he narrowly evaded the attack.

“I have,” You answered, coughing up ichor, Exploiting his momentary vulnerability, you pressed forward, striking at him. But he jumped out of harm's way, frustrating your attempts. Undeterred, you launched a series of attacks, but with a swift kick, he sent you hurtling through the air, crashing violently into the wall. The impact was so forceful that it left a conspicuous dent in its wake.  

As you let out a painful groan, drops of ichor blood cascaded onto your face. Slowly, you managed to rise to your feet, but without warning, a strange sensation enveloped your entire body, rendering you completely immobile. It felt as though invisible strings had been attached to you, preventing any movement. 

“What the—”

Desperately, you attempted to use your fire to burn away the unseen restraints, but to no avail. The relentless grip of the strings refused to loosen. 

Aionarch, his voice filled with a mix of acknowledgment and disdain, remarked,

“You have undeniably grown stronger, evident from what I see.”

However, any sense of forgiveness was absent from his next words, delivered with a sneering tone.

“But do not mistake this for absolution. Your disobedience and futile attempt to challenge me will be met with divine retribution.”

In that moment, an excruciating pain surged through your body, causing your organs to rupture and spilling your ichor blood, marking your bones with its stain. Coughing up this blood, you watched helplessly as it tainted the ground beneath you.  

“How foolish of you to think that you could kill me, you really do amuse me, haisayu.”

you watched as his hand rose, summoning a multitude of dark shadows that snaked their way towards you, ensnaring you in their tight grip. The tendrils of darkness then began to sink their teeth into your delicate skin, causing you to grunt and grit your teeth in pain. The excruciating pain coursing through your body from your internal organs being torn apart was already unbearable, but the slow devouring of your flesh by these parasitic shadows only intensified your suffering.

As if that wasn't enough, he conjured sharp needles in his hand and hurled them towards you, leaving you helpless to evade their assault. The needles found their mark, penetrating your vulnerable body with an added venomous sting. 

“You’ve done a great job trying to anger me, and you have succeed. Good job.”

he says snarkily, a crooked smirk made its way to your lips.

“It’s my pleasure to achieve something that most people didn’t managed to do so.”

You were playing with fire, and you knew it, but you don’t regret anything, you don’t regret fighting for ataraxia.

Aionarch fixed you with an icy stare, his irises contracting into narrow slits as he considered your folly. Amusement curled his lips at your brazen insolence, though beneath simmered calculation as he pondered a retribution befitting your arrogance.

Upon souring your memories, he discerned your quixotic view of love as all sunshine and rainbows, an exempt from the muck and mire of reality. A sibilant sigh escaped him then, ivory lashes shutting and veiling his eyes.

“You’re about to find out what it’s like to survive without your ataraxia” Aionarch murmured, his wicked words sending a chill down your spine. Instantly, a surge of fear washed over you, causing your face to lose its color and drain of life. 

 “Let’s see if you can survive as a non divine entity on another world where humans are preyed on.”

Defying the torment and defiling your pain, you mustered every ounce of strength to retort,

“Don’t you dare...” Despite the searing agony racking your body, your voice resonated with a fierce determination. However, your defiance was met with a cruel response from the malevolent being before you, as your hand was brutally severed by the ravenous shadows, and it refused to regenerate because of the venom inside you.

“IF YOU DARE TOUCH ATARAXIA, I’M GONNA ​​​​​KIll​​​​​ YOU!”

Your outburst were mixed with other voices, as if it's not you speaking, which made a laugh to bubble on Aionarch's throat.

“What a funny excuse of a daughter i have,”

“Death won’t suffice as your punishment, i suppose...”

He smirked.

“Since you think that love is such a very beautiful thing... let us see how you like it to receive too much love..”

With a grin spreading across his face, Aionarch raised his hand once again, causing your eyes to widen in terror. A circular formation of vibrant yellow light materialized and hurtled towards you, engulfing your entire being within its luminous embrace.  

You suddenly become ensnared with the swirling yellow light that your father had conjured. You felt the light constricting around you, threatening to suffocate you.

And suddenly, you found yourself completely immersed in an endless sea of vibrant and dazzling yellow shades, each one radiating and shimmering before your very eyes, almost as bright as the intense ultraviolet rays emitted by the scorching sun.

The intense golden radiance fiercely impacted your skin tone, resulting in your flesh blazing with an indistinguishable fire, as if it were being consumed by an invisible inferno.

Simultaneously, the luminosity clung to you, pulsating around your physique like a relentless parasite, greedily devouring every ounce of your life force. Your glowing complexion broke open as a result of the burns, resulting in a forceful surge of blood that flowed out intensively. This spectacle filled the air with a fascinating combination of unpleasant yet strangely captivating smell, which could only be connected to the heavenly essence of your richly ichor flow of blood. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

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𑁍ࠬܓ━━𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

AIONARCH

𝟎𝟎𝟏.His name means controller of eternity.

𝟎𝟎𝟐.Aionarch is the god of eternity, life, death, rebirth, darkness, light and many more.

𝟎𝟎𝟑. He is the progenitor of the universe and he’s super possessive of Xeranthi and [Name].

𝟎𝟎𝟒.He’s homophobic and misogynistic. Since he's the first being to ever exist, he’s the ruler of the world and everyone bows before him.

 𝟎𝟎𝟓.He also has access to the multiverse and overall an OP character. He had a sibling though, a twin sister.

𝟎𝟎𝟔. In the fight, aionarch was just playing with [Name], because in reality, [Name] could never land a hit on him, no matter what the situation is.

XERANTHI

𝟎𝟎𝟏.Her name means withered flower.

𝟎𝟎𝟐.Xeranthi is the goddess of flowers and light, and she’s actually aionarch’s grandchild, aionarch’s twin sister bore some children, and has tons of them that reproduced and bam, there’s Xeranthi. cause yk? Almost all of mythology gods had incest on them, like greek, where hera and zeus are siblings or in norse, like literally, incest is normal if it’s in the gods.

ATARAXIA

𝟎𝟎𝟏.Her name means a state of serene calmness.

 𝟎𝟎𝟐.Ataraxia is [Name]’s lover, and she’s the goddess of rivers and ice! She’s also [Name]’s lady in waiting.

𝟎𝟎𝟑. She was the one who managed to knock some sense in [Name]’s brain, since [Name] was brainwashed by aionarch back then.

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒:

𝟎𝟎𝟏.Cryokinesis.

𝟎𝟎𝟐.Pyrokinesis

𝟎𝟎𝟑.Shapeshifting

𝟎𝟎𝟒.Mimicry

𝟎𝟎𝟓.Achilles’ Heel.

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓:

𝟎𝟎𝟏.The reader’s strongest ability is mimicry and shapeshift, as she has the capability to replicate virtually anything; with mastery of this ability, she could imitate absolutely anything. If she were to transform into another individual and had already mastered her mimicry, she would acquire that person's abilities.  

𝟎𝟎𝟐.   [Name] had a twin present during xeranthi’s gestation, yet xeranthi, in her typical fashion, ripped the twin out of her womb. Unbeknownst to xeranthi, [Name] was still in her womb and was born unintentionally.  

𝟎𝟎𝟑.   Ataraxia created life likes ice replicates of [Name], which are capable of performing tasks such as household chores under her control. [Name] has them situated in her room, where she diligently trains them to attack aionarch, mirroring the way Xeranthi taught her vines to do the same.  

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒.

𝟎𝟎𝟏.Sinta

It’s a Filipino word that means darling/love.

𝟎𝟎𝟐. Haisayu

It means beloved daughter, it’s a patronizing term.

[hanrinz]

STARRY EYES SPARKIN' UP MY DARKEST NIGHTS.

pairing. lyney x gn! reader ( word count. 1.1k ) genre. strangers to lovers

synopsis. wherein lyney falls for you literally and figuratively, and he doesn't mind it quite a bit. or just bits of pieces of him trying being a romantic.

content. fluff, reader is not the traveller, flirty lyney, he's ooc sowsaury everyone, lynette is tired with the two of you. minimal proofread.

notes. hihi this is for @sixosix da only real one this is for u!! *does that corny pointing in movies* dribble dribble shoots! i just rlly need to write for him, bc he's a silly.

lyney was never star-struck, if anything he was more used to people being enchanted when they saw him.

but he would never expect it to happen to him, after all only the most beautiful things can capture the eyes of a magician—with life full of unexpected encounters and lively colors of shows—to all of which he found on you.

you, who came to the lands of justice from the lands of freedom—never being tied down to the shackles of laws—with an ecstatic gaze, you're here as where the winds have brought you. truly he thinks the momentary sight of you just by walking in the streets of fontaine didn't give enough justice for him to memorize your face. the sunlight that just makes you shine more and the way your eyes reminds him of the stars, warm they were.

and your smile. archons, he adores it. the way it just never leaves your face, you're so pretty.

he never knew anything about love, only with the books he grew up with of a fairytale he reads to his siblings at night—a hopeless romantic he was.

love at first sight. he was falling, hard and fast. like he was tumbling down into the bottomless chasm of just you. he's liking it and it should take him aback, it should scare him, but he can't find himself to do so.

it was unbelievable and it was magical to be able to know a feeling that you can know so much, but was foreign altogether. he knew right then, he was star-struck with you.

and he doesn't know what compels him to move and make his way to you. excitement dancing around his nerves as he nears you, with a smile on his face and a newfound fascination.

and just before he reaches, an unexistent rock trips him all the way to you.

it's embarrassing, lynette thinks. watching his brother fall in love, that is—literally and figuratively.

he flashes a smile at you. and you crouch down, asking him if he's okay. you're worried and he tries not to grin so much, he only replies to you with,

"i'm fine, now that you're here." he winks.

he took it as a chance to take out a rainbow rose out from his sleeves handing out to you. and you laughed, probably another thing that he finds enchanting—it's unfair, for you to have him this entrance by you.

what a memorable first meeting he had with you.

lynette cringes—her brother's antics are an embarrassment to die for. it's not a crime as far as the laws said so, but she sure hopes it is.

because now, his brother is here head in the clouds with the thought of you. his face all, but with lovey-dovey eyes.

"isn't y/n so pretty?" he sighed dreamily.

lynette looks at him with a blank stare, "you've said that for the thirteenth time today. yes, y/n is pretty."

"should i prepare a magic trick? maybe a dove or a bunny. it can be onstage, or just in the seats? ah, i have so many things to prepare..." and so many more, if she was a stranger, she would've thought her own brother is outrageous for the ideas that come to his mind just to woo you. "come now, dear sister for i have to prepare for my special guest."

it's a feeble attempt, really.

his own brother faltering down, just from you standing in front of him and anyone might not see it, but she knows his own brother.

lovestruck he was. when he took you to him showing his trick of lighting up the night in a single snap, a flower on your head magically placed delicately and he thinks you're just pretty.

"do you like it?"

another rainbow rose.

"they're pretty.."

your mesmerization, it takes his breath away. if anything he wants you to look at him, how you look at everything you love. he wants you to love him too, like how the stars never leave the skies and how the sun reflects its light on the sea.

he wants you just like how his hands die in need to reach you, how can you be so cruel to him this way?

and he breathes out, "i know."

"do you like dancing?"

the both of you stand on the stage, where you sit in one of the carts that has all their props now kept for their next show.

"back in mondstadt, we had a festival that we celebrated...and we would dance at night till the flowers fall." you recount, fondness creeps up on you with the memory.

he knows this, windblume—if he's not mistaken, he shouldn't be. after all what are those books he read for night after night just to know the culture of mondstadt? just to know you. you didn't need to catch wind of that, he can only hope charlotte wouldn't slip up with this one on you.

he imagines, you dancing with a smile on your face that he loves so much. and he wants to see it, to be able to live that vision in his head, but having you in his arms instead.

"would you dance with me then?" he offers his hand, making a little bow to you.

and you giggle, yet again at his antics. "i would love to."

"may i?" and you take his hand, he feels warm, giddy from how your hand fits together with his.

with a smile he holds you and leads you to dance to a sound the two of you can only hear and maybe it's the heartbeats that plays in your mind, but lyney thinks everything just seems more beautiful now with you here.

he's used to everyone's eyes on him as a magician, it's a normal thing. but to have you this close to him and your eyes on him, he thinks the spotlight doesn't make him special now, just the way you do.

if this was the fairytale he's known all his life, he hopes now that it will always be like those ever afters. don't wake him up and drop the glass of his heart, because he has so many more dreams he'd like to come to life with you.

he's memorizing the story now, how your eyes shine and warms him wholly, your hair dancing around as he sways you and your lips that holds a sound that he would like to hear every day.

the song ends and your hearts sync. he let's go and step back to kiss your hand, delicately with him keeping eye contact and it means so much more.

and he pulls out yet another rainbow rose out of his coat, and his eyes glazed. "it's windblume this season in mondstadt, isn't it?"

passion and romantic encounters.

"...let this rose be my oath to you."

oh, how the magician can be much of a romantic all for you. he hopes he'll be the first and the last one to give you such a gift.

◞♡ likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! here's a lyney fic bc i have beef with him &lt;3

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Can't get the whole "Do you think you'd kill for me one day ?" "Yes, of course I will my darling" out of my head, but make it the Papas x their most devoted ghouls. Basically murder ghouls offering very morbid gifts to the Papas. They like it.

TW for morally grey characters - both Papas and ghouls - blood, kind of body horror, I guess ? I think it is. It might be a bit disturbing, so. Read with caution.

Earth bringing a beautiful bottle to Primo's office one day, something definitely meant for rituals, a masterpiece of carefuly crafted glass, full of a dark red liquid. Too dark to be wine. He simply sets it on a shelf, under the First's cautious eyes, and in an instant, Primo knows.

"Won't it...coagulate, or...I don't know, dry, rot ?" he asks from behind his desk, setting his glasses down in front of him. Earth smiles, adjusting the bottle so that the light catches it just right.

"I made sure it won't."

Primo smiles when the ghoul takes his hand and presses a kiss to the ring he's wearing.

"Take care not to drink it, your body wouldn't like it much."

Primo cocks an eyebrow.

"You gift me a full bottle of blood - human, i presume - and I'm not even allowed to drink it ? How very tragic."

Earth's chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"You can only wish to be a vampire, but, do not act like this isn't a power trip for you. Having someone's blood displayed in your office. Being able to admire its unique color."

Primo's smile widens.

Secondo looking up from his work, carefully setting the ancient book he's restauring on the side when Alpha leans against the doorframe, hands behind his back.

Once he's sure he has the former Papa's full attention, Alpha steps in, setting something on the desk, between Secondo's hand.

It's a paperweight, the kind he loves, heavy half globe of glass, in which is trapped a curiosity ; Secondo has a growing collection of those.

It's the first time, though, that an eye is staring blindly at him from within its transparent confine. A beautiful shade of brown, that eye, rich and deep, with flecks of gold ; Secondo leans closer to examine it.

"Fascinating," he comments, "you know me too well."

Alpha grins, rounding the desk to stand behind Secondo's chair, massaging his tense shoulders as he whispers against his ear.

"Took me a while to find the color I wanted, I know you have a thing for that kind of brown eyes."

Secondo hums, turning the paperweight this way and that, letting light bounce off it, projecting rainbows on the wall. It will definitely have a special place on his desk, so that Secondo will be able to gaze at it whenever he wishes to.

Alpha kisses the corner of his mouth, almost reverently, and Secondo puts the paperweight down, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Omega helping Terzo dress one morning, but just as the former Papa is about to move away, his ghoul tugs on his sleeve, shoving something in his hand.

What the rosary is made of is, Terzo immediately knows. The beads, the inverted cross, they're an ivory white that is quite impossible to mistake for anything other than it is.

By the way Omega hooks his chin on Terzo's shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle, the former Papa has no doubt it's important for him, that gift.

"It's lovely, my dear ghoul. Did you make it yourself ?"

Terzo really means it. The piece of jewlery is delicate and elegant, something he'll wear with pride.

"I did. I'm glad you like it."

A pause. Terzo takes a moment to bask in Omega kissing up his neck, before he slips the rosary around it.

"Should I ask who's bones I'm wearing ?"

Omega chuckles, face now burried in his hair.

"You know better. All that matters is that you look fantastic, wearing someone's bone."

Terzo does, so he simply smiles, admiring how the necklace rests on his chest in the mirror, sinking into Omega's embrace.

Dew, wordlessly slipping a bracelet around Copia's wrist after practice. He looks down, surprised, as the ghoul lingers, hovering at his side.

A thin chain, trinkets dangling from it, mostly tiny coins with infernal symbols engraved on them and....oh. Teeth. Well, they sure look healthy.

Copia takes to examinate them, tests the point of a canine, pleased to find it still sharp, humming under his breath.

"That's quite the work you've put in, Dew, thank you. It's beautiful."

The fire ghoul takes Copia's hand, turning it until he can kiss the inside of his wrist.

"I figured you'd like it. They're perfect, aren't they ?"

Copia takes another teeth between his two fingers, holding it up for further inspection, smiling at how flawless it is.

"They sure are. Wish I had that kind of dental care, eh."

Dew snorts, tail gently squeezing Copia's hips, who let himself be pulled in the ghoul's side.

[megumismyhusband]

A Winter's Stroll⋆⁺₊❅.

megumi fushiguro x reader

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The snowflakes fall softly against Y/N's window, it's delicate patterns illuminated by the glow of holiday lights outside. She leaned against the window, her breath fogging up the glass as she smiled at the scene below. Strings of fairy lights wrapped around lampposts and tree branches, casting the city in a dreamlike glow.

She threw on her favorite coat, wrapping a scarf snugly around her neck before stepping out into the chilly night. The air was crisp, biting at her cheeks, but the excitement bubbling in her chest kept her warm. She spotted Megumi waiting at the corner, his black spiky hair dusted with snowflakes, his tall figure standing out against the sparkling backdrop.

"Took you long enough," the corners of his mouth curved into a fond smile.

"You’re late," she teased as she approached him, her breath visible in the frosty air.

Megumi glanced at her, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "And you’re lucky I didn’t change my mind about coming out in this cold," he muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite.

She giggled, slipping her hand into his, her fingers cold but eager. "Come on," she said, tugging him gently. "The lights won’t wait for us."

Megumi blinked, looking down at her hand in his. For a moment, the cold didn’t seem to matter. "Yeah," he murmured, following her lead. "Let’s go."

"It's freezing," Megumi grumbled, tugging her closer as they began walking down the glowing street. His hand never left hers, even as he stuffed them both into the pocket of his coat.

"You say that every time, but you secretly love this," Y/N said, grinning as she caught him stealing glances at the lights above them.

"Maybe," he admitted, his voice soft.

They strolled through the city, the snow crunching under their boots as they took in the dazzling decorations. Storefronts gleamed with festive displays, and the faint sound of holiday music spilled from cafes. The world seemed to slow down, the vibrant colors and soft snowfall creating a dreamlike haze.

"Look at that one," Y/N said, pointing to a tree wrapped in lights that shifted colors like a kaleidoscope.

Megumi stopped walking, tugging her back gently so they stood still, the rainbow lights dancing across their faces. His gaze wasn’t on the tree, though—it was on her.

"You look really happy," he murmured.

"I am," she replied, her cheeks warming under his intent gaze. "It’s perfect."

His lips quirked up in a rare, genuine smile as he gave her hand a light squeeze. "Then I guess it was worth coming out, even if I hate the cold."

"You mean pretending to hate the cold," she teased, leaning her head against his shoulder as they continued walking.

"Whatever," he muttered. As the snow continued to fall, Y/N felt her heart swell with gratitude for the moment they were in—so simple, so sweet, yet so perfect. The lights above seemed to twinkle just for them, and the warmth of his presence was all she needed to feel at home.

"Thank you for coming out with me," she whispered softly, "Like I’d say no," Megumi replied, his voice soft and loving.

As she turned her gaze upward, marveling at the lights, he glanced at her, the glow of the holiday lights reflecting on her face. A warmth spread through his chest, making the icy air feel far away.

He said nothing, letting the moment linger. In that quiet warmth, the cold didn’t matter. All that mattered was her hand in his and the feeling that everything, for once, was exactly as it should be.

[strawberriianime]

those eyes

♡ Douma x innocent angel!reader

♡ cw: descriptions of sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, Douma being a complete liar, dominant Douma, Douma being a JERK, creampies? creampies, slight degradation & humiliation, loss of virginity, basically sexxxx.

♡ Douma is known for being cunning, so no figure he was able to fool you~

Humming softly you cleaned the delicate vases in the cool spring water allowing all sprinkles of dirt to get off of the vase. Your thin white dress was floating slightly in the water not bothering you the slightest. You would come down to this spring every now and then to wash different things, a way of blessing an item. Being an angel who had just recently arrived on earth you were getting used to the whole angel thing, you didn’t have much to do just visit small communities and offer small blessings. Blending in was easy, you had the appearance of a normal human your wings only being out when necessary since being here you haven’t run into any problems. Until.

Shaking the access water from the vase, you began making your way out of the water dressed, completely clinging to your body and showing off your lovely figure. Nipples poked through the long sheer gown, showing off the hue of the nubs. 

“My my my, a woman shouldn’t be out here all alone you know” You turned your head left and right looking for the mysterious person who spoke suddenly. Facing back forward you were met with a pair of rainbow-colored eyes. You jumped slightly causing you to fall into the spring and drop the vase you were blessing causing it to break. 

“Oh no you’ve fallen in, my deepest apologies. Please take my hand and allow me to help you out.” He smiled sticking his hand out to you. You took his hand as he helped you up and brought you out of the water. 

“What might you have been up to? Out here all alone, how dangerous.” He kept that smile on his face, something about him was hypnotizing it was like his eyes put you in a trance. 

“I was simply cleaning some belongings, I come quite often I was doing fine. Thank you for being concerned sir.” you smiled at him shaking the access water off of you.

“Oh no problem at all, a beauty like you must be protected you never know what could be lurking in the shadows out here ready to gobble your up.” His head tilted slightly to the side. Perhaps he was right, you know demons are real and they like to prey on the innocent. So it could be quite dangerous for you, you’ve only spent a total of 8 days on Earth and all has been swell so far. 

“Perhaps you’re right, it is best that I do get going thank you for helping me.” you began walking away grabbing the one other vase that had not been broken.

“Ah, I can’t let you go just yet it is my fault that your other vase broke. It is only right if I replaced it. I have a dear friend who makes the loveliest vases you would just adore. So please allow me to replace it?” he placed his hands together almost begging you to come with him.

As an angel, giving the man a chance would be your moral duty. “Sure, however, I am soaking wet.” you sighed referring to the soaked sheer dress you were still wearing. 

“Here” he wrapped an overshirt over your body, taking your hand. “Let us be on the way, I stay not too far from here” he began walking taking you with him. It took quite literally no time to get to his “home” it was more like a temple. Quite off that you did not see this any other time you wandered these woods, possibly you’ve missed some areas.

He pushed open a set of cold stone doors, the room decorated with nothing but shades of red and hints of black. The room was cold, not your average cold but below-freezing cold and you wearing wet clothing which made it no better. Your nipples began hardening making you cross your arms along your chest attempting to shield them from the male in the room with you. 

“My would you like to shed your wet clothing? You would only get sick wearing such clothing at this temperature. I will go get you a towel, you may remove your clothing.” he hummed slightly making his way from the bedroom area. You began removing the overshirt from your body, laying it on a nearby rack. Peeling off the wet dress, you were left in your bare state. You had really no reason to wear any garments under your clothing, although you didn’t own any anyways. Jumping slightly, you felt a cloth being brushed along your skin. 

“Shh it’s just me dear.” the familiar voice ranged out. He ran the cloth along your back, your arms, and slowly down your legs. It was almost embarrassing being exposed so freely to a man you hardly know but there was something so charming about him.

“No need to be so shy, I'm simply aiding you as it was my fault you fell in anyway.” he hummed. He made his way to the front of your body brushing the towel over your breast and making a circular motion with the cloth.

“Hm, it would be better if you at on the bed. I can dress you better that way” It was as if your body moved on its own causing your bottom to make a connection with the bed. He took the towel and began drying your left foot making way up your leg. Switching to your other foot, he began drying up your leg making his way up to your thighs. Taking the cloth he began drying your thighs, ensuring to absorb any moisture from the spring. 

“Spread your legs,” he stated as if that was a normal thing to say to any woman. 

“Uh, I-” Your face flushed to a shade of strawberry red.

“I’m just drying you off any I can’t dry you properly when you’re clamping your legs together locking their moisture in,” he states hands finding themselves on your plush thighs. Although it did not matter considering the strong grip he had on your thighs, you cracked your legs open slightly only for him to spread them wide open. Taking the cloth once more, he began wiping at the inner parts of your thighs getting rid of the last bit of spring water. He dropped the cloth to the floor, allowing his ice-cold hands to dance along your body. He ran a finger up your body, stopping right at your chin.

“You just smell of innocence, never been touched by a man or woman if you’re into that. The way you glide through the water of the spring just begging to be eaten up.” your face twisted up in confusion, what was he getting at?

“As I was drying you, you don’t think I noticed the way you tensed up or the way you clamped your legs together as if begging for me to touch you more?” he brought his face close to yours those rainbow eyes glowing even in a room with little to no light. 

“Sir I must not do this, it isn’t right and I must remain pure.” you turned your head away from him.

“You will still be pure, just do whatever your heart desires~” his cold tongue licked along the side of your neck making you squeal. He lapped at your neck licking from the bottom all the way to the tip of your chin. You felt him push your body back slightly, your back coming in contact with the cool sheets. His large body towered over yours with ease. He licked at your neck again, this time trailing down making way from your shoulders to your right nipple. He licked ever so lightly at the bud that had been hardened by the temperature causing your to squirm under his body. He took his time with your nipple, sucking at the bud getting it nice and wet, rolling it along his tongue. He brought one of his fingers up your leg, dancing its way up to your warm entrance. You’ve never been touched by anyone like this before, it was a new feeling of complete bliss. Your body felt as if it had electricity flowing through it. His finger poked at your entrance, swiping slightly to remove the stickiness of your juices that held your folds together. Stroking at your entrance was enough to get your hips rolling. Just as he switched from your right nipple to your left, you felt him insert one of his cold fingers inside your warmth. He moved the solo finger slowly, allowing you to adjust to his finger. The feeling of his finger inside you and him toying with your nipple was almost enough to send you over the edge.

He released your nipple from his mouth, a thin trail of saliva bridging between the two. Your body tensed up as you felt him slide down to your lower half, cool breath tickling at your entrance. Taking both of his hands, he pushed your thighs apart spreading them to the widest of their ability. You felt his tongue lick with the perfect amount of pressure at your clit causing you to let out an erotic moan. You heard him chuckle slightly before he dove into your cunt licking sloppily while sucking harshly at the right areas. He sucked at your clit rolling the nub along his tongue, cool breath mixed with your warm heat causing your back to arch off of the bed. He gripped at your thighs, cuffing them into his hands holding you in place as he lapped at your cunt as if it was his last meal on earth. Your hands soon found their way to his golden hair, gripping the hair in your fist tight but not tight enough that it’ll cause pain. As if it was not enough already, you felt him release one of your thighs, taking two of his fingers and pushing them into your entrance. You groaned feeling the pressure of his fingers mixed with the feeling of him eating at your heat. Before you know it, he flipped you over so you were now on all fours and he was laying flat on his back. Your body hovered over his as he locked his hands into your thighs once more, pushing your heat down onto his face and allowing him to smother himself with your juices. The feeling was too much as your legs began shaking, but that did not stop his pace at all. With one final suck at your clit your body trembled to feel a euphoric feeling flood over your body. 

You began catching your breath, chest heaving with each breath. You have never experienced this feeling, not once in 100 years. Was this wrong? Dragging you out of your thoughts you felt something fairly large Without any warning, you felt your inside being stretched to the fullest. The feeling was a mix of pain and pleasure and at the moment you were definitely feeling more pain. 

“Please Sir I can’t take it.” your face scrunched up as the burn started to slowly fade.

“Oh but you can, and you will” he smiled showing those rainbow eyes. Looking into them almost had you in a trance, you didn’t realize that he began moving as you stared so deeply into his eyes. It wasn’t until a sharp snap of his hip that brought you to your sense. With every stroke he was slow but sharp, letting you feel every inch that he had to offer.  Taking your hands and pinning them above your head, he began adjusting the pace. Things had gone from slow and sharp to a new pace of fast and rough. Each thrust was jagged, snapping so harshly into you as if he wanted to rip you in half. Your breast bounced at each thrust, the bed creaked loudly through the room, and the only sound left would be the sound of your squelching cunt that filled the room with its wetness.

“Fuck, you’re so tight I could barely fit still.”

“Gonna stretch you out nice and good just for me.”

“My hell you’re so fucking wet’“

You whined as his fast rough pace began puncturing your insides, you could feel every inch of him within the deepest parts of your stomach. Your cunt swallowed him whole, as it had been stretched as if it had been perfectly molded to his shape. He removed himself from you, once more finding yourself being flipped back onto all fours. He pushed you back down creating the perfect arch for him, allowing himself to push deeply back into you, The burning was still there as his raw flesh met your soft spongy walls. He dug himself deep into you, the deepest you’ve felt him go so far. He lowered his body, his chest resting on your back as he wrapped his hands around your lower waist slamming himself deep into you. You gripped the sheets under you, as a new wave of please came over your body.

“Sir please” you called out eyes shut tight body barely can hold on much longer. He licked at your ear, whispering a bunch of sweet nothings. 

“Who would’ve ever thought that fucking an angel would be this easy? Oh, I have to tell the other uppermoons.” he chuckled body still pressed deep into yours. Uppermoons? What..

“Demons and angels aren’t supposed to be together but I think we fight together perfectly like two missing puzzle pieces.” Demon...? He was a demon?

“Oh don’t tell me you really couldn’t tell. How sad, the big scary demon just devoured the poor innocent angel. What are the odds you let a demon not only fuck you but take your first time?” he laughed not missing a single thrust. 

“Don’t tell me you like that, your clamping down on me mighty tight” Your face flushed with shock so many emotions ran through your head. 

“Don’t worry, your Lord Douma will take good care of you.”  he snapped his hips sharply one last time enough to push you over the edge. You felt his own bodily fluid mix with yours, invading your intimate areas. He pulled himself out of you, laying your body down softly. He propped himself up staring at you with those rainbow eyes once more, this time a kanji symbol appearing in them. How can you be so dense, sadly to say you kinda liked it?

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full HCs of the M6 with wings please 🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: M6 with wings

Julian

His wings look much like a raven's, except where there would be shades of blue when the light hits them, it's deep burgundy for him

Generally so sleek that he can fold them alongside his oversized coat and they're almost impossible to differentiate

One oddly humorous side effect of this is the way it affects his body language. Being such an expressive storyteller, his coat will look like it has a life of its own as he wildly gestures along

Not the best at remembering to take care of them and will melt into a puddle of affection-starved goo as soon as you start helping him preen and maintain them. Loves rambling about the anatomy

Repurposes his own shed feathers as quills

Likes wrapping them around you when he's giving you one of his all-encompassing hugs, otherwise, he keeps them in his space

Will get sooo fluffed out when you fluster him that his coat will start flapping like it's in a storm and his wings will get even bushier than his eyebrows. Feathers will start to fly if it's intense

Much prefers walking to flying unless absolutely necessary, but will make exceptions if it's to go on an adventure with you

Asra

Their wings are closely tied to their magic, and as such are very difficult to fully comprehend. They look like gravity-defying water

More specifically, his wings look a fairy's or a fly's wings, translucent with ever-shifting swirls and patterns, subtly glowing with a myriad of colors that blend into a pearly blue-ish purple

Their wings are also something they generally don't show in public - they fold down below their shoulders like a cape and lie flat below their rainbow coat. They don't care to draw attention to them

Nobody knows what exactly wing maintenance involves, all you know is that every full moon or so he goes swimming in the cave and seems extra glowy afterwards

Can and will use them like prisms during lazy mornings sleeping in and scatter rainbows all over the place

Has been known to paint on them like stained glass when they're bored. They do invite you to join in, but they're awfully ticklish

Tends to idly hover when he flies, but the one or two times you've seen him motivated to go fast he practically flashes across the sky. You're sure he's cheating aerodynamics somehow but he won't tell

Nadia

While the shape of her wings resembles an owl's, their gauzy, shimmery surface look almost like a butterfly's - if a butterfly's wings could fold back and drape elegantly along golden lines

The deep royal purple of them and the pink shimmer when the light hits them makes them look deceptively delicate. Nadia's wings are not fragile in the slightest

You did see her incorporate them into her swordplay, once, and the impact of one of them hitting her opponent sent them sailing across the ring. They are not to be messed with

While she doesn't show them off, she's not shy about them either. She spends hours maintaining them and coordinates ornaments for them to match her outfit and the occasion

Loves cupping one around your shoulders and back whenever you stand next to her, both to warm you and to protect you

Can gain the attention of a room of nobles simply by fluttering them, and uses this skill regularly and effectively

Will lightly brush your jaw with them when she walks by

Flies like a fighter jet. You've never seen acrobatics like these

Muriel

He dislikes his wings about as much as he dislikes the rest of his body, which is both saddening and par for the course

Like the rest of him, his wings are strong, big, heavy, and thick. You'd compare them to a bat, but the fur on the outside is as long and coarse as a bear's and there are powerful sinews throughout

You don't find this out for a while, but the insides of his wings are warm and leathery, covered in soft fine hairs, and very safe and comforting when you need shielding from harsher elements

Very self-conscious about the scarring and size of them

Keeps them folded in so tightly they look permanently cramped and uncomfortable, and only fully extends them when he absolutely has to. He does avoid flying because of this

As for the scarring - well - it's crisscrossed all over after years of combat, the edges are shredded and tattered in places, and you can tell where some bones and cartilage broke and healed crooked

The first time he let you sit behind him, wash and comb the fur, and finally moisturize them, he was able to let them hang loose for the rest of the day without needing to draw them in again

Portia

She has bird wings much like her brother, but they're considerably fluffier, stronger, and have the colors of a warm sunset

Keeps them neatly folded against her back while she's working, but otherwise they're fluffing and twitching and swaying behind her while she's laughing and chatting with you and her friends

Switches between flying and walking without thinking about it - she needs to get across the canal? She's not bothering with a bridge, she's taking a hop, flap, and a flutter to the other side

Loves using them to snuggle you. Whether it's casual brushes against your arms, folding around your waist to hug you, resting over your head when it starts to rain, it's all fair game

This is overall very pleasant, because she takes thorough care of them and the downy soft undersides feel like falling into the fluffiest cloud you could possibly imagine

Will use them to nudge people out of the way if she feels like her (or your) personal space isn't being respected

Her wings are so feather-dense that she does shed quite a lot and you find sunset feathers anywhere she sits or lies down

Lucio

He loves showing them off and he hates comments about their traits. Morga once told you that they were snowy white when he was a child, but over the years got streaked with red and black

They're webbed, thin enough to look like frost, with fine golden veins. Over time the sinews and bones took on crimson and charcoal black colors and he's rather proud of the effect

What he's less likely to flaunt is the deep, jagged scar slicing through one side that he got when he lost his arm

He effectively turned it into artwork with a golden tattoo, but he still tends to carefully position his gauntlet to cover for it

This in no way stops him from parading his wings otherwise. They're always halfway unfurled, poised like he's about to take flight, and matching his face for expressiveness

Startle him, and they'll fly above his head in shock before they ruffle and bristle and rustle around his shoulders as he loudly insists that he wasn't surprised at all, just playing along, no really!

Likes gently booping your nose with them to get your attention

Tends to compare his wings to others when he's insecure

[leeeeeeeeech]

Don't Wanna be your Friend Anymore

"B-Beee." I slur, leaning against the ghoul, my vision swimming behind my drooping eyelids. The alcohol kicked in much quicker than I would've liked it too. This game was a dumb idea.

"Told ya," He chuckled, tucking some of my hair behind my ear with a delicate claw. "You cannot hold your liquor fer shit, tootsie pop."

I go to argue with him, but the bile that jumps into my throat beats me to it. I practically launch myself from the couch to stumble towards the bathroom. Beetlejuice cackles, triumphant that he'd won. I come back, sweatier and a couple shots lighter, to Beetlejuice sipping on another bottle of tequila. His hair a subtle purple hue.

"Damn, Beej, you goin' through something?" He jumps, a little startled, before he jerkily shrugs his shoulders, the purple retreating into his hair line, quickly replaced by his signature electric green.

"Nah, I like the burn," He takes another gulp, making a sour face as he set the bottle down. "Augh yep! That's the stuff."

"Come on, what's wrong? You're purple."

His eyes widen, hands jumping to his hair, attempting to cover it up. "N-Nothing's wrong. I just.. ughhh fuck okay okay." He sighs, gritting his teeth. My heart breaks as the purple comes back full force, it even bleeds past his hair. His tie and the white stripes of his suit a faded plum color.

Oh no.

"I miss you." He whispers, his voice strained. I sit next to him on the couch, scooting closer until our legs bump together.

"But I'm right here, Beej." I reach for his hand, but he smacks it away.

"No! No, you're not. Ever since you took that dumbass job you never have time for me!"

"How? We hang out every night."

He shakes his head, red sprouting into the purple, like splotches of blood.

"No. We really don't Y/n. This is the first time we've had an actual conversation in weeks, and it's only happening because we're both drunk!"

My head is swimming from this revelation. Was my new job really affecting him this much? I thought that things were good between us. I... I really fucked up, didn't I?

"I'm sorry, Beetlejuice, why didn't you say anything before?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't want... fuck.. this shit is really somethin' huh?" He gestures to the half empty bottle of tequila. "It really makes ya just say anything!" He laughs, but the joy doesn't reach his eyes, or his hair, or..anywhere really. A mirthless noise.

"Beej, you can be honest, I'm sorry we haven't hung out like we used to. I've been a terrible friend to you."

Beetlejuice mutters something angrily under his breath, crossing his arms and turning away from me. "What?" I lean towards him, grabbing a hold of his shoulder to balance myself.

"I don't want to be your friend." He says, punctuating each word with a pained hiss. I feel like complete shit. I took him for granted. "Beej, I'm so sorry! I wish I knew how to make all this better."

He's quiet for a while, seemingly contemplating, his hair changes from color to color. Red, blue, purple, orange, yellow....pink. I continue to watch in silence as he broods. A soft pink remains at the root of his hair as it fades through the entire rainbow. He pauses for a moment, noticing that I hadn't said anything to him. His eyes meet mine, the pink crawling through his hair slowly, the purple sliding into the forefront of his head. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a beat.

"Beetlejuice, I know I messed up, and if you don't want me-"

"Shut up for a second."

I clamp my mouth shut, watching him carefully as he scoots closer to me.

"I-"

He cuts himself off, turning away from me with a scoff. I hear him grumble, "Fuck it." but before I can comment on it at all, his hands are cupping my face, and his lips are pressed up against mine. My eyes fluttered closed as he presses into me, my hands wandering up into his hair to pull on the ever-changing strands. He groans into the kiss, the vibrations reverberating throughout me. It makes me shiver

He leans into me further, more hands groping, pinching, pulling. His tongue, cold and wet pressing against my teeth. His heavy breaths, and little groans are too much for me to handle. I push him off, panting and wiping at the slobbery residue of the kiss. Beetlejuice looks upset for a moment, but his eyes flick to my lips again and his hair goes bubblegum pink, strands of red settling in random patches. it makes him look like cinnamon candy.

"Bee-" He holds up a hand to my mouth, shushing me. He runs his free hand through his hair, a few mold spores falling out as he did so.

"Listen, Y/n, I.. I like you. A lot. Anytime I think about you and me it's like my heart's havin' an orgasm." His confession is rushed and stumbled through, but I quit listening to him once his hair started glowing. The pink shining so bright that it cast a soft light throughout the living room. I smiled at all my things being in Beej's light. I interrupt his ramble by kissing the hand that covered my mouth. He flinched, stopping mid sentence.

"You give my heart orgasms too, Beej." I laugh, holding on to his hand with both of mine. His shock quickly fades, replaced with that flirty cockiness that I've come to love.

"I bet I can make you feel like that all over~"

I lean forward into his space, grinning as his cheeks darken at my being so close. Liquid courage or love, I didn't care. I was going to see my ghoul pink for as long as possible.

"Let's test it."

(lil note): this is also on ao3!