#this ornament is called music note ornamentation

[dieletztepanzerhexe]

drinkjijg my morning tea from a 7000 years old cup

[sansaorgana]

— KINGDOM OF DISTURB

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Despite being locked inside his fortress, you cannot complain about being Sauron's Queen. You are surrounded by luxury and your every wish is fulfilled. After long centuries of such life, however, you grow a little bored. Mentioning it to your husband has terrible consequences.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The title is from the song that inspired me (Kingdom of Disturb by Nostalghia) and of course you don't have to know the song to read the fic but I strongly recommend it because it fits so well with the whole theme – In fever dreams he holds me // Fever dreams destroy me // Inside his kingdom of disturb // I am the queen of his design 😌 Basically, in this fic, you are kind of living like Celebrimbor and it gets dark as well – although not that dark lmao I imagine Sauron as Annatar here but you can imagine him as whatever to be honest and the Reader had to be an Elf so she could live for a very long time, but other than that she is not described in any way!

WARNINGS — mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), mentions of Reader wanting to have a child (spoiler alert: Sauron does not), toxic & abusive relationship with some physical violence (he pulls and drags her by her hair), manipulation, gaslighting, victim blaming

WORD COUNT — 3,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

KINGDOM OF DISTURB

When Sauron married you and made you his Queen, he took you to a huge and beautiful fortress in the Southlands. You had imagined being his spouse a little differently – more… actively. You had been imagining yourself healing Middle-earth alongside your husband but he kept you hidden inside your chambers instead.

He was assuring you the reason was your safety since his task was not yet done. And you believed him because you wanted to. Even the fact that the heavy doors of your chambers remained locked all the time was something done out of his love and his protectiveness. You understood. In fact, it felt good to be protected by him. To be taken care of. To be aware of the depths of his devotion to you.

And most of the days, you spent alone; awaiting his return from his journeys and battles. However, he made sure that you were never bored.

Your chambers were enormous and the most beautifully decorated in all sorts of silver, gold, gemstones and ornaments. Velvet, silk and cotton surrounded you and everything smelled of fresh flowers that were being changed everyday by your servants.

You had every book you wanted there and your ladies-in-waiting, as you liked to call them, were skilled in nearly every craft, so they could entertain you with their musical skills, new dresses made for you, drama plays performed for you to watch and clap your hands at… Anything you asked for was there – within the reach of your little finger.

And when you wanted to spend the time outside, perhaps you could not do that fully but you had a huge balcony all for you from where you could watch the vast and green land of the Southlands. The sunrays were keeping you warm and the blue skies were calming your senses as the sounds of birds, wind and playing children from afar were reaching your ears.

It was a paradise where you lived and you did not mind being trapped. Sauron was making sure of that. Your every whim was being fulfilled and whenever he was back to spend some time with you, he was the most skilled and attentive lover. After a few days or weeks spent in his embrace, you were too hazy to complain or to think of anything else except for the amount of your love towards him.

You were not sure for how many years you had been there – centuries, perhaps. Time was a blurry concept for you these days. And the most uncertain. However, throughout all those years, you had been very satisfied and content with your life as Sauron’s Queen. You had been waiting very patiently for him to finally heal Middle-earth and to prepare his realm for you to join his side fully.

Only recently, something had changed. And when Sauron had come back to you after being separated for a bit longer than usual, at first he hadn’t noticed any of that.

You had spent a whole night in each other’s embrace, your bodies tangled together as they reached a peak after peak between the gasps, moans, arched backs, curled toes and fingernails being dug into flesh. He was a Maia and he could go on for days without a break but you were not graced with such powers, therefore you required a rest. So, he granted it to you in the early morning as you both laid underneath the silky sheets.

After taking a short and regenerating nap, you yawned softly and giggled when Sauron’s hands caressed your sides. You looked deep into his eyes and placed a kiss upon his lips, caressing his cheeks. But when you opened your mouth to start the conversation you had been dying to have for a long while now, you were interrupted by one of his servants with a knock upon your doors.

“What is it?” Your husband asked, irritated, as he rolled his eyes at you playfully.

“My Lord Sauron, there is an important matter to discuss,” the raspy voice of his servant reached your ears.

You had never seen any of his servants but you could imagine they looked quite different from your gentle and beautiful ladies-in-waiting. You were not sure of their race since they had been the same since the beginning but you did not ask any questions about it since you were pleased with them either way.

“I shall return to you soon, my love,” Sauron kissed your forehead and left your bed.

He got dressed up quickly and turned around to smile at you adoringly before walking out of your chambers. A short while later, you could hear the doors being locked.

You stretched your sore limbs and stood up to dress up yourself, too. Sometimes, you liked to do it yourself instead of asking for your ladies-in-waiting. As much as you adored them, you had also quite grown used to solitude. And sometimes you preferred it this way.

After putting on a gown, you stood in front of the large mirror and caressed your curves underneath the fabric. You wondered how your body would look if it were changed by pregnancy. And when you turned to your side to put your hand on your abdomen, pretending to be carrying your husband’s child already, he walked inside this very moment, startling you.

You quickly moved your hand away but you were sure he had spotted what you were doing as he tilted his head and approached you slowly. Without a word, he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you – the red colour of his robes looked so regal contrasting with the golden colour of yours.

“What are you doing, my love?” He whispered into your neck, placing a gentle kiss there and making you shiver.

You looked down at first and wanted to tell him that nothing, you were doing nothing. On the other hand, that was the conversation you had wanted to have with him for a long time now but each time you either were running out of courage or you were being interrupted.

So, you looked up to meet his gaze in the reflection of the mirror and you took a deep breath in.

“What if we had a child together, my love?” You asked and watched how Sauron’s facial expression changed from playful to serious… Angry, even. His jaw clenched and his eyes – usually so kind and loving towards you – filled with rage that he was trying to keep at bay but you knew him too well not to notice. “What is it?” You turned around in his arms uncomfortably as you met his gaze in reality now and not only in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are you not happy with me?” Sauron asked with all seriousness and concern.

“I am very happy, my love. That is why I want to–” you started, a little surprised by his tone.

“Why do you want to ruin what we share then?” He interrupted you, harshly and it made you shut your mouth immediately.

“I had no idea that you perceived the possibility of fatherhood this way,” you finally said in a weak whisper.

“There is no such possibility,” your husband took a step back as if he was disgusted with you at that moment and it hurt you deeply.

“Physically, it is. There have been cases of Maia and Elves having offspring together. Rare, but still…” You swallowed thickly as Sauron’s eyes filled with even more anger and the corners of his lips twitched.

“You… You have been researching that?” He asked with contempt.

“My love, I do not want to push you into anything or force anything upon you!” You quickly reached out to grab his wrists to calm him down. He allowed you to touch him but he did not touch you back in any way and his eyes did not turn softer at all. “If a child – an heir – is not what you wish, let it be then. I only want to know the reason why not,” you explained, looking for compassion. “If it is jealousy… For I am aware of the amount of your devotion towards me… Well, I can assure you that my love can be shared and perhaps I would love you even more if–”

“I am not jealous,” Sauron snorted at that and you closed your mouth, blinking your fresh tears away. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am?”

“Of course, my love,” you nodded, surprised at the question.

“And do you think I wish to share this power? This greatness?” He freed his wrists from your grasp and walked away to pace around with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Do you not wish to share it with me one day? Once Middle-earth is healed?” You asked, confused.

“It is different. Our child could be even more powerful than I am. I do not wish for heirs,” he explained, nervously, “for they could be a threat.”

“A threat?” You asked, taken aback by his words. “Your own children? A threat for you?”

“You are not happy… You are not happy here,” he kept repeating as if he was angry and worried at the same time, ignoring your questions and walking in circles like some sort of a maniac.

“My love…” You tried to catch his attention again, staring at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You had never seen him so upset and you felt guilty for causing this. He had enough worries outside this fortress and when he was with you, you wanted him to feel calm and relaxed.

“You are not happy… You are not…” He was no longer paying attention to his surroundings, spiralling down as if his world had just crumbled down.

“My love…?” You tried once again.

“Not happy, not happy, not happy, not–”

“Sauron!” You addressed him and this time your voice grew harsher out of impatience. He froze and turned around to face you, with his hands still clasped behind his back. He was visibly taken aback by the tone of your voice but you were frustrated now by the way he behaved.

And, perhaps, he should have finally heard some truths.

“I am not unhappy, my love,” your voice grew softer but it was still quite distant. “The life I have here is the most luxurious and I am being spoiled by you every day, even when you are away. I am the most grateful,” you assured him and he sighed with relief. “However,” you added and he furrowed his brows again, “I grow tired of being locked away. I wish to walk outside, I wish to meet more people than my ladies-in-waiting. I know you are not yet done healing Middle-earth but I know you do have whole realms under your rule already. Are your subjects not curious about their Queen? I would love to go outside and meet them. Even though I have here everything I could ask for, I still grow bored sometimes as I seek for some purpose or adventure. Perhaps a child is something I started to crave because of boredom,” you finished and took a deep breath in, feeling the burden you had been carrying for so long within your soul being released.

Sauron’s face was unreadable at that moment but he remained still like a statue as he kept staring at you coldly, without even blinking. You swallowed thickly and after a moment, you simply had to look down, too intimidated by his stare.

“You are… bored?” He laughed contemptuously, breaking the silence. “I have to spend long weeks away from you to heal this realm and prepare it for you, so you can rule it alongside me when everything is all ready for you and handed out to you on a silver plate – like everything else – and you complain about… boredom? I fight battles and risk my life, while remembering to spoil you every day no matter what, only for you to show such brattiness?” His voice was filled with so much disappointment that you wished to die at this very moment.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps you were being ungrateful.

“F-forgive me,” you whimpered, still not brave enough to look up.

“Oh, it is too late, my love,” he emphasised the last two words with anger as he approached you and grabbed you by the roots of your hair, making you yelp. He had never done anything of this sort to you before and you had never expected him to. He had to be even more angered than he showed. “Do you wish to know the truth?” He whispered into your ear venomously. “You have no idea how much power and focus I have to sacrifice for you to live a life so beautiful and yet you dare to complain?” He asked and you could not understand the meaning of his words. You only kept sobbing and not even because of the physical pain he was causing you at the moment but mostly because of the way he was behaving towards you. “True, your naiveness and foolishness makes it a little easier. You do not notice my little slip-ups and oversights… But still… I’d be much more powerful if I did not have to sacrifice so much of my abilities on creating this illusion for you,” he drawled out.

“What illusion?” You asked through the tears and Sauron looked deep into your eyes, pulling your hair even harder as you whimpered. He kept staring at your face with anger and contempt, visibly overthinking something.

“Let me show you the truth, my little brat,” he smirked and the corners of his eyes twitched nervously. In that moment, you suddenly realised that the light coming through the curtains from the outside was gone.

The chambers still looked the same – full of luxurious goods and items – but they were all so… dark. And somehow dusty as if there was ash covering some of the furniture. You squinted your eyes at that, not fully understanding the meaning of any of it.

“Here,” Sauron dragged you by your hair towards the balcony doors. And when he opened them and forced you to look ahead, you gasped in terror.

The Southlands were no more. The green land full of the bird songs, blue skies and the children’s laughter was nothing but a dark land of gloom and ashes with the huge volcano breathing out smoke in the distance. The skies were orange from the clouds and fire and there were ashes dancing in the air. It was hell and you realised that this was the reality – not the beautiful and gentle things you had been seeing for the past centuries whenever you had walked out to breathe in fresh air and feel the sunshine on your skin.

“You are not healing Middle-earth,” you whispered, nearly inaudibly, feeling defeated. “You are annihilating it.”

Sauron let go of your hair finally and pushed you away while doing so.

“I am healing it. Middle-earth is too spoiled and rotten for the process to go smooth and easy. I must purge it and rebuild it and then, only then, we shall rule it together,” his voice went softer again but it was still filled with a scary hint of darkness.

When you looked up at him, he was smiling at you lovingly again as if he hadn’t just caused you any pain. And you realised that from now on, you would always hear that scary hint of darkness in his voice no matter what. Because it had most likely always been there.

You remained speechless, staring at him with your wet eyes and silent tears streaming down your cheeks. He reached his fingers out to wipe them out of your face.

“Now you see it… I was trying to protect you from the whole process… From the truth of it… For I knew you would not understand my vision. And you shall stay here until my task is complete, my Queen,” he assured you sweetly.

“I do not want to…” You confessed.

For the first time in your life, you truly did not. Even though it was impossible to stop loving someone in a brief moment – no matter how much pain they had caused you and how evil they had turned out to be. You had been loving him for too many centuries to stop now. But it did not change the fact you simply did not want to be by his side anymore. 

You expected Sauron to get angry again but he did not. He cupped both of your cheeks now and leaned in as he kept staring at you with a mix of affection and pity. He knew very well that what you wanted mattered no more.

“But you must, my love, for I shall never let you go,” he whispered, pecking your lips delicately and tasting your salty tears. “However, now that you know the truth, I do not see the point of my further illusions. Your curiosity and brattiness have robbed you of this privilege,” he pointed out and caressed your hair. “Come back inside, my darling,” he dropped his hands to your arms and led you back into your chambers.

He let go of you to close the balcony doors behind you two and you froze at the sight of a few shadow-like creatures floating above the dusty floor of your bedroom. Their shapes were humanoid enough to be unsettling but there was nothing pure about them and their eyes were red as they burned with fire.

“Wh-what are those?” You asked.

“Those are your ladies-in-waiting,” Sauron answered, trying to make his voice sound sweet although you were aware that calling them by the name you had given them was nothing but mockery.

“I do not think I want their service anymore,” you swallowed thickly. If his illusions were to be truly gone, you would rather live alone there instead of having such creatures following you around.

Even though they had already been doing that for centuries now…

Sauron chuckled to himself and nodded at the shadows. They disappeared immediately after and you sighed with relief.

“Do you still wish for a child, my love?” Sauron asked you and put his arm around you before leaning in to kiss your temple. “Because I think that, after all, I could give you one to make you less lonely,” he teased, cruelly.

“I would never curse my child to share their eternity with me in this prison,” you looked up as you answered, feeling the lump forming in the back of your throat.

“Whatever you wish, my Queen,” Sauron smirked and gently pressed your face to his chest as he caressed the back of your head. “I am sorry for causing you pain. I truly am,” his voice broke a little and you wanted to believe him because what else could you do?

Believing him would make this whole thing a little bit easier.

“I know,” you whispered, feeling utterly defeated.

“Do not anger me like this again,” he whispered and even though his voice was full of guilt, there was a threat in it, too. “I do not want to cause you pain. You mean the world to me,” he explained and you realised that perhaps he was believing his own self while saying these things, too.

After a while like this; being forced to hug him but with your eyes kept open, he took a step back from you and lifted your chin up gently.

“I must leave now again, forgive me. I have received worrying news this morning from my servant,” he explained. “I shall be back soon. Keep your bed ready for me, my Queen,” he teased playfully as he usually would but this time it did nothing to you except for making your stomach twist.

He leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead and turned around to leave. You watched him walk away and heard the lock turn. You were left alone in the darkness of this room, which was covered in the ashes getting inside through the windows. You were lonely and broken – with the sound of the volcano and burning fire accompanying you from afar.

You sat down on the floor and brought your knees all the way up to rest your chin upon them as you wrapped your arms around your legs. Curled up this way, you began rocking yourself slowly to calm down and to seek for comfort in your own embrace.

This was how your life would look like from now on. But it was better than living inside a lie.

Was it?

MASTERLIST

[vxnuslogy]

– a waltz with fate.

pairing: aventurine x gn!reader

premise: the fate of luck never had anything of great value after shedding his mortal shell, until you came to him for help. now, aventurine struggles against destiny to make sure you're not taken away from him for the second time.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, reader is described as feminine and is called princess a few times but still use "you/they/them" pronouns, slight spoilers for events in once upon a broken heart.

– author's note: this is very once upon a broken hearted inspired so please go give it a read! art credits to @yeurei | ~3.1k words.

aventurine was not obsessed. one more visit didn’t equate to obsession. he simply wanted to make sure you were safe and sound; that you were still alive. yes, aventurine just wanted to double check that you weren’t bleeding on the shoulder like last time. in danger. unhappy. or uncomfortable. you were safe here, because he was watching over you.

a pained sigh left his lips as his hand came to ruffle his already unruly hair. his eyes scanning over your figure who slept soundly in the bed of your temporary room in penacony. aventurine clicked his tongue as he took a good look at the space. muted colors of silver, whites, and blues didn’t suit you. vibrant colors of yellows, pinks, and turquoise suited your rowdy personality better. these colors made you stand out even more, captivating everyone in the room with just a glance. 

“time to wake up now, friend.” he merrily whispered near your ear, so incredibly close it made him feel intimate. it left a painful tearing inside his already broken heart. as expected, you opened your bleary eyes at him. he saw how your lips tried to scream at him for sneaking into your room but it never left your throat as he throwed a dress right at your face. 

“the party is about to start,” he heard you shuffle out of bed and lay out the dress. “it’d be a shame if you were late.” aventurine threw a grin over his shoulder when you rolled your eyes at him. grin growing wider when he realized you planned on wearing the dress he picked out for you despite the irrelevant dress code of only wearing white, black and gold.

“how kind of you, lord aventurine.” there it was. the same playful lilt of your voice. 

you were growing too trustful of him again. aventurine didn’t know if his heart fluttered or broke into a million more pieces.

“well what can i say?” shrugging his shoulders he made his way to your balcony. “i’m feeling generous tonight. maybe i’ll even ask you for a dance tonight!”

another roll of your eyes and you're already waving him goodbye. “oh how marvelous! i’ll be sure to rub it on the poor faces of the ladies that would die to dance with you.”

aventurine let out a hearty laugh as he left your room with a single graceful jump. but his happiness was short lived when he spotted a familiar white snake coiling around the tree branch that was placed coincidentally right in front of your balcony. the man scoffed as the snake slithered down the tree and disappeared into the bushes. no doubt planning on telling its master of what it just saw. 

for the longest time, aventurine never minded the still and quietness of the night. but this time, the night was too cold for his liking. it may have been winter in penacony and the dress shirt he wore was thin and loose, the temperatures never bothered him. another sigh left his lips as he shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking to where this year’s charmony ball will be held. mentally preparing himself for the encounters he may stumble into for the night.

 – –

as expected of the family, the charmony ball looked like a fairytale stolen from a child’s storybook. the ballroom from the ceilings to the floors were covered with iridescent pearls and silver ornaments with touches of  gold here and there. some royals from all over the land were already on the dance floor, happily dancing to the beat of the music that played from the second floor. cheers and laughter echoed throughout the entire room, enchanting everyone inside.

“well don’t you look charming, lord aventurine.” 

aventurine pressed his lips into a firm line, his grip tightening on the golden goblet that his hand held. he needn't look to his side to know who had approached. her intimidating presence and captivating voice gave it all away. “as do you, lady bonajade. but you always look dazzling no matter what.”

jade chuckled and stood beside aventurine, much to his dismay. the older woman wore a dark blue daring off shoulder dress that showed off her skin with the slit reaching her upper thigh. it would be considered scandalous if any other woman were to wear it. the white ruffled sleeves only reaching her elbows complimented the dark glove she wore on her left hand. as always, her wrists were decorated with shining gold bracelets and her signature jade ring that rested on her ungloved finger.

“flattery won’t get you anywhere, child.” taking a goblet from the wandering server, she took a tentative sip before sloshing the drink around. 

aventurine didn’t care for what others thought of him, but it was different when the woman beside him did it. he suddenly felt insecure about the white dress shirt he wore. wondering if it was obvious that the piece of clothing was too big for him with the way it sagged around his shoulders. the black vest that was more akin to a coat with its train felt too suffocating now. he suddenly had the urge to readjust the collar of his shirt and take off the dark blue gem pin on the center of his neck. he didn’t look like the playful and reckless lord aventurine he worked so hard to build up whenever jade was around. and he hated it.

an evil chuckle escaped jade’s lips. “you look better in turquoise, my dear.”

he scoffed, voice laced with the same poison he used to scare off any predators. “this was not my first choice either, madam. if i had known this ball was limited to only whites, golds, and blues then i would’ve brought my own clothing.”

aventurine felt the woman’s lips brush his ear as she whispered. “don’t use that tone with me, child. you still owe me a big debt after saving your little princess.”

jade must have noticed his tense posture when she mentioned you. cursing himself under his breath for showing weakness but he couldn’t calm his beating heart as he looked for you inside the ballroom. the older woman gave aventurine another chuckle before leaning away. the snake-like pupils of her silver eyes made aventurine’s skin crawl but he dared to not look away. narrowing down his own eyes at the woman who had given him everything but took it all away with the snap of a finger.

“will my life suffice then?” aventurine was losing his composure when the woman grinned like a vulture. the room was suddenly stilled and small. all he could see was jade baring her fangs at him like a wild animal on a hunt.

“you’ve already given me your life the first time around,” she moved her gaze away from him and instead looked towards you. aventurine’s fist behind his back shook in anger. “i’m starting to think you have nothing of value to give me anymore.”

he scoffed. slamming the goblet in his hand on the table with a quiet bang. jade let out an amused chuckle. “how peculiar, you’re normally more composed than this. don’t tell me you’ve grown possessive of that little princess?”

“we’re fates, madam. we’re always possessive.” aventurine argued, eyes never leaving your figure as you danced across the ballroom with a familiar man.

“oh but not in the way that you are now,” an arm slithered around his shoulder as a card appeared in front of him. obscuring his vision of you. “quite interesting, wouldn’t you agree. i’ve tried so hard to keep this card up right but it keeps flipping upside down. you know what this means right, kakavasha?”

aventurine swatted the card away from his face. the piece of paper slipping out of jade’s hand. he relished in her momentary shock before slipping away from her hold. he gave the card one more passing glance before sauntering towards the dance floor in search of you.

“you’ve made a fatal mistake, child.” jade warns. “the cornerstones are not to be used for someone that’s easily disposable.”

“[name] is not disposable.” aventurine turned to the woman as she scoffed. “they will be of more value in due time.”

“you say in due time knowing that they won’t last until next month.” the woman shook her head, the same white snake he saw earlier resting on her shoulders. “tell me, kakavasha, are they truly worth all this effort? you, a fate that i raised, risking it all for a mortal that doesn’t even remember you or your sacrifices. they won’t remember you because you no longer have anything of value to give destiny.”

aventurine tried to argue back but he felt winded. that all the oxygen he didn’t need to live were suddenly taken away the more jade continued. “you are nothing of value now. do you think your little [name] would still care if you’re no use to them? give up child, you are no longer obligated to protect them.”

“i’m the only one that can.” he countered.

“with what power?” jade tilted her head to the side. her light lavender hair swaying with her movement. “fate is no longer on your side, nor is luck. you are as powerful as a mortal now.”

aventurine took a moment to reply. “i’ll think of something. i always have.”

the woman laughed. the laugh that rang like sirens inside his mind, telling him to turn away, run away to a place where she wouldn’t find him. but it was hopeless. jade was like a shadow he could never escape from. she will always have a leash around his throat. pulling him back when she deemed necessary and suffocating him from the harsh reality.

“you better have a plan, child.” the same predatory glint came back to her eyes. “i have no use for children who can’t pull their own weight.”

 – –

your conversation with veritas ratio was cut short when an arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you back. a surprised gasp escaped your lips when you saw aventurine look down on you with that same grin on his face. “i did say i’d dance with you, no?”

“i vividly remember you saying that you’d ask me. not steal me away.” he let out a jovial laugh that involuntarily made your cheeks flush like wine. 

you let out a cough behind your fist as aventurine took hold of your hand and twirled you around to face him. his bare hand coming to rest at your hips as the other held your gloved one. despite the layers of your dress and the corset you wore, you felt aventurine’s warmth seep through.

“now where has my little spitfire gone?” you turn to glare at him. “ah! there you are, i was starting to think you've mellowed down with all these mediocre men.”

you rolled your eyes as he pressed your bodies together even more when other dancers graced the floor. “careful there my lord, you almost sound jealous.”

“i’m a fate, sweetheart, i’m always jealous.” you furrow your brows in confusion at the new pet name. aventurine was never short on nicknames – both good and bad– and him using them on you was never strange. but it didn’t quell that curiosity that led you to him when he used a new one.

he only smiled, and but for a fragile moment, under the chandelier lights that bathed him in gold, the same color of his hair that captivated you when you first met, you understood why so many women would die for him. if aventurine wasn’t so pointed with his words, so greedy with his fortunes, you might have been a little bewitched by him.

but you couldn’t help but feel shy under his gaze and touch. in this moment, with his very being pressed so close to your soul, you can’t help but wish that you were the fortune that he was always greedy for. you wanted to delude yourself that with every twirl, every lift, and every dip of this seemingly never ending dance that felt like it was torn off a fairytale, he wanted you to be his fortune too.

“penny for your thoughts, friend?” you felt his finger press and prod at the mark near your pulse point. “it’s quite rude to not look at your dance partner, you know.”

you let out a snort. “you must be quite the rude gentleman. you never once looked at the poor ladies you’ve danced with all night.”

aventurine grinned from ear to ear. “so you were watching me?”

blood rushed to your cheeks as you glared at him. “i was not! i was simply sending silent prayers to the poor girls that would fall for charms.”

“oh so now you think i’m charming,” the playful upswing of his voice and eyes did your hammering heart no good. “don’t look so embarrassed, friend, everyone thinks i’m charming.”

“how dreadful.” you say with a roll of your eyes before a quiet atmosphere laid itself on the both of you. you tried not to pay attention to the way his grip on your hand and hip tightened when the music slowly started to fade away and the other dancers began to dissipate. for another moment, you wished for the dance to never end.

“you look beautiful in turquoise, you should wear it more often.” you snapped out of your daze when aventurine whispered a compliment to your ear. but when you turn to tell him off, he was gone.

there it was again, the bitter feeling welling up inside your chest. the mark on your pulse – a single coin that was slowly fading away, the symbol of your deal almost being over – nearly sent a wave of tears to break out from your eyes. the urgent feeling of you needing to tell him something still weighed at the back of your mind, but you don’t remember what it was that you wished to say to him.

“is something the matter?” a soft voice from behind you spoke.

the man had silver hair and the most beautiful golden eyes you’ve ever seen. a crown lay on his head as a halo was behind him. “prince sunday…” you murmur as the prince smiled.

“that is me, yes,” he offered a gloved hand to you. “would you care to dance? if you aren’t tired, of course.”

your mind was torn. one part of you telling you yes, dance with the prince who had the reputation of never asking any lady to dance. live out your dreams of meeting a prince and falling in love with him. but another part of you told you to chase after aventurine. seek him out like you always do. one last time.

in the end, you took the prince’s hand and danced with him until the night ended.

 – –

aventurine was not jealous.

that’s a lie, he was a fate, he’s always jealous. but not the same jealousy he normally felt when he looked over mortals living out their lives peacefully. that feeling of jealousy was normal for him. this type of jealousy as he watched you dance with the prince felt revolting. like someone had stabbed him in his already hollow chest over and over until he breathed his final breath.

he wanted to steal you away again like how he did when you danced with that vampire scoundrel named ratio. but he couldn’t. aventurine no longer had the right to intervene with your life now that your debt was slowly being paid in full.

fates were dangerous beings of magic. they are all possessive and jealous. mortals pray to him and others but they are no saints nor saviors. aventurine was the rumored fate of luck, madam bonajade’s prized successor. blessing anyone who seeks him out but must pay a hefty toll of something greater than they have received if his tasks and criteria are not met.

aventurine recounts the many scandal sheets that were written about his endeavors, the most famous was titled “A Scandal’s Gambit”. the scandal sheet retold his deal with a poor man wishing to elevate his family’s status from poverty. aventurine gave the man fortune and a simple task: spend the wealth to help his family and to not waste it on useless luxuries. but like the card description from the deck of destiny, the fate of luck’s first task is deceitful and blinded mortals. it wasn’t long before rumors about a mysterious man spending questionable amounts of money

started floating around the city.

people began to point to the man as a thief when a duchess came to him demanding he give back the treasures he stole from her. he quickly went back to aventurine, sitting on a velvet couch and a roulette in front of him. he begged and begged for the fate to help him but he was turned away. aventurine later revealed that his second and final task was to keep his family from dying, but since the man was blinded by greed, his wife and child died from starvation. 

“i simply took back the fortune you stole from me.” was the fate’s famous line. and not long, the man tried to flee but was captured and later died in jail. to pay for his failure, the man’s family was taken from him as punishment and compensation for fate’s lost fortune. but what aventurine didn’t realize was that the man’s child survived, and later came to him.

they asked for the same thing. to elevate their family from poverty, but unlike their father, they succeeded and are now reaping the fruits of their labor.

that was what aventurine wanted to believe as he continued to watch you dance with the prince you’ve always dreamt of marrying. you paid a hefty price for this happily ever after and aventurine was willing to take the fall for you. 

your journey after meeting him was nothing short of a heart attack. every twist and turn had aventurine’s nonexistent heart beating rapidly within the columns of his chest. all the tasks and missions he sent you, the times where you were captured and he had to save. aventurine wanted nothing more than for you to remember that he was your prince, not the man with the halo behind his head.

was it wrong of him to expect some sort of thanks from a person with no memory of him? no recollections of how he carried you through freezing waters, pulled you through hellfire, hauled you from the clutches of war and death. aventurine wanted just one simple thank you for saving you. but he knew it was too much to ask for.

after using the cornerstone of his fellow fates to reverse time after your unfortunate death, he had to painfully relive your first meeting, your trials and adventures, and see you dance with the man you married in your first life.

aventurine no longer had anything valuable to give to destiny so it took your memories instead. he made sure it was your memories and not you entirely. you were the most valuable thing aventurine had, and he’d be damned if you were taken from him too for a second time.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[babydollmarauders]

WRAPPED UP IN A BOW — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which y/n welcomes Quinn home with a gift

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, praise, oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected). (3.1k words)

notes: welcome to day 8 of the 12 days of kinkmas!

a week. seven days. one hundred and sixty-eight hours.

that’s how long my husband has been out of town.

four road games done and over with and now he’s finally coming home to me.

in retrospect, getting married at the very end of the summer wasn't the best decision Quinn and i have ever made. with no time for a honeymoon before he had to be back in Vancouver for training camp, and then hockey season starting, we've had barely any time to relax and bask in the joy of being newlyweds.

which may be why i'm feeling particularly in the holiday spirit. one more home game and then we get almost an entire week to laze around, celebrate the holidays, and just enjoy the life of being newly married.

i’ve spent the last three days decorating our apartment; a wreath on the front door, our tree with ornaments hung gently on the branches, mistletoe over every doorway. miscellaneous holiday themed trinkets are scattered throughout our home.

but my favorite part of the past few days isn’t the decor, or the music i’ve had blasting, or even the christmas cookies i baked. rather, it’s the idea that popped into my head while shopping for all of the said decor online; when i found a body bow.

and after numerous hours, which were impatiently waited through, and countless youtube tutorials, i sit perched upon the end of my bed, wrapped snugly in the red satin bow.

my breasts are tied high and taut, pushed together tightly by the soft fabric and half covered by the oversized bow; while a strip of the satin reaches over one shoulder and through my legs. technically, all intimate areas are covered, but with one tug of the bow, it would all unravel, leaving me naked and ready. a present for my husband to enjoy.

my eyes are glued to my phone, Quinn’s location dancing across the screen, getting closer and closer to our apartment with each passing second.

it’s not often that i would be awake so late, waiting up for him. often times, i’m asleep when he gets back from a roadie, only waking up when i feel his strong arms wrap around me in bed.

as his location pings at our apartment complex, my heart beat rises in my chest, excitement pulling at my every atom. i’m shaky, phone haphazardly tossed onto my nightstand before i get into position; legs crossed and my weight leaned back on my hands.

it feels as though time is dragging on, towing through metaphorical mud. seconds feel like hours as i wait to hear him enter our apartment.

all the lights are off leading into our room, adding to the illusion that he’ll find me fast asleep.

i’m so lost in thought, knees bouncing in exhilaration, that it isn’t until i hear footsteps bounding down the hall that i realize he’s arrived. blood whirls in my ears, my skin heating up at the mere thought of his touch.

“no, she’s probably asleep.” his words carry through the echoey hallway, “Jack, i’m not waking my wife so you can ask her relationship advice. just call her tomorrow.”

i bite back a laugh as i listen to the one sided conversation with his brother. Quinn’s voice turns hushed as he gets closer to our bedroom, obviously attempting not to ‘wake’ me.

the doorknob twists, the door creaking open to display my husband. his head is down, phone pressed to his ear as he carries his road bag into the room. even from here i can see the crease thats formed between his threaded brows, dark bags accentuated under his green eyes.

he turns, gently closing the door behind him with minimal noise, but when he turns back around, his eyes meet mine. his eyes widen, lips parting with a gentle huff of air before he mutters a quick parting to his brother.

“i gotta go, just call her tomorrow.” the call is quickly hung up, his phone set on the dresser with his bag, never breaking eye contact.

“welcome home.” i watch with a crooked smirk as his eyes rake over my figure, slowly dragging down my body before scanning his way back up.

“fucking shit.”

a giggle rises up my throat at his curse, his steps towards me hurried. he sinks down to his knees, eyeing the intricate bow that graces my body. with his hands finding my knees, he carefully pulls my legs apart so that he can fit between them.

“shit, baby,” he pauses, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment, “this all for me?”

i nod, peering down at him with the most innocent eyes that i can summon.

“mhm,” my tone is quiet but sultry, “played so well, and i missed you so much.”

he stands, towering over me now with a dark expression, his pupils blown out in lust.

“yeah? you missed me?” he questions, coaxing a nod of my head, “how bad?”

“so bad, Quinny.” i whine, hands grasping at his tie.

“did you touch yourself? you push your fingers into your pretty pussy? imagine they were mine as you made yourself cum in our bed?”

his words elicit a broken whimper from my throat, my eyelids fluttering as he wraps a hand around the back of my neck, forcing me to tip my head up to him.

“did you imagine my head between your thighs?” his voice drops, “my tongue licking your wet cunt? making you scream?”

my legs are shaking to close, to clench together and bring some much needed relief to my soaked core; but his body blocks me from doing so.

“yes.” i breathe out, eyes closing as he dips down to capture my lips in a bruising kiss.

his tongue slips past my parted lips, the result of a sudden gasp after his fingers curl into my hair, tugging just slightly.

the kiss is messy and deep, tongue’s tangling and pushing against each other, and when he pulls away, saliva coats my lips.

“lay back, baby.”

i drop back at his demand, hair sprawling across the soft mattress behind my head, and watch as best i can as my husband lowers back down to his knees until i can no longer see him.

it’s not but a second later that i feel his soft lips brush against my inner thigh, kissing a path up my leg. an unignorable pulse sparks between my thighs, thumping harder with each kiss, as he gets closer and closer to my wet heat.

wanton moans break the silence of the room, my body quivering with lustful anticipation; but before he can reach the spot in which i need him most, he pulls back, steadily repeating the process on the opposite leg.

a muted whine pulls from my lips as he shifts his path, bypassing my covered core and kissing up my torso. our eyes lock in a heated exchange, neither set looking away, as his open mouthed kisses reach an end, the oversized bow blocking his path.

but just when i think he’ll back away, he captures one tail of the bow between his teeth, slowly pulling back to unravel the satin knot. the glossy fabric falls off my chest, pooling around my body, revealing my bare breasts. my nipples are peaked with desire, stiffened by a mixture of lust and the cold air.

Quinn stares down at me, admiring my exposed figure, before he continues his journey, pressing wet kisses up my sternum. as he reaches my throat, he begins sucking, teeth grazing against my skin before he presses his tongue against it, pulling away to blow cool air against the spot.

shivers travel down my spine, my back arching up into him as he finally presses his lips against mine once more.

“so beautiful.” he mumbles, his hot breath fanning across my lips, swollen and indented with the mark of my teeth.

dragging himself back down to his knees, my jaw slackens as his breath hits my core.

“you’re dripping for me, baby.”

his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up my cunt, and my head tips back further into the mattress, my legs pulled over his shoulders as he groans.

“you really are a fucking gift.” he growls, his fingertips tightening in a bruising grip on my thighs.

my breath catches in my throat, blood rushing to my head as his tongue flattens against my clit. he wiggles it back and forth, softly playing with the bud of nerves.

my hands fly forward, tangling into the fluffy waves of hair that fall onto his forehead. as his tongue tenses, trailing down to flick into my entrance, he spreads my wetness, earning a harsh tug of his hair.

my grip coaxes a laugh of confidence from my husband, his chuckles reverberating through my core, and a screamed cry of pleasure echoes off of our bedroom walls, his name falling from my lips like a solemn prayer.

“Quinn, please,” i whimper, a single digit swiping through my wetness and making my voice falter into a high pitched moan.

“doing so well for me, baby.” his praises set my skin alight, heartbeat thumping in my throat.

his middle finger delves slowly into me, curling up into my g-spot as his lips enclose gently around my clit. pumping in, he slowly gets me ready, slipping his index finger in when he deems me lubricated enough.

my thighs close around his head, his free hand snaking his way around to push my leg open, a choked sob of arousal leaving my throat.

i can feel my orgasm creeping up on me, my stomach tying in knots as my eyes roll back.

suckling at my clit, he rolls it softly between puckered lips, his fingers alternating between hooking upwards and scissoring my cunt, slowly stretching me out and preparing me for his cock.

as his fingers speed and his tongue begins to circle and flick against my clit, my legs shake, hands gripping tighter into his hair while curses fall from my lips.

“Quinn,” tears gather along my waterline at the immense wave of pleasure that rolls through my body, “oh my god, right there!”

the tips of his fingers push against my g-spot with every thrust, my back arching as i can feel myself get closer and closer to the edge.

my husband moans, vibrations carrying through my core and spurring me over the edge. my walls tighten around his fingers, trapping them inside of me, and my hips grind against his soft lips as i reach my release.

heavy breathing sounds through the room as i lay back in ecstasy, recovering from my intense orgasm. pulling his cum coated fingers from my dripping pussy, Quinn’s lips pull away from my swollen clit with a pop.

“you taste like heaven.” he hums, coaxing my eyes to open, watching him suck his fingers clean of my release.

“Quinny,” i breathe out, hands reaching out to pull him forward by his tie as he rises from his knees, “i need you.”

“i’m right here, pretty girl.” he gruffs, a hand resting on the bed next to my head, holding himself up as he hovers above me.

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the spot where my jawline meets my ear. trailing up until he reaches my chin, he suddenly diverts, his lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss.

our lips dance together, his free hand grazing up my body until he reaches my breasts. his thumb rubs over my stiffened nipple, circling it lightly before pinching, the stark contrast drawing a moan from deep within my throat.

i can feel his erection pressing against my upper thigh, my hips jolting up into his in order try and relieve some tension.

pushing lightly at his chest, Quinn immediately backs away, worry filling his eyes, “what’s wrong? did i do something?”

rather than answer, i sit up, beginning to untie his tie. i pull it free from his collar before my hands push at his suit jacket.

“take it off,” i whine as my hands fumble, “all of it, Quinn. i need you. i need to see you.”

his hand cups my cheek, thumb rubbing over my cheekbone as he chuckles, eyes looking into mine.

“get up on the pillows,” he gruffs, watching with fervor as i follow his command, kicking the long forgotten satin fabric off the bed and onto the floor. “good girl.”

sitting with my back propped on the pillows, i watch my husband undress; his suit jacket tossed on the dresser, his button up dropped to the floor as well as the undershirt, before finally the clink of his belt sounds through the silent room.

i admire his upper body as he undresses, mentally praising all the hard work and training that’s led to his muscular arms and tight physique. my mouth waters and i yearn to press kisses to his pale torso, but i stay rooted in my spot, knowing better than to move.

fully naked, his cock stands tall, fully erect with a pink tip, precum beading at the slit, and i don’t think before my hand reaches out, wrapping around his length as he crawls over me.

i squeeze just slightly, my thumb running over his tip and spreading the precum, earning a hiss of satisfaction from my husband.

“stop,” he groans, vocal chords tight, “you want me to fuck you, right?”

i peer up at him with innocence, nodding my head quickly.

“then don’t be a greedy little slut,” my hand drops at his words, allowing him to take a deep breath, “hands and knees, baby.”

i scramble into position, craning my neck to watch his facial expressions as he grabs his base, guiding his cock through the lubricant of my residual cum.

my body shivers as he glides himself through my slick folds, wetting his dick thoroughly. he slides over clit, my legs instantly wobbling as i make a silent squeak.

“Quinn,” my voice shakes, but before i can continue, he’s pushing into me, my back contorting as he runs a hand over my spine.

“that’s it, baby,” he coos after i let out a loud moan, “take it like a good girl.”

i reach back with one hand, desperately grappling behind me for his touch. my request is granted when he grabs my hand, holding it in earnest as his other holds my hip.

“fuck me,” i cry, pushing backwards to sheath him entirely inside of me, “please, i need you to fuck me.”

Quinn clicks his tongue against his teeth, my head hanging forward as he stills, teasing me. i part my lips to begin begging again, but he silences me quick, pulling entirely out before slamming back into me.

he drops my hand in favor of gripping both hips, fucking into me with harsh and unforgiving thrusts.

my arms feel like jello beneath me, quivering with every graze of his tip against my g-spot, until finally i fall to my elbows.

his thighs smack against mine, each thrust pushing me further up the bed until i have to place my palms on the headboard, keeping me steady as my knees dig into the memory foam mattress.

“so fucking wet,” he grunts, pulling my focus to the lewd sounds of his cock sliding through my wetness, “my pretty fucking wife, so ready for me; so easy to please.”

i whine at the use of ‘wife’, the title still bringing goosebumps to the top of my flesh.

“yours,” i gasp, eyes rolling back as he slows his strokes, angling his hips for his cock to run over my g-spot, “all yours. your wife.”

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he breathes, “you like being my wife? you like letting me fuck you and call you mine? forever.”

his hand slides to my front, sprawling over my stomach before dipping down to let his finger apply pressure to my pulsing clit.

“yes!” i squeal, hips jerking from the pleasure, “yes, Quinn, yes!”

his finger draws circles on my clit, thrusts speeding as i clench around him.

“who am i?”

my stomach fills with pressure, toes curling as my hair falls into my face.

“my husband!” i scream, legs shaking underneath me.

his finger never relents, my overworked clit tingling, and i can barely stutter out that i’m close before he’s leaning forward, pressing kisses to my sweat coated back.

his soft lips against my heated skin send me over the edge, my eyes drawing shut as i let out an intense breathy moan. my walls clench but his thrusts never ease, only fucking into me with more intensity as he chases his own high, and within a minute, he finds it.

his hips falter, his grip tightening on my hips as he lets out a strangled cry, ropes of cum spilling out of him and mingling with my own.

it’s silent as he stops, nothing but heavy pants and the squelching sound of him pulling out, before he lays down, finally allowing me to drop onto my stomach beside him.

a breathy chuckle leaves his lips, my face buried into the pillow beside him, and he reaches over to scoop me into his arms, helping turn my body until my head is resting in the crook of his neck.

“what a welcome home present.” he laughs, still out of breath, and i giggle into his neck.

“figured you might like that.” i yawn, eyes fluttering shut as i rest a hand on his chest, “well worth staying up.”

“hey,” he coos, head back away in order to look at me. i pry my eyes open, staring up into his, “don’t go falling asleep yet, baby. you need a bath.”

i groan, attempting to burrow further into him, “but i’m so tired.”

he rolls his eyes at my drawn out whine, gently nudging me off of him so he can stand up.

“i’m gonna go draw a bath and get some wine. you don’t fall asleep.”

i nod sleepily, pulling myself up in a sitting position to keep myself from dozing off.

it’s not but five minutes later that Quinn returns, helping me into his arms and carrying me into the bathroom. he sets me down into the hot water of the bubble bath, grabbing the wine glasses off the counter and handing them to me before he slips in behind me, taking his glass back.

having out a deep sigh, i relax into his chest, his free arm wrapping around the front of my waist.

“so,” i start, making him laugh at my tired tone, “how was the trip?”

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinkmas (7)- Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree

Mommy Wanda X Reader

Summary: Whilst decorating the tree, Wanda's jumper rises up and you can't stop yourself from staring, easily flustered by the woman you somehow managed to call your girlfriend. What happens when Wanda notices your constant gaze and decides to torment you?

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: Tree Decorating, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Mommy Kink, Praise, Degrading, Finger Sucking, Strip Tease, Power Bottom Wanda/Sub Reader, Oral Sex, Fingering, Face-Sitting, Brief Smothering, Multiple Orgasms, After care, An Attempt at Humour

Kinkmas Masterlist

---

A carefree smile played on your lips as your head tilted to the side slightly, admiring the woman next to you, her beauty stunning you every time you saw her, the green meeting yours and softening. You couldn't stop yourself from letting your gaze flicker from her enchanting eyes to the gentle slope of her nose, that adorable nose scrunch that adorned her features, gaze eventually travelling to her auburn hair that framed her face perfectly, her teeth biting on her lower lip at your enamoured state.

Her fingers delicately wrapped around the tinsel in her hand, about to finish decorating the tree in front of you with the colourful and festive item, an idea entering her mind as you couldn't help but stare at her, love evident in your eyes.

Her hips swayed to the gentle music that played in the background, your eye noting every movement from her as her lips mouthed the words to the Christmas song playing, your smile widening as she gradually got closer and closer, the tinsel in her hand being thrown over your shoulder and wrapped around the back of your neck.

The flimsy material tickled the base of your neck as her body grew closer, her hands tugging on the item softly to bring your mouths closer, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a smile gracing your lips at her antics, your heart swelling with love, beating wildly in your chest at the feeling of her body pressing into yours.

"Are you going to carry on staring or are you going to help me now, Detka?" she teases when she pulls back from the kiss, stealing another tender one before peering into your eyes, having caught onto your plan.

You weren't the best at decorating trees, you could never decide on where or how to place the tinsel, how to organise the ornaments or even just untangle the array of knots in the Christmas lights, your cheeks tinting red at her look, smile shy.

"But you're just so much better at decorating than me," you murmur, hands wrapping around her waist to keep her close, lips pressing to her forehead to try and convince her to let you just admire the show. "You're doing a great job so far," you praise softly, eyes wandering to the side to admire the aesthetic and beautiful tree, her smile widening at your recognition of her hard work.

"Compliments aren't going to get you anywhere Moya Lyubov," she murmurs into another kiss, the two of you unable to resist one another, inevitably leaning in till your mouths moved together leisurely, savouring the soft moment. "You're helping," she says, tone adamant which makes you groan into the kiss slightly, having had fun just being an observer.

"Yes Ma'am," you grumble playfully, her hand smacking your behind teasingly as you move to grab a matching piece of tinsel, your mouth parting in shock at her action, her shoulders shrugging innocently, your lips naturally pulling up into a wide smile.

Obediently, you listen to every instruction that falls from her lips, reaching near the top end of the tree by standing on your tiptoes, tongue peaking out of your mouth as you concentrated, Wanda taking over your role and watching you with a tender gaze, the green overflowing with love as she observed your attempt to put the last piece of tinsel on.

A sigh of relief left you when you managed to get it on without bringing the tree down with you, like last year, Wanda congratulating you with a brief peck, cheeks tinted red at the domesticity of the moment.

You had thought after the tinsel you would be free but it turned out you were far from done, being told once again what to do as she directed you on where to place each ornament, your face expressing your clear indecisiveness as you would randomly stare at the tree, seemingly lost.

"Let me show you Detka," Wanda murmurs softly, body pressing into yours from behind as her fingers wrap around your hand, guiding you to the right place to put the small snowman figure, your breath hitching at her words, cheeks somehow darkening even more, a similar colour to the tinsel. "That's it, right there," she whispers, mouth near your ear making your mind run wild with sinful thoughts, eyes darkening when her fingers wrap around yours to place the snowman onto the tree, a sigh leaving you when she backs off you, retrieving another decoration.

You were lost for words when she acted normally after that, your body unable to control itself as warmth pooled at your lower abdomen at her raspy tone, the way her accent wrapped around her words delicately. Your mind was reeling with the thought of her, every innocent touch driving you mad as her hand would occasionally rest on your lower back to get past, fingers trailing down your arm, shoulder brushing yours, it was all too much, your face highlighting how flustered you were.

Wanda loved riling you up like this, her face poised and not giving away her intentions as she saw your eyes rake over her body hungrily, fingers twitching at your side and desperately wanting to touch her, to hold her in your arms and do whatever she asked of you.

"Can you help me with the star?" she asks, eyes softening as she waits for you to snap out of your thoughts, nodding and walking over to her, eyes drifting to her lips and watching how her tongue swipes over her bottom one, wetting it before her teeth bite down gently on her lower lip, the sight of her intoxicating.

"What do you need me to do?" you murmur, Wanda grabbing a chair to stand on as neither of you could reach the top of the tree, the other woman not wanting to injure herself.

"Just make sure I don't fall please," her tone soft as she offers you one more smile before climbing onto the chair, your hands hovering by her waist as the old chair wobbles slightly, concern evident on your face as you wanted her to be safe.

The worry soon switched to being flustered as her sweater rose up considerably, eyes naturally drifting down to the expanse of skin that was now on show. From where you were stood, you could see the beautiful curve of her hip, her toned stomach and the subtle signs of abs showing through, the small dip in her lower back as she stretched higher, placing the star at the top of the tree, your mind too busy fogging with arousal to pay attention to her hands.

"There we go," she says, tone cheerful and elated at finishing the tree, a festive joy taking over her as she looks down at you, your eyes gradually tearing away from her soft, enticing skin to meet her eyes, the green noticing how yours had darkened considerably.

You offered her your hand to get down, her stepping off the chair closer to your body than necessary, taking joy in watching you remain respectful and shy as always, knowing exactly how to drive you insane.

"Thank you Detka," she rasps out, peering up into your eyes with a dominant glint them, yours conveying your submission as you get lost in her mesmerising green, hands moving to rest on her lower back, sliding under her jumper hesitantly, always watching her reactions to your touch on her bare skin and the suggestive undertone to them.

"Is this-" you were cut off by her lips pressing to yours, mouth moving sensually against yours as you wrapped your arms more securely around her, pulling her impossibly closer as you groaned into her mouth, warmth flooding through both of you. Her hand fists into your jumper, pulling your body into hers as her legs hit the back of the sofa, your body lightly pinning her against the furniture while her tongue slides lewdly into your mouth, her lips tugging up into a smirk at the whimper that leaves you. "Wanda," you sigh out and it's nothing but submissive, pulling back from the kiss to gaze into her eyes lustfully, her simply refusing to part from the kiss and chasing your lips, pulling on your jumper once more to crash her lips back to yours, wet and wanting as your hands rest on the back of the sofa, bracing your body against her.

"Ah, ah," she tuts at your sigh, "Come on Detka, you know better than that," she teases, smirking into the messy kiss as you groan lowly, knowing what she meant. "You want to be a good girl for Mommy, don't you?"

"Yes," you immediately whisper out, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, her hands threading through your hair, ruffling it as she guides you back for another heated kiss, teeth nipping your lower lip to have you whine desperately, the throb between your thighs incessant.

"Yes what?" she reprimands, breath fanning across your lips before they're covered by hers once more, the kiss hot and feverish, your hands moving to clutch at her sweater as your head starts to spin with desire and arousal.

"Yes, Mommy," you correct, her fingers in your hair tugging your head back, your lust-filled eyes gazing into hers, Wanda's smirk growing as you look at her as if she were the only thing in the world.

"That's better," she praises, her fingers moving to caress your cheek, thumb moving to drag your bottom lip down, watching as you part your lips for her, letting her slide the digit into your mouth. Wanda couldn't help but groan at the warmth of your mouth, the way your tongue swirled around her finger, sucking on it just like she wanted you to, arousal swiftly building between her legs at your ever so obedient form. "You're just Mommy's little toy, aren't you Detka?" she husks out, pushing her thumb a little further into your mouth, cursing lowly at the way your eyes flutter closed at her dominance.

"Yes, Mommy," you whisper when she slides the digit out of your mouth, lips instantly pressing to yours once more, partly sucking on your lips and tongue to earn a sinful noise out of you.

"Mhmm my good girl," she rasps out, lips lingering open against yours, luring you into connecting them again, fingers pressing into her hip lightly. "Mommy wants to use this pretty little face of yours Detka, is that ok?" Your mouth parts to gasp softly at her words, mind completely clouded with arousal as it was hard to think of anything but her. All you could comprehend was how her fingers felt tugging on your hair, warm and wet mouth moving sensually against yours, body arching closer to yours and pressing into you perfectly, like the last piece of a puzzle. You couldn't get enough of her. She was an addiction.

"Please use me Mommy," you whimper out, Wanda groaning at your needy tone, her hands pushing your body back gently before guiding you around the sofa and onto it, gently pushing on your shoulders to sit back against the cushions.

Your hands reached out to her body as she grew closer, another displeased noise leaving her at your actions, hands firm on your shoulders as she kept you pinned to the sofa.

"No touching Mommy yet," she warns, your body naturally obeying her words as you settle against the cushions, eyes trained on every movement of hers.

Teasingly, her hands travelled down her body, eventually finding the hem of her sweater and dragging it up her body at a torturous pace, the soft, creamy skin from earlier being exposed to you once again. Your eyes drank up every inch of skin that was slowly revealed to you, memorising every little detail of her beauty, body seemingly sculpted by Aphrodite herself.

Your fingers twitched in anticipation as her breasts were soon revealed to you, the sweater finally being pulled over her head, her teeth biting on her lower lip as she admired your desperate form, waiting eagerly to please her like the good girl you were.

"Mommy," you whispered in an affected tone, gaze reluctantly leaving her bare skin, mouth desperate to mark it, to the various shades of green overflowing with dominance, pleading with her silently to just let you do whatever she wanted.

"Yes, Detka?" she teases, hands moving down her body sensually, attracting your gaze as they travel past her round and perfect breasts, gradually descending until they reach the waistband of her jeans.

"Please," is all you can manage as her fingers deftly unfasted the denim, hands pushing them down and showing off her long, slender legs, a visible wet patch visible on her panties making you groan, yearning to feel her body against yours. You wanted your head to be between her thighs, kissing every single part of her body before eating her out like you were starved of her, desperate to please.

"Patience Detka," she husks out, hand moving to the back of the sofa, supporting her body as it towered over you, your eyes unsure of where to look, frantically gazing at all of her before settling on her eyes, head tilted to look up at her. "Take them off for me," her words laced with dominance as your hands instantly went to her waist, body moving to the edge of the seat, eyes fixated on her face as you waited for her to nod, hands then drifting lower.

Your fingers deftly slide under the waistband of the lace adorning her hips, lips tentatively pressing to the soft skin you could reach, eyes looking up at her and gauging her reaction. When she didn't tell you off for it, your lips peppered kisses across her lower abdomen, fingers pulling the soaked fabric down her legs, gaze drifting lower to her dripping core, your mouth practically watering as you just wanted her to use your face like she said, to come on your tongue and moan your name in that desperate manner than drives you insane.

"Good girl," she praises when you pull the item off her completely, her body completely bare for you to admire and appreciate, hands caressing the delicate curve of her hips, lips nipping the skin softly, her fingers threading through your hair. She tugs your head away from her enticing skin, fingers sliding out of your locks to your jaw, resting on the underside of it as she guides your head up, peering up at her submissively. "On your back for Mommy," she purrs, your body moving to lay on the sofa, giving her enough room to straddle your face.

Your body practically freezes when she crawls above your body like a predator playing with its prey, eyes raking over your form, noting how your chest rises and falls in ragged breaths, the excitement and desire taking over you.

Once again, her fingers thread through your hair, your mouth parting at the sight of her core hovering over your face, arousal glistening in the light as you just wait, and wait, and wait for her to sink down on you, to give you both what you desperately want.

"Remember to tap my thigh three times to stop," she reminds, your mind swiftly thinking it would be mad to ever want to stop, nodding in understanding as your arms wrap around the back of her thighs, her finally lowering her hips down onto you.

A moan leaves you both when your lips finally meet her dripping core, the taste of her making you lightheaded and addicted, craving more of her as your tongue swipes through her folds, pleasure flooding through her body. Her fingers tighten their grip on your hair, nails scratching your scalp to create a dull pain while her thighs close around your head instinctively, your hands somehow pulling her even closer to you, the feeling making your head spin.

Her hips soon started to roll against your mouth, coating your chin in her slick as your tongue lapped at her clit, alternating before sucking firmly and swirling your tongue around her, sinful sound spilling from her lips.

"Oh Detka," she sighed out breathlessly, grinding her hips harder against you, earning a broken moan from you, fingers pressing into her hips and guiding her movements. "Just like that, that's it," her words encourage you, tongue sliding into her and heat pooling between your thighs at the amount of arousal that coated your mouth, the taste of her heavenly as you nuzzle your face closer to her.

Her thighs press harder against the side of your head, your tongue thrusting into her as best as you could before you settle on flattening it for her, occasionally moving your lips to wrap around her clit, sucking on it softly, teasing her slightly as you wanted to spend as long as possible under her like this.

"Fuck, you're making Mommy feel so good, so fucking good," her words went straight to your core, a sinful noise being ripped out of you, muffled against her core, the vibrations making her hips buck wildly against you, mouth parting to moan your name.

She couldn't help but cast her eyes down, groaning at the sight of you lose yourself within her, eyes fluttered shut as you took pleasure in eating her out like you needed her to live, ecstasy filling her mind as you continued to let her rock her hips against you, entranced by how she moved along your tongue.

When her hips rolled harder, her grip on your hair increased, the sting thrilling as you processed how lost in the pleasure she was, the pain worth it as you were just so mesmerised by her, obsessed with every reaction to your touch.

You longed to forever remember every hitch of her breath, every subtle twitch of her muscles, every tensing of her fingers in your locks as she rutted against your face, pleasure building in the pit of her core, swiftly pushing her closer to her release. Her moans gradually became louder and louder with each frantic thrust, arousal dripping onto your tongue as she was about to come undone at your touch, her head lolling backwards and showing off her sharp, defined jawline, neck straining as pleasure coursed through her.

"Fuck, I'm coming," her mouth parting as a guttural noise is dragged out of her from the back of her throat, thighs tensing around your head and momentarily smothering you, hips grinding down frantically against your tongue, pleasure and euphoria crashing through her body, her cum seeping out of her and into your mouth, the taste divine and making you crave more.

Her hips continued to rock against you, desperately chasing the last waves of her high, your tongue slowing down as she pants above you, body occasionally twitching at the sheer amount of pleasure and adrenaline flowing through her.

Eventually, her thighs release your head, letting you gasp and pant for breath, eyes fluttering open to meet her blissed out expression, hips lifting off you as her fingers softly fix your hair, her lips pulling into a caring smile as you stare up at her, a shameless smile on your lips as her arousal coats your lower face, mouth parting to say something.

"Mommy, please...Please can I have one more?" your words make her curse lowly under her breath, the sight of you adding to the arousal that floods through her.

"You wanna make Mommy come again?" she asks, still a little breathless from her powerful release, your head nodding as your hands caress the back of her thighs, lips peppering kisses along her inner thighs. "Go on Detka, show Mommy how good you are for her," she husks out, letting you flip the two of you over so her back was now against the sofa, hair sprawling behind her.

You settled between her legs, knees resting on the soft carpet under you while your arms wrapped around the soft flesh of her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the sofa so you could easily kiss her wet sex. You nuzzled your face into her core once again, lips wrapping around her clit and dragging out wanton noises out of her, each ragged breath engraved in your mind as her fingers grip the sofa beneath her, losing herself in the pleasure your mouth brought her.

Your hand moved to her inner thigh, spreading her open for you as your tongue licked a broad stripe up her centre, teasing her entrance before settling on her clit, switching between sucking and swirling over her sensitive core.

"Detka," she groaned lowly, head lolling against the cushions, back arching slightly when you teased a finger at her entrance, gradually sliding in it effortlessly. "Keep going," she sighs out, your digit curling against her weak spots and earning a small whimper, the sound intoxicating.

"Mommy," you moan into her core, thrusting your finger into her at a steady pace, altering the pressure of your mouth depending on how her hips try and roll against your mouth, her walls clenching around you desperately as the combination of you mouth and fingers swiftly pushes her towards the edge once again.

"Don't stop Detka, fuck," she moans out lewdly, sliding another finger into her and curling them both against her sweet spot, a broken sound leaving her as pleasure starts to blur her vision.

A guttural groan is soon ripped from the back of her throat, neck straining and jawline on show as she throws her head back, body being thrown into her second release powerfully, hips desperately rocking against your face. Her ragged breaths and the wet sounds of your mouth against her take over the room, her legs trembling by the side of your head, tensing around you and briefly closing around your head, trapping you in place as she rides the last waves of her release, pleasure coursing through her when she eventually collapsed onto the sofa.

Your lips pepper soft kisses against her inner thighs as her attempts to recover, your fingers tracing random patterns against her skin as you wait for her to look back down at you, your eyes admiring her, in awe of her beauty as she lays beneath you, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Soft pants spill from her lips as she moves her fingers to your hair, pulling you back up so you were hovering over her body, hand quickly wiping the remnants of her arousal off your lower face before kissing her softly, her arms wrapping around your body, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

"I'm so proud of you Detka," she whispers lovingly, fingers gliding up and down your back in a comforting manner, eyes fluttering shut as she relishes in the soft and intimate moment, exhaustion creeping up on her.

"Thank you Mommy," you whisper against her lips, melting against her body briefly as you knew you would need to clean up soon and wash your face, as well as grabbing her some comfortable clothes to wear.

You savour the moment with her as long as possible before deciding you had to get up, kissing her forehead in apology as she grumbled at the lack of touch, your face softening as she looked up at you from the sofa, blissed out.

You rushed around to grab a cloth to clean her with and quickly cleaned your face, hands rummaging through drawers to find her an oversized hoodie and some new panties, wasting no time in returning to the living room, a soft and loving smile engraved on your lips.

Wanda couldn't help but let warmth flood through her chest at your always caring personality, tender with her as she grew tired, watching you return with the items, eyes widening.

Your foot caught on the wire connecting the Christmas tree lights, pulling on it abruptly making the tree sway to one side, fear taking over you at the small jingle and rustle of the ornaments swinging on the branches, a sheepish smile on your lips as you met her amused gaze, the tree only staying upright with the influence of a red wisp of magic.

"Come here before you ruin my hard work," she teases, a soft laugh leaving you as you care for her, lips meeting hers in a tender kiss.

"I helped too," you mutter against her lips playfully, her arms wrapping around you and pulling you down into a cuddle, her hoodie impossibly soft as your head rests against her chest, a smile plastered onto your face. "It was a joint effort," you mumble, her fingers sliding under your jumper to trace random patterns against your skin in a comforting manner.

"Ok Detka," she hums out in a soft tone, "Stay here so you don't ruin our hard work," she corrects, your smile growing that little bit wider, body cuddling further against her.

"That's better," you whisper, arms snaking around her body, "I love you."

"I love you too, Detka," she murmurs, tone laced with tenderness and affection as her legs tangle with yours, locking you in a lovers embrace. 

[kingofbodyrolls]

Stuck at a Christmas party (m) | pjm

It’s Seokjin’s Christmas party and you’re trying your best to be social with your friends, but it’s really hard when you feel the burning stare of your nemesis, Park Jimin, lighting your skin on fire. It doesn’t help when you feel his hand between your legs under the dinner table.

→ Pairing: Jimin x female reader → AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut. → Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact. → Word count: 5,1k → Warnings (explicit): exhibitionism, fingering, oral (male receiving), orgasm denial, cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex, choking (in a sexual context), degrading name calling (brat), hair pulling, dirty talk, multiple orgasms. → Taglist: @yopjm → Author’s note: the snowstorm couple are back!!! 🥳 For reference, please think of GDA 2019 Jimin with his sleek black suit when reading this 🥵

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a mini series ‘The Winter Collection’, but it can be read as a stand alone (as can all the installments in the series).

As you stand there, befuddled and speechless, you can't fathom how Seokjin deduced the intimate encounter between you and Jimin, your mortal enemy. The questions swirl in your mind—how, what, and why—leaving you utterly mystified.

Rage simmers within you, and you clench your hands into tight fists, resembling an enraged child ready to lash out. However, before you can unleash your fury, Jimin beats you to the punch with a nonchalant explanation, “We got cold.”

Your jaw drops once more as Jimin strolls past you and Seokjin, casually hanging his coat on the rack and discarding his shoes. He carries himself as though what transpired between you is the most ordinary thing in the world.

Seokjin's laughter, that annoying windshield wiper sound, echoes in the air. It grates on your nerves, and the urge to smack him for it intensifies. However, he ushers you inside, and with a frustrated sigh, you release your petty thoughts, letting your shoulders slump in resignation.

“Not a word to the others!” you hiss, jabbing your finger forcefully in Seokjin's face. It's crucial to drive the point home; the last thing you need is for the rest of your friends to find out. The mere thought of enduring their endless teasing is unbearable.

Seokjin mimics zipping his mouth shut with exaggerated hand gestures, and you shoot him a stern glare for good measure, silently urging him to grasp the gravity of your seriousness.

Seokjin accompanies you into the living room, where Jimin lounges on a couch, wearing that infuriatingly smug expression. Despite the lingering resentment, he acknowledges you with a subtle nod, licking his lips teasingly. A shiver snakes down your spine at the suggestive gesture, and you can't shake the feeling that this evening is destined to be nothing short of torturous.

The music pulses through the air, creating a lively atmosphere that encourages conversation with friends. Despite the chatter and laughter around you, there's an undeniable sensation of being watched. Your attempts to catch up with girlfriends are accompanied by the persistent feeling of a gaze, like smoldering embers, leaving your skin tingling with heat. 

It's Jimin, his captivating dark brown eyes following your every move, setting you ablaze amidst the festive chaos.

Despite your best efforts to steer clear of him throughout the evening, the inevitable moment arrives when dinner is served. The grand table is a vision of Christmas elegance, adorned with festive ornaments and pristine white plates boasting delicate gold rims. As you approach, the once plentiful seats have dwindled, leaving only two vacant spots side by side. The realization hits you like a silent shock – everyone is settled in their places, except for one person: Park Jimin.

A smirk dances on Jimin's lips as your eyes lock, and with a gentlemanly flourish, he pulls out the chair for you. The attention of your friends is inevitably drawn to the unfolding scene, their curious glances making you squirm. You take your seat, feeling the weight of Jimin's gaze as he elegantly settles his perfect plump ass in the chair beside you.

Amidst the lingering stares and unspoken questions, you divert your attention to the spread before you, purposefully loading your plate with an array of delectable dishes. The clinking of cutlery becomes a welcome distraction, and for a brief moment, you find solace from the constant scrutiny of Jimin's eyes that have tracked your every move since you arrived.

Engulfed in the lively chatter around the table, you savor each bite while selectively tuning in to the diverse conversations unfolding. The clinking of cutlery and the hum of laughter weave a symphony that, for a moment, allows you to lose yourself in the festive atmosphere.

Your senses tingle as a warm sensation caresses your thigh, an unmistakable touch that sends a jolt of awareness through your entire being.

A rush of longing surges through you, an electric pulse that ignites every nerve, and without needing to glance down, you're keenly aware of Jimin's hand, a potent source of warmth, intimately tracing the contour of your thigh. As he gives it a firm, possessive squeeze, you close your eyes, surrendering to the tantalizing dance of desire that envelops you.

A relentless wave of need courses through you, the mere touch of Jimin's hand on your thigh igniting a fiery pool of arousal in your core. It's almost absurd, the intensity of your response—his hand, just on your thigh, and yet it feels as if the entire universe has conspired to stoke the flames of desire within you.

His attention remains fixed on the conversation with Namjoon, his eyes avoiding yours, but the impact of his touch on your thigh is impossible to ignore. The simple act of eating becomes an insurmountable challenge as his hand, like a brand, leaves an indelible mark on your senses. The silk of your dress offers little resistance to the searing heat emanating from his touch, rendering the task of composing yourself an elusive feat.

You grit your teeth, attempting to conceal your mounting frustration, and in a clandestine exchange of glances with Seokjin seated across from you, you're convinced he sees right through the charade. Damn it all.

Jimin's hands persist in their exploration, journeying beneath your dress and ascending higher on your thigh. A stifled gasp escapes your lips, your attempt to conceal the pleasure coursing through you as his fingers delicately trace the contours of your panties.

Your mind races as he inches perilously close to your core, your pussy pulsating with anticipation. Damn, the intensity of the sensation is overwhelming.

His apparent nonchalance fuels your frustration. How can he engage in casual conversation with Namjoon, seemingly unfazed, while his hand stealthily explores the contours of your thigh beneath the table? The audacity, especially in the midst of your friends, leaves you seething with a mix of desire and irritation.

His fingers delicately dance over the fabric that shields your pulsating core, sending a shiver down your spine. Conflicting desires surge within you – an undeniable craving for his touch and the hesitation born from the inappropriate setting, surrounded by the prying eyes of your friends.

With deliberate slowness, he trails his fingers along the edge of your panties, expertly sliding them to the side. A single finger ventures into your slick folds, and an involuntary exclamation of desire escapes your lips. Fuck!

Panic and pleasure collide within you as your body ignites with an uncontrollable fire. Fumbling for composure, you desperately try to conceal the intoxicating sensations Jimin's hand is orchestrating beneath the table. Casting a surreptitious glance at your friends, relief washes over you—it appears they remain oblivious to the clandestine dance Jimin is leading on your fevered skin. Thank god.

Your entire being tenses as an electric current courses through you, a silent struggle unfolding within as you grapple with the urge to control your escalating breaths, ensuring each intake is hushed and every gasp remains concealed.

Jimin's fingers expertly plunge in and out of you, a relentless rhythm that leaves you quivering in your seat. The addition of a second digit amplifies the sensations, intensifying the shivers that course through you. Fuck you, Park Jimin!

You shoot him an incredulous look, but he remains unfazed, deep in conversation with Namjoon as if his fingers aren't skillfully working their magic on you. Frustration bubbles within you, the tightening knot in your stomach threatening to unravel. Shit.

His fingers abandon your pulsating core, and just when you dare to hope for a reprieve, he redirects his attention to your swollen clit. Electric jolts course through your body, and an involuntary flinch escapes you, catching the curious gaze of your friends. The intensity of his touch threatens to betray the secrets you're desperately trying to keep under wraps.

“Are you okay?” Concern etches across Hoseok's face as he leans in, his voice laced with worry. His eyes search yours, dissecting the panic in your stare and the sudden gasp that escaped your lips.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you lift your chin and strive for confidence as you reply, “Y-yes.”

Even as the words leave your lips, their uncertainty rings in your ears, a desperate plea that he won't press for more answers.

The sensation of Jimin's fingers expertly tracing figure eights on your clit sends electric chills down your entire body. Your thighs clench involuntarily, and you find yourself biting your lip, desperately trying to stifle any sounds that might betray the pleasure coursing through you. It's a delicate dance between ecstasy and secrecy, his skilled touch weaving a spell that makes it increasingly difficult to maintain your composure.

As Jimin's fingers work their magic, your heart races, and the sensation is akin to running a marathon. A lone bead of sweat forms on your hairline, evidence of the intensity building within you. Fuck Jimin, unraveling you like this in front of your friends. The promise of payback simmers in your mind, determined to teach him a lesson he won't soon forget.

As your breath quickens, the telltale signs of impending release manifest—quivering thighs betraying your desperation. 

You're on the verge, yearning to pry Jimin's hand away from your pulsating core. The last thing you want is to climax in front of your friends; the situation is already precarious. Imagining their potential disgust only adds to the thrill. 

The forbidden allure of the moment perplexes you—why does the idea of their judgment fuel your arousal?

Despite your futile attempts to swat his hand away, Jimin remains resolute, intensifying his efforts to push you over the edge. A determined glint in his eyes, he skillfully manipulates your senses. As he continues to stimulate your clit, a rush of liquid heralds your surrender, leaving you slumped against the table, your body succumbing to the waves of pleasure.

An electric surge courses through your body, causing every muscle to tighten, your clit pulsating beneath his expert touch. Desperately trying to collect yourself and avoid drawing attention, you navigate the fine line between pleasure and discretion.

Yoongi's concern cuts through the haze, and he observes, “Are you alright? You seem out of it.”

A quiet, low moan escapes your lips, and in that moment, you become acutely aware of how disheveled and spent you must appear—fatigued and lost in a dazed gaze. Rising from your chair, Jimin's hand reluctantly withdraws from your core, and as your dress gracefully descends with your movement, you manage to murmur, “T-toilet,” your chest heaving with the lingering waves of lust.

In a frenzied hurry, you bolt into the bathroom, your hands gripping the edge of the sink, and you confront your disheveled, panting reflection in the mirror. It feels pathetic, the way Jimin effortlessly coaxed an orgasm from you under the table, using only his fingers. The realization hits hard – you are undeniably and thoroughly fucked. 

Inhaling deeply, you attempt to steady yourself just as the bathroom door creaks open, heralding the impending return to the outside world.

As you gaze into the mirror, the source of your overwhelming frustration materializes before you: none other than Park Jimin.

You emit a hiss, a potent blend of frustration and arousal, as your eyes lock with his. Despite the turmoil, you can't deny the magnetic pull of his irresistible gaze, a look saturated with sin, his eyes half-lidded, and his tongue seductively gliding across his lips.

You sense your core clenching with a frustrating ache, an insistent reminder of desire for the infuriating man you both despise and secretly crave.

He teasingly presents his fingers to you, wiggling them suggestively as a sly grin plays on his lips, “You came.”

Your gaze locks onto him in utter disbelief—did he stroll around casually with your essence adorning his fingers?

“Suck them dry,” he commands, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he surveys the aftermath—your flushed cheeks and the deep rhythm of your breaths.

His words linger in the air, a challenge you're quick to accept. Without hesitation, you wrap your lips around his digits, tasting the remnants of your essence. His low groan reverberates as he watches you skillfully suck him dry, a silent dance of desire between you.

With each deliberate suck, you reclaim every trace of your essence from his fingers. When the task is accomplished, you fix him with an intense gaze, a silent challenge in your eyes, daring him to unleash the pent-up desire that simmers between you.

“Can’t stop thinking about me?” 

Your gaze locks with his, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you bat your lashes, feigning a sense of dominion you both know is illusory. He meets your challenge with a smug smirk, dragging his tongue over his lips, and in that moment, the taste of him floods your senses, a lingering memory that refuses to be forgotten.

You want more so you decide to match Jimin's honesty with your own vulnerability. As the words escape your lips, confessing, 'I can't get you out of my head either,' a gust of candid truth hangs in the air. The charged atmosphere between you two becomes palpable, an electric tension that leaves you yearning, your desperation laid bare.

With a sultry whisper, you proposition him, your voice dripping with desire. Your eyes linger provocatively on the pronounced bulge in his pants as you suggest, “I can suck you off. It’s the least I can do.”

He skillfully unbuckles his belt, swiftly unzips his pants, and sensually lowers both his trousers and underwear, unveiling his throbbing, substantial dick that eagerly springs forth.

Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, the lingering taste of him still fresh in your memory, and an undeniable yearning builds within you, an insatiable desire to descend upon him just as you did in the heated confines of the car a mere few hours ago.

He strides purposefully toward the toilet, ceremoniously lowering the seat, and with a provocative gesture, positions himself on it, legs enticingly spread, an open invitation for you to draw near and indulge in the feast of his dick.

You swiftly descend to your knees on the welcoming warmth of Seokjin's floor, grateful for the cozy indulgence of heated tiles. Running your tongue across your lips, you seize his throbbing cock with a determined hand, evoking a hiss of pleasure from his lips.

“Fuck! I missed you.”

“It's only been a few hours, Jimin,” you chuckle before enveloping his pulsating dick in your saliva-coated warmth. He fills your mouth perfectly, and you establish a steady rhythm, savoring the delicious anticipation in the air.

You skillfully handle what can't fit in your mouth, teasing with your hand. Jimin throws his head back, emitting a delicious moan in response to your artistry. Sucking him off with an intensity that borders on desperation, you flatten your tongue and expertly play with his frenulum, eliciting a hiss and soft moan from him.

With a firm grip on your hair, he tugs at your ponytail once more. Drool drips from your mouth as you glide over his cock, expertly hollowing your cheeks to create the perfect suction.

His fingers tighten in your hair, urging you further. Breathing in and out through your nose, you navigate down to his pubic hairs, humming sensually around his dick. The subtle shiver you feel from him fills you with a sense of pride, knowing the impact you're having on him.

“Fuck. You’re so good,” he moans, pulling your hair tighter in his grip, the raw desire in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Shit, I’m close already,” he gasps, his voice breathy with anticipation, and you can sense the pulsating urgency of his cock in your mouth, signaling that he's on the brink of release.

Unexpectedly, you withdraw from his throbbing cock, leaving him suspended on the precipice of release. His eyes widen in disbelief, watching as you sensually lick your lips, a spark of mischief and fiery playfulness dancing in your gaze.

“Brat. Finish what you started!” 

His demand hangs in the air, laden with urgency, but you defiantly shake your head, a smug smirk playing on your lips. In this tantalizing game of desire, you've decided to level the playing field, returning the favor with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

With a sly smirk stretching across your face, you assertively declare, “No.” Your lustful desire is unmistakable as you deliberately pull away, leaving him hanging. “You made me come in front of our friends, embarrassing me. So now,” you add with determined confidence, “you don't get to come.” 

As you swing the door open, you exit, leaving him in the bathroom, his fully erect dick on full display, a silent challenge echoing in the air.

“Fucking brat!” His voice reverberates through the air, a raw and frustrated yell, trailing after you as you make your exit.

A mischievous laughter escapes your lips, an odd mix of satisfaction and empowerment swirling within you. Striding back to the table with your friends, you effortlessly dive back into the conversation, as if leaving Jimin high and dry is just another casual move in your repertoire. 

There's a subtle thrill in knowing that maybe, just maybe, you've imparted a lesson on not messing with you.

After a few minutes, Jimin saunters back to the table, and you can't help but notice the lingering outline of his arousal beneath his pants. Apparently, he didn't tend to his needs as you assumed he would. The intrigue in the air grows thicker, adding a layer of curiosity to the already charged atmosphere.

The remainder of the evening unfolds without any further advances from Jimin, and despite the undeniable tension in the air, you manage to restrain yourself, keeping your hands to yourself. The pulsating undercurrent of arousal lingers, fueled solely by the magnetic pull of Jimin's presence.

Dinner concludes, and after lending a hand with the cleanup, the music swells to an even higher volume, enticing people to the dance floor. Amid the lively atmosphere, you join in the dance with your girlfriends, playfully swaying your hips to the rhythm. The pulsating energy is infectious, but beneath the neon lights and thumping beats, you sense Jimin's intense gaze fixed on yours once more.

Sensations of arousal ignite within you, yearning for a more intimate connection that goes beyond the pulsating dance floor. Amidst the crowd, you feel a magnetic pull, a desire for his crotch to be the one you're grinding against. However, such an encounter isn't suitable in the presence of your friends. Suddenly, Jimin materializes on the dance floor, seizing your hand and drawing you into a close embrace. His warm breath grazes your ear as he utters, “Come with me, brat.”

He pulls you away from the pulsating crowd of friends, a flicker of distress in your eyes, yet a clandestine thrill seeping through your veins. The covert glances from your friends affirm that they caught the provocative scene. With determination, he leads you into a secluded room, the door securing your privacy with a decisive click.

His eyes blaze with an inferno of lust, an intensity that borders on fury. There's a dangerous edge to his gaze, and he licks his lips with a hunger that suggests he's poised to consume you whole.

“Some nerve you have,” he begins, a low growl in his voice as he presses you backward, drawing you closer to a waiting bed, its presence dawning on you like an ominous realization.

Nervousness courses through your body, a relentless tide, as he exerts control over you with the sheer dominance of his presence.

“Leaving me like that, you fucking brat,” he hisses, forcefully pushing you down onto the bed.

Despite your nerves, a chuckle escapes your lips, “Well, I think it was only fair.”

“Do you?” he raises an eyebrow, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, the air thick with anticipation.

“Fuck. What do you do to me?” he murmurs, diving in to kiss your lips. Your hands instinctively find his cheeks, and you melt into the soft, plush sensation of his mouth, lost in the intoxicating dance of his lips.

Instantly, your body relaxes, and you wrap your legs around his waist, provocatively pressing your core against his erect dick, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from him.

“I could say the same to you,” you pant, “and I don't even like you. I don't understand,” you murmur between kisses, grappling with the conflicting emotions that the intensity of the moment brings.

“But I want you. Damn it, I want you to fuck me so bad,” you confess with a breathless mixture of desire and urgency, punctuating your words with a daring roll of your hips, leaving no room for ambiguity about your craving for him.

“Fuck.”

He unbuckles his belt with a purpose, the metallic clink resonating with the promise of what's to come. Swiftly, he unzips his pants and skillfully lowers them along with his underwear, gracefully joining you on the bed with a hunger in his eyes.

His arousal is evident, his dick appearing more heated and flushed than ever. The crimson hue tells a tale of the desire he harbors, heightened by your previous act of leaving him hanging and hungry for more.

“You’re such a brat. I’ll fuck you senseless.” His voice, a sultry promise, sends shivers down your spine. With a self-assured stroke of his dick, he spreads your legs, deftly teasing your underwear aside. 

Hovering above you, his breath dances on your skin as he murmurs in your ear, “I’m going to shut that pretty mouth of yours up.”

Your body quivers in response as he deftly lifts your legs over his shoulders. In this moment, he appears both commanding and delicate, a paradox you can't help but be drawn to. As your moans escape, his eyes light up, as if you hold the key to his universe. Yet, the bitter truth remains—you are enemies, drowning in mutual hatred despite the intensity of the desire that binds you.

His fingers dance over your sensitive folds, ensuring the cascade of wetness that engulfs you. You're a river in anticipation, and he chuckles, pulling back a glistening digit to savor your essence. His words, whispered with satisfaction, echo in the room, “You taste so good.”

You moan, your body craving his touch, and impatiently inquire, “What's the hold up?”' as you yearn for him to fulfill his promise to ravish you.

In the dim light, he chuckles down at you, gripping his hard dick once more and skillfully aligning it with your eager entrance. The head of his cock nudges your folds, eliciting a desperate mewl of pleasure from your lips. Despite the intense disdain you harbor for him, all you crave now is to feel him deep inside you.

With a powerful thrust, he impales you on his dick, plunging deep into your core with reckless abandon. A primal scream of his name tears from your throat, echoing in the room, encapsulating the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck, Jimin!”

His grin turns wicked, a hint of danger in his eyes, as he accelerates, showing no mercy and denying you any chance to acclimate. Every powerful thrust widens and fulfills you in the most exquisite way, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

Though mere hours have passed, the yearning for his dick consumes your thoughts. The magnetic pull of his desire leaves your mind shrouded in dangerous fantasies that dance provocatively through the corridors of your consciousness.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight.”

Moans of pleasure escape his lips, breathless and raw, as he utters your name in a fevered whisper. Holding your legs aloft, he thrusts into you, skillfully navigating the depths, each movement a calculated dance that hits your soft spot with precision, sending ripples of ecstasy through your body.

His intoxicating scent envelops your senses, a heady mix of musk that clouds your mind. The rhythmic dance of his tie brushing against your dress on your tummy mirrors the cadence of his thrusts.

Amidst the tumultuous waves of pleasure, you find yourself caught in a paradox of conflicting emotions. “Fuck, Jimin. I hate you. I don't understand,” you blabber, your words intertwining with the rhythmic surges of arousal coursing through your body. With each relentless thrust, the coil in your stomach tightens, weaving a complex tapestry of desire and disdain.

“I do,” he utters, punctuating his words with a forceful thrust that reverberates through your core, causing a symphony of sensations to cascade through your body.

“You like me, that's why,” he pants, each powerful thrust resonating through your pussy, an electrifying dance of pleasure and desire. It's a truth you're reluctant to acknowledge, and as your heart races, you turn your head away, unable to meet his intense gaze, even as your body betrays your feelings.

“No, no, you look at me while I fuck you, brat,” he seethes with anger. He presses himself down on you, your legs parting to rest on the sides of his arms. His hands find their way around your throat, giving it a light squeeze as he maintains the fast pace of his hard thrusts. The intensity in his eyes matches the fervor of the moment, a collision of passion and dominance that leaves you breathless.

He forces you to turn your head toward him, and the grip on your throat tightens even more. “Just admit that you like me, brat,” he demands, his voice a potent blend of authority and desire, making your heart race as you navigate the thin line between resistance and surrender.

Your mind swirls in a hazy mist, a product of his presence or the firm grip around your neck — it's hard to discern. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, there's an undeniable thrill that courses through you, a strange liking for the intoxicating blend of dominance and desire.

Released from his grasp, you inhale desperately, your breaths echoing the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions within. With the tightening coil in your stomach, you reluctantly admit, “Fine... I don't hate you.”

His hands reclaim your throat, a firm grip that mingles pleasure and restraint, synchronized with the rhythmic precision of his thrusts hitting every exquisite spot within you. “That's not good enough, brat,” he growls, his control both intoxicating and exhilarating.

“I know you like me, because your body tells me so,”

“I know you like it when I choke you, because you clench so much around me when I do,”

“Your body can’t lie, brat.”

Holy fuck. He’s right. At least in some parts. Your mind is a tempest of desire, clouded with thoughts of him, and suddenly you’re screaming, the sound muffled by his firm hands around your throat. Your body spasms uncontrollably, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing around his pulsating dick.

“Fuck. Yeah, cream my dick, brat.” he maintains his relentless thrusts, your orgasm surging through you like a wild storm, leaving you with a symphony of sensations and a loud ringing sound in your ears.

His hands finally release their grip on your neck, and you find yourself panting for air, gasping his name with a mixture of desperation and lust, “J-Jimin, fuck.”

“You’re doing so good. Even if you behave like a brat. Fuck. I’m so close.”

And then his thrusts become erratic and even more frantic, as he desperately seeks his own climax.

“Fuck, Jimin, just like that!” you scream as he relentlessly targets your sweet spot, igniting the familiar coil in your stomach once more. Fuck.

Jimin seems to sense your escalating pleasure, and one of his hands skillfully finds your clit, circling it with a tantalizing touch that nearly makes you scream. “Shit!”

He skillfully pinches your clit, and suddenly, you see stars—you're gone. Squirts of your release gush out, painting his pubic hairs, and Jimin gazes down at you. You thrash around the bed, frantically breathing, your muscles tightening as your vision becomes a canvas of small, white dots.

“Damn. You just squirted all over me,” he breathes in a soft voice, a hint of adoration laced within. However, you can't really decipher his tone as you're lost in the moment, your ears ringing again.

“Damn, that's hot,” he exclaims and thrusts into you again, releasing his warm load inside you with a scream of your name.

He continues to thrust into your core, the rhythm slowing down to a more sensual pace. Your body feels dazed and sweaty, the dress clinging uncomfortably to your skin, the satin now undoubtedly soaked through.

You gasp for air, still catching your breath. “Fucking hell, that was amazing, Jimin.” He chuckles, offering you a gentle smile that quickly transforms into his trademark smirk.

His laughter dances through the air, accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, we can totally do this again,” he says, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. You can't help but roll your eyes, though deep down, the idea doesn't seem entirely unwelcome. Keeping a sense of mystery, you respond with a playful glint in your eyes, “Maybe.” The rebellion in your spirit mirrors the dance of sparks between you, a familiar game of push and pull that seems destined to continue.

“Brat.” 

He chuckles, yet defies the teasing nickname by bending down to kiss you; it’s sweet and tender, a stark contrast to how he just fucked your brains out.

You cast a dismayed gaze at your drenched dress, muttering, “I can't go out in this,” and you groan, feeling the uncomfortable cling of the fabric to your skin, an unwelcome sensation adding to the aftermath of your heated encounter.

“How about we raid Seokjin’s closet?” he suggests, winking with a playful lift of his brows and a light chuckle.

“Is this Seokjin’s room? Did we just fuck on his bed? Damn, he’s going to be furious!” You burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. “No way! Imagine if everyone finds out we fucked.” You shriek, wildly waving your hands in the air, the possibility suddenly sinking in.

“Why are you so hell-bent on keeping it a secret?” he asks, genuinely curious, a playful glint in his eyes as he chuckles at your distress.

“Because you're my sworn enemy,” you state matter-of-factly, giving a nonchalant shrug.

“Are you sure about that?” he teases, his eyebrows wiggling playfully. You can't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky demeanor once again.

“And I think they already know,” he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes as he observes your irritated expression. You groan into your hands, grappling with the realization that he might be right. However, you're determined to cling to any shred of hope you can find.

“We'll just stay up here until my dress is dry,” you declare, as if it's the most brilliant plan you can conjure. Jimin chuckles, his gaze lingering over your heaving form with a hunger that ignites a spark of desire. He licks his lips, suggesting, “Then take it off. That way, it'll dry faster, and we can go for round two in a moment.”

[yeoandmoon]

cowboy take me away ( mingi x reader )

as the child of a long forgotten freedom fighter, and a long time informant of kim hongjoong, you've been entangled in the bloody history & politics of strickland for as long as you could remember. when an invitation shows up at your door in the form of a familiar gunman, you find yourself grappling with the idea of gaining freedom & love in your harsh world or sticking in the comfort of your shadows.

smut + angst, ateezverse, outlaw!mingi & librarian!reader, afab reader, right person wrong lifetime, mentions of war & corruption, mingi is covered in blood, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, wc is 4.7k

NOTE: takes place almost directly after the events of the bouncy music video ( a whole comeback and a half late, but i think it's what cowboy mingi would want )! this fic was written across 2 provinces, 1 state, 2 continents and 3 countries its a world traveller <3 title is from cowboy take me away by the chicks. if you like this please consider reblogging or leaving a comment / an ask :)

BANG! BANG! BANG!

You hear the banging before anything else. You’re quick to get up, nearly tossing your book to the floor in your haste.

The clock on the stove reads 21:37, and you know exactly who awaits you on the other side of the front door. The news reports of the bombings of The Prestige Academy had been live for nearly three hours, and it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another bang rings out through your apartment, shaking the wooden door and the small ornaments that hung around it - good luck charms, your mother had once told you.

It was silly of you to keep them up. You knew it was silly to still believe the bedtime stories of a broken down revolutionary, and the childhood she wanted so badly for you.

Yet, here they remain - framing your door in an arch of wooden dolls, and nearly forgotten symbols.

Everything you’d witnessed with The Eight; all the history that could’ve been and should have been of your world laid out right in front of you by a scary little man and his little hourglass wasn’t enough for you to pull them down. You told yourself it’d be disrespecting your mother’s memory by doing that.

Hongjoong and his boys made you believe in the stories of your mother, and the world she wanted.

It’s while staring at the smallest doll in the arch that you take another deep breath, and finally steal a glance at the shadows that are casted under the door. You can see the person shuffle in place, almost nervously. 

You know who it is, and what they want from you.

You almost want to be upset by the uninvited visitor. You want to throw the door open, and scream at him; you want to tell him how he ruined your life. You want to tell him how you should’ve called the Guardians when you saw them walk into your library that day; how you regret letting them pull you into this world you watched tear your mother apart.

But - you’re not really upset. The thought of them makes your palms sweat, and your cheeks flush and you don’t want them to go. You want him to come inside and hold you; you want him to stay here, and despite your threats, you could never call the Guardians on him… on any of them. 

You look back up at the small doll that smiles down at you, and try not to let visions of soft pink hair and gummy smiles invade your mind. You try to forget the feeling of rough hands against your skin, and his lips kissing your tummy. You want to push those to the back of your mind, and simply ignore the cowboy on the other side of your door.

BANG!

A final resounding bang rings out, and you finally grip the door handle before ripping the door open.

As if summoned by your inner complaining & contemplation, there is a man in a cowboy hat on the other side of your door. His hat sits low over his face, and a rifle hangs at his side; you could just see the blood splattered on his leathers and his cheek.

You try not to stare at the way the tan vest hugs his toned torso; or how the deep red blood speckles his neck and chest. Your knuckles turn white as they tighten on the doorframe.

Your lips kiss along his neck, while your hands are tight against his hips. You pull him closer to you and revel in the soft whimpers that fall from his swollen lips. His hands are warm, but you know he runs hot and you soak in the warmth.

“Y/N.” His deep voice breaks through the silence, as if slashing a knife through your daydream.

You give him a brief nod, “Mingi.”

There’s a smile growing on the outlaw’s face, “Were you hoping I would leave if you ignored me enough?” Mingi asks, gently pushing you to the side as he steps into your apartment.

You sigh before closing the door behind him, making sure the locks and deadbolts are tight before turning to him. You don’t answer, but your mind continues to linger on his comment and just how wrong it truly is. 

The last thing you want is for him to leave - for him to leave you.

“Hongjoong called you.”

You nod, and your eyes flicker to the drawer where your small burner phone sits in the kitchen. There’s a coded voicemail from Kim Hongjoong in the inbox, and you had listened to it enough times that you could probably recite it for Mingi.

Hongjoong and his boys wanted you to join the revolution - officially. You had been content hiding in the background of it; feeding information to Hongjoong in cryptic messages & sneaky meetings, and then letting them take the credit, but Hongjoong wanted you at the forefront now.

There was a reason, of course. You knew why he wanted you, of all people.

“I’m not my mother, Mingi.” Your voice breaks as you finally look up at the man in front of you.

Mingi looks down at you. His short pink hair is messy under the cowboy hat, and his brows are furrowed in frustration. As you look back at him, all you can think of is the wanted posters plastered through the city center, and how you wish the artists could see the vision you see.

His voice is soft as he finally speaks, “You’ve gotten comfortable, Y/N.” Mingi moves the rifle from his shoulder and onto your kitchen counter, careful to place the barrel and silencer facing the wall.

“You’re comfortable surrounded by your books, and letting Hongjoong take all the credit for your work. You should’ve been there tonight.”

You lean back against the door, right under the arch of dolls as you contemplate Mingi’s words. He’s mirroring you - standing under the arch of your kitchen door, but your apartment is so small that you can just feel the warmth of his body against yours. A part of your mind thinks you’re imagining it, but you know if you were to reach your arm out, you could take the outlaw’s rough hand into your own.

You almost do, too. You begin to reach your hand out when Mingi moves to speak again, “She’d want you to be there, you know.”

His words slam into you like a ton of bricks. Your hand falls back against your side while Mingi’s statement immediately fills your eyes with tears, and the vision of the bloodied man in front of you begins to blur. You look down to hide your tears from him, but you still find yourself nodding in agreement. He’s right. He’s right, and it makes you so angry just how right he is.

“But I don’t want to be there,” You finally say, “It’s not the place for me. I’m not like her. I’m not like Joong. I want what they wanted… what they want, but I’m better off behind you.”

Mingi shuffles closer to you, and his hand moves to hold your wrist. You blink, and tears begin to fall down your cheeks when you feel his nimble fingers against your pulse point. His body gently pushes you back against the front door.

“Would it change anything if I told you: I want you to be there? I want you to be there, right next to us? Next to me?”

When you look up at him, you see his dark brown eyes have softened. His face is still shadowed by the cowboy hat, and you reach your free hand up to gently push the hat off, letting it hit the floor in a soft thud. The warm light of your apartment immediately illuminates Mingi’s harsh features, revealing a sad smile as he meets your teary eyes.

You push his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek, and you revel in the way he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

“I’ve watched this world tear people apart, Min. I don’t want to watch it break you too.” You tell him, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek, “I don’t want it to break me.”

You felt selfish as the words left your lips. Maybe you were being selfish, but you cared about him too much. You care about him enough that it’s dangerous - for both of you. You both knew your time together was limited and scarce, and soon all the work you’ve both done would finally culminate with Hongjoong’s plans.

Yet, here you stand - wrapped in a bloodied cowboy’s arms, half naked and crying, unsure if this will be the last time you see each other.

“I’m not going to break, Y/N.” His hand maneuvers from your wrist, and onto your bare thigh, just brushing under the hem of the night shirt you have on, “You wouldn’t, either. We wouldn’t let you.”

You stay silent, but you wrap your arms around Mingi’s neck and pull him into a tight hug. Mingi immediately reacts, with his own arms moving to wrap around you and his head falling into your neck. You can feel his lips ghost against your neck while one of your hands moves through his hair, almost holding him in place against you.

There’s things you could say; things you want to say to him (don’t die. come back. i love you.), but you don’t say any of that. Those are foolish thoughts for your situation, and dreams neither of you can afford right now.

Instead, you gently push him away so you can see him, both your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “Does Joong know you’re here?”

Mingi shakes his head, and you notice his own tears beginning to fall down his face. You keep your eyes on him as you nod, while one of your thumbs gently runs over his bottom lip.

“We don’t have much time then?” Your voice is hardly a whisper.

Mingi kisses your thumb before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and kissing your palm, “We’re leaving at midnight.” He finally says.

It takes a moment of contemplation before you surge forward in Mingi’s hold, leaning up to capture his lips in a harsh kiss. His arm around your waist tightens its grip before he kisses back, and you feel his other hand drop your own before beginning to move into your hair.

You pull away after a moment, leaning back against the door as you settle in Mingi’s arms. You look up at him - taking in the way his cheeks have blushed, and his pupils are nearly blown out. Your eyes glance over the now-smudged blood on his cheek and neck, and you have to think he’s doing it on purpose. He’d come to you after doing Hongjoong’s dirty work before, bloody & wrecked and he’d always laugh when he saw how wet your panties had become after seeing him like that.

“Take the jacket off, Mingi.” Your voice cuts through the silence you two had created. 

There’s a small smile playing at your lips when Mingi jumps before nodding, unhooking his arm from around you to pull the heavy leather coat off. Your eyes follow it as he unceremoniously drops it on your foyer floor.

His hands move to his vest, and your eyes are quick to follow as he begins slowly unbuttoning the leather.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You narrow your eyes at him.

Mingi’s cheeky smile and the way his eyes glance up at you confirms all you need to know. You fake a gasp as one of your hands reaches out to grasp his, and you tug him back closer to you.

“You’re a tease,” you tell him as you kiss him again. 

He smiles into the kiss, while one of his hands moves to cradle your head and tilts you to gain easier access to your lips, “Am I?”

You begin to unbutton the remaining buttons on the vest, just as Mingi crowds you back against the door. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the way he deepens the kiss while his thigh moves between your own, pressing up against your soaked core.

You groan at the feeling of his jeans against your clothed pussy, “Am I going to come here?”

Another cheeky smile flashes at you, “I am a tease, aren’t I?” He hums.

Mingi pushes you down against his thigh as he speaks, with his hands holding your hips. The drag of your clit along his thigh rendered you speechless and hot, and you let yourself fall back against the door in your bliss.

You’re standing on your toes as you rock against him when one of his arms hooks around your waist. 

“Go on, baby.” He leans down to kiss your temple, “Use me to make yourself feel good.”

His other hand tugs at the hem of your night shirt, slowly inching it up to reveal your body to him. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes you feel wanted and sticky, and you can’t help it when your hands move to grasp at the vest to steady yourself. Mingi’s free hand moves to your chest, his fingers gently begin thumbing at your nipple until it hardens. 

You let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, relishing in the way his touch fuels the warmth that grows within you - it’s a warmth that truly only burns for the Gunman, and part of you worries it might never burn for anyone else.

Your hands move into Mingi’s hair when he leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, and the whimpers that come from the man as you tug brings another wave of arousal that goes straight to your core (and the sticky mess that you’re sure are ruining your panties and Mingi’s jeans). You can feel the bulge in his tight jeans each time you rock your hips; it matches the hunger you saw in his eyes as he kissed up your neck, letting your shirt fall back down as one of his hands moved to cup your pussy.

You reach out to palm the bulge in his jeans, and a sleepy grin graces your lips when Mingi lets out a beautiful sound. He groans your name, his free hand gripping your wrist while you push against him.

He pulls your hand away, “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” He tuts.

“You sound pretty.”

Mingi’s thumb pressed into your clit in reply, and the action brought a near scream out of you. Your hips stutter against his hand, and you grip his vest tighter as you begin to lose your balance. Mingi’s hand around your waist moves to pick you up, using the imbalance as an excuse to pull you closer to him.

“Mingi…” Your voice is strained and full of neediness.

He hums into your skin, nipping at your collarbone, “I know, Y/N.”

His thumb presses circles into your clit, and your thighs shake as you wrap your legs around Mingi. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hips rock into his hand, urging him to move faster and harder.

You kiss him, messy and rough when he brushes his finger over your entrance, pushing you over the edge to your orgasm. You tremble against him, and he kisses away your cries and whimpers, holding you impossibly close in his arms.

Mingi’s thumb slows its movements as you ride out your climax. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you know he’s talking to you, but you can hardly hear him. You can hardly guess what he might even be saying against the quiet of your apartment and the blood rushing in your ears.

“We’re going to bed now, baby.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek and finally moving away from under the arched doorway.

You laugh into his shoulder, “Are you going to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer on the short walk to your bedroom, but you don’t need an answer. You know how tonight will go. You always know with Mingi.

Mingi softly drops you onto your bed, untangling your legs from around his waist before quickly beginning to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on him as you pull your soaked panties off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor while you watch Mingi undo his jeans, leaving them open as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks positively wrecked, and all he’s done is made you come. This causes an undeniable high to begin racing through your veins, and the high only grows when you feel Mingi’s fingers dancing along your inner thigh leading right up to your soaked core.

“‘Gonna open you up, baby,” Mingi grunts, while he gently pushes you back against the bed and shoves your legs open so he can comfortably kneel between them, “We gotta make sure I fit, yeah?”

You gasp at the combination of his words and the feeling of his thumb against your clit so soon, but when you glance up, he’s smiling down at you. Your fingers tightened in the sheets and you wanted to curse Mingi. You were so wet from your previous orgasm that you knew you could probably take him with minimal prep - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before.

But no; Mingi wanted to watch you writhe on the sheets as you took his fingers, nice and slow.

He gripped your thigh as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, and he chuckled when you threw your head back, a moan of his name escaping your lips.

“Min, please,” You bucked your hips up to meet the thrust of his fingers, “Just fuck me!”

Mingi kisses your knee in response, “We got some time,” He hums, but you could hear his voice waver as he adds another finger, and watches you grind yourself against them.

The short walk to your bedroom had hardly been enough time to recover from the orgasm you’d had against the door, and all you could do was soak up the increasing pleasure as you rode Mingi’s fingers. Although your bedroom was usually a quiet spot, it was soon overtaken by the sound of your soft cries and Mingi’s fingers thrusting into your weeping hole.

You let your head push back against the mattress as you whined in frustration and arousal. Your thighs were burning from Mingi holding them open to accommodate his large frame, and all you truly wanted to do was come on his cock.

Maybe you were made to ride his cock, a sneaky part of your arousal corrupted brain squeaked. Usually, you’d push those thoughts out of your mind but right now… You looked up at the man who sat over you. Mingi’s hair was a mess from you tugging on it earlier, with his vest hung open to expose his blood splattered chest and arms to you; leather string necklaces and chains hung from his neck, and it didn’t take long for you to pick out a pendant you had gifted him months earlier. His unbuttoned jeans stretched over his thick thighs, and hung low on his hips, exposing just enough skin that it made your mouth water.

Right now, you had no choice but to agree with the little voice that just maybe, you were made to ride Song Mingi’s cock.

You let out another whine at the revelation, bucking your hips into his hand as you reached for Mingi with a sweaty hand, “Min, I-I need you to fuck me now, please.”

Mingi takes your hand, using it as leverage to pull himself down and crush his lips into yours, “My baby needs my cock?”

His palm grinds against your clit, and the pressure is enough to turn any answer you might have for him into a broken moan. You kiss him harder, squeezing Mingi’s hand tightly in yours as you push your hips up to gain any kind of friction against him.

You wouldn’t even put it past yourself to begin grinding on his thigh wedged between your legs again - like some kind of bitch in heat.

The coil in your lower half begins to burn again, timing itself with the harsh thrusts of Mingi’s fingers and the way he kisses you, hard & unforgiving. When you move out of the kiss to place soft kisses and bites along his jaw, a broken whine escapes Mingi and it nearly topples you hard over the edge.

You buck your hips hard into his hand and kiss his neck, “I’m g-going to come,” You tell Mingi, who swears before kissing your cheek.

Hardly a second flashes before you, then the hand between your thighs is ripped away, along with it is the pleasure that you so desperately crave.

“Mingi!” You whine, trying to reach for him as he pulls his hand from your cunt, dodging your grabby hands and begins to move off of your bed, already tearing the vest off his body.

“‘think you should be good now,” Mingi gives you a teasing smile, beginning to push his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his thighs.

He keeps his gaze on you as he begins to crawl back onto the bed, and you can see the fire that’s present in his eyes. He moves to settle between your thighs, though you can’t help but let your vision wander down his body.

A gruff laugh comes from Mingi as you feel one of his warm hands rest on your thigh. His other hand reaches for you, gently resting on your cheek as he moves over you, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You want to laugh at his bluntness, but he kisses you so hard that you can hardly react. His hand moves from your thigh to sit heavy on your hip as he pushes into you, and all you can do is whimper into the kiss.

Despite the prep (and your inner insistence that you could take him unprepared), Mingi is big, and you could hardly remember the last time you felt so full. It’s a euphoric feeling as he thrusts into you, holding you down against your mattress and pushing any non Song Mingi related thoughts out of your mind.

Your hands move as if they have a mind of their own; one of them moves to tangle back in Mingi’s hair, and Mingi groans before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Min, it feels so good.” The hand on your hip squeezes, pressing you harder into the mattress.

He smiles against your skin, and presses a kiss to your throat, “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last,” His voice is weak, and laced with wanton pleasure.

Mingi had been restraining himself all night - that much you knew. You had felt the change in his energy the moment he propped you up on his thigh in your living room, but he still took his time. He took his time teasing you, and drinking in everything you could give him, but you knew wanted more. Mingi wanted every last drop he could get from you, and you wanted him to have it.

You nod at his words, and try to pull Mingi closer to you. The incoming familiar waves of pleasure were already tugging at your strings, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you would find yourself over the edge again.

You’d like to think it was the pleasure that spoke the next sentence that fell from your lips; or, maybe even the Mingi corrupted part of your brain, but you knew that you meant the following stuttered request with every ounce of your being.

“I wan’ you to come in me.”

Mingi’s hips stutter and he swears, “If I knock you up, you’d have to come with me.” He gives a hard thrust, as if proving a point, and seems to revel in the way it makes you gasp and clench around him, “Then, I might just knock you up again - for good measure.”

You can hardly contain the broken moan that falls from your lips, “Mingi… fuck, Joong would kill us.” You grip his arm, your nails digging into the flesh as he thrusts harder into your heat. You’d never admit (especially not to Hongjoong), but the idea Mingi proposed erupted a fire within you, and it burnt from head to toe.

A low growl escapes from his lips, as he presses another kiss into your sweaty skin, “Nah, Hongjoong would kill me. He could never hurt you, baby.”

He continues his kisses along your neck, and you feel the hand on your hip slowly move over your soft tummy before you feel his fingers graze over your clit again. He presses down on the sensitive nub as you mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. The new angle presses his cock deeper into you, and you can feel the tendrils of euphoria begin to wrack through your body with every movement of Mingi’s hips and nimble fingers.

In that moment, you’re not sure how anyone will ever make you feel how Mingi does; how anyone will fuck you like this, or just simply look at you the way the tall gunman does.

Mingi’s hips stutter again as he gently nudges your cheek with his nose, “Y/N…”

You grip his arms harder; hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for Hongjoong and the others to find in the morning, but for now you just nod, “Mingi, come in me.” You repeat the demand.

Mingi presses a kiss on your collarbone as he moans, a breath of your name leaving his lips before he comes. The feeling of his seed spilling into you, and the warm hands on your body is enough to set off your own undoing, pushing you hard over the cliff.

Stars take over your vision, and your back arches as you ride out your orgasm against Mingi, trying to pull him closer into your orbit. You vaguely feel his hand take yours, and you begin to slowly recover while he presses soft kisses against your wrist and palm. He’s sweaty above you, and you can see the flush that overtakes his cheeks while he comes down from his own climax.

“Do you have to leave now?” You manage to croak out, scared to look at the clock next to your bed.

Mingi glances at the clock, and a frown crosses his face - just for a moment. He shakes his head though, “No, not yet.”

His voice is soft, and you know he’s lying to you. He’s still holding your hand as he moves to lie next to you on your bed. The bed is small enough that he crowds you against the wall, but you two had done this enough times that you expect it; in fact, you almost welcome the crowding that comes from having Song Mingi in your bed.

You’d take anything to spend more time with him, but for now you settle with the soft kisses he’s placing on your hand.

“You know what to say if they come looking for us?”

You nod.

“I’m sorry,” Guilt racks his voice, and you’re not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe he’s saying it for Hongjoong, who pulled you back into this, or maybe he’s sorry for leaving.

Maybe he’s sorry for loving you, when neither of you could afford to be loved.

You don’t want an answer though, and instead you pull him back into your orbit and settle for slotting your lips against his one last time.

—

When you wake alone in the morning, you can’t help but notice the small doll in the arch around your door is gone - only the blank wallpaper behind it remains.

As your hand moves to touch the mouth-shaped bruise on your throat, you somehow find comfort in the broken arch of charms.

[aimasup]

Spoilers for The March 2024 Welcome Home Update, LONG post warning:

The Eddie Scene

Let's establish two realities: The Neighbourhood (theirs) and The Show (the humans').

(The third is ours, here, actually real, no black gunk and Welcome Home is just a really cool fictional horror project. Irrelevant, just wanted to bring us down to earth)

I like to believe it's an unaware Wreck-It-Ralph situation: The Neighbourhood exists as The Show because that's how they live and what they were created for.

They have a happy home in the commercials and episodes, interviews with humans and playfully leaning on the fourth wall (via Narrator). And when Playfellow Workshop had a really good influential show, they quite literally brought these puppets to life, perhaps too much.

That's where the trouble comes in; we don't know if the puppets being sentient was ever revealed to the public, or what the black rot even is yet. Personally I can't really even guess how much the other puppets know at the moment, not even Home. All we know is that Wally was the first to 'wake up', likely.

So I'm just gonna say what I think about the Eddie segment at the end of the commercial compilation from his perspective alone (bravo to the voice actors and artists my god).

The Neighbourhood...

The Show.

Here's what I assume: both in the Neighbourhood and The Show, Eddie is being given a break from working so hard. Because I believe the script/special was supposed to end here:

Eddie Dear was happy.

[calm jazz music as the title card fades in] And a Happy Homewarming to one and all! Ho Ho Ho!!

End.

Because it makes no sense why The Show staff would spend extra resources to give the puppet Not Quirky Anxiety and end their Christmas special on a worrying note for general audiences.

I think The Show staff wrapped up that scene and left to go check on the rest of the set or something, and the Eddie puppet was left there, alone in Wally's room set because its job is done. Except it isn't, and Eddie became aware somehow.

He sees Home, his friend, and something isn't right

I don't know what this is: my first thought was that it was Home's hand crank, and Eddie was seeing but not understanding the puppets behind the scenes

"Sources say, however, that this puppet’s (Home's) eyes could move through a hand crank on the other side of the prop facing away from the camera."

-(welcomehomerestorationproject.net)

His friend's eyes look dead but they're moving, I thought. But looking at it again, it looks more like a microphone stand a Show staff is holding? Some sort of set equipment. Speaking of the set

Wally's room is too big and leads to nowhere. Is this a visual representation for Eddie's mental state? Did they literally turn the lights off on set? Or can he not see everything right now because his poor fictional brain can't handle our reality just yet?

His hands are fuzzy but there's something in them. Something was under his skin just now. They don't feel like his hands.

"Eddie was a live-hand puppet who required two puppeteers to operate."

-(welcomehomerestorationproject.net)

I imagine he's in a limbo of awareness, he's seeing so many things and not quite understanding what they are, and he's getting more lost and panicked

Can you imagine how overstimulating it must be to go from a clean, happy children's fantasy reality to a world with the laws of physics?

The clock's ticking doesn't quiet down and it's constant. He's sweating when nothing is wrong (?). Gravy was poured on the tree ornament, he's always helped do that, but now it's dripping onto the floor and it's making a gross mess. Little things like that don't have consequences unless the script calls for it. Eddie doesn't know that, and especially he's freaked out by the breathing and the heartbeat.

Maybe it's Home's, or his own, or both, idk.

What's curious is that Frank and Sally are fine and talking about the day's events. This means that Eddie should've been fine after the episode too, relaxed like normal, but he didn't get to. He probably didn't even know when they got there or when Sally left.

This image right here? I think it symbolises the scary clash between both realities by now.

2 (Eddie and Wally) or 4 (counting Sally and Home) out of 9 neighbours being aware is too many. Frank wasn't supposed to have to comfort Eddie. The episode was supposed to end and Eddie can see all of it.

(and yeah maybe romance is an additional factor here)

We don't know if people remember seeing this scene on their televisions. Maybe the episode ended as normal for them. The cameras weren't rolling, so currently, we only get to witness the puppets' descent into decay because someone behind the television is Letting The Neighbourhood In, bit by bit.

Maybe we'll get to see all the other puppets go through the same awareness crisis as the website keeps updating. Personally, I don't think there's an ulterior motive for Home, nor do I think any of the puppets are under strict supervision to behave a certain way for filming episodes, like celebrities.

What freaks me out is that they banter with the narrator and do commercials for real products. They're aware of the fourth wall but only because the fourth wall let them be aware. And it even got me thinking about the nature of existing as a concept (they're fictional characters. they don't really exist? Not in the same way individual humans do anyway. They aren't really supposed to belong to themselves.)

Sorry this turned into ramble rubbish, these are just my thoughts, could be entirely wrong about everything. Welcome Home is just super neat and the amount of effort gone into it shows. Lemme know what yall think, kudos if you read this far

For your troubles 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍯🥛🍵☕🍶

Extra note: I don't think they require the puppeteers to function outside of episodes either. They just live their lives chilling, don't even know there's a Show. Maybe there's an explanation but for now I'm content with 'it's magic'.

That being said I've seen other theories about the peas and the isolation of Eddie specifically those are real neat

[city-of-ladies]

"I learn that the orphanage was created in part because illegitimate babies were being drowned in the Venetian canals. I learn that the girls of the the Ospedale della Pietà were allowed to play instruments usually reserved for men; that they earned money for their performances and rubbed shoulders with kings and queens. “What makes the Pietà so famous,” wrote the Prince of Saxony, Frederick Christian, after seeing them play in 1704, “is not just that all of the instrumentalists are truly excellent musicians, but … that all of the instruments are being played by females without any males in the ensemble at all.”

I discover that Vivaldi spent almost his entire career working at the Pietà and composed most of his pieces while there. But of the hundreds of girls and women who studied there, one name keeps rising to the surface: Anna Maria della Pietà. A prodigy violinist, she was Vivaldi’s favourite student. He composed many pieces just for her. It was in this experimental environment, with a plethora of talented female musicians to test ideas with, and Anna Maria by his side, that Vivaldi was able to perfect a whole new form of music: the concerto, most famously realised in his Four Seasons. 

I learn that several of the orphans at the Pietà were composers in their own right, in addition to many being copyists. In the study Women and Music, researchers Yves Bessieres and Patricia Niedzwiecki describe the Pietà as a “nursery for the virtuosos who provided Vivaldi with his ‘musical material’”. They cite a letter from a Pietà student called Lavinia and write, “[Lavinia’s] cantatas, concertos and various works had to be composed in secret and in imitation of Vivaldi’s style.” But Lavinia wanted to compose her own pieces too. “The music of others is like words addressed to me; I must answer and hear the sound of my own voice,” Lavinia wrote. “And the more I hear that voice, the more I realise that the songs and sounds which are mine are different … Woe betide me should they find out.”

I speak with another scholar, Vanessa Tonelli, a leading expert on the female musicians of Venice. Is it possible that these girls helped Vivaldi compose his works? “Anna Maria certainly designed her own solo cadenzas for Vivaldi’s concertos,” she tells me. She explains that some partbooks that belonged to the girl musicians still exist, and that there are examples within these of notes and solo lines scribbled into the margins. “Musicians often improvised cadenzas, ornamentations, and other solo lines, and they occasionally jotted down their ideas for these improvisations.”"

[bangaveragewhitewine]

maybe it ain't so bad

Bouncer!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader (established relationship) - Part of Happy Hours

Your boyfriend doesn’t like Christmas much. Inside his huge soft heart, he carries the memories of Christmases good and bad. After this year, the first Christmas you will actually get to spend together, he might feel a little warmer towards the Holidays…

Word Count 4.4k

Contents / Warnings | 18+ | Eddie & Reader are in their mid/late twenties | Loss of a parent, mention of child neglect and abuse | No explicit sex, nonetheless this is an 18+ fic - making out on the sofa, brief choking mention, Eddie’s love of hickies, being horny and in love, mentions of sex and post-sex softness, ‘slut’ as a term of endearment | No physical descriptions of reader; the image used in the header is not indicative of Bartender Reader in this series

Note I missed our metalhead bouncer boyfriend. I tried and tried not to make this sad or angsty. A quick moment to say thank you for all the love over the last sixish months while I have been writing and sharing my work. It’s a joy, truly! Have a cosy holiday season, sweet angels!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Christmas, 1992 

Eddie Munson didn’t care for Christmas.

A long time had passed since the last Christmas with his Mom, but each year the scabbed-over wound inside him tore and stung and bled just a little more around the Holidays. 

It might be more accurate to say then that Eddie Munson did not let himself care for Christmas. It hurt him to care about it, to remember the good ones and the bad ones with his mother, so he tried to just not care. 

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the coloured string lights wound around the shitty plastic tree, glinting against baubles that had seen better days. He could feel her hands holding his much smaller ones as they danced together to Christmas records, the way she held him safe and steady to place the star on top of the tree. The shininess of it all had pulled his attention from her pilled and threadbare sweaters and the bruise-like bags beneath her eyes. The festive earworms drowned out her tearful phone calls to her parents for some extra cash to make sure Eddie would have a present from Santa beneath the tree this year, and her promises that her no-good-husband would see a penny of it.

As he watches you hanging shiny-and-new decorations on the branches of the small fir in the corner of your shared living room, humming to music only you could hear, he could not help but think of her. It hurt, but the smile that spread across your face when you caught him watching soothed his soul just a little bit.

“Hi, handsome.” 

Your voice and that cosy greeting, the eye-sparkling smile you wear when he comes home to you, feels like stepping into a warm bath every single time. It’s a hug before you even open your arms to him.

You watch him unwind his scarf and shake out his frosted curls once his jacket has been hung on its peg. His boots are slipped off and left to pick up later. 

“How’d it go?”

Eddie stares at the shiny ornament hanging between your fingers on gold thread, lost somewhere in his head or hypnotised by the way it caught the light until you call his name again. 

“Sorry, yeah. Went good. You’ve been busy…”

While Eddie was teaching his last guitar lesson before the Holidays, you had draped the tree with shiny bright lights and made a start on the baubles, hanging them extra-slowly in the hope that your boyfriend might want to help when he got home. Neither of you had work tonight, scheduled off synchronously as a little reward for working Christmas Eve.

“You wanna help?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your eyes, even as you readied yourself for rejection.

You knew his feelings about Christmas - not just his capitalist hellscape rant that came out whenever someone asked if he was looking forward to the holidays, but you knew the deep emotional pain he carried as another year passed without her. Every year the taste of her cinnamon-spiced sugar cookies and the scent of her perfume, that special Mom Smell, faded more in his memories.

For the first Christmas you would actually spend together as a couple, you wanted it to be special and cosy. You wanted Eddie to feel comfortable and safe, not like a prisoner bound in tinsel as you forced him to watch Miracle on 34th Street or How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (though he did have a soft spot for the green guy). A lazy few days cocooned in your apartment, a nice no-fuss dinner and quality time together. It helped too that you could pick up the Christmas Eve shift in the bar instead of travelling out of the state to sit at home with your families and miss each other, count the days until you hopped back on the plane to O’Hare, and pray that Eddie would drive safe on the icy roads around Hawkins. 

The decorations had been a compromise; Eddie never usually bothered and you liked to spend at least half a day making your home look like a festive explosion. A deal had been made on a small tree with a few lights.

You looked at that tree now, its small and slightly wonky stature had charmed you. Eddie’s staring at it too and you can see a glimpse of the broken boy Eddie once was; it makes your heart hurt. 

“Is it too much? I can stop…” Your voice is quiet.

Eddie shakes his head and plasters on a smile for you that makes your chest ache, before rounding the sofa on socked feet to press a kiss to your head and squeeze you around the middle.

His nose is cold from being outside. That fresh scent of bright winter air clings to him and slowly melts away inside the warm flat you share. 

“Looks great.” Eddie picks up a random red bauble. “Where does this one go?”

“Wherever you want it to go. Just look for the bare spots.” 

You tamp down any fizzing excitement that he’s taking an interest, then feel guilty that you are thinking of him like he’s a wild animal who is easily spooked. 

Eddie brings you back to reality, just like always.

“You gonna move it later when I’m not looking?” he asks, brows raising beneath his bangs as you loop your ornament on a branch. 

That ‘I know you too well for your cute lies, babe’ look he gave you made your cheeks feel warm. It was close to his ‘you’re pushin’ it and you’re being a brat on purpose’ look. That one was fun.

“Only if it’s too close to another red.”

He had seen you and Michelle in full-festive-flight when you decorated the bar every year; every year he braved the cold of the beer cellar or the back alley to stay well out of your way lest he be roped into a squabble on the placement of some stupid garland. 

Not fully convinced, Eddie zeroes in a bare spot (not too near to another red ball) and slips it over the branch with less practiced precision. It’s perfect.

You lean over to smack a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re a natural, Teddy.” 

His arm slips and winds around your waist, squeezing the squish of your hips before he presses his lips to your head. “Do I get a reward?” 

Eddie’s touch and the low timbre of his voice stoke the cosy glow in your body into something more fiery and exciting. His fingers skate along the waistband of your sweatpants, tracing up beneath your (his) hoodie. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Two can play that game.

“For one little bauble? I’m not that easy, Munson.” 

It pains you to pull yourself away but the warmth and hunger in his gaze feeds your ego and the flame in your gut. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I need you to show me.” His fingers reach out to grab the empty space between you. 

Your eyes roll as you crouch to pick up two more baubles.

“Gimme a kiss for every decoration I put on then?” Eddie suggested, “I’ll keep tally.”

A slow smile makes its way onto your face and you nod. “That could be arranged. Don’t half-ass it though, they’ll fall off if they’re not on properly.” Your eyes narrow in warning, “I’ll bite you instead of kiss you if you half-ass it.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, honey,” Eddie smirks and takes both baubles from you - one gold, one pink - and hangs them on his fingers, strategically dangling them right over his nipples. He gets the exact reaction he was hoping for - an eye-roll and that smile you do when you try not to laugh at his silliness. That smile that had made him fall for you.

“And you know my motto - full ass or no ass at all. No half-assin’ around here.” 

Before you can make a smart comment about his flat ass, Eddie takes his time to thoughtfully hang the ornaments in two bare spots and surveys his work with a quietly-pleased hum. You could imagine what he was like as a kid, bargaining for an extra cookie once the tree was decorated, or an extra bedtime story. You didn’t hang any more decorations in favour of watching him work for a few moments, the colourful glow of the lights on his pale skin. 

He catches you staring and softens, winks at you as he picks two more baubles up. One for you, one for him. 

After passing the gold string between your fingers, you press a bonus-kiss to Eddie’s lips before finishing off your first tree together. Neither of you acknowledges with words how special it is, but it’s there. You squabble playfully when you get in each other’s way or when Eddie slaps your ass while he’s reaching for the snowman ornament you have had since you were a kid. 

You had accumulated a little collection of retro Christmas decorations in thrift shops over the years - pretty vintage baubles and kitschy ornaments, a few random or weird tchotchkes. A purchase from last year - a glittery skull wearing a Santa hat - earned instant approval from Eddie and pride of place on the tree. That one had caught your eye a few months after you two had started dating.

When the box of ornaments runs out, you take a step back and pull Eddie’s arm to join you. 

“You like it?” Your voice is quiet and careful as your cheek rests against the softness his sweater.

“Pretty,” Eddie says, just as quiet. His arms wind around you and hold you against his chest, starting a slow rock from foot to foot.

“Can I give you something?” you ask, voice muffled against his chest.

Eddie’s brows shoot up, a flirty look in his eyes. “Oh? You can give me whatever you want, babydoll.”

That wolfish grin of his still made you feel tingly all over, even as you rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s for the tree. Cool it, Romeo.” 

You pay this kiss-tax to be freed from the cosiness of his arms and slip into the bedroom for just a second. It is enough time for Eddie to edit a few baubles like it’s second nature to him, swapping out colours that are too close to each other and filling gaps until you arrive with a box. He has forgotten that he used to watch his mother do the same thing while he was content with his oven-warm cookies and cold milk on the couch.

You pass the box to Eddie. “It’s not really a gift. It’s for both of us.”

“Is it lingerie?” His brows raise, hopefully suggestive, as he smooths a finger over the lovingly slapped-on bow. Lingerie has certainly proven itself to be quite the mutual gift over the last year. His mind wanders to that last deep purple set you bought, and he can feel himself starting to drool.

“Eddie, just open it. You’re going to be so disappointed, it’s lame…”

At the talk of lingerie, you are acutely aware that you are currently dressed in sweats and one of his hoodies. In a funny sort of way, you know that the cosy combo does it for Eddie as much as lace and satin. The every-horny-for-your-boyfriend part of your brain considers wrapping yourself up in a big red bow for him. He would like that far too much.

He feigns coolness as he pulls the lid off and you push your unhinged thoughts away.

Inside, wrapped in crinkly red tissue paper, are two things - a matte black bauble with your initials curling together in shiny red calligraphy. Beside it, a small silver frame ornament with a candid snap of Eddie and you from Thanksgiving just passed, the one you spent in Hawkins with Wayne and his girlfriend. You’re perched on his lap, arms looped around his neck, smiling and very clearly obsessed with each other.

“I just thought we could... We could start our own traditions. Little things.” You speak into the quietness of the room as Eddie stares into the box. You murmur to yourself when he doesn’t answer, “You didn’t even want a tree, it’s so stupid.”

“Stop that.” Eddie’s frown is serious. “My girlfriend isn’t stupid. How dare you.” 

“But you don’t even like Christmas… It’s kinda stu-”

“Don’t. It’s fuckin’ thoughtful as fuck.” Eddie smiles softly at the ornaments, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. “You’re too cute, baby.” 

Pressing a smiling kiss to your lips, Eddie could feel himself beginning to soften. Maybe this Christmas thing would not be so bad this year…

Christmas with Wayne was always low-key - some years his Uncle took a shift at the plant and they exchanged thoughtfully practical presents like new guitar strings or picks, a book or an album, novelty mugs and new baseball caps or shirts. 

Wayne was not so fond of Christmas either. It reminded him of his heavy-handed drunk of a father, and the anxiety-inducing unanswered phone calls to his idiot brother’s house after Elizabeth died. It reminded him of finding his nephew alone in a cold house on Christmas Day, without a tree or dinner when Al forgot to come home. The kid didn’t have a single present to open from Santa. 

When Eddie moved to the trailer with him, too wise to the big bad world to be so easily distracted by shiny things, Wayne made sure there was a present for Eddie every single year, a meal and some company - even if the kid didn’t want it, even if Eddie screamed and threw a fit until he sobbed himself silent because he was just a little boy who missed his Mama…

Now, in the cocoon of your home together, Eddie's smile brims with child-like innocence, touched by the weight of wanting to start your own traditions together. You knew you were it for each other, but the little reminder of how much you meant it makes him glow.

He puts the box down and cups your face, pressing kisses everywhere he can reach. “God, I’m so in love with you,” he growls like a happy demon, making you laugh. 

Contently trapped against his body, soft and lean in all the right places, you release the breath you had been holding as Eddie studies the contents of the gift box again. 

“Look at these! I need this picture for my wallet. I need like, six copies,” he murmurs, “Have you ever seen a hotter couple?” Eddie brushes his thumb over the velvety loop of ribbon to hang it on the tree. “We need this for our grandkids, baby.” 

“Laurel took it. I’ll get you another copy.” Your face hurts from smiling as he kisses your cheek again. Wayne’s girlfriend was fond of you both, particularly Eddie.

“And this? Fuckin’ gothic as hell, I love it.” He strokes the intertwined initials before putting the box down to hug you just a shade off too tight. Nuzzling your noses together, he asks, “Where are we going to hang ‘em?”

“Front and centre?” you suggested, shrugging a little. “We could move that one…”

“Creepy Santa?”

“Banish him to the back of the tree. Begone, creep.”

Eddie chokes a laugh and muttered, “I love when you say nerdy shit, baby,” before unwinding his arms from around you to banish Creepy Santa.

“My boyfriend is a huge nerd, I can’t help it,” you tease.

After some careful re-arranging, the two new additions take pride of place on your tree. Eddie’s tongue had stuck out in concentration as he balanced them both so carefully; you wished you had your camera to capture the moment, not that you would ever forget it. 

You are wrapped up in his arms again once you agree on the placement, nose to nose as Eddie tells you how much he loves you again. The little noise he makes when you slip your hands into his back pockets hits low in your gut.

“You saving those kisses you earned or cashing them in, hot stuff?” you ask, tracing his jaw with the tip of your nose.

Eddie’s teeth flash in the low light; the room is shadowy and warm in the glow of string lights and a dim lamp in the corner. 

“Oh, I’m saving them up, princess. Might claim one or two right now, but the rest are staying with me. Got a pocketful of IOUs for kisses.”

You press your face against his shoulder, smiling. “That’s so ominous, Teddy.” 

“Next time you’re mad at me? Kiss token. When you’re too busy with stupid chores to take my human right to be kissed seriously? Pucker the fuck up, pretty girl.” 

You love him all ways, but especially like this; playful and fun, flirting hard with you. Eddie’s using his voice in a way you know comes from years of playing DnD, and a stint in the drama club at school. He’s in-your-face-flirty, never subtle. This is the man who punched someone for you before you were even dating; there’s nothing subtle about Eddie Munson. 

No, there’s absolutely nothing subtle about Eddie as his hips press forward against yours and he directs your mouth to his, cashing in the first of those kisses. He smiles when you chase him for more. You pull him closer, your hands on that flat ass of his, and sigh when his tongue licks across your bottom lip. 

“That’s one,” he whispers. 

He cups your warm cheek, his pinky stroking your pulse point. He can feel your blood pump quicker when his breath breezes over your mouth, like the hard beating of butterfly wings that he feels too. Eddie likes how they have not gone away yet for either of you; over a year together and no sign of migration. He hopes they never leave.

“M’not counting. Just kiss me,” you whisper, a little whiney and needier than you had realised now that you are pressed up against him with nowhere else to be. 

Never one to leave you hanging (unless that was part of the game you were playing), Eddie kisses you like a man starved. He craves that gasping whimper only he can pull from your throat, the flutter of your lashes when your tongues slide together. 

You shiver when his chilly fingers slip up beneath your sweatshirt, palm flat to the small of your back - the part he likes to see arched when he takes you from behind. 

Your lips buzz where they press against Eddie’s; the electricity passing between you makes you glow like Christmas lights. 

Eddie can tell your brain is still working too hard and brings his hand to your throat; not squeezing but his touch just enough to bring you back to him. It makes you keen for him. A reminder of something you both want to try, but not before you work up to it and do a little more research.

“Okay?” he checks, kissing the corner of your mouth. He watches your eyes go dark, swallowed up by your pupils in the dim light. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, tilting your chin just enough to graze your lips against Eddie’s.

He blesses you with an all-too-brief kiss, knowing you need and want more. He backs up a few steps, taking you with him to sit on the couch. Sitting there, thighs spread and waiting, the way he looks up at you makes you clench. You take your place in his lap and spend a moment slowing it all down again, forehead to forehead with Eddie’s hands stroking your hips. 

“I love you,” he whispers, the words tickling your lips. 

“I know. Love you,” you murmur back, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. You thumb the tired crescent beneath it, skating along his smiling cheek. 

When he looks at you, it makes your heart beat double time; it’s not just the lust darkening his eyes, but pure adoration. 

You cross your arms to wriggle out of the hoodie, stripped down to a cotton cami and a bra that had been relegated to comfy-wear-only. Eddie thinks you are a goddess, and he is completely and utterly down-bad for you. The glow of the Christmas tree behind you makes you look like some sort of angel.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs. His hands run up your sides and down again, pulling you in closer onto his lap. You can feel him beneath the layers of sweatpants and denim. 

You lean into him again for another kiss, melting against Eddie’s warm chest when his hands begin to wander. He kisses you, his tongue twisted with yours as he takes his time. There is no rush this evening, no need to get off quick before your shift. 

Without the deadline, you draw it out - kissing slow, hands wandering to squeeze and tease, hips rolling and grinding together hot and hard beneath the layers. You give extra attention to that spot on Eddie’s neck that makes him go cross-eyed, dragging your teeth over the little bruise he can hide beneath his hair (but he won’t because he’s a menace and a bit of a slut). 

You pull off his black sweater - the one that hugs his arms and makes his waist look biteable - and kiss along the neckline of his tank top. Your fingers push at it and his silver chain when they get in the way of another bruise-making kiss that makes Eddie swear under his breath. 

“Baby, fuck.” 

He grunts quietly when you push your hips together again, attempting to relieve some of the building ache between your thighs. 

“Mm, that’s the plan,” you whisper, smiling against his collarbone when he chokes on his own throaty laugh. 

When you look up at him there is a dusty pink flush across his cheeks. You watch his jaw drop just a fraction when your breath casts over the damp kisses you left on his neck. When your thumb catches purposefully on his nipple there’s a quiet ‘fuck’ that tumbles from his tongue. 

As his ability to be patient wanes, Eddie catches your lips again and slowly guides you to lie back against the sofa cushions.

“You drive my crazy,” he whispers, brushing back the hair that had fallen around your face. He kisses you again, a whisper of teeth against your lip before your tongues meet in a filthy kiss.

You make space for him between your legs, lying chest to chest as close as possible without opening up your chest and letting him crawl inside, without physically melting together to become one. You lose yourself in each other, bathed in the warm light of the tree.

“You didn’t do a star. Or an angel, angel. Do you have one?” Eddie’s jeans and belt are undone around his hips as he sits with your feet in his lap, pulled back on to smoke out the window.

“I got distracted before I could put it up.” You wiggle your toes against his thigh, yelping when he runs his fingertips over the sole. You shove it beneath his leg, safe and warm away from his tickling fingers. “I have one. It’s in that bag.” 

Back in your (Eddie’s) hoodie and your underwear, you point him toward the busted-around-the-edges gift bag left forgotten by the stereo. “You wanna put it up?”

Eddie smells warm and smokey when he leans in for a kiss, a tinge of sweat lingering after making love to you. He still has his warm pink-cheeked glow and proudly wears the bruises from your sweet mouth, the red marks left by your fingernails on his back. 

Three pecks later, he stands with a groan more befitting a man of his uncle’s age and picks up the bag. You watch him stare at the contents, an unreadable look on his face as he lifts it out.

Your star is kitschy as hell, gold with little tinsel pom-poms on the pointy edges and definitely older than both of you. It’s not to everyone’s taste, a little tacky perhaps, but that was part of its charm. When it caught your magpie-eye in a junk shop a few weeks ago you couldn’t leave it behind. The had-seen-better-days tree-topper that had cost one whole dollar and seventy-five cents. It had glittered at you from the shelf and whispered ‘take me with you’. 

“If you hate it, we don’t have to put it up. We could put Creepy Santa up there instead,” you mused, “Our creepy angel…” 

“I don’t hate it. It’s so… wrong in the best way.” Eddie turns the star-shape in his hands. It reminds him of the chintzy and bright Christmas trees and flashy lights in Forest Hills. “Where the hell did you even get this thing?” 

“In the little thrift store near the camera shop. The one where you got me those earrings…?” 

“Mm, I know it. Maybe we can un-banish the Creep too. I guess it’s Christmas after all…” he reaches for the previously hidden Santa Claus figure with shifty eyes and rosy cheeks and replaces him near the top of the tree. “Yeesh, you’re a weird little man.” He flicks Santa before lifting the star up. “You wanna do the honours?”

From your cosy place on the couch, still pleasantly jelly-legged and tingly all over, you shake your head. “You do it. I’m comfy.” 

Eddie shrugs and reaches to balance the topper on the highest point of your perfectly wonky little tree, standing back with his hands on his hips before looking to you for approval. 

You give Eddie two thumbs up before opening your arms for him. You barely brace for impact when he pounces on you, head thrown back laughing. “Ed!” You squeak when he presses growling kisses to your neck. 

Resting on your chest, Eddie looks up at you with those shiny baby-cow eyes you adore. He is so soft beneath it all. He makes your heart beat double time. You brush back his hair and kiss his forehead as he gets comfortable. You wrap your legs around him so he cannot go anywhere, even if he wanted to. 

“Can we make this part of our tradition too?” he asks.

“Mm, I like how you think, pretty boy.”

Your fingers comb through his curls as he rests his weight on you. There is nowhere you would rather be.

Eddie cannot keep himself from staring at the tree in the quiet bliss of it all. He soaks it in; the thud of your heart beneath his ear, the way the tree-lights blur his eyes when he stares at them for too long. 

A small slow smile spreads onto his face. He decides then that maybe, just maybe, Christmas might not be so bad this year.

An easter egg for the babes who made it to the end - here's the picture from the header image (I love making photos like this for fics tbh). I like to think this is one of the pictures Eddie's Mom sent to Wayne and he still has it 🥲🥲🥲

Thank you for reading ❤️ reblogs, likes and comments are cherished and adored!

[wheeboo]

holidaze | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which you take your boyfriend on a holidate down the city. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing!! n just me being very whipped for him tbh :') WORD COUNT. 1.1k

notes: these r actually pics on our date guys. i took these pics of him <3 he did this for me. anyways i def didn't write this at 4am. happy holidays everyone! why r these actually the most boyfie pics ever i'm crying sobbing dying

There's nothing more better than venturing down the city at night with the spirit of the holidays filling the air. Festive lights are hung on streetlights which cast enchanting glows on the sidewalks and reflect off the wet and icy roads. Christmas trees are scattered throughout the city, standing tall and decorated with a dazzling array of ornaments, tinsel, and twinkling lights.

There's also nothing better than spoiling your boyfriend to a little date. Seungkwan had insisted that there wasn't any need for you to pay for everything, but tonight, you were all too determined to show just how much you appreciate him, even if it means arguing who would pay for the bill at the restaurant you chose or who would buy the matching stuffed animals you spotted in a store and couldn't resist buying.

Seungkwan has done nothing but warm your heart than any gift ever could. He's already a gift to your life, and tonight is your way of reciprocating just that𑁋to make sure he feels just as cherished as he's made you feel every day, simply because he deserves it, even if he doesn't think so himself.

"Do you think they'd like it? I'm scared I got the bad scents." Seungkwan fiddles with the paper bag of scented candles in his hand, his opposite arm linked around yours as you both continue your stroll down the glittering streets.

"My parents will love it. You don't have to worry about a thing," You reassure him with a gentle smile, giving his upper arm a small squeeze. "And even if they don't, it's the thought that counts, right?"

Seungkwan grins back, the worry lines on his forehead smoothing out. The city lights seem to reflect in his eyes like twinkling stars. "You're right. I just want them to like me, you know?"

"They already love you, trust me," You assure confidently. "Just be yourself, and they'll see how amazing you are."

Seungkwan could only shyly cower his head down to your words, the cold air nipping at his cheek that he attempts to hide away. You already know he has every right to be nervous meeting your parents for the first time tomorrow, but you also know that he'll win them over with his genuine and bubbly charm, just as he won you over from the very beginning.

The two of you trail up to a set of rails overlooking the sidewalk below and the looming buildings surrounding the area. There's some distant holiday music that you could hear from the nearby stores. Seungkwan leans against the rail, releasing a breath that creates a small mist in the chilly air, a thoughtful expression travelling across his face.

Smiling to yourself, you take out your phone and snap a few candid photos of him against the backdrop of the city lights.

"Look back at me," You call, and Seungkwan turns to face you, a small smile to his face that you manage to capture before he playfully swats at your phone. "Hey, hey, wait𑁋just a few more... Okay, I'm done. See?"

He pouts when you swipe through the photos, showing him the blurry ones and the ones where he's mid-swat like a cat batting at a toy. "Oh my God, you make me look so goofy."

"But look at these ones." You show him the two where you perfectly captured him looking back at you and smiling naturally. "You gotta post these! You look so pretty."

Seungkwan just rolls his eyes and turns away to admire the lights of the city once more, biting back the shy grin to his face. As you tuck your phone away, you walk up to him, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning against the rail beside him.

And when you both turn your bodies to face each other, your eyes gazing into his, a smile crosses your face, and you can't help but to let a hand pinch his cheek, perhaps a bit more harder than intended. "You're so cute!”

"Ow," Seungkwan winces dramatically, his hand coming up to cup over yours on his face, but he doesn't take your hand away𑁋he doesn't want to𑁋and instead leans more into your touch.

You furrow a brow, noticing how cold his face feels against your hand, trailing a thumb lightly over his cheekbone. "You're freezing, Kwannie."

The warmth of your thumb seeping through the chill of Seungkwan's skin sends a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the winter breeze.

"Just a little," he mutters quietly. “But you feel warm."

His dark eyes are like pools of melted chocolate under the city glow. The playful banter has faded, replaced by a quiet intimacy that settled comfortably around you both. You knew you should pull away and head back to the warmth of your apartment, but something keeps you frozen to this moment𑁋to the way his gaze seems to pierce right through you and make you feel so seen.

Then a sudden urge, soft and insistent, sprouts within you.

Your smile blooms into a full, somewhat mischievous grin as you take your hand away from his face. Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right on the spot your touch had warmed up moments ago. It was a soft, fleeting peck, barely more than a whisper of your lips against his skin, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you both.

Seungkwan can practically still feel the kiss lingering when you pull away, a blush creeping up his neck and painting his skin and ears with a rosy hue. The flustered look to his face was enough to send your heart into a giddy leap, and as you cup his face again, you feel it's grown significantly warmer under your touch.

"All better now," You whisper teasingly as you continue to hold Seungkwan's face gently between your hands. "Are you blushing?"

Seungkwan lets out a scoff, lightly shoving your hand away from his face. "No."

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"You are!”

"H-How can I not when you kiss me like that?"

His words make a chuckle leave your mouth, and you stretch your arms to wrap around his neck, closing the distance between your bodies. His own hands come to instinctively rest at your waist, breath hitching from the way your closeness sends another wave of warmth through him.

But before he can say anything, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips, catching him off-guard once more. When you pull back, there's a playful glint in your eyes, and Seungkwan is left speechless and dazed, his cheeks now an even deeper shade of red. His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, and he lets out a choked laugh, a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"You're... you're really something else, you know that?" Seungkwan stammers, his fingers playing with the hem of your coat as he avoids your eyes bashfully.

You tilt your head slightly. "In a good way hopefully?"

He leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of your cold nose, his lips lingering for a moment. When he draws back, a few snowflakes land in his hair. "In the best way possible."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify

[talesofesther]

golden ballads

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: On a normal day, you had trouble reading Wednesday's emotions; on a night like this, where she was holding your hand and standing so close that her perfume was all you could feel, it was ultimately impossible.

Requested by multiple anons for my Christmas Special event.

A/N: First of all, I just wanted to say thank you so much for 7k followers, ily. Second, this prompt was requested by a lot of people, and I won't be answering each individual ask, so if you requested prompt 18 or 13 with her, this is for you. Lastly, I changed the setting a little bit to fit the story better. <3

Masterlist

"Would you give me this honor?"

Classical music played in the background as you spoke, stretching a hand towards Wednesday. A couple of other students — mostly their parents honestly — had already gathered the courage to dance in the middle of the big ballroom.

It was the school's yearly end-of-the-year party. Attendance wasn't mandatory, but when you asked Wednesday to be your partner for the night, she didn't have it in herself to say no.

There was a huge Christmas tree shining obnoxiously behind you, its ornaments almost covering the green leaves completely, but it did give you a warm yellow glow that was hard to call anything other than enchanting.

"Only because it would be too sad to reject you in front of these many people," Wednesday told you as she grabbed your hand and got up from her seat.

"Sure thing," you smirked, finding utmost adorable the way she refused to give in to her own desires.

The ballroom was gorgeous, an elegant contrast to when it housed the Rave'n party. All chandeliers had their lights on for a change, there were a few Christmas lights attached to the walls, and the tables had white and golden ornaments on them as they framed the round dancefloor, and of course, the main attraction was the ten feet tall Christmas tree on the center.

You led Wednesday to one of the most secluded spots of the ballroom, your heels clicking against the polished floor.

"Step on my feet and I will kick you." She warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it." You turned to face Wednesday with a smirk, raising your joined hands so you could press your palms together, your fingers intertwining with hers in a loving yet timid gesture.

Wednesday didn't hesitate on placing her free hand on your shoulder, silently giving you permission to hold her waist. You did so with a tender touch, your palm sliding along her hip bone until your fingertips traced her spine.

You watched the way her eyes traveled over your face, focusing first on your lips before she met your gaze with a slow blink.

The soft melody playing in the background set an easy rhythm for you to follow, swaying in tandem with Wednesday as her body stayed glued to yours; so close you became aware of every little movement she made. It brought goosebumps to your exposed skin.

After a few notes, you dared to take her hand and let go of her waist to twirl her around and then right back into your arms. The bold move pulled the tiniest smile from Wednesday, the blinking lights turning her pale skin a soft golden and highlighting the freckles of her cheeks.

Wednesday's black dress hugged her body beautifully, flowing with each of her steps and complimenting the few wisps of hair that got loose from her braids. Her lips had a burgundy paint to them; it got you wondering how many times you'd have to kiss her for it to wear off.

There was a strategically placed mistletoe near the back doors, undoubtedly the act of some students trying to get lucky. And when the music ended, you and Wednesday just so happened to be standing almost directly underneath it.

The last notes of your song faded just as another began in its place, people were chatting and drinking champagne around you, a few students laughing loudly near the Christmas tree only to receive a glare from Principal Weems. In some ways, it felt like you and Wednesday were detached from the real world and belonged only in this little moment.

She didn't say anything as she removed her hand from your shoulder, her black nails grazing the skin of your arm as she did so. You followed suit by dropping the hand you had on her waist.

But when Wednesday made no effort to let go of your intertwined hands, a tiny grin crept into your lips.

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you, indirectly asking what was so amusing.

"We're uh," you started, glancing up at the small thing, "we're right under a mistletoe, it means-"

"I know what it means." Wednesday cut you off, her chin angled a tad up as she pursed her dark lips.

"If you care about tradition, yeah," you chuckled nervously. On a normal day, you had trouble reading Wednesday's emotions; on a night like this, where she was holding your hand and standing so close that her perfume was all you could feel, it was ultimately impossible.

Though there was a softness to the way she held herself that was quite hard to miss. "Ones that are meaningless and childish shouldn't even be called traditions." She stated before taking a breath.

The tip of her shoes bumped yours and only then you noticed that she took a step closer to you.

"Right," you mumbled, trapped in the spell that was her.

"Maybe just opportunities," Wednesday finished before she leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle peck.

She kissed you like the first flakes of snow do when they fall from the sky, gentle and tender yet steady with their intent; falling, falling, and falling until they melt.

Your lower lip was trapped between Wednesday's ones, your hands just about managing to close around the fabric of her dress before she was pulling back. Her nose bumped yours and you wanted to trap this moment in time like the snap of a picture.

Wednesday didn't go far, she was still breathing the same air as you when she pressed her lips together in a feeble attempt to correct her lipstick. She then raised a thumb to the corner of your lips, brushing away the smudged color there.

Oh, she had you wrapped around her cold fingers and she knew it. But it was in the way that her nails traced the skin of your jaw as she prolonged her touch on you as much as possible, that you knew she'd take good care of your heart.

"Now come," Wednesday tugged on your hand, "we still have a few more songs to make this night count."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest

[l0vergirlv0mit]

Christmas with gf!Hazel Headcanons

No one yearns like I do I swear

⭑favorite Christmas movie is obviously Jim Carrey’s The Grinch.

⭑Christmas music has been on since November 1st.

⭑singing “Last Christmas” in the car as if you both had just gone through the most devastating life event anyone could ever go through(a tummy ache).

⭑hugs you from behind and hummus softly to Christmas music in your ear. While your making her homemade hot chocolate that she absolutely NEEDED you to make her that moment.

⭑buys you little ornaments of different random objects like a golf ball cause she thinks they’re funny.

⭑absolutely has to mix the sugar cookies for you cause she wants to seem strong.

⭑makes you a burr basket that’s basically your whole Christmas list cause she’s got MONEY money.

⭑takes gingerbread house construction VERY VERY serious like she’s making melted sugar window panes.

⭑zips you into her jacket so she can use your body heat to warm her up when it’s cold outside.

⭑buys the thickest cutest Christmas blanket specifically to snuggle and have a Christmas movie marathon.

⭑love’s Christmas decoration shopping. Takes you to Christmas markets and loses her shit over everything. She really likes the vintage colorful Christmas theme.

⭑when you go to said Christmas market if there’s a Santa she’s taking a photo with him wearing the brightest smile.

⭑her favorite thing to do right now is to say “Hey, he’s watching.” Very seriously over everything. Don’t wanna take a nap together? Yeah he saw that.

⭑hates boring Christmas themes like White Christmas makes her annoyed cause there’s no color.

⭑getting absolutely blasted together at Christmas parties on mulled wine. Somehow making grinding on each other to “All I Want For Christmas Is You” seem completely called for.

⭑your family loves her cause she came over by herself to help them decorate. Had a photo shoot with your grandma in matching Christmas sweater.

⭑made a dance routine to “Santa Baby” and passionately performs it for you. Like wiggling her eyebrows at you and shimmying.

⭑her cheeks and nose get so red and rosy in cold weather you can’t help but kiss them all over.

⭑she loves homemade gifts with a lot of sentimental value. Once you made her a scrapbook of picture of both you, you put little stickers and wrote her little notes as well. She couldn’t stop crying for like 30 minutes.

⭑she’d definitely get you tickets to see your favorite band or singer cause she literally already bought everything you wanted BEFORE Christmas even happened.

⭑insist on leaving cookies out for Santa even though you literally don’t have children. And yes there will be a cookie with a bite taken out of it when you wake up.

⭑matching pjs are a must.

⭑Christmas eve is like a Hallmark movie. Cuddling the whole night watching movies and giggling.

(I need a soft masc so bad.)

[lokis-dark-queen]

Hot Chocolate

(Loki/Reader Fluff Drabble )

Summary: Loki is obsessed with chocolate. With your help he discovers the delectable treat that is hot chocolate, and appreciates how desirable you are.

Warnings/Notes: Very light suggested smut at the end. Just Loki being a chocolate fiend and a flirt. I count anything under 1,000 words as a Drabble.

Word Count: 964

*photos from Pinterest*

If there was one fact that was confirmed true about Loki, it was that he loved chocolate. Ever since his first chocolate candy bar, he was addicted. Like a bloodhound, he could sniff out the decadent sweet from another room. He would follow the scent to the source and then devour whatever was there. He was a frequent customer at the closest bakery to the tower. He claimed that their chocolate chip cookies were the best he ever had. Little did he know, with his limited time on earth, there were many other places with chocolate chip cookies. He liked his cookies soft, warm, and the chocolate chips slightly melted. He loved chocolate candy of any type, however, he didn’t like mint chip ice cream. He claimed that the mint tried to overpower the taste of the chocolate too much.

Here, on this cold December night in New York, flurries of snow floated through the air as they were visible from the highest rooms of the Avengers tower. Tony and his robots hung up Christmas decorations that adorned the once bland halls. Natasha and Clint decorated the towering evergreen in the common room. Thor had nearly drunk his weight in mead and passed out on the couch, his snoring attempting to be drowned out by the Christmas music coming through the speakers of the television. Through the multitude of smells including pine and cinnamon, Loki was stopped in his tracks as he walked towards the common room, the familiar smell hanging in the air… chocolate.

Loki walked faster toward the kitchen of the common room, his chocolate craving rivaling that of a menstruating woman. As he turned the corner he observed the controlled chaos of the room, Natasha and Clint arguing about where ornaments should go on the tree, his brother out cold, and you in the kitchen.

Saying that Loki thought about you would be an understatement. He fantasized about you, watched you from afar, and built up a surprising amount of courage to speak to you. Loki kept a certain distance from the other members of the team on purpose. When it came to you, however, Loki stayed away out of fear. He feared that you were revolted by him, as many were. You never made it obvious, you smiled at him, said hello when you passed him in dim hallways, you never came off as disgusted by him. Loki’s self-doubt said otherwise.

The god clenched his jaw as he carefully stalked over to you, his sense of chocolate driven curiosity overcame his hesitancy to be near you.

“Excuse me.” He speaks up from behind you with a gentle softness in his deep voice.

“Oh, Loki… Do you need something?” You were slightly thrown off by Loki approaching you. However, you couldn’t deny the way that your heart skipped a beat.

“No no, I was just curious about what you were making.”

You smile, even with your limited interaction, you knew he had a sweet tooth for chocolate. “You would love it! It’s called hot chocolate, it’s a drink.”

Not even the terrifying god of mischief himself could hide the light that came to life in his eyes, “You can drink it?” He asks in disbelief.

You try your best to hold back a giggle at the thousand year old god who was amazed by something as simple as hot chocolate. Part of you feels like you have been taking the highly beloved beverage for granted at his childlike response, “Here,” You take the warm mug and hand it to him, “try some.”

Loki was almost too eager to take the mug from your soft hands. His skilled digits brushed against your knuckles as he took it. A hot flush brushed your cheeks from the short contact.

Before he could rush the warm mug to his soft lips you grabbed his wrist, causing him to almost spill the sacred liquid, “Careful, it’s very hot.” You emphasized.

Loki smirks, “Thank you darling, however, I don’t believe it’s just the beverage that is too hot to handle.” His voice darkens.

Your stomach flips at his flirty remark. Your brain shuts down for a few seconds. You couldn’t believe it, the man of your dreams was flirting with you.

All you could let out was a childish giggle as Loki slowly raised the cup to his lips. He took an anticipated sip. His eyes close and for the first time, you notice how beautiful his eyelashes are.

He is silent for a few seconds, basking in the chocolate bliss he has just partaken in.

“That was… incredible.” He breathes out in amazement.

He goes to hand the cup back to you, however, you push it back in his hands, “It’s yours, I could never indulge myself as blissfully as you have.”

Loki smirks and moves closer to you, the people around you fade into the background.

“What a shame, it is important to appreciate the simple pleasures in life…” he places his hand on your waist, “so that the important pleasures feel so much better.”

The hot chocolate was long forgotten as a burning desire for the god burned in your core.

“What do you mean by important pleasures?” You question him with eager curiosity.

Loki scans the room before leaning to whisper in your ear secretly, “Come to my room and I’ll teach you all about pleasures.”

The two of you vacated the kitchen, those around you barely took notice at your leave. The hot chocolate sat, cooling and forgotten on the counter because Loki found a treat far more desirable than the midgardian invention that was chocolate. Well… at least for now, Loki would have his fill of chocolate later. Right now, he wanted to indulge in the special pleasure that was you.

[canmom]

I think Farya Faraji has realised that hour long videos about the difference between actual historical music and modern historically themed music is a great way to get people to watch stuff about music theory. Which, you know, guilty, I haven't watched his older videos on medieval music yet but I did watch this one!

Anyway it's fascinating stuff - I didn't realise how new our current approach to tonal harmony is. I tried to be careful to distinguish between the general and the culture specific in my music theory posts, but even in my own culture, it turns out I was picking out emphases that are very modern. If Farya is right, medieval European music actually sounded a lot more like the 'modal' approach that still exists in middle Eastern, Balkan and Mediterranean music. Instead of supporting a melody with chords, you would improvisationally add various kinds of what modern Western music calls ornamentation. Towards the end of the middle ages you'd get a greater degree of polyphony using e.g. a sustained drone note or additional melodies that don't really try to harmonise in the way we write them to today. At this point the level of ornamentation dies down, and it lays the groundwork for the modern system of harmony to appear in the early modern period.

In contrast to actual historically informed music, Farya describes a genre he calls 'bardcore', which aims for a superficial appearance of medieval style to modern ears but uses a modern folk-inspired performance style - strummed chords, modern classically trained singing styles, modern instruments like the Irish bouzouki invented in the 70s. (As with the viking music and orientalism videos, he's at some pains to emphasise that anachronistic music isn't bad music and he likes a lot of these 'bardcore' bands.)

Anyway, I appreciate it because it expands my horizon for 'ways music can work' and gives a narrative to the evolution of tonal harmony - maybe an oversimplified narrative, and I'm still not entirely sure what the term 'modal' is getting at (presumably something to do with the modes [roughly, scales] that music was written and embellished in?), but it's a starting point. one of the most interesting youtubers to come along recently...

[khytal]

I’ve been meaning to write about this since ep12 aired but I haven’t had time until now. I'm sure someone's already brought it up by this point but I wanted to put it into my own words, so here I am :]

I’m gonna talk about the “plant song”, as it’s called in stampede’s soundtrack: an 8-bar motif that comes up in several songs in the ost (but I’ll only be going through 3 of them + some other things)

*I consider "common front"/"trigun stampede" to be vash's main theme, rather than "vash the stampede" (more on this later)

it's used (or not, in one case) in some very interesting ways, which have interesting implications :)

I'm referencing track 28 from vol2 of the ost, "plant song on erhu", as the base that I'm comparing the other songs to. aside from some stylistic ornamentation, it's just the 8-bar melody on its own (which I've transcribed in the above image). this is also currently the only version of the song in the soundtrack that features this melody as a solo, with no other instruments.

some notes before I get into it:

-for my sake, I refer to "common front" as vash's theme in this post x) I know it's a shorter version of "trigun stampede" (they're the same song), but the track title makes it easier for me to associate it with vash so I'll be using that instead of "trigun stampede". the titles are more or less interchangeable though

-the rests in measures 3-4 and 7-8 in the transcription for "bio-power reactor" and "common front" don't exist in the songs themselves. I inserted them so that the corresponding parts line up with when they occur in the plant song

-the excerpt from "bio-power reactor" is a diminution (note lengths were cut in half) to make the comparison easier to see

-in "common front" 's case, the transcription isn't entirely accurate but it's more about the notes than the rhythm u-u)b

-this motif is heard in more than just these 3 songs, but about a third of the ost recycles sections from other songs (ex.: "vash the stampede" is just "the jeneora rock resistance" and "trigun stampede" stitched together), so I picked the ones I felt were like "source" songs. since this is about plants, I only had to look for the tracks that were most representative of the twins and the plants themselves

-knives has like 7 different versions of his theme (including the piano/duet ones) but they're all more or less the same so. yeah. I referenced the vocal version in vol2 since it emphasizes the plant song as the melody, and has a slight variation

-I don't talk about the duet here since it's pretty clear that it's for both vash and knives, and it's just a fancy version of the plant song. not much to analyze about it for this post

-I did annotate the music I transcribed, but no knowledge of music terminology is necessary to understand it. it's all pattern recognition, and I mostly just highlighted where the similarities and differences were

-please don't take any of my interpretations as fact, I just thought it'd be cool to point out the motif. you're more than welcome to have your own interpretations using the transcriptions I've included ^^

okay here we go :)

-the songs are listed by how closely they resemble the original plant song, with "millions knives" (and any other related themes) being nearly identical and "common front"'s excerpt being something barely recognizable as the plant song

-"millions knives" has this motif everywhere. you could say it's representative of him being in tune with his identity as an independent plant. or almost like he represents the plants--oh wait, he does (self-proclaimed, but that's irrelevant here)

-almost every time the plant song is heard, knives is there/involved. prior to ep12's implication that it comes from the plants (and the ost outright confirming this), it wouldn't be odd to assume that it's his theme; that's how frequently it pops up. and it's even more obvious in the soundtrack..........except it might as well be his theme, despite its origins lying with the plant race

basically: *knives voice* my theme now

-even though "bio-power reactor" refers to the plants, their song is barely present in the track (it's heard at the beginning and end). kinda sorta makes it feel like a transference of the theme to knives. like the plants are just vibing (they are, mostly) while knives is taking the reins (he is, mostly)

-the reason the track "vash the stampede" isn't part of this is because the plant song is nowhere to be found in it. while it does use "trigun stampede"/"common front", it doesn't have the part that I transcribed

(if you really want to read into this, you could consider the motif's absence a reference to vash being more akin to a human than a plant. I can't say whether this was intentional or not though, considering "vash the stampede" is just a mix of 2 pre-existing songs and has no melodies unique to it)

[-feel free to skip this tangent: "common front"/"trigun stampede" stands out to me because the lyrics are more about vash than the track that's literally named after him (which isn't even an original composition for some reason):

"here I come, here I come any enemy is powerless in front of me here I come, here I come, keep anybody that get(s) in my way, away from me

get everybody involved like a typhoon pull the trigger, shoot down [on a/on the/'nother?] full moon can't you see what I'm [hiding/having?] in my hands call me vash the stampede, and feel love and peace"

not that "jeneora rock resistance" 's lyrics aren't about vash, but I think it's odd that "vash the stampede" doesn't use the lyrics from "trigun stampede" beyond the initial "here I come, there is no one anywhere who is a match for me"]

-"common front" is vash's main theme to me, since it references the plant song while also being about vash himself. it describes vash as he is amongst humans, with the motif serving as an acknowledgment of his race without overpowering the rest of the song (unlike with knives, where it's nearly constant and makes up the core of his theme. if this was intentional on the composer's part, it's very clever)

-the bit I transcribed from "common front" is from the part in the middle that features a flute solo (1:17-1:26; or 1:36-1:45 in "trigun stampede"). you can also hear this in the low brass around 2:27 of "millions knives", where it follows the same pattern as the section in "common front". it looks like this (written as it's heard, without the 2 measures of rest I added):

"millions knives" and this fragment from "common front" are both in the key of b minor ("common front" starts in d minor and briefly modulates to b minor before going back to d minor)

personally I like that knives's variation is grand/drawn out, while vash's is played freely. it highlights their personalities, though we don't really get to see much of vash being "free" in stampede

-there's a very short call and response bit in ep12, where vash sings the first 2 bars to the plants and they sing back to him:

nothing specific to write about here but vash's "La"'s in the jp dub are more articulated because of how japanese people pronounce the "L" sound; whereas jyb's articulation is much softer/barely noticeable (though he sings the 2nd measure with 1 "la" instead of articulating each new note. also his F# was a little flat but like. don't take that as an actual criticism lmao I just have a really good ear)

I don't know why the plants' responses are unique between the two dubs, but I thought it'd be cool to transcribe that part as well. the rhythms were a little hard to pin down since they're sung freely so idk if it's accurate but I know the notes are right x)

-I'm guessing the dub's VA for young vash couldn't sing the C so they cut it and had them start a beat later to compensate and match the lip flaps:

not a significant difference, since the altered part exists in the plant song so it doesn't stand out unless you're listening for it (like I was), but yeah. there you have it

(-I'm sure people know this by now but I figured I'd mention it anyway since I'm talking about it. the reason "knives" asks vash what he's humming in the flashback is because it was rem who asked him that in the original memory. the song seems to be something that all plants know instinctively, so knives should've known what it was. and this discrepancy is part of what caused vash to become aware of himself again......which means knives screwed up his own plan x)

(I wonder if knives will ever talk about what the song means to him))

-when vash is poking at the piano keys at the end of ep12, he's just playing an octave (between a low and high Bb, but that isn't important). my guess is that he's trying to play the plant song, specifically starting at the octave that ties into the triplet, but for some reason he can't get any further than that.

I think he's reluctant to hear the song of his people, the one that made up the duet he and his brother used to play; the one that used to calm him down but may now instead only remind him of what he did/lost. maybe he's trying to reassure himself with the song, and is unable to with the weight it suddenly holds for him

(side note: the duet is in the key of a minor and no Bb's are played in it, so he's not trying to play either parts of the duet)

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extra things I noticed that aren't very conclusive (so don't take them too seriously) but are still worth mentioning:

-these are also arranged from most to least similar

-........yeah I found the plant song in "tombi". the augmented triplets in the pre-chorus tipped me off. I'm pretty certain this is a coincidence though, since it's the only piece of the motif that I heard. I didn't look too much into it, but if "tombi" was written with stampede in mind and if kvi baba was asked to incorporate the plant song then. well. x) anyway I just wanted to point it out, coincidence or not

-knives's theme is here again but for the express purpose of being compared to "orphanage" of all things, because they're in the same key. this 2-bar excerpt plays from 0:18-0:22 in "orphanage", and it seems to be pulled from "millions knives"

the notes are split between 2 different instruments (3 if you count the piano chord reinforcing the A) but they form that exact phrase if you put them together and follow the main beats

which leads me to this point: knives's theme is in "orphanage" because he's linked to it through the eye of michael (again this is me reading deeply into the pattern, so I wouldn't say this was on purpose but if it was.....!)

-elendira's theme doesn't have the plant song in it; at least, not directly. she's actually the reason I ended up writing this whole post, because I wanted to know if the plant song was in her theme. and it's not. fascinating.

anyway this one's a HUGE stretch but I find it to be an interesting interpretation: the plant motif possibly being an inversion, as a way of saying she's neither plant nor human (as mentioned by dr conrad)

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that's all I have to say about this! I hope it wasn't too confusing x') thank you for reading, if you made it this far. the plant song is pretty significant in stampede so I'm really looking forward to hearing how it's used in s2 o)-<

(if there's anything I missed or if you have any questions feel free to ask!)