#took me a really long time to be satisfied with this

[heliosunny]

hear me out: lucky egg argenti 🌹

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Argenti x Reader

For three days, the egg sat in your care—its crimson shell adorned with golden rose patterns, pulsing faintly with light. Then, on the third day, cracks splintered across its surface. A soft, triumphant hum filled the air, like the echo of a distant fanfare. With a final break, the shell shattered, light pouring from within. And from it, he emerged.

His long, red hair cascaded down his back, two strands framing his face as his vibrant green eyes locked onto yours. His armor gleamed under the light.

“I am Argenti, sworn to your service-”

Panic

Still damp from your bath, you did the only rational thing—shoved him out the door and slammed it shut.

You stood there, breathless, staring at the golden egg shards left behind. Did that really just happen? Of all the right moment, it hatched just now?

Shaking your head, you hurriedly got dressed. You needed answers—now.

Steeling yourself, you stepped outside.

There he was.

Kneeling right in front of your door.

“Ah, you have returned!” he said warmly, as if you hadn��t just kicked him out.

“I… What are you doing?” you finally managed.

Argenti placed a gauntleted hand over his heart, his expression sincere.

“Awaiting your orders, of course, my guiding star.”

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

He lifted his head slightly, his gaze nothing short of reverence. "I have waited for you. I have longed for you. And now that I am here, I shall devote myself to you for eternity."

You stared at him, feeling a strange mix of amusement and concern. You had heard rumors about these so-called "Lucky Eggs" but you never expected something like receiving a man from such egg.

"Uh... okay" you said, rubbing the back of your neck. "Why don’t we... start with breakfast?"

Argenti's expression brightened instantly, as if you had just granted him the greatest gift in the world. "To be nourished by your hands?" he mused, following you eagerly. "Truly, I am the most blessed of men."

At least he's polite.

In the kitchen, Argenti hovered behind you, watching your every move with rapt attention. You grabbed some eggs, bread, and a few simple ingredients, planning to make something easy.

"You are skilled in the art of cooking as well" he praised, his tone filled with admiration. "Of course you would be. There is nothing you do that is not touched by divinity."

You nearly dropped the pan. "It’s just breakfast."

"And yet, I am certain it will be the most exquisite meal I have ever tasted." His gaze softened as he watched you crack an egg into the pan. "You move with such grace… every action you take is mesmerizing."

Was he serious? It was as if he found even the way you scrambled eggs to be a masterpiece.

Once the food was ready, you set the plate in front of him, watching with mild curiosity as he took his first bite. The moment the flavors touched his tongue, his eyes widened in pure bliss.

"This—!" He swallowed, pressing a hand to his chest as if overwhelmed. "This is magnificent! A humble dish, yet crafted with such care—it surpasses the finest delicacies I could have imagined!" His gaze found yours once more, filled with endless adoration. "Everything you create is perfect."

So he’s the type to get emotional over food. At least he wasn’t complaining.

"You’re being dramatic" you muttered, taking a bite of your own food.

"I speak only the truth" he insisted. "You nourish both my body and my soul."

You felt warmth creeping up your face at the way he said that, but you quickly shook it off. "Alright, alright, just eat."

He obeyed, but with every bite, he continued murmuring praises—about the seasoning, the texture, the fact that you made it. It was almost exhausting, but at the same time… it was nice. He was enthusiastic, if nothing else.

As you finished eating, you leaned back in your chair, watching as he savored the last bite. He looked completely satisfied, his expression peaceful yet utterly devoted.

"If every day is to be like this" he said, voice softer now, "then I know I was born into paradise."

You decided the next step was to get Argenti registered. In this world, adventurers needed proper documentation before they could enter dungeons, farm for points, and trade for necessities. It was a simple process—just a bit of paperwork and an entrance test to gauge one’s abilities.

Argenti followed you eagerly, his eyes full of wonder as he took in the bustling city streets. Every now and then, he would stop to admire something—a flower stand, a well-crafted statue, even the way the wind rustled the leaves in the trees. You had to tug his sleeve a few times to keep him moving.

"You find joy in the smallest things" you remarked.

He turned to you, smiling as if you had said something profound. "Everything in this world is precious because it is your world."

There he goes again.

At the registration center, the process went smoothly. You filled out the basic forms for him—name, origin (which you had to vaguely put as "new arrival"), and intended role. He was assigned an evaluation test, a simple combat challenge to determine his ranking.

The moment Argenti stepped into the testing area, however, it became clear this wouldn’t be just a "simple" evaluation.

The instructors presented him with a standard practice weapon, but Argenti scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "I require a spear" he declared. "Only then will I truly demonstrate my strength."

They hesitated but eventually fetched him a training spear. The moment he took it in his grasp, his entire demeanor shifted.

The test began.

With a single, fluid movement, Argenti lunged at the target dummies. His strikes were elegant yet devastating. When they brought out higher-ranked opponents for a sparring match, he dismantled them effortlessly, countering every move.

The spectators were left speechless.

Of course, he’s overpowered.

The evaluation ended quickly. The instructors whispered among themselves before assigning him an exceptionally high ranking—far beyond what a newcomer should have.

That was when the real problem began.

Word spread fast, and soon, people started gathering—particularly the ladies.

Adventurers, merchants who had been passing by took notice of Argenti’s display. Whispers of admiration filled the air.

"Who is he?"

"He's so strong!"

"And handsome too! Look at that hair! That armor!"

Argenti, however, remained utterly oblivious to their attention.

When one particularly bold woman approached, twirling a strand of her hair flirtatiously, Argenti’s expression barely changed. She smiled sweetly, placing a delicate hand on his arm.

"You must be new here" she cooed. "If you ever need someone to show you around, I'd be delighted—"

Argenti immediately took a step back, his face unreadable. Then, with utter finality, he turned away from her and walked straight to you.

He knelt before you, grasping your hand in both of his. "My guiding star," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I have completed my trial. Now, let us leave this place."

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. People exchanged glances, some giggling, others looking envious.

You sighed, feeling their eyes on you. "You didn’t have to be that dramatic."

Argenti tilted his head, genuinely confused. "But it is simply the truth."

You decided not to argue. Instead, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. "Come on, let’s go buy you some supplies before the dungeon."

As you walked away, you felt several stares boring into your back. You knew exactly what they were thinking.

Just who is this person that Argenti is so devoted to?

And honestly? You weren’t sure you had the answer to that either.

The next morning, you and Argenti prepared for your first dungeon run together. You had already bought him proper armor and a real spear—one worthy of his overwhelming strength. As expected, he treated the weapon with great reverence, running his fingers over the polished shaft with something akin to admiration.

"It is a fine weapon" he mused, then turned his gaze to you, green eyes brimming with warmth. "But no blade nor spear shall ever compare to the honor of fighting by your side."

You sighed. "You’re going to get us killed one day if you keep saying embarrassing things mid-battle."

He chuckled, completely unfazed. "Then I shall die speaking the truth."

At the dungeon entrance, you were approached by another adventuring team. A well-balanced group—two warriors, a healer, and a mage, who seemed competent enough. Their leader, a young man with a confident grin, stepped forward.

"Hey, we saw your ranking from yesterday. You are new but insanely strong. Mind if we join forces? Bigger team means better survival rates, right?"

You exchanged a glance with Argenti. It was true that larger teams had better odds, and since this was Argenti’s first real dungeon run, it might be good to have backup.

"Fine" you said with a nod. "Let’s move quickly. I don’t like wasting time."

Argenti remained silent but stood close beside you. His posture was as composed as ever, but there was a certain stiffness to his frame—something almost... displeased. Still, he said nothing, merely following your lead as the group entered the dungeon.

From the very start, it was clear that you and Argenti were carrying the team. Your coordination was flawless—Argenti’s spear danced through the air, tearing through monsters, while you supported him with buffs. The other team members did their best, but there was no denying it: you and Argenti were on a completely different level.

The others were panting by the time you reached the second floor, but you and Argenti were barely breaking a sweat.

"Are you even human?" one of the warriors groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Argenti tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely considering the question. "I am whatever my guiding star wishes me to be."

You shot him a look. "Stop saying weird things."

The warrior chuckled, assuming it was a joke, but the group's mage—a young woman named Elara—giggled softly and stepped closer to Argenti.

"You’re really impressive" she said, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "Have you trained since childhood?"

Argenti didn’t respond.

The dungeon crawl continued, and Elara kept finding excuses to stick close to him. She walked beside him, struck up conversation, and even went as far as to lightly grasp his arm when pretending to lose balance.

You noticed, of course. But you weren’t particularly bothered. Adventurers naturally gravitated toward the strong, and Argenti was both powerful and strikingly beautiful. It was only natural that someone would take an interest in him.

It doesn’t matter. As long as he stayed focused on the mission, you had no reason to intervene.

Argenti, however, had other thoughts.

Each time Elara got too close, his grip on his spear tightened. Whenever she spoke to him, his responses were curt, dismissive. His movements became slightly sharper, his strikes just a fraction more aggressive, as if trying to release some unseen frustration.

Then, when Elara attempted to press even closer, Argenti abruptly moved away, only to step directly behind you.

"My guiding star," he murmured, his voice a whisper against your ear. "Am I permitted to dispose of nuisances?"

You turned your head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "We don’t kill our allies."

He sighed, as if deeply inconvenienced. "A shame."

Before you could say anything else, Elara suddenly reached out again. "Argenti, I—"

Without even looking at her, Argenti smoothly took your hand and pulled you against his side.

"You seem to misunderstand, lady mage" he said, voice perfectly polite, yet as sharp as the tip of his spear. His grip on you was firm, "I have no need for distractions. My only purpose is to serve them."

Elara stiffened. The rest of her team awkwardly looked away. You could feel the tension radiating from Argenti’s frame, like a storm barely contained beneath his composed facade.

You sighed, squeezing his hand slightly in warning. "Enough. Let’s finish the dungeon."

Argenti didn’t argue. But as you continued forward, his fingers remained curled tightly around yours, as if daring anyone to challenge his claim.

After a long but successful dungeon run, your party finally stepped out into the cool night air. The scent of damp stone and moss lingered, but the fresh breeze was a welcome relief after hours in the depths.

"You two are absolute monsters in battle" the team leader laughed, stretching his arms. "We’ve gotta treat you to a meal! No way we’re letting this victory pass without celebration."

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at Argenti. He was still holding your hand from earlier, his grip unwavering even as you stood outside the dungeon.

You saw no harm in accepting. A free meal after a long day? You weren’t going to turn that down.

"Fine" you said with a shrug. "Just don’t pick a place too expensive."

Elara perked up immediately, clasping her hands together. "Oh! I know a great place! It’s got the best drinks and atmosphere in town!"

Argenti’s grip subtly tightened. You ignored it.

The restaurant was lively, filled with the chatter of adventurers, merchants, and travelers alike. Plates of steaming food covered the table, and the other party members eagerly dug in.

Argenti, however, barely touched his food. He sat beside you, his green eyes never straying too far from your form. He did, however, accept anything you placed on his plate—though you noticed he seemed to enjoy it more when you personally handed him a piece.

"Everything tastes better when it is from your hand" he murmured at one point.

You ignored the way your face heated slightly and focused on eating.

Elara, sitting across from Argenti, had been quiet for a while. Then, at some point during the meal, she subtly waved her fingers beneath the table.

A faint shimmer flickered in the air. A spell.

At first, you didn’t notice. But when Argenti suddenly stiffened beside you, his breathing growing uneven, you turned your head sharply.

"Argenti?"

His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his cup but failed to grasp it properly. His vision was unfocused, his usual sharpness dulled.

"I feel…" he exhaled heavily, his voice quieter than usual. "Weary…"

Elara’s lips curled slightly. "Oh my," she feigned concern. "He must’ve overexerted himself in battle today. Poor thing."

That was not exhaustion from battle.

Elara had done something.

Without hesitation, you reached for Argenti, steadying him as he leaned against you. His head rested against your shoulder, warm but unnaturally heavy.

"Let’s get out of here" you muttered.

Elara blinked. "Wait—so soon? The night’s just started!"

You ignored her, wrapping an arm around Argenti to support him. His entire body felt like dead weight, his breathing shallow but steady. He wasn’t in immediate danger, but whatever spell she had used had clearly taken a toll on him.

You weren’t about to leave him like this.

With some effort, you managed to get him up and out of the restaurant. The others barely reacted, assuming he had just had too much to drink.

Elara, however, was less than pleased.

She had expected him to turn his attention toward her, to weaken his ridiculous obsession with you. Instead, all she had done was exhaust him.

By the time you got him to the inn nearby and into your room, Argenti was barely conscious. His head lolled slightly, but he stubbornly clung to you, refusing to let go even as you tried to ease him onto the bed.

"You are…" he murmured, voice slurred, "the only light I see…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Now get some rest."

You reached to pull his gauntlets off, making him more comfortable. But as you did, his hands suddenly shot up, grasping your wrists.

"You will not leave" he whispered. His grip, even in his weakened state, was firm. "Please stay..."

With a sigh, you sat on the edge of the bed. "Fine. But only until you fall asleep."

As you carefully unfastened Argenti’s armor, the weight of his exhaustion became more evident. His usual strength had been drained away, leaving him in an unfamiliar state of weakness. You worked efficiently, making sure he was comfortable as you finally laid him down on the bed.

But as soon as your hands left him, a strange sensation washed over you. Your body tingled, as if something deep inside you had been activated. A pull, an unseen force, began drawing your energy toward him, flowing into him like a tide shifting toward shore.

The connection from the egg, the unseen bond that tethered you and Argenti together, was responding to his weakened state. Without your permission, your energy surged forward, filling the void left in him.

A soft exhale left Argenti’s lips as the faintest color returned to his cheeks. His breathing steadied, and you could see the tension in his body ease slightly. He was getting better.

But you…

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy.

Your eyelids drooped, exhaustion overtaking you in waves.

The warmth of his body beneath your fingertips felt inviting, and before you could stop yourself, you slumped forward.

A quiet gasp left Argenti when your body pressed against his. Even in his weakened state, his arms instinctively wrapped around you, securing you against his chest.

You were too tired to resist.

The steady rise and fall of his breath lulled you further, and soon, everything faded into a peaceful sleep.

Argenti stirred slightly, his fingers twitching as his awareness slowly returned.

The first thing he registered was warmth.

The second was you.

Lying atop him, nestled against his chest, your body soft and warm in his arms. He could feel your energy intertwined with his, as if your very essence had poured into him to heal him.

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

Even now, you gave yourself to him.

Even unknowingly, your body, your soul—everything—gravitated toward him.

How beautiful.

His lips curled into a small, pleased smile.

Argenti carefully adjusted your position, lifting you with surprising gentleness despite the exhaustion that had once plagued him. You slept soundly, your body still recovering from the energy you had unknowingly given him.

He took a moment to admire you, his eyes tracing the peaceful expression on your face. Soft breaths, warm skin, the faintest scent of you lingering in the air—it was soothing, so intoxicatingly his.

But there was something that still needed to be taken care of.

With one last lingering touch, he pulled the blanket over you and silently left the room.

A few hours later. He returned. Not a single trace of fatigue lingered in his steps. His posture was as composed as ever, his armor pristine, not a single drop of blood marring his silver gauntlets.

He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you stir slightly.

When your eyes fluttered open, you blinked up at him sleepily.

"You’re back?" you murmured, your voice still drowsy.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Of course" he said smoothly. "Did you sleep well?"

You nodded, stretching a little before sitting up. "Yeah. I think I needed that."

He smiled. There was no trace of the earlier spell’s effects on him. He looked as radiant and composed as always. You stretched again and stood up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you both prepared to return home.

The town square was bustling, as always.

But something caught your eye.

A missing poster.

Your steps slowed for a brief moment as you took in the sketch on the parchment.

Elara

She was gone.

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you didn’t dwell on it for long. You never liked her anyway. With a shrug, you kept walking, letting the poster fade into the background of the busy street.

Behind you, Argenti’s expression was unreadable.

But deep down, he was pleased.

You had seen the evidence of his work.

And yet, you chose to ignore it.

You were learning.

Good.

He intertwined his fingers with yours as you continued walking.

This life, the one where he stood by your side, where he belonged to you and you to him, was all he ever wanted.

And as long as you stayed his, he would make sure nothing, and no one, would ever get in the way.

[ruinix]

hi i’m just here to drop in and mention how bad Quinn wants to leave marks on your body. he doesn’t care where or how he just needs to see him on you at all times ya know?

Halloo, love, my lovely moot😚. I’m sorry it took me long. I blame my two braincells. They got distracted. [Also... i totally didnt try to repost this (i did, but it didnt happen...😭 sorry)] Here it is...ummm.... i think i have veered off in a different path. Sorry...🧎🏻‍♀️

CW/TW: 18+ MDNI, Smut or smut(ish), Sloppy kisses and Marking, Slightest bit of choking, Quinn being a love sick fool 🙂‍↔️

Count: 1448 words | Masterlist

One. Two. Three. Hmmm, that’s not right. Quinn swears he left you four marks on your neck…Why the fuck are you bundled up after all the hard work he did?

He could feel his irritation bubble up his throat, but he swallows it down—crossing his arms, eyebrows drawn—as he tracks your movement across the apartment. You’re doing miscellaneous cleaning, dusting here and there, dancing along with whatever music blasting in your headphones.

You look cute, really. Pretty and cozy in your matching sweatpants and your crewneck sweater. The colors are soft and makes your skin glow. The fit is oversized. You demanded that size when you got him to buy it—he bought five sets for you, because you rarely request something. You are even wearing your comfy and grippy socks. Adorable, really. Really—Fuck. What the fuck? Are you covering him—his marks—up? Didn’t you say you love them last night?

Before he could spiral, you finally notice him. Whatever complaints he has disintegrated to nothing. Your smile with the twinkle in your eyes takes his breath away. When you squeal and run towards him, his arms instantly drop, spreading to give in your hug. You smell like fresh laundry. Home. You smell like home. His home.

Quinn melts into your touch, head dipping where your neck and shoulders meet. His eyes dart from one mark after the other. Where is the other one?

 “Quinn, you’re home! How’s your day? How’s practice?” you ramble on, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“All good. I had fun,” he murmurs, slightly parting from you. “How’s yours?”

You happily recount your day—cleaning, work, watching a show, taking a good and satisfying bath. Quinn guesses that this day is for a nonlinear storytelling, which he has no complaints about. He could get lost in your voice, that’s like the soft patters of rain, like the soft breeze in summer, like the rustle of leaves, like soft chirps of birds. Your voice is like every calming tune of nature. Soothing. Nurturing. That’s what you do to his soul.

Mix that with how firmly your arms are wrapped around his torso, hands slipping into his shirt. They smoothen over his muscles, tracing his spine, causing shivers to run down his fucking soul. Oh, the effect you have on him, but that doesn’t appease him as it usually does. Not one bit—fine, maybe just slightly—because where the fuck is it?

While you talk about a grocery list, Quinn carefully rubs your arms and your shoulders. When he thumbs the column of your neck, you instantly pause, shuddering, breaths picking up. You look at him with wide eyes. The blush staining your cheeks deepens. Cute.

Quinn slips his thumb into your collar and tugs. He almost gets distracted with the goosebumps on your skin. Almost. Because there it is. The fourth mark. It’s just hiding under the edge. Still red and purple, the same shade as the other three. Still so beautiful on your skin. So fucking beautiful.

“Quinn?” you call, confusion etched in your face. “Did I lose you?”

Lose him? Never. You will never lose him. You’re stuck with him. He will chase you no matter where you go, stand beside you, hold your hands every step of the way.

You know that, but you’re still pouting. As second ticks, your confusion turns into annoyance. Your eyebrows furrow. You’re such a brat sometimes. It makes him want to kiss you, so he does. Your arms hook over his nape. The way your lips instantly part sends blood rushing down his groin. You’re always so eager, parting your thighs for his leg to step between.

“You ignored me,” you murmur, nipping at his lip. “You can’t ignore me.”

Fuck. That feels good.

“Not ignoring you. I heard everything you said,” Quinn whispers back in between kisses. “You know that, brat.”

He feels your smile, hears your giggle. He’s so fucked. Even that turns him on. With how your eyes shine, you know you had him in a chokehold. Well, he can have you in a chokehold too. Literally. So, he gives your neck a squeeze. A small whimper comes out your lips.

“Quinn.”

Your name spills out from his lips as a response.

You moan like he’s already fucking you, grinding your clothed cunt over his thigh. He pushes it up, letting you take all the friction you want.

When he goes for another kiss, your lips are already parted, tongue out, waiting for his. You beautiful siren. Quinn can’t hold in his growl as he meets it.

The kiss is sloppy, messy, and hungry. Your spits mixing. Your tongues lashing. Your teeth bumping and nipping each other’s lips. So different from the first one just a while ago. So different, yet utterly the same—full of love, lust, and devotion. So fucking good.

Quinn grinds his hard-on against you, raising his thigh to help you chase your high, but he stops. Not yet. You can’t come just yet. Your whines fill his ears as he parts from you. Tears threaten to spill as you try, try, and fucking try to get him to kiss you again. To get him to let you ride his thigh again. To get him to fuck himself on you.

You have to wait.

“Maybe,” he mutters against your lips, almost laughing when your tongue darts out to gaud him for another kiss. Little seductress. Quinn impatiently tugs on your sweatshirt. “Maybe you should get rid of this, yeah?”

He nearly preens when you nod—desperately and utterly wrecked. His hands shake as he helps you pull it off.

Fuck. You’re just wearing an almost-sheer crop top underneath. Your nipples are already taut, begging for him to touch, to kiss, to suck. Your low neckline showcases your beautiful skin littered with different shades of kiss marks. Some are old. Some are new. All his.

Yet. Not. Enough.

Not when there are still lots of blank spaces of skin to mark. Not when many of them are already fading. Not when you can still hide them. He doubts it will ever be enough. He just needs him on you.

His kiss marks.

Different from cum and spit which you—or he, depending on your mood—wash away.

Different from the occasional fingerprint bruises he leaves on your hips and thighs from holding you so tightly as he fucked you until you couldn’t stop cumming, until he’s left with watery cum or with nothing because your sweet pussy already sucked him dry.

Different because it shows the whole world how he worshipped you, your skin, your being.

Different but they always come one after another. He can’t have you all marked up with your pussy unsatisfied, can he? No. That’s not possible. An offence that he would rather die than commit.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes, grazing his knuckles over your ribs. His other hand tenderly holds our hips, keeping them pressed against his, not letting you do anything else. “So pretty.”

He nearly chokes on those words. He relishes the feel of your hands on his shoulders, fingers casually tugging the tips of his hair—a demand for him to stop fucking around.

Well, can you blame him for taking his time? He just loves you so much.

Then, your little tugs turn more desperate, fingers wrapping around his locks. You tug on his hair like you want to rip it off, but you would ease and scratch his scalp effectively seducing him.

But first, he needs to remedy his problem. He grips your arms, holding them against the wall, as he partakes on your skin. The way you surrender—when he starts sucking and adding marks on your neck, even craning it to give him more access—almost made him fall to his knees. Oh, he is essentially on his knees, because you are his love, his law, his Goddess. He is always kneeling for you. His existence is nothing without you now. He can only beg that you always be with him—of course, he will ensure that.

But he can’t be on his knees right now. How can he reach your neck then? How can he hold you up when you are melting with every suck and lick and kiss then?

Later, he can be on his knees. Later, when he needs to mark up your belly, your hips, your thighs, the creases between them that leads to your pussy, and your beautiful fucking ass. Later.

Right now, he needs to mark up your neck to show everyone—honestly, just him, fuck everyone else—that you are his and his alone.

[glorifiedagents]

Paid to be Ruined — agatha harkness

"YOU LISTENED." Agatha’s voice was velvet and steel, laced with amusement and unmistakable hunger. Her gaze dragged over you — slow, knowing, lingering on the bare skin of your thighs peeking from beneath your coat. She took a step closer, fingers brushing the belt at your waist, her smirk deepening as she tugged — just enough to loosen it. "Good girl."

SUMMARY: agatha hires you for the night again - and you know for a fact that she's gonna ruin you PAIRING: g!p agatha harkness & escort!fem!reader CAUTION: swallowing cum, creampie, deepthroat, size kink, stomach bulge, spit, dom!sub!dynamics, overstimulation, escort!reader, g!p agatha, degradation and slight aftercare from agatha WORD COUNT: 5.1K AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read, let me know if i made mistakes! currently going through my agatha phase - literally need fucking help

You weren’t new to this.

The job, the money, the whole give them what they want, take what you need, and walk away thing. You had it down to a science. You knew how to read people, how to figure out exactly what they were looking for and play the part they wanted. It was easy. Simple. No emotions, no attachments, no mess.

But then there was her.

Agatha Harkness had been different from the start. The first time she hired you, you had expected the usual, maybe a drink, some small talk, a client who wanted to pretend there was more to this than just an exchange. But Agatha? She didn’t do small talk. She didn’t waste time.

She had taken one look at you, studied you with those dark, unreadable eyes, and smirked like she already knew exactly how the night would go. Like she had already decided how far she was going to push you. And the worst part?

She was right.

That night, she had left you wrecked. Not just satisfied — ruined.

You had walked away with sore thighs, a raw throat, and a pay-check big enough to make your head spin. You should have left it at that. Should have chalked it up to just one really good night with a really dangerous woman.

But then she called again. No discussion. No questions. Just a time, a room number, and the unspoken expectation that you would show up.

And against your better judgment, you did.

Only this time, you weren’t just going to show up. This time, you wanted to see just how much further she could break you.

You remembered something she had said the first time around, almost offhand but still deliberate in that way she did everything.

"Red suits you."

So you wore red.

Your best set — delicate lace, thin straps, garters and thigh-high stockings that made you feel like sin itself. And as the elevator carried you up to the top floor, heart pounding, pulse racing, you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t just getting paid tonight.

You were getting owned.

The black car idled outside the grand hotel, its sleek design gleaming beneath the golden glow of the streetlights. You sat in the back seat, smoothing your hands over your thighs, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. The fabric of your long coat was soft, but it did nothing to still the pounding of your heart.

The driver hadn’t spoken much since picking you up from your apartment — just a clipped greeting and a quiet confirmation of the address before pulling away from the curb. You were grateful. Any attempt at conversation would have been wasted on you. Your mind was too preoccupied, too restless, too consumed by what awaited you on the top floor of this building.

Your breath hitched as you stepped out of the car, heels clicking softly against the pavement. The grand entrance of the hotel loomed ahead, its revolving doors ushering guests in and out with quiet efficiency. The warm air inside wrapped around you as you stepped through, a stark contrast to the crisp night air outside.

The lobby was a sight of wealth — high ceilings, polished marble floors, chandeliers dripping with crystal. The hum of quiet conversation surrounded you, but none of it registered. You walked with purpose, straight to the bank of elevators tucked near the back of the lobby.

Agatha’s message had been simple. A room number. A time. Nothing else.

Your fingers toyed with the belt of your coat as you waited for the elevator, a mix of nerves and anticipation coiling low in your stomach. You had dressed for her. The finest red lace and silk clung to your curves beneath your coat, the bra delicate yet daring, framing your breasts perfectly. The matching panties sat low on your hips, sheer enough to leave little to the imagination. Garters held up sheer thigh-high stockings, adding an extra layer of tease.

She would appreciate the effort. And then she would ruin it.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. The space was empty save for you, the only sound the soft hum of the elevator rising.

Your pulse quickened. You could already imagine the way she would look at you. The weight of her gaze, dark and knowing, as she took in every inch of you. The way she liked to test your limits, the way she devoured, possessed. She was dangerous in the most intoxicating way, and you had walked straight into her grasp.

Another chime. The doors opened.

The hallway was quiet, lined with plush carpeting that softened the sound of your steps. Each step forward sent another jolt of anticipation through you, every breath felt heavier. The door number burned in your mind.

And then, you were there.

Before you could knock, the door swung open.

Agatha stood in the doorway, bathed in the soft glow of the suite’s lighting. Her dark button-up was partially undone, sleeves rolled up to her forearms, revealing toned, elegant wrists. She looked effortless, but you knew better. Everything about her was intentional.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Agatha wasted no time. She had you pinned before you could take another breath, her strong hands pressing you back against the door, her body a solid wall of heat against yours. Her mouth crashed onto yours—hungry, claiming, her teeth scraping against your lower lip before she bit down just hard enough to make you gasp. She swallowed the sound with a satisfied hum, her tongue slipping past your lips as she deepened the kiss, rough yet tantalizingly slow, like she had all the time in the world to ruin you.

Her fingers trailed from your wrists, still trapped against the wood, down the length of your arms, her touch featherlight—teasing. By the time she reached your shoulders, she slid her fingers beneath the delicate straps of your red lace bra, pulling them down achingly slow, her mouth never leaving yours until she finally ripped herself away.

"Look at you," she murmured, stepping back just enough to take in the sight of you, her dark eyes raking over your body like she was devouring you whole. "Dressed up like a good little whore, just for me."

Heat flared through your body at the way she said it, dripping with amusement but edged with something dangerous, something that made your pulse stutter in your throat.

You barely had a second to react before she was on you again—her mouth hot against the curve of your jaw, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Her hands were everywhere at once—sliding down your arms, gripping your hips, owning every inch of you as she backed you up toward the bed. You whimpered when she took one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking hard, her tongue circling the sensitive peak before her teeth grazed it just enough to make you jerk in her grasp.

"Mm, so fucking sensitive," she mused against your skin before switching to the other, her free hand rolling the abandoned nipple between her fingers. Your hips bucked reflexively against her, needing more, desperate for friction.

And fuck, you felt it. The thick, hard length of her cock pressing against your stomach through her slacks, the outline making your mouth water as you squirmed beneath her.

"Pathetic," Agatha laughed, the sound low and mocking, her fingers trailing down your stomach, stopping just at the waistband of your panties. She could feel how wet they were, her smirk widening as she pressed her fingers against the soaked lace, applying just enough pressure to make you moan. "This soaked already? And I haven't even touched you properly. Such a desperate little thing."

"Agatha, please—"

A sharp slap to your thigh cut you off, the sting making you whimper as your skin burned beneath her palm.

"Did I say you could fucking beg?" she growled, her tone dark, commanding. "You're so needy it’s pathetic. You don’t deserve my cock yet."

You let out a choked sound of frustration, your body aching for more, but she just smirked, dragging her fingers up the inside of your thigh, making you tremble.

Then, without warning, she dropped to her knees.

You gasped at the sudden shift, your breath hitching as she pressed a kiss to your hip, her mouth lingering over the thin straps of your panties. She breathed you in, her nose nudging against the damp lace before she let out a low, satisfied hum.

"Fucking filthy," she murmured, dragging her tongue over the wet fabric, slow and deliberate, tasting you through it. The friction was exquisite—a teasing, maddening pressure that made your thighs shake. She licked a second time, the heat of her mouth soaking through, her fingers digging into your hips as she held you still.

You whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets behind you as your hips jerked up, chasing her mouth. But she pulled away just enough to deny you.

"Patience," she scolded, voice thick with amusement, before reaching up and undoing the garter straps excruciatingly slow, watching your face the entire time.

And then—fuck.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband and pulled your panties down, dragging them down your legs inch by inch, her lips brushing along your thighs as she went. And then, instead of tossing them aside—

She brought them to her mouth.

Your breath caught as she slid the drenched fabric between her teeth, her dark eyes locked onto yours as she pulled them taut, letting them drag over her tongue. She moaned like she was savoring the taste, her smirk never fading as she finally removed them—only to shove them into your mouth.

"Since you can't seem to stop moaning like a desperate slut," she taunted, her fingers trailing down your exposed cunt. "Now you can keep quiet."

You whimpered against the soaked lace in your mouth as she finally pressed two fingers between your folds, spreading you open. She groaned at how wet you were, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing in slow, devastating circles.

"Fuck, look at this mess," she muttered, her fingers teasing your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling away. "So fucking needy for me. Do you even have a single ounce of dignity left?"

You tried to respond, but your voice was muffled by the panties in your mouth.

Agatha laughed. "That’s what I thought."

And then, without warning, she thrust two fingers inside of you.

Your entire body arched off the bed, a muffled scream escaping past the gag as she filled you all at once, stretching you open with zero hesitation. She set a relentless pace immediately, her fingers driving into you with obscene, wet sounds that only seemed to fuel her amusement.

"Listen to you," she groaned, her free hand palming her cock through her slacks. "Taking my fingers so fucking well. You were made to be used like this."

Her thumb pressed against your clit, circling in time with the thrusts, sending sharp jolts of pleasure racing through your core. The pressure was unbearable, the pleasure so intense that your legs started shaking.

"You're gonna come already, aren’t you?" she mocked, watching you struggle. "Go on. Make a mess."

And then—fuck, fuck, fuck.

She angled her fingers just right, curling them against that perfect spot inside of you while pressing harder against your clit. Your entire body locked up before pleasure exploded through you, a sharp, overwhelming rush that had you squirting all over her fingers, your release dripping down your thighs as you writhed beneath her.

Agatha groaned as she watched you come undone, fucking you through it, her pace unrelenting as she worked you through every wave. "That's it. So fucking messy for me."

When she finally pulled her fingers out, they were dripping. She brought them to her lips, eyes locked onto yours as she sucked them clean, humming at the taste.

Then she stood, undoing her slacks, letting them pool at her feet.

Your breath caught at the sight of her thick, hard cock springing free, the tip glistening. You reached for it immediately, but she caught your wrist, pinning it back against the mattress with a warning glare.

"You don’t get to touch until I say so," she growled, leaning over you, pressing the heavy length against your overstimulated clit, making you whimper. "And you will take every fucking inch."

And fuck, you knew she meant it.

Every single word.

Agatha’s cock drags against your slick folds, teasing, the head catching on your clit with every slow, deliberate stroke. The obscene, wet sounds fill the room, mixing with your breathy whimpers and the low, guttural hum of amusement from her lips. She’s playing with you, watching the way you tremble beneath her, the way your thighs try to clamp together, only to be forced apart by her strong grip.

"Spit." The command is sharp, leaving no room for hesitation.

Your lips part instantly, tongue pushing forward as a warm strand of saliva drips onto her waiting fingers. She smears it over her cock, mixing it with the slick beads of pre-cum already glistening at the tip. A slow, shuddering breath leaves her as she fists herself, pumping with languid strokes, eyes heavy-lidded as she watches you. A few stray drops spill onto your stomach, smearing across your skin, and marking you.

She lines herself up again, pressing the swollen tip against your entrance but not pushing in. Instead, she leans in close, mouth ghosting over yours, her breath hot and teasing.

"You want it?" she murmurs, smirking as she rubs herself against you, teasing, taunting. "Say it. Beg for it."

"Please," you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets. "Please, Agatha, I need—"

The words cut off in a sharp cry as she thrusts into you in one smooth motion, burying herself to the hilt. The stretch is instant, overwhelming — your walls clenching desperately around her thick cock as she fills you completely.

But she doesn’t give you time to adjust.

She sets a ruthless pace from the start, each powerful thrust driving deep, punching the air from your lungs as she claims you. The slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, the mattress creaking beneath the force of her movements. Your back arches, head falling back against the pillows as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you.

"Feel that?" she growls, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand down to your stomach. She presses your palm flat against your lower abdomen, right where she’s buried so deep inside you. "Feel me stretching you out? Fucking you open?"

The sensation is dizzying — you can feel the thick, hard outline of her cock through your own skin, feel the way she moves inside you, relentless and unyielding. Your body is burning, electric, the pressure coiling tight in your core with every brutal thrust.

"You’re squeezing me so fucking tight," Agatha groans, her fingers bruising against your hips as she fucks into you harder, deeper. "Like your body's desperate to milk me dry."

The words send a violent shudder through you, the pleasure teetering on the edge of something devastating.

"That’s it," she pants, her grip tightening as she slams into you harder. "Come for me, you filthy little thing — fucking soak me."

It’s too much. The overwhelming fullness, the sharp slap of her hips against yours, the way her cock presses against that perfect spot inside you — it sends you spiralling. Your body seizes, the orgasm ripping through you like a lightning strike, white-hot and all-consuming.

Fuck.

A strangled cry breaks from your lips as the pleasure turns into something explosive — your walls clenching down in rhythmic, desperate spasms, forcing liquid heat to gush from you, soaking Agatha’s cock, your thighs, and the sheets beneath you. The release is violent, messy, your body shuddering uncontrollably as the pleasure crashes over you in waves, each one dragging you under deeper.

Agatha curses under her breath, watching as you fall apart, watching the way you soak her cock, your slick dripping down onto her thighs. Her movements grow erratic, her breath ragged as she slams into you one final time, burying herself to the hilt as her own pleasure overtakes her.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from her chest as she comes, filling you with heat. You can feel it — the thick warmth spilling deep inside, coating your insides. As if it was seeping into every inch of you. She doesn’t pull out, just grinds against you, making sure every drop stays buried within you.

Your body is still trembling, aftershocks pulsing through your core, your skin flushed and feverish. Agatha finally collapses against you, her cock still inside, pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, her breath still ragged as she murmurs against your ear:

"Mine."

Agatha pulls out slowly, deliberately, watching with dark, predatory eyes as your walls clench around nothing, your body still trembling from the force of your release. A satisfied smirk curls at the corner of her lips as she watches the thick spill of her cum start to leak out of you, glistening as it drips onto your thighs.

"Messy little thing," she muses, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. Her fingers trail down your stomach, teasing over the sensitive, overstimulated skin before she presses two fingers against your entrance, spreading you open just enough to watch more of her cum seep out.

"Don’t waste it," she commands, and when you hesitate, she grabs your wrist, guiding your hand down. "Use your fingers. Push it back in."

Your breath stutters, but you do as you're told, your own fingers gathering the warmth of her release, feeling it slick and sticky against your skin before pressing it back inside, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. The act is filthy and it makes you burn with humiliation and arousal all at once.

Agatha hums approvingly, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip, her smirk widening. "That’s a good girl."

But she isn’t done with you.

"On your knees."

Your body obeys before your mind fully catches up, slipping off the bed and sinking onto the floor. The shift makes more of her spend trickle down your thighs, and Agatha notices; her gaze flicking down, her smirk deepening.

"Open your mouth," she orders, tilting your chin up with two fingers.

The second your lips part, she grips the base of her cock and taps the heavy length against your tongue. She’s still hard, impossibly thick, coated in a mix of your slick and her own release. The taste is intoxicating — salty and musky. The scent clings to her skin, warm and heady, something rich and masculine with the faintest hint of sweat.

You could get used to this.

Agatha doesn’t ease you into it. She grips the back of your head and pushes forward, the thick head stretching your lips wide as she sinks deep, pressing against your tongue. The intrusion makes your throat tighten, and she groans at the feeling, her other hand coming to rest heavy on the back of your neck.

"That’s it. Take it," she growls, rolling her hips forward, pushing deeper until your nose nearly brushes the coarse, dark hair at the base of her cock. There’s just enough of it for you to feel against your skin, soft yet undeniably masculine, a reminder of how utterly she’s claiming you.

Your fingers twitch at your sides before you reach up, cupping her balls — heavy, full, sensitive under your touch. You can feel the heat of them against your palm, the weight of them tightening slightly as she thrusts into your mouth.

"Look at you," Agatha sneers, pulling back just enough to let you gasp for air before she thrusts forward again, setting a punishing rhythm. "Nothing but a desperate little cock-sleeve for me, aren’t you? So fucking needy, drooling all over yourself just to have me in your mouth."

Your throat constricts around her, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, saliva pooling and spilling from the corners of your lips. Your body shudders, caught between humiliation and arousal, between submission and the raw pleasure of being used like this.

"Messy, pathetic thing," she continues, her voice sharper now, laced with satisfaction. "You love this, don’t you? Love being on your knees for me, choking on my cock like the filthy little slut you are."

Her words send a fresh pulse of heat between your thighs, and she notices the slight tremor in your body, the way your nails dig into her thighs as if trying to ground yourself.

"You’re getting off on this," she chuckles darkly, shoving deeper, holding you there for a moment as your throat spasms around her. "Of course you are. You’d let me ruin you, wouldn’t you?"

She groans as she pulls back, letting you breathe just for a second before thrusting forward again, deeper, harder, until you’re gasping around her, tears streaking down your cheeks. And still, you don’t pull away. You take it.

Just like she knew you would.

Agatha’s grip tightens at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair as she thrusts deeper, groaning low and guttural as she feels herself teetering on the edge. You can feel the way her cock pulses on your tongue, the way her breath stutters, her rhythm faltering just slightly as she chases that final burst of pleasure.

"Fuck—" she growls, her hips snapping forward one last time, holding you down as her release spills down your throat. The taste is thick, warm, — salty and rich, coating your tongue in waves. She doesn’t let you pull away, making sure you take as much as you can, but it’s too much — some of it dribbles from the corners of your lips, spilling down your chin in hot, sticky trails.

She watches with dark, satisfied eyes as you gasp for breath when she finally pulls back, her cock glistening with spit and the remnants of her orgasm.

"Messy little thing," she murmurs again, thumb swiping at the cum dripping from your chin before pressing it against your lips. "Swallow every last drop."

Your throat bobs as you obey, the act making her smirk in satisfaction.

Then, without warning, she grabs you and pulls you up onto shaky legs, her lips crashing onto yours in a bruising kiss. The taste of her own release lingers between you, and she doesn’t shy away from it —if anything, she deepens the kiss, claiming your mouth with a dominance that makes your knees weak.

She moves you easily, pushing you back onto the bed, her body covering yours, heavy with heat and lingering hunger. Her cock, still hard, presses against your stomach, smearing the last of her release against your skin. You’re panting, dazed, body still trembling from the relentless pleasure she’s wrung from you, but when she starts to pull away, you catch her wrist, eyes glassy with need.

"I wanna ride you," you gasp, the words tumbling out breathlessly, your body aching but desperate for more.

Agatha chuckles, low and smug, dragging her fingers down your chest, teasing over your already-sensitive skin. "You think you can handle that?" she taunts, tracing slow circles over your overstimulated clit, making your thighs twitch. "You’re still shaking, baby. After everything I’ve done to you, you really think you can take control?"

The challenge sends another shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as you push up onto shaky arms. "Let me try," you whisper, lips brushing against hers, your voice filled with determination despite the exhaustion in your limbs.

Agatha leans back against the pillows, her body stretched out beneath you, radiating heat and authority even in repose. Her cock, still thick and glistening with a mix of your slick and her own release, stands hard between her legs, a silent challenge. The way she watches you; head tilted, lips curled in a knowing smirk; makes your pulse spike, a flush crawling up your chest.

"Go on then," she murmurs, voice laced with amusement, fingers idly trailing up her stomach. "Show me what you can do, baby."

Your thighs tremble as you shift forward, crawling into position, your body still aching from the relentless way she’s used you but the hunger still simmers beneath the exhaustion, pulsing low in your belly. You want this. Need this. Need to take her in deep, to feel every inch stretch you open again.

You straddle her lap, your hands braced against her stomach, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath your palms as you hover just above her length. The heat of her cock brushes against your swollen folds, sending a fresh shudder through you. She feels like fire against your skin. Thick and rigid, pulsing with need, the tip teasing against your entrance as you roll your hips ever so slightly, coating her in your arousal.

Agatha hums in approval, her hands gliding up your thighs, slow and possessive. "Look at you," she murmurs, her thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin where your legs meet your hips. "So desperate to have me inside you again. Can’t get enough, can you?"

You bite your lip, but she catches your chin between her fingers, forcing your gaze to meet hers. "Say it."

Your breath stutters, your body burning from the inside out as you whisper, "I can’t get enough of you."

Her smirk deepens. "Good girl."

She releases you just as you sink down, your breath catching in your throat as the thick head of her cock pushes past your entrance, stretching you inch by inch. The burn is instant—blissful, overwhelming, your walls struggling to take her all at once.

Agatha groans beneath you, her fingers digging into your thighs. "Fuck, you’re tight," she rasps, watching with hooded eyes as you slowly lower yourself onto her, taking her deeper, letting the length of her disappear inside you.

Your head falls back as you bottom out, her cock nestled impossibly deep, pressing against every nerve inside you. The sensation is devastating, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure, and you tremble above her, nails scraping against her abdomen as you struggle to catch your breath.

"Feel that?" Agatha murmurs, her voice smug as she presses a hand against your lower stomach, right where she’s buried to the hilt. "So deep I can feel myself inside you again. Fuck baby."

You whimper, rolling your hips experimentally, the movement sending sharp waves of pleasure through you. The drag of her cock against your walls is slow and torturous, every inch brushing against that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

Agatha watches you struggle to find a rhythm, her grip tightening. "Come on, baby," she taunts, giving your thigh a sharp slap that makes you jolt. "You wanted to ride me. Show me how much you need it."

A determined fire flares in your chest, and you plant your hands against her shoulders, lifting yourself just enough before sinking back down, harder this time. The impact sends a delicious jolt through you, pleasure sparking at the base of your spine.

Agatha groans, her hands sliding up to your chest, palms covering your breasts, squeezing as she rolls your sensitive nipples between her fingers. The sensation makes you gasp, the mix of pleasure and pain sending a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

"That’s it," she murmurs, her grip firm but teasing, playing with your body as she lets you work yourself on her cock. "Such pretty tits, bouncing every time you take me. Keep going, baby. Make yourself cum on me."

The words send a rush of heat through you, your movements growing desperate, erratic, your nails digging into her skin as you chase the high she’s leading you toward. The pleasure coils deep in your belly, unbearably tight, and when Agatha tweaks your nipple just right, rolling it between her fingers, it snaps.

A strangled cry rips from your throat as your climax crashes over you, your entire body shaking as pleasure consumes you. Your walls clench down around her, pulsing, milking her cock with every wave of your release.

Agatha groans, her thrusts turning erratic as she follows, burying herself deep inside you with one final snap of her hips. The warmth of her release floods your core, thick and hot, filling you completely as her grip tightens around you.

Then, with a smirk, Agatha leans in, nipping at your jaw but this time, her touch is softer. As you collapse onto her chest, spent and trembling, she strokes a hand down your back, her other hand massaging the sore muscles of your thighs.

"You did so well for me," she murmurs, pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder. "My good girl."

You hum, barely able to keep your eyes open as her hands knead away the ache, working out the tension she put into you. The warmth of her touch soothes the lingering sting of overstimulation, and for a moment, you think about letting yourself drift off.

But you don’t. You can’t.

The rules are the rules. Your rules.

With effort, you shift, slipping from her grasp, your limbs still shaky as you slide out of bed. Agatha watches as you stand, stretching despite the soreness in your legs, and move toward where your clothes are strewn across the floor.

"You’re not gonna shower?" she asks, her tone casual but curious as she props herself up on an elbow, watching you with sharp eyes.

You shake your head, pulling your clothes back on with practiced efficiency. "I’ll do it at home."

Agatha doesn’t say anything for a moment, just studies you as you gather your things. Then, without breaking eye contact, she reaches for the bedside table, grabs the check she had prepared, and hands it to you.

"You know…" she starts, voice slower now, something unreadable beneath the surface. "You can stay the night."

The offer lingers in the air between you, heavier than it should be.

But the rules are the rules.

You take the check, meeting her gaze one last time before slipping out the door.

And Agatha watches you go.

[1009files]

Liebestraum No. 3

synopsis Eighteen year old Y/n, the daughter of two accomplished musicians, spends her summers surrounded by aspiring artists in her father’s prestigious program. Among them is Heeseung, a quiet, talented pianist who captivates Y/n with his reserved nature and mysterious charm. Amid the music, family expectations, and unspoken feelings, Y/n must navigate her growing affection for Heeseung and decide what she truly wants for her future—and her heart.

word count 2k+

contains fluff, summer love, rivals to lovers, teenagers in love, eventual smut (in the next chapters), comfort, heeseung x reader, slow burn

author’s note hi guys! this is my first post and first time writing something like this~ english is not my main language so there might be errors! i wish to make this a series with an eventual time skip to make things more interesting <3 i hope you like it^^

chapter 1

Your fingers softly brushed through the black and white tiles, like a ballerina spinning rapidly on her pointy shoes. They danced, at times increasing their speed, hungrier and expectant for the next one, until the running stopped.

Your right hand played a single-note melody, while the left one sustained a long, flowing chord. Your fingers were delicate now, more careful as if you were too scared to touch the piano, or it might break into million pieces.

“Incredible! Truly stunning, my dear!”

You didn’t notice your mother entering the studio with a satisfied look on her face, making you suddenly aware of your surroundings, while turning to look at her.

“Oh my, mom! I told you not to startle me when I practice!”

Your parents loved to brag about you with the rest of your family and friends. You knew you were good, but you were a perfectionist and always aimed for more.

“What can I say, you are indeed your father’s child…besides, dinner is ready and tomorrow is an important day~” she said with a sweet tone, still looking more serious, reminding you of your duties.

You know what was next, you wouldn’t have the room just for yourself. The blinds would finally be shut open, welcoming the light from the sun that would soon illuminate the big wooden piano in the center of the room. The pillows of the sofa and most books from the library would be scattered around and the little glass table in front of it would have pastries and beverages ready for everyone, while your father would begin to explain the summer program to his students.

You were used to this, it wasn’t really a big deal to you.

For almost three years your father had been welcoming his most privileged pupils to hold private lessons for them, preparing them to enter the prestigious conservatory in your city, which your eighteen year old self was expectant to attend.

Most students returned each summer, some aimed to enter the academy but still came for extra practice. This is actually how you met your current best friend, Jungwon.

His cheerful personality made it easy for you to get along with him. He was a bit of a prankster and sooner or later, you two found yourselves running around the tight colored alleys of the countryside, under the hot sun of the summer.

“Y/n wait!”

“Come on, Jungwon! Are you really scared of a little water??” You said, wetting him with a hose you found on a nearby garden.

“What are you saying?? I’m completely soaked! Your mom will kill us if we enter the house like this!”

Your eyes suddenly widened.

Oh my god. The music sheets.

Screw the water, you were supposed to keep them completely safe and now they were most likely wet and-

Jungwon started laughing at your shocked expression. Making his way to his backpack, he quickly took the precious dry and brand-new looking sheets out, holding them in his hand.

“You looking for these?” He smirked with an entertained look in his face.

“Give me those! Oh my God, Jungwon I almost died!”

“You’re such a drama queen!” He laughed, running away from you.

You two were actually pretty similar. Even though he was younger, there was a sparkle of responsibility in his behavior that often made you come to your senses. You could always count on him, that’s why most of the time you confessed your cheesy teenage stories and dreams to each other, whether it was an awkward situation or a romantic interest, like the big crush you had on Lee Heeseung.

Well, you still didn’t know yet.

Your first impression of Heeseung was that he was pretty shy. You were introverted yourself, but he wasn’t much of a talker—for some reason, that made you curious and at times, you would act bratty around him. You knew this wasn’t the best way to approach him, but you felt like that was the only way to get close to him…as if that made any sense.

Like you, he was considered pretty talented: the boy had a perfect pitch and he could play both the piano and the guitar. Despite his age, he was a bit taller than you and you couldn’t help but notice his big brown eyes scanning the studio, before entering each time.

Did he see me staring?—you’d think, quickly gazing away from him when his eyes met yours.

He was magnetic and you couldn’t resist, but you always wondered where your sudden curiosity for him came from.

What’s your deepest meaning for music, Lee Heeseung?

Can I share my secrets with you?

Why don’t you talk to me?

It wasn’t easy for him to break his shell either.

One night, you were all seated around the big table outside the house, a plastic cloth on it and half a watermelon cut into portions for everyone to eat. The air was humid and salty, as if the sea wasn’t so far from the porch. After a nice dinner, your parents left soon to sleep, so you were chatting under the starry night.

“I didn’t think you’d come back this year as well, Hoon. ” Jungwon asked, shuffling some cards between his fingers.

Sunghoon stretched on the chair with his arms behind his head. “Yeah well, my parents think my sister still needs some practice before she’ll get used to the conservatory,” he said, turning to look at you. “So i thought I’d come to say hi again...”

You instinctively blushed and looked down at your hands. There was always some sort of connection between you two. He was the child of two talented musicians, so him and his sister would often spend their summer at the studio.

“My parents always have a plan for everything…” he admitted, for a moment lost in his thoughts. You knew what he meant.

“Sounds like you’ve got your whole life mapped out…does it ever get old?” Jungwon sighed with a knowing look.

Despite your talent, sometimes you wondered if your passion really did come from a deep interest or rather you were supposed to like it, because that is how things went for you.

On the other side of the table, Heeseung was listening to the conversation while taking a bite out of his gelato. With him hanging around this time, those thoughts weren’t so rare. You turned your head to look at him. How was he always so calm about everything? Could he feel any emotion at all?

“Oh, Heeseung!“ Jungwon’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “I saw your recital last year!”

Liebestraum No. 3.

You remember Jungwon telling you about a performance that made him feel shivers all over his body. He was always the empathetic type, but he’s never had this kind of reaction for anything else before. He could almost feel everything around him transforming, Heeseeung’s figure in the middle of a moonlit garden. White lilies shimmering under the sky, the chilly air making them move at a slow pace.

“Seriously, how do you play like this without getting nervous?”

Not knowing how to take the compliment, Heeseung shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but smiled softly with a light flush on his cheeks.

So he wasn’t a robot?

You started to get annoyed at the idea that you never got to see his most vulnerable side. Sure, you could hear him playing in the studio sometimes, but it wasn’t the same thing.

A dry chuckle escaped your mouth.

“You make it sound so easy…” You murmur.

You didn’t want to be rude and knew that your comment was out of place. Immediately you shut your mouth.

“I-“ Your eyes widening.

Everybody’s attention was on you now, which you hated. Heeseung’s expression was once again unreadable.

“I’m going to bed.” You got up out of embarrassment and headed quickly to your room. Jungwon rushing behind you, but you ran faster up the stairs, until his voice calling you was long gone.

The sound of the waves filled up Heeseung’s ears. His pants were rolled up so the water on the shore wouldn’t wet them. Some clouds starting to prepare the sky for the rain. He liked the quiet, but often blamed himself for not stepping up at the right time. It wasn’t just his personality, Heeseung could be bold if he wanted to, he just preferred to observe from time to time.

Suddenly he heard your voice from afar. “Aren’t you coming to practice today? My dad has been looking for you everywhere…”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me?”

“Really? You barely ever spoke to me and that’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”

He took a step closer to you. His feet shifting the hot sand.

Standing in front of him you realized how tall he actually was. Some of his hair strands moved with the light wind and covered bits of his face. You felt your breath quicken as you tried to avoid his gaze.

He held out his hand to you.

“What?”

“Let’s try this again. Give me your hand please.” You freeze. “Uhm..”

“Come on…” He insisted. His eyebrows raising.

You reluctantly reached out, looking at him with squinted eyes, unsure of his intentions. He gently took your hand and kissed the back of it, leaning forward slightly.

You quickly got away from his hold.

“…Wh- What do you think you’re doing??”

His confidence suddenly gone as you noticed his ears getting red.

“I’m sorry. I-…I don’t know how to talk to you.” he admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“You look…so dumb right now. ” you chuckled at his embarrassment, almost laughing.

“I know, I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable last night.” His eyes softening and looking more sincere.

You didn’t think he did. It was more like you acted out of jealousy and you only blamed yourself for that.

You cleared your throat, not wanting to remember what happened. “Uhm…do you want to get away from here? I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind for today.” You lied, but Heeseung seemed chattier than usual so it was worth it. He was surprised at your statement but still nodded slowly. A big smile printed on his face.

It was almost evening and the sun was setting already. Everybody was getting ready for dinner, so you could feel the lights from inside the houses illuminating the streets of the village.

After walking for a while you reached a swing on a nearby park, Heeseung following you with an amused look on his face.

He was now standing in front of you. “What are you, ten?” a mocking tone in his voice.

You rolled your eyes and shot him a look. “You’re so boring…” You stuck out your tongue at him, a grin pulling at your lips. “Come on, push me.”

Heeseung chuckled, taking his hands out of his pockets.

“You’re older than me and yet, here you are, swinging your legs like a little kid…”

Besides his provocative comment, he stood behind you, pushing you from your back. He watched as the chilly wind brushed your hair away from your face, softly tickling his hands each time he touched you. He was as delicate as possible and found himself staring at the way your sundress perfectly hugged your lower waist. The ends of it moving back and forth with the swing and, as you got closer, he could almost taste the sweet strawberry scent of the lollipop you held in your hand.

Heeseung was intoxicated by you, and of course he blamed it all on his feverish teenage hormones. Things were still pretty awkward between you two, but right at that moment he felt bolder than usual. He pushed you again — once, then twice, and then a third time. You began to feel the swing slowing down, coming to a stop with a quiet creak. You glanced back at him, a confused frown tugging at your brows, only to freeze as his hand moved toward you.

Heeseung’s touch was careful at first, but it sent a jolt through you when his finger brushed down your exposed spine. You inhaled sharply, suddenly aware of the way your chest was rising and falling. He moved slowly, deliberately, his fingers tracing the line of your back with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. The cool rain, which had started to drizzle, landed softly on your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat that suddenly bloomed in your chest.

The touch lingered a little too long, his finger pressing gently into the curve of your lower back, making it hard to breathe. Everything around you seemed to blur, the sound of the rain mingling with the racing of your heartbeat. You couldn’t tell whether it was the rain or his touch that had made your skin shiver.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, he withdrew his hand, the sudden absence of his touch making you stand up, as though snapping yourself from a trance.

Turning around you noticed your drenched clothes. Your eyes widened as both of you realized how your parents would have eventually reacted if they saw you entering the house like this.

“We should head back.” You said.

Heeseung nodded at you with a soft smile, amused by your alerted reaction. Feeling the adrenaline rushing through his body, he started running and you followed him. You both were breathless, maybe because of your race, or maybe because of what had happened minutes before.

Reaching your house and not wanting to get caught, you exchanged a look with Jungwon who saw you from the window of the kitchen. His eyes widening. “What the…Get inside quickly!” He opened the porch door and let you in.

“Y/n you’re lucky nobody’s here! Where were you all day?? Go wash up before your mom comes back!”

You quickly ran upstairs, the sound of your wet footsteps echoing through the hallway, your heart still racing from the close call. You had barely made it inside before your mother could catch you drenched, and a wave of relief washed over you. You shut the bathroom door behind you, leaning against it for a moment to catch your breath. Heeseung’s touch, his hesitant smile, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

It had been too much, too fast, but you couldn’t deny the rush it left behind. You splashed your face with cold water, hoping to clear your head. You didn’t understand him yet, not fully. But somehow, you had a feeling you were about to.

to be continued…

[billionairebratenergy]

All Roads Lead to Her

Tony Stark x Reader

Summary: Tony Stark has never been the type to hold back, not in battle, not in business, and certainly not when it comes to you.

───────────────────────────────

“You know, Y/N thinks—”

Steve clenched his jaw. Sam groaned. Natasha actually dropped her head against the table in defeat.

“Tony,” Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like this was giving him a headache. “For the love of science, please—just one conversation.”

“What?” Tony blinked, entirely unfazed as he leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “I was just saying my girlfriend thinks that ranking pizza toppings is the greatest moral dilemma of our time, and frankly, I have to agree.”

Clint made a strangled noise. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“I hear that none of you are acknowledging that olives on pizza is a crime against humanity,” Tony shot back, crossing his arms. “So really, I should be the one disappointed in all of you.”

Steve sighed heavily, setting his fork down against his plate with a little too much force. “Tony, you mention her in every conversation. Every single one.”

Tony raised an unimpressed brow. “So?”

“So?” Sam echoed, exasperated. “Dude, we could be talking about alien invasions, and you’d still find a way to bring her up.”

“She’s very versatile.”

“Tony.”

He grinned, absolutely unrepentant. "What, you guys don’t talk about the love of your life at every opportunity? That’s rough. Couldn’t be me."

Steve muttered something under his breath about how his love of his life was frozen in ice for seventy years, and Tony chose to ignore it. Instead, he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his camera roll.

“Okay, okay,” he said, tapping the screen. “But have I shown you this picture of her?”

Natasha groaned. “Oh my god.”

“This is my personal favorite,” Tony continued like he hadn’t just been issued a direct plea for mercy. “I caught her mid-sneeze, and she still somehow looks adorable. It’s unfair, really.”

Bruce took a long sip of his coffee. “You’re insufferable.”

Tony just grinned, spinning his chair away from them, fully content. If they thought he was bad now, they should see him when you were actually in the room.

You, of course, were completely oblivious to how much of Tony’s world you actually occupied.

When he came home that evening, you were curled up in one of his hoodies on the couch, scrolling through your phone. His breath caught, just for a second, because he was pretty sure there wasn’t a sight in the universe that could top this.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, coming to lean over the back of the couch and press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hey,” you hummed, tilting your head to look up at him. “How was the meeting?”

Tony made a face, moving to sit beside you, immediately tugging you into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual. Cap being self-righteous, Clint being useless, and everyone complaining about my apparent tendency to talk about you too much.”

You snorted. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said airily, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “I just think they should be thanking me for introducing a little romance into their dull, miserable lives.”

You rolled your eyes, but warmth spread through your chest all the same. You’d never met a man quite like Tony—someone so brilliant, so relentless, so undeniably himself. He was impossible not to love, even on the days when he tested your patience.

“Is it really that bad?” you teased, tilting your head back against the cushions.

Tony smirked. “You know, my girlfriend thinks–”

You flicked his chest. “Tony.”

He laughed, catching your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll stop when it stops being true.”

“And when will that be?”

“Never,” he answered, utterly sure of it. “I love you, sweetheart. And I plan on reminding the world of it every single day.”

So maybe the team would suffer, and maybe Tony would keep testing their patience until they reached a breaking point—but you? You were his, and he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

Extended Fluff and Simping:

Tony didn’t just talk about you—he worshipped you.

You were his lock screen. His home screen. His desktop background.

FRIDAY had at least a dozen reminders set up that were all related to you. “Boss, you have a reminder to tell Y/N she’s the most stunning woman to ever walk the earth.”

“Right, right,” Tony nodded, glancing at his watch. “Tell her again in twenty minutes. Just in case.”

There were entire lab prototypes based on things you’d offhandedly mentioned. Once, you’d made a passing comment about how annoying it was when your coffee got cold too quickly. The next day, Tony presented you with a self-heating coffee cup that regulated temperature down to the exact degree.

Your favorite snacks were stocked in the kitchen at all times. Your favorite songs were queued in the car whenever he drove. He even had a backup of your favorite sweatshirt in case anything ever happened to it.

And when you slept, wrapped up in his sheets, tangled in his arms, he always looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Like now.

Tony wasn’t even tired, not really, but he’d followed you to bed anyway, because the thought of being anywhere but next to you didn’t make sense. You were already asleep, curled into his chest, one hand resting over his heart.

For a man who had once thought love was nothing but a chemical reaction, Tony Stark had fallen, hard.

“You know,” he murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I talk about you all the time, but I still don’t think I say it enough.”

Your breathing was soft and even, but he knew you could still hear him. You always did.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The smallest, sleepiest hum escaped your lips as you nestled even closer.

Tony smiled.

Yeah. The whole world could roll their eyes all they wanted. He didn’t care.

You were his world.

And he was never going to stop telling people about it.

[transflame]

I'm finally done . . Always late with them zodiac girls But here it is, 2024, Year of the Dragon~

[edains]

Mass Effect Legendary Edition / Francesca, Hozier: Ashley Williams & Kaidan Alenko for @deannastrois (insp)

Ashley Consistency Project

Ashley's Guardian Armory

Alliance Uniform Consistency

Ashley's Armor

Ashley's Hair

Ashley's LE3 Armors

Ashley's armor texture

Kaidan Alenko Overhaul

Kaidan Alenko's Andromeda Armory

Kaidan's LE3 Armors

Play as Padme Amidala

[01432853]

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TAN JIANCI 檀健次 // 5.OCT 1990

( templates by @dayslily & @vernonline )

[maraschinotopped]

undertale yellow. clutches head in anguish.

[jackhammerhim]

Sad to say that I WAS a crazy ex girlfriend. But being crazy isn't what made me a crazy ex girlfriend. Being a GIRLFRIEND made me a crazy ex girlfriend.

[olberic]

finished my first metal model kit! fun as hell i need to do a million more. also look at himmmm absolute peak megatron design

[tigergendermoved2tigergender]

Remembering the toxic hellscape that was 2015-2019ish SU fandom and just how much hate the show got is really insane when you rewatch the show after it's been a while. Like the show is good what the hell were any of these people talking about

[robo-dino-puppies]

eyyyy look who tried to do some modding in veilguard :D

I love that Rook gets to wear this coat with the feathers but I hated the leather high-collared studded whatever-the-hell shirt thing that was going on underneath. so I tried to swap it with the "civilian" version but keep the feathers :D

the coat and pants clip like hell on my shortass elf, but still! (actually I checked and it clips on the civilians who wear it too... so that's not a me problem lmao)

anyway to elaborate: initially I tried to edit the textures to get rid of the weird shirt thing BUT the chevron stitched pieces are part of the model (BOOOOO) so despite changing their color/texture I couldn't get rid of them entirely. then I saw that swapping armor/character parts was a thing? …that I don't really understand, honestly, but there's a tutorial and I can follow steps. anyway, some civilians in Treviso wear the same coat with this low-cut shirt underneath except no feathers, and I wanted that BUT WITH THE FEATHERS. so. I did it! YAY GO ME!!! not super thrilled with the pants but I like the civilians' boots better too.

here was my initial check to see what it did to npcs that share the outfit:

and checking the color-changed version next to a civilian npc

coat and feather colors achieved! now to do the shirt and pants.

to elaborate more: so in the Rook and Ivenci versions, there are three meshes (? correct term idk?) that combine to make the whole ensemble: feathers, coat, and undershirt-belt-arms-pants-boots. can't just make the undershirt invisible bc there's no torso under there lol and it would also get rid of the arms and legs. in the civilian outfit there are two meshes: coat-and-belt and undershirt-torso-arms-pants-boots.

but like. they're basically the same? so I thought I should just be able to leave the feathers in place and replace the coat and undershirt! which worked! (after uhhhhhh several fails. yes I can follow a tutorial; that doesn't mean I can follow it on the first try because using the frosty editor feels approximately like me walking blindfolded through a convenience store knocking things off shelves. or something. idk what the hell I'm doing lol)

I hate wearing the same outfit as Ivenci tho. seriously considering putting Ivenci in something else and giving the random civilian npcs Ivenci's fit lmao. or just dress the civilians in some other civilian outfit? I wonder if I can do that...

[rebornofstars]

* I know I’m technically a focus on art but I also want to chat as writer—what’s one of your favorite troupes that you rarely write whether it’s because you feel you can’t do it justice or just because you don’t? Me personally I am an AVID fan of mind bending/un-reality fics, but I can never write them to a satisfactory level. They’re so fun to read especially when they’re multi-chapter and you’ve gotta theorize on wtf is going on!!! It’s quirky and fun!!!! No one knows what’s going on and I ADORE that type of confusion. Learning to write is fun but I’m not at that level yet and I’m excited for when I can GGHRAAAHHH!!!!

OH BOY. oh boy. hello there thank you so much for the ask i absolutely love it. this took me a while to respond to because i had to get my thoughts in order 😅 i like a good never-say-never attitude, but there are many many things i write that are not as good as the blurry versions of themselves rotating around the inside of my head! the potential, u know? i can never do the potential justice. somehow i don't think that will ever change.

one thing i definitely struggle with is long-term character development - whether it's romantic, like a slow burn, or platonic or just in terms of narrative structure, whatever. i can't seem to get it happening to my satisfaction. i am so comfortable collecting snapshots of specific points of a character's journey, but when i try to slowly allow them to grow and change, it always feels cheap idk 😬😭 i'm also not so good at writing stories which span a longer period of time and/or have timeskips. it's mostly due to lack of practice with longer stories, and i'm working on improving!

in terms of more specific tropes or genres, though.... mysteries. i can never figure out how heavy or subtle the foreshadowing should be. comedy is also hard, although i've been practicing that one and i think i'm slowly getting the hang of a few different styles that are more humourous. and sometimes i read, like, Feist and Wurts' Empire trilogy, or Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind, and realise all over again i have a looooong way yet to go when it comes to introducing worldbuilding into a story naturally and intuitively. also, this might be silly, because the LU fic i'm most known for is literally about this, but reveals? i'm not so confident i can live up to the hype or satisfactorily fulfill the tension i've built. i hope my cursebreaker readers are not going to be disappointed by the payoff/reveal i have planned 🤞🤞😁

that being said, though, i keep writing all of those tropes and genres anyway, and it's really an honour to have the space and encouragement to be giving it a shot. i'm so grateful that all my recurring readers have put their trust in me and my ability to deliver a good story. throughout my childhood writing has always been a very solitary endeavour for me and i cannot express how much fun i've been having on ao3 over the last year, and tumblr the last few months. i've never had a fandom community like this before 💕 and i like to think that while i'm still growing my skills, i also have the potential inside me for anything, if i give it a good shot and keep at it. i think we all do.

i'm very sorry for all of this word vomit 😁 i guess, to chat as a writer, all i can say is i also LOVE reality bending stories, and they're SO FUN and you're SO RIGHT, and i don't have so much one problem writing as i do a lot of smaller more general ones, because i like to throw myself into my problems head-first, and i believe that you too have a million potentials inside you if you keep at it, and i for one am very, very excited to see where you go. i guess this whole answer was a gesture of enouragement, in the end. 🤩🥰

[death-rebirth-senshi]

I'm stupidly tired from what little I managed to get done today. Kafka was right fuck this stupid baka life

[seithr]

i finished unicorn overlord i have immense haead trauma now