#x eternity awaits x

[almightyelectro]

@trailblczed asked:

hands the ma'am some yumyum [S'MORES]

x x x

'...How strange...' The archon stares, bewildered, at the food that's been handed to her. It was like nothing she had ever seen before-- two graham crackers, chocolate...and then something gooey in between. When she pokes it, it's hot, almost molten.

It almost reminds her of mochi...

Slowly she brings the confection to her lips, taking one small bite-- only for her eyes to light up as the taste of pure sugar hits her tongue.

"This is...delicious. Tell me, what do you call this again?" She turns to the boy who had given it to her in the first place, looking at him expectantly for an answer.

[almightyelectro]

The streets of Inazuma are busy once again. The sight alone causes her heart to swell with pride— her people are happy, healthy and lively as ever. Damage done is still damage, but Ei cannot help but watch as her nation heals with time: a concept she had been so terrified of not so long ago.

She takes her time on her stroll, wishing everyone a good day as she passed by. While she made an effort to walk amongst her people more often, they continued to stay at a distance. …It was something that couldn’t be helped, she understood as much.

Ei stands off to the side away from the crowd after some time. For centuries she remained in solitude in the plains, needing a rest from it all was natural, wasn’t it?

“…Oh?” Had it not been for the fact that she was alone she would have assumed the boy was talking to…anyone else. Hesitantly she raises her hand to wave. “Do not worry, it is not a bother at all. I…believe there is one further into the city.“ From his appearance she could gather he was a tourist, though from where she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps Liyue…? “If you’re lost I could show you the way.”

She couldn’t ignore the eyes that suddenly fell on the pair as they spoke. ‘Strange…is there something special about this boy?’ why they were staring was a mystery to the Archon— little did she know it was strange to see anyone speak so casually to an Archon, never mind calling her ma’am.

@tempered-chill

a foreign stroll

w/ @almightyelectro

[mggslover]

Through thin walls

In which Spencer finds solace in the sounds of his new neighbor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: perv!spence, mutual masturbation Word count: 1,7k A/n: i wanted to write a smut with a more sensual, almost poetic approach?? let me know what you think of it bc i truly don’t know how to feel about it… also tell me if you'd be interested in a part two where they would meet!

Spencer wasn’t one to find much solace in sleep.

Once, it had offered him comfort, a refuge where he could momentarily let go of his worries. But that was before his dreams started to haunt him. He was often praised for his eidetic memory, but what people failed to consider was that it also meant remembering your worst memories in precise, vivid detail. 

Of course Spencer was aware of how crucial sleep was, how sleep deprivation could wear a person down to the point of breaking them. But when sleep was the very thing that tore at him, what good was it? He did try to rest—clinging to the rare moments on the jet, where the hum of the engines and the presence of the team offered a shield against the nightmares that awaited him. But in the stillness of his own bed, the darkness pressed in, suffocating him until sleep became a burden he couldn’t bear.

When Spencer prepared for another attempt at sleep, he braced himself for the familiar routine: tossing and turning in tangled sheets, silently reciting The Parliament of Fowls in a desperate effort to reclaim the peace it once gave him—back when his mother would read it to him as a child. He’d pace to the kitchen for a warm glass of milk, anything to calm his restless mind, only for the alarm to blare the moment his head hit the pillow.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to hear a sound from the other side of the wall.

Soft at first, like it was testing the air—a breath, a hum, something faint but undeniably there. Spencer sat up against the headboard, his face turned toward the shared wall. The walls in his apartment were thin, but he hadn’t heard anything from next door in ages, not since his neighbor had moved out.

He waited patiently, listening, and then—there it was again. A faint gasp followed by a low moan. Spencer’s breath hitched as he made out that the sound came from a woman. He tensed, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions. Was she hurt? His pulse quickened. The moan was deeper this time, echoed by a soft, shaky exhale. 

He pressed his ear closer to the wall, straining to make out the sounds. A faint shuffle of movement reached him next, followed by a distant buzzing. Was someone else with her? His thoughts raced as he waited, not sure whether to jump to action. 

The sounds didn’t stop. In fact, they seemed to intensify, morphing into a rhythmic string of moans, sounding almost…sensual. 

Spencer sat frozen as the realization hit him. His stomach fluttered, a flush creeping up his neck and across his face as he struggled to grasp what was happening. He should turn away, should stop listening, but the sounds—her sounds—kept pulling him in. Her soft whimpers seemed to draw out something deep inside of him, an unfamiliar curiosity. 

Another moan sounded, higher pitched, followed by a low, drawn-out whine that made Spencer flinch. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop the flood of thoughts from rushing in, but it felt like his body was magnetized to the sound. There was nothing but that—the rasp of her breath, the unmistakable signs of pleasure seeping through the thin wall.

The sound of buzzing grew louder, and when a curse left the lips of the women next door, Spencer couldn’t help but let a deep groan escape from his throat. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, heart pounding in his chest. The sounds from the other side of the wall abruptly stopped, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He held his breath, muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, waiting for what might come next. It felt like an eternity before the buzzing started again—this time softer, but still unmistakable. Spencer let out a long, shaky exhale, the weight in his chest lifting slightly.

Spencer was a firm believer of the mind having control over the body. He’s seen enough cases where people’s minds compelled them to commit horrific acts they wouldn’t have otherwise. In Spencer’s case he’d learned to ignore the nudges of his body, quickly pushing his desires aside as a mere biological function he shouldn’t linger on for too long. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, or the desperation for a change of routine—because this time around his body was getting the best of him. 

The tightness in his pants grew simultaneously with the pretty sounds next door. His hand clenched around the fabric of his sheets, but it didn’t stop the tension building inside of him. 

He tried to shift his focus back to something logical. Distracting himself by thinking back on his chemistry thesis on Dipole-Dipole forces, how simple the alignment of the polar molecules sounded, but how complex it actually is—how the bond isn’t as intense as with ions, but something that builds steadily over time, almost imperceptibly at first, until it becomes undeniable. 

As his mind went on thinking about the invisible, magnetic pull between the opposing charges, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities with the situation he was in. She, like a molecule with her own electric field, creating a captivating attraction, slowly drawing him in with every sweet sound that escaped her lips. He could only wonder what would happen the moment they would meet—if their charged particles aligned—how it could release something greater than either of them could anticipate.

He imagined the woman next door. He pictured her as a shadow first—a soft silhouette just beyond his reach, blurred by the apartment wall. But in his thoughts, the edges of her figure sharpened.

He wondered if she was touching herself, if her hands were trailing along her body in the same way he traced her in his mind. He wondered what her skin would feel like under his fingertips. Would it be soft, the kind that invited touch? Or would the gentle curve of her shoulders be warmer, more textured and defined? 

His hand moved without permission, fingers tracing his own jaw, his eyes fluttering close. His fingers brushed against his neck, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch her there, to feel the pulse beneath her skin. 

Another moan slipped through the wall, soft and pleading. Would she react the same way if I touched her? The thought sent a jolt of heat through him. Spencer’s hand twitched as he unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt, his hand gliding over his bare chest. 

Each breath, each noise from her, felt like a thread pulling him closer to the edge, closer to her. His body moved on his own accord. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, and he’s hit with the sensation of warmth and need. 

He wondered if she knew how beautiful she sounded. If she was even aware of how loud she was. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. Maybe she liked how much she affected him with her whimpers and gasps. 

He imagined the way her body would move, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the delicate arch of her back as she gave herself over to the sensation. He could almost feel it—like a phantom touch—her skin against his, the way she would shudder beneath him, lost in the same heat he was drowning in now.

His hand drifted lower, unable to stop. He pictured pressing her body into the sheets, hearing her moan against his ear as he would lean in and hide his face into the crook of her neck. He wondered whether she would surrender herself to the pleasure or try gaining more by wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer. Whether she would like him to take it slow, savoring every touch, or if she would want him to be rough, to make her feel an ecstasy she hasn’t experienced before. 

Another sharp gasp came from the other side of the wall. Spencer stifled a groan as his hand moved more urgently, guided by his growing pleasure. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Fully consumed by the thought of her—so close, yet still so out of reach. 

Spencer wasn’t sure where his sounds began and where hers ended. He was swallowed by the overwhelming sensation, his mind too hazy to make out the border between reality and his imagination. His grip on himself tightened, spurred on by her sounds that seemed to match his own rhythm. 

She had slipped so deeply into his mind that he could feel her, in every breath, in every shiver of his skin. Spencer felt it in his chest, the way his breath quickened, the way the pressure built. She had become more than just the sounds next door, more than a figment of his imagination. She had become a need. And in this moment, he had no choice but to follow where it led.

Her moans became more frequent. Spencer’s body responded instantly. His hand moved faster, drawn by the pulse of her release, feeling the way it thrummed through him as though they were one. 

He could almost see her—her legs writhing, her eyes closed, her lips parted in that delicate, breathless moan. His mind painted the picture so clearly, it felt as though she were right in front of him. 

Her release ignited his, a wave of heat rolled through him, pulling him under. His breath caught, his body shaking as he followed her, their climaxes crashing together—separate, yet so intimately tied.

As his breath slowed, Spencer lay still, his mind buzzing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He could still hear her lingering moans in his mind, like a melody he couldn’t shake. His heartbeat, once frantic and wild, slowed to a steady rhythm. The air in the room felt lighter, less suffocating, the weight of longing finally lifted from his chest. 

The exhaustion that pressed down on him was different from the nights before. It wasn’t the weariness of a restless mind, of memories from the past gnawing at him. It was the deep, almost tender exhaustion that followed from his release. 

Tonight, there were no nightmares waiting at the edge of his consciousness. Just quiet. Just calm. Just her.

PART TWO

[moonchild9350]

Just You and Me

summary: what lurks in the dark is your deepest desire

pairing: ???bangchan x gn!reader

genre: smut

word count:2k

warnings: light bondage, teasing, nipple play, edging, fingering, tears, oral sex (m receiving), spanking, unprotected sex (don’t), creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms, mention of subsapce, blood drinking, choking, temporary asphyxiation.

notes: Chan’s mv that’s it lol sorry in advance for this filthy piece lol

If you enjoyed, comment, reblog, and like :)

Please do not copy, translate, use, repost, modify without my permission. ©️moonchild9350 (2024)

The room is dim, the black candles that litter the corners of the room providing the only light, its flames flickering and casting shadows on the walls. The air is thick, mixed with something promising.

You’re sitting in a chair that’s placed in the center of the room, facing the door that’s closed shut. You can’t move your arms as they’re tied behind your back, the cold cuffs biting into your skin, chafing the flesh. Your legs are tied open, rope binding your ankles to the legs of the chair.

Your eyes are glued to the door, awaiting the man who put you like this, bound tight, chest heaving as you wait in anticipation. He told you he would have his way with you tonight and the thought has had you wet, your panties soaked through as they stick to your skin.

The door cracks open, the man stepping through before he shuts the door again, the click it makes echoing loud in the chamber. Your breath hitches as he walks to you, his eyes on you as if you are his prey. He’s shirtless, his chest bare, his muscles toned, accentuated by the blush of his nipples, hardened in the cold air. His pants lay low on his hips revealing the band of his boxers that promise so much more for what’s beneath them.

It seems like it’s an eternity before he finally arrives in front of you, looking down at you in your frazzled state. He drags his thumb down your cheek, your jaw, your lips before pressing down on the flesh and letting it go, a smirk on his face as he takes you in.

You stare into his eyes, in awe of the two toned pupils, one black as night and one white as a ghost. Your core clenches, needing to be touched, to feel his rough hands drag across your skin, leaving you wet and wanting until you’re begging for him.

Chan is silent as he continues to touch you, brushing his fingers down your neck and shoulders, leaving goosebumps behind. He bites his lips as his fingers brush lightly over your covered breasts, your nipples responding immediately to his touch. You let out a sigh at the feeling, pushing your chest forward into his hands.

He circles his fingers over the nubs, softly and gently at first before becoming more rough and intentional, his eyes on your face as you fall apart. You feel warmth build up in your core, your arousal leaking, dripping through the soaked fabric of your panties and coating the chair you’re sitting on. You’re so close to your high as he teases your nipples, your breath coming in strangled gasps, your chest heaving. You’re so close, your orgasm imminent until he stops, chuckling as you let out a whine at your high that is fading away.

You watch as he rips your bra in two like it’s nothing, the fabric falling away leaving your chest bare. His fingers find your nipples again and you let out a pleased sigh, savoring the feel of his fingers directly on the nubs. He works you up again, caressing and rubbing your nipples, building that warm sensation within you once more.

Chan lets out a growl as you tip over the edge, your moans and whimpers spurring him on as he continues to play with your breasts. He removes his hands suddenly, leaving you shocked and wanting, as you come down from your high. You watch as he unzips his pants and pushes them off, reveling his toned thighs and the large bulge in his boxers.

As he removes his boxers, his cock springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. Your jaw drops as you take in his size, wondering how he’ll fit inside you. He grips his shaft and strokes, his hands circling around the head that’s leaking with precum.

He takes a few steps towards you and brings his cock to your lips, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you expectedly. You shyly open your mouth, your eyes on his as he shoves his cock within your mouth. You moan around his length as it’s barely able to fit.

Chan lets out a deep moan as he begins fucking your face, his hands reaching out to take ahold of your head to ensure you take all of him each time. It’s slightly painful as his cock invades your throat, his tip slamming into the back of your mouth each time.

You take him however, as he abuses your mouth, your eyes glued to his face, in awe of the pleasure that is written all over his face. Tears stream down your face and drool drips down your chin as Chan moans, his eyes closed as he pushes your head down on him over and over. With a deafening roar, Chan comes, spurts of warm cum flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin as he doesn’t let up but instead continues to thrust his hips as he rides out his high.

You’re stunned as he suddenly withdraws, his cock still hard and leaking, his eyes hooded as he takes you in, ruined and panting as you try to catch your breath. You swallow the little bit of cum that’s still in your mouth, moaning as the salty liquid coats your tastebuds.

Chan smiles as he knees and brings a hand to your panties and pulls at them, the fabric ripping instantly, exposing your bare pussy to him. He licks his lips at your soaked folds, his finger running through them immediately, causing you to jolt in your seat. He wastes no time as he rubs your clit hard and fast, wet sounds echoing throughout the bare room.

You try to close your legs, your actions hindered due to the ropes around your ankles and legs, keeping you spread open for Chan’s viewing pleasure. With each stroke, the pleasure builds in your core, warm and tingly. You cant your hips slightly, fucking your pussy against his fingers.

Chan smirks before bringing another finger to your hole and pushes in, his thick digit spreading you open. You let out a mewl as he pushes in another and another and begins thrusting in and out, his fingers curling up to massage your sweet spot. He abuses your clit in time with his thrusts, leaving you a whimpering mess as he gets you closer to your orgasm.

He moans and chuckles as he listens to your wet pussy, the squelching sounds causing his cock to twitch, the length somehow enlarging even more. You suddenly let go, your release squirting onto his fingers and the chair, as he continues to finger fuck you through your high, his focus on drilling you hard and fast until your screaming at the overstimulation.

Chan satisfied, withdraws his fingers and brings his palm down onto your pussy with a slap and you moan as more liquid drips from your gaping hole. Your breath is heavy as Chan begins to untie you, starting with your ankles and legs and then your hands. He drags you up and then tosses you to the ground, your knees landing on the floor with a thud.

He pushes you down so you’re presented to him, your ass up and glistening pussy on display to his viewing pleasure. You yelp as he slaps your ass, bringing his hand down again and again until you’re whimpering at the pain. You’re sure the flesh is red and raw but the thought turns you on more.

You lay and wait silently with the occasional whimper until you feel the tip of his cock breach your entrance, the stretch already causing you to moan at the sting. As he pushes further, the pain becomes too much and you yell out as he stretches you open. You think it will never end until he’s flush to your ass, his hands dragging down your spine.

Chan begins to pound into you, his cock spreading you open with each thrust. Your yells turn into moans as the pain subsides into pleasure, the tip of his cock rubbing your upper walls just right. You feel yourself slip away as he abuses your hole, your mouth agape, your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the overwhelming pleasure.

You can hear Chan grunt above you as he grips your hips so tight, you know they’ll be bruises when he’s done. But you don’t care. You welcome the pain, the bruising as he pounds into you, bringing you to yet another orgasm. It hits you without warning, your walls spasming around his cock, your cream coating his length as he continues to fuck you. You don’t see the smile on Chan’s face as he takes in your pussy stretching around him, his eyes glued to the white that coats his cock and your ass that jiggles as his pelvis meets the flesh.

Chan withdraws from you and flips you over, your back landing on the floor as you let out a huff. He maneuvers your legs up and above your head, before sheathing himself once more within your pussy. He adapts a brutal pace, his cock hitting deeper in this position, the tip brushing your cervix over and over.

He’s gazing into your eyes, his pupils dilated as he fucks you, pressing his body down onto yours. His flashes his teeth as he lets out a grunt, bringing his wrist to his mouth. He bites the skin there and pulls away, his blood dripping down his arm and onto your breasts. He hovers his wrists over your mouth and gives you a look, prompting you to open your mouth to accept the metallic liquid in your mouth.

You clench around him as you drink, your face dripping with the red substance. You clench around Chan as more arousal gushing out of you. Chan grins and drops his hand, just to wrap his fingers around your throat. He adjusts himself over you before pummeling harder into you, your body jolting and breasts bouncing with the force he is using to fuck you.

He squeezes softly at first and then tightens his fingers until your gazing at him, eyes wide as you body is stimming with pleasure. You feel the warmth build in your core, fast and steadily. The oxygen is slowly being cut off, causing you to gasp until you explode, a powerful orgasm ripping through your body. You squirt on his cock, the force of the stream threatening to push his length from your pussy, however, he just drives his hips harder, keeping him within your walls.

With a loud groan Chan comes, filling you up with his seed as it floods your walls again, the white substance dripping from your pussy and down your ass and onto the floor below. He thrusts into you a few more times for good measure before withdrawing his cock from your hole.

You lay spent, your breath coming in quick pants as you try to recover. Chan is gazing at you, taking in your messy hair, the dried tears on your face mixed with his dried cum and blood. He takes in your heaving breasts as you take each breath down to your leaking pussy, stretched out just how he likes with a mixture of your fluids dripping steadily from your hole.

He sees the bruises forming on your hips, the discoloration taking shake to the shape of his fingers. Chan smiles down at you and teases your clit, smirking as you whimper at the sensation, spent from the orgasms he’s given you tonight.

Chan knows you won’t complain, that you’re satisfied and fucked out. After all, he knows how to treat his human who begs for his cock day after day. Within these four walls, you his to play with, to tease, to torture. Within these four walls it’s just you and him.

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

“Behold, the traitor dragon, Meleys. Slain by King Aegon.”

Cole might’ve bellowed anything before the mention of Y/N’s husband and she would not have heard it. Breaching the castle doors, out onto the streets, where the smallfolk stare in wonder. The Queen has scarcely been seen in the days following her husband’s accession, leaving many to wonder if she still lives.

Here she stands, in the flesh, walking about them like a commoner. “Where is Aegon?” She finds Ser Criston, keeping pace beside his horse.

“You mustn’t be about, your grace. It is not safe.”

“Where is my husband?”

Ser Gwayne looks back toward his fallen nephew, now carried by men.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, falling in line with the oversized box one might mistake for a casket. She can’t see much of anything through the slats.

“You must return to the castle, my Queen.” Cole circles back for her. “His Grace will need you at his side.”

“He’s alive?” Y/N breathes.

“When last I checked.”

She nods, remaining beside her husband as he is carted into the castle, up the stairs to his chambers. The maesters await him, peeling away armor and bits of charred flesh with it, to reveal the extent of his injuries.

“Is my son going to die?” Alicent asks.

“He is badly burned.” The maester informs the Queen dowager.

“Men survive burns.” Y/N says, holding a hand to her belly, attempting to quell the churning.

“He has many broken bones.”

“Bones heal.”

The grand maester sighs, “that is our hope, your grace.”

What lies beneath his breastplate is naught but more red, angry skin, or lack there of. Alicent comes round to Y/N, a rare occasion, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Mayhaps it is best you step away.”

“I will stay,” Y/N shakes her head, “if anything happens… I must stay.” Hold his hand as he goes, if it comes to it.

Alicent nods, withdrawing.

Aegon’s breathing is something awful. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

An eternity passes in that room, on bated breath. Eventually the maesters begin clearing out, leaving the King to mutter, incoherently.

“Your grace.” The grand maester turns to Y/N. “It is done.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester. For all you have done, I- I owe you a debt.”

The man takes her hand, “we can only do so much to aid in the king’s healing, I believe it is you he needs. Be his strength.”

Y/N nods, “of course.” She makes herself comfortable upon the mattress beside him as the doors close, giving them a moment alone.

Aegon’s mumblings grow louder, though still impossible to make sense of.

“Shhh,” Y/N hushes him, brushing hair from his face. “There is nothing to fear. You need only…get better for me. I will tend the council shortly, but I shall return.”

He quiets then, as though her gentle reassurance is all he wanted.

“I will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. Rest easy, my love. You are safe now.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, before taking the stairs down to join the small council.

Those sitting around the table are already in deep discussion, gaping at the Queen’s entrance, standing to greet her.

“So kind of you to wait for me, my lords.” Y/N smiles, taking her ball from the center.

“We thought you might be with his grace, the king.” The hand explains. “He will be expecting you when he wakes.”

“I am not sure he will ever wake.” The grand maester cuts in. “His fate lies with the gods now.”

“Give it time.” Y/N sniffs, “it has been mere hours since his return.”

“If Aegon could wake, he would have done so for you.” Alicent decides. “A king cannot rule in his sleep, we must appoint a regent to serve in his absence.”

“I am awake.” Y/N reminds them.

“My Queen,” Tyland Lannister interjects, “if I may be so bold. Your lord husband has been wounded in battle, he will need your tender hand if we hope him to make any sort of recovery.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Lord Tyland.” Y/N replies, in a measured tone. Should she lose her head before the council, there will be no coming back from it. “Still, I am willing and able to rule.”

“In the event of his grace’s untimely death, we must be prepared to proceed with the succession.”

“Understandably, and we do not lack heirs. My husband and I have four children.” Y/N shifts in her chair. “Assuming, as you have, that the men of the realm will never accept a woman on the throne, we then pass the crown to our first born son.” To charm the snakes, you must behave as a snake.

The council looks to each other. “Prince Laenor is but two years of age, our next ruling king, by law; though too young to presently serve.”

“I will advise him, I am his mother.”

Alicent rises from her seat, “might I humbly suggest myself? I have already done so during my late husband’s long illness-”

“Which was fine then?” Y/N arches a brow, “a wife to rule in her husband’s absence.”

Alicent lowers her gaze. “This is different.”

“Because I am your enemy’s daughter and named heir,” Y/N huffs. “Rules for thee, not for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Mind yourself.”

“Or what?” Y/N lifts a shoulder, “you will usurp my husband, as you did my mother?”

“Viserys changed his mind.” Alicent says, with finality. “I am sorry for what’s happened, but with his dying breath, he wished for Aegon to be king. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon.”

“I love my husband,” Y/N seethes, “let that be known.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Whatever the members of this council intend to do now will be spoken plainly, in my presence.” Y/N demands, staring down at her wedding ring.

“I believe it is in our best interest to appoint Prince Aemond as Regent, until our King has been restored.” Ser Criston announces, “as hand, I know the king’s greatest concern is the safety and well being of his wife and children. We must honor that, in these unprecedented times.”

Y/N swallows, “very well.”

“My Queen.” Aemond reaches past her for the council ball, abandoned by her husband.

————————————————————————

Y/N goes through the motions, putting their children to bed. All is well, my darlings. Father needs only rest. When they have each found sleep, she returns to Aegon. Speaking to him the same way she always has, as though he can hear.

“The men of the council are restless in your absence. They circle like vultures now,” Y/N chokes out, touching the unmarred skin of his face. “And I am alone in this….I have never been alone.”

If she knew no better, she could swear his fingers twitch against hers. Mayhaps she is gripping them too tightly. She releases his hand, much to Aegon’s dismay, grumbling his discontent.

“Hush now, I am here and you are here. The rest will sort,” Y/N reminds him.

She watches him then, the heaving rise and fall of his chest, wrapped in bandages. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

In time, Alicent joins her at Aegon’s side. “Has there been any change?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“You are kind to be here, he loves nothing in the world as he loves you. I am sure your presence alone is a comfort to him.”

“That is my hope,” Y/N admits.

“I will leave you to it.” Alicent offers a hint of a smile, making for the door.

“Mummy.”

Y/N hears it, his mother does not. “Alicent,” she calls her back.

Alicent flicks away tears before turning round, “what is it?”

“He’s asking for you.”

“F-for me?”

Y/N nods, giving his hand a squeeze.

Alicent returns to his bedside, passing a hand over the side of his face. “I’m here.”

He draws in a rattling breath, “protect her.” Aegon stumbles over the words. “Please, Mummy.”

Y/N inhales sharply, hushing him.

Alicent locks eyes with her daughter by law. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon. “I will do this, for you, Aegon. You needn’t worry.”

Aegon says nothing else, succumbing to sleep once more.

Alicent excuses herself, with a nod.

Y/N muffles the sound of her cries in the hand which isn’t holding his. She’s only half awake by the time she hears footfall and whispering at the end of her husband’s bed.

“Was it worth the price?” Helaena asks.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, my darling.” Aemond mutters, brushing his lips against her cheek.

Part 2

[kirammanswifey]

wedding with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: this was sooo cute, i'm literally sobbing and kicking my pillow right now, gosh i love being delusional. my favorite ones were sevika's and viktor's, let me know if you guys like it. as you already know request are open ;)

proposal link:

You stand at the end of the aisle, your dress a work of art, designed with light, soft fabrics that float around you. The subtle Hextech embroidery on the corset shines with every movement, a touch Viktor helped design, ensuring you wore something symbolizing his love for you and his passion for science. Your hair is styled in a loose bun, with a few strands framing your face, adorned with small blue flowers.

Viktor

The sun of Piltover shines softly, illuminating the grand terrace where your wedding with Viktor takes place. The city, known for its innovation and progress, seems to pause today to celebrate this intimate moment. The terrace is decorated with Hextech lights, which glow with a soft blue radiance, blending magic and science, something that defines your relationship with Viktor. White and blue flowers adorn every corner, reflecting a simple yet profound elegance.

At the other end of the aisle, Viktor awaits you, dressed in a suit that reflects his personality: sober and elegant, but with unique details. His black jacket has discreet blue embroidery, and instead of a tie, he wears a silk scarf that drapes gently over his chest, a symbol of his creativity and distinction. The look in his eyes is pure adoration and pride, though there is a slight spark of nervousness that only you can notice.

Heimerdinger, as a special guest, sits in the front row, his eyes shining with joy as he watches his former pupil unite with the woman who has changed his life. Jayce, standing next to him, smiles with fraternal pride, happy for his friend. The atmosphere is filled with soft murmurs and smiles, everyone expectant of the vows to come.

As you begin to walk towards Viktor, the world seems to stop. His eyes are fixed on you, and you can see how his breathing deepens, as if trying to capture every second of this moment. When you reach him, you take his hand, feeling his fingers tremble slightly, a reminder of his more human and vulnerable side.

The officiant says a few words about love and union, but everything seems to fade as Viktor looks into your eyes and begins to speak. His voice is firm but laden with emotion.

"All my life, I have sought answers in science, in calculations, in the tangible. But you... you are the only equation I can't solve, and I don't want to. You are my certainty in a world full of unknowns. And today, I want to promise you that I will stand by your side, not just as your partner in the lab, but as your husband, your support, your constant."

Tears begin to fill your eyes as his words pierce through you, but he continues, his voice softer now.

"I can't promise you that I'll always have the answers, but I can promise that I'll never stop searching for you, for us. You are my inspiration, my muse, and my eternal love. I choose you, again and again, in every possible reality."

The officiant gives you the signal to begin your vows, and you take a deep breath, holding Viktor's hands firmly.

"Viktor, you have shown me that love is more than a formula, more than an experiment. It is a constant discovery, an adventure I want to continue with you. I promise to stand by your side, in every success and every mistake, in every challenge and every triumph. Because you are my home, my refuge, and my infinite love."

The tears from both of you mix with the smiles as the officiant pronounces the words that unite you. Viktor gently pulls you close and kisses you, a kiss full of love, gratitude, and promises that were about to be sealed.

The kiss you share with Viktor is warm and gentle but filled with meaning. It's a moment of vulnerability that you both share, a point of union where all logic and science fade away, leaving only pure love. When you part, your eyes meet again, and the intensity of his gaze makes you feel as if the entire world has disappeared, leaving only the two of you in your universe.

Applause erupts around you, but you only have eyes for Viktor. He smiles, one of those rare smiles that only you can bring out of him, and you can see him relax, as if a massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders. With his fingers, he softly caresses the back of your hand, as if he needs to confirm that this is real, that you are finally one.

Heimerdinger approaches first, his tiny figure radiating paternal warmth. "Congratulations, my dear ones! This is a day that will go down in history not just for the union of two brilliant minds but for the union of two souls that have found a way to perfectly complement each other."

Viktor nods gratefully, his eyes still shining with emotion. "Thank you, professor. Your teachings have been a pillar in my life, and I am honored that you are here today."

Jayce also approaches, extending his hand to Viktor with a smile that is both happy and proud. "I never thought I'd see this day, Viktor. But I'm glad to be proven wrong. You're not just a great scientist; you're a great man. And you" —he turns to you— "are the reason we've seen him flourish this way. Thank you for that."

You take Jayce's hand with a smile, feeling the warmth of his sincerity. "It's been an incredible journey, and I know it's just the beginning."

The rest of the guests gradually approach, each offering their best wishes.

The reception continues with laughter, music, and dancing. Viktor, although not a great dancer, takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor, his movements clumsy but full of effort to please you. Every step he takes is a testament to his love, willing to step out of his comfort zone just to see you smile.

As the night progresses, you find a moment to escape with Viktor to a quieter corner of the terrace, from where you can see the lights of Piltover stretching like a blanket of stars at your feet. He wraps you in his arms, whispering softly against your ear.

"I promise to keep loving you, researching you, discovering new ways to make you happy every day of our lives together. You are my most valuable experiment and my most desired result."

You lean into him, gently touching his face with your hands, letting the warmth of his words seep into every corner of your being.

"And I promise to be your constant. In every formula, in every challenge, I will be by your side, always."

Both of you remain there, embraced, watching the horizon of Piltover, knowing that this is just the beginning of a life filled with love, science, and mutual discoveries.

The altar is an improvised structure made of twisted metal and recycled machinery parts, all painted in Jinx's favorite colors: electric blue and bubblegum pink. It's a small ceremony, attended only by close people. Vi is there, with her characteristic red hair and a smile trying to hide her emotion at seeing her little sister on this special day. Sevika, imposing as always, stands at the back, arms crossed, but her eyes betray a slight approving smile.

Jinx

The day has arrived, and, like everything related to Jinx, it is not a common day. The venue for the ceremony is as unpredictable as she is, an abandoned warehouse in the heart of the Undercity, transformed into a controlled chaos setting. The walls are covered in vibrant graffiti, some clearly Jinx's work, with explosions of blue and pink colors intertwining in chaotic yet beautiful patterns. Neon lamps flicker, casting intermittent lights that create an almost electric atmosphere. Explosives and sparks are part of the decoration, carefully placed to be part of the spectacle rather than a threat.

You stand at the altar, waiting for Jinx, your heart pounding. You're wearing a fitted suit, dark but with colorful details reflecting the madness you're about to embrace. Your tie, an electric blue, matches the sparkles on your shoes. Everything about your outfit has been thought out to be worthy of Jinx.

The music starts, a mix of electronic and punk rhythms that make the place vibrate. It's a unique composition, probably created by Jinx in one of her moments of inspiration. Silco, in an unusual but significant gesture, walks in with Jinx on his arm. His face remains impassive, but his eyes reflect a slight softness as he guides his adoptive daughter towards you. Isha walks behind them, holding a bouquet of black roses in her hands, her eyes looking at Jinx as always, with that mix of admiration and affection.

Jinx is radiant. Her dress is unconventional, a work of art out of the ordinary: a tight black leather corset with metal details and a skirt made of fabric strips in blue and pink, some torn, others decorated with small explosives and gears. Her hair, tied in two high pigtails, is adorned with small LED lights flashing in rhythm with her accelerated heartbeat. Her combat boots are the final statement that, even though it's her wedding, she's still the same Jinx.

When she sees Vi among the crowd, her gaze softens for a second. You know that, although she won’t say it out loud, having her sister there is a gift she deeply appreciates. It's that little glint of emotion in her eyes that makes you feel this is, without a doubt, the best day of her life.

As she reaches the altar, Silco leaves her by your side, whispering something in her ear before stepping aside. Jinx looks at you with a mix of nervousness and pure excitement, her dazzling smile like the neon lights flickering around her.

The ceremony is brief, but every word, every moment is charged with the energy that only Jinx could bring. When the time for the vows comes, Jinx pulls out a crumpled note from her pocket and, with a mischievous smile, reads:

"I promise not to blow you to pieces... too much. I promise you'll always be my accomplice in every explosion, in every madness, and in every laugh we make echo in this world. Because you are my favorite chaos, and there's no one I'd rather be in the middle of the disaster with than you."

The vows make you laugh and tear up at the same time, as the whole place seems to hold its breath for a second before bursting into applause and cheers when you both kiss amidst a fireworks display.

The party continues. Everything seems like a strange dream filled with bright lights, fireworks, and overflowing laughter. The event's hustle and bustle blend with the night's energy, but as you stand watching the whirlwind of people, your eyes settle on a distant corner. There, Jinx is talking to Vi. Both seem more relaxed, as if they could finally find some peace amidst the chaos surrounding them. The satisfaction you feel is profound; bringing the sisters together is the most significant gift you could give them, and seeing them together now, though discreetly, fills you with pride. You knew Jinx would value it more than she would ever say.

You find yourself talking to Sevika, who stays close, observing everything with her typical reserved attitude. She glances at you sideways and, without much verbosity, comments:

"Do you know what you're doing, right? Jinx isn't... easy to handle."

You chuckle softly, recognizing a mix of concern and disguised affection in her words. "Yeah, I know. But it's not about handling her, Sevika. It's about being with her."

Sevika slowly nods, her expression relaxing a bit. "You're braver than you look. I guess if anyone can do it, it's you."

With that, Sevika walks away, leaving you with a smile on your lips, knowing that, in her own brusque way, she has shown her approval.

A few moments later, Jinx approaches, her overflowing energy still present, but now more focused on you. "Come on, let's sneak away for a bit," she says, taking your hand and leading you to a quiet corner away from the hustle.

Once alone, you stand looking at her for a moment before softly asking, "Sweets, what did Silco whisper to you at the altar? It seemed important."

She remains silent for a moment, her gaze softening as she remembers. Finally, she responds, her voice lower than usual. "He told me... 'Remember who taught you to survive, but also who taught you to love. Make sure you never forget those parts of you.'"

Silco's words are profound, and they touch you in an unexpected way. You take Jinx's hand in yours, caressing it gently. "That's beautiful."

Jinx smiles, leaning in towards you, her lips about to touch yours. But just then, you hear a soft murmur. You both turn to see Isha approaching, her eyes shining with joy as she makes sounds reflecting her excitement.

Jinx laughs and leans in to hug the little one, relieved and happy for her presence. "Isha, where have you been?" she murmurs, stroking her hair affectionately. Then she looks at you and smiles. "Looks like someone didn’t want us to miss out on all the fun."

Isha clings to both of you, her affection evident, even though she can't express it in words. Jinx lifts her in her arms and gives you a look full of love and gratitude before you return together to the party.

Vi stood at the altar, her impeccably tailored black suit fitting perfectly, though she seemed slightly out of place among such opulence. Her eyes, however, lit up when she saw you enter the hall. You walked with natural elegance, your white silk wedding dress flowing gracefully with each step, the light veil delicately draping over your shoulders, framing your radiant face. Vi couldn’t take her eyes off you, as if the entire world had faded away at that moment.

Vi

The ceremony was in full swing, the hall adorned with imported flowers and soft lighting that wrapped everything in an almost magical halo. Every detail, from the centerpieces to the most delicate lace, had been carefully selected by your parents, wanting to ensure that your wedding would be a memorable event. The soft music filled the air, and the murmurs of the guests, mostly acquaintances of your family, mingled with the floral aroma.

When you reached her side, you took her hand, feeling the familiar touch, the anchor that always kept you grounded. The officiant began to speak about love, devotion, and the union of two souls. And then, the moment of the vows came.

Vi took a deep breath, her voice firm yet tinged with emotion. "I promise to love you every step of the way, to honor and protect you. To be your strength when you need it, and your refuge in storms. You are my light, my love, and the only place I always want to return to. Today and always, I choose you."

A lump formed in your throat, but you managed to smile, feeling every word resonate deep within you. You held her hand tighter and began your own vows. "From the moment our eyes met, I knew my life would change forever. I promise to be your partner, your unconditional support, and love you with every part of my being. In joy and in hardship, I will be by your side. I choose you today, tomorrow, and forever."

The rings were exchanged, sealing your eternal commitment. And when the officiant declared you united in marriage, Vi looked at you as if you were the only person in the universe. The kiss you shared was more than a mere union of lips; it was the promise of a life together, through good and bad.

After the ceremony, you began greeting the guests. The familiar faces of your parents smiled approvingly, but Vi couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed. Despite the congratulations and well wishes, there was something in her gaze that worried you. Noticing her tension, you gently took her hand, guiding her to a balcony offering a respite from the crowd.

The night breeze caressed your faces as you leaned on the railing. From there, Seraphine’s voice could be heard in the distance, singing a melody that seemed to envelop the moment in serene calm. Vi sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit, but her eyes still reflected a sadness she couldn't hide.

“What’s wrong, love?” you asked softly, caressing her cheek.

She looked at you with a mixture of love and melancholy. “It’s just that… this day is perfect, but I feel the absence of my family. My father, my sister… they should be here. They should be with me, with you. But they’re not, and that… it hurts.”

You immediately understood the depth of her pain. Vi had always been strong, but the wounds of her past were still there, reminding her of everything she had lost. You moved closer to her, wrapping your arms around her, trying to convey all the comfort you could.

"I know, baby," you said tenderly. "I know it hurts, and it’s natural to feel that sadness. Unfortunately, the actions of the past resonate in the present, you can’t change them but you can learn to live with them, to remember the positive and leave the pain behind. They may not be here physically, but they are in that great heart of yours, and that’s all that should matter, my beautiful and sweet wife," you said with a contagious smile.

Vi closed her eyes for a moment, letting your words sink deep into her. She hugged you tightly, as if she wanted to absorb all your warmth, all the strength you offered.

“Thank you,” she whispered against your ear. “Thank you for understanding me, for loving me like this, even with all my scars.”

You softly kissed her cheek. "This is until death, baby, literally."

Vi looked at you, her eyes reflecting a gratitude and love so deep it seemed almost overwhelming. “I love you,” she said firmly, as if those words were the only truth in the world.

“And I love you,” you responded, smiling.

Just then, the sky lit up with an explosion of unusual colors. Fireworks painted the sky with vibrant and unique tones, creating patterns that seemed almost impossible. Vi looked up, surprised at first, but then a soft smile appeared on her lips.

"Powder," she whispered with a touch of nostalgia and affection in her voice.

You held Vi closer, sharing that intimate moment, feeling Jinx's presence in every spark that lit up the sky.

Caitlyn looked radiant. Her dress was a reflection of her lineage and character. In the characteristic colors of her family, a deep blue with golden details representing her heritage, the dress cascaded in fine fabric, enhancing her figure with unparalleled elegance. Every step she took toward the altar seemed a declaration of love and strength, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of nerves and devotion.

Caitlyn

The day of the wedding had arrived, bringing with it the perfect combination of the Kiramman family tradition and the simplicity you had always desired. After many conversations, a consensus had been reached that satisfied both sides. The ceremony venue, an elegant and serene garden, was adorned with the lavender flowers you had suggested, their fragrance gently enveloping the air, seemingly tailored for the love you shared with Caitlyn. At the same time, the decorations contained exquisite details that reflected Caitlyn's family legacy and status, achieving a balance between sophistication and intimacy.

Your dress, on the other hand, was simple yet beautiful, with details that perfectly complemented Caitlyn's grandeur without overshadowing it. The lavender details on the hem of your dress were a nod to your wishes, a small reminder of the peace and simplicity you wanted to bring to the life you were about to start together.

As the moment for vows arrived, the world seemed to stop. Caitlyn took your hands with gentle firmness, her eyes shining with an intensity that could only be love. Her voice, at first a whisper, grew stronger with each word.

"From the first moment I saw you, I knew there was something in you that would change my life. Working together, as leader and subordinate, I learned to admire your strength, your dedication, your passion for what is right. And today, I am here not just as your leader, but as your equal, as your partner. I promise to be your refuge in the storm, your support in difficult times, and the person who will always fight by your side for a better future."

It was hard to hold back tears as you spoke, your words coming from the depths of your heart.

"Cait, your logic, your strength, your unwavering sense of justice have inspired me every day. I promise to be by your side, not only as your life partner but as your companion in every challenge, in every victory, in every defeat. I promise to love you in the ordinary and the extraordinary, in the simple and the complex, until death do us part."

The ceremony culminated in a kiss that sealed not just your vows but also the promise of a shared future.

Later, while you were both enjoying a moment alone, Maddie approached. It was impossible not to roll your eyes at her impertinence; that little ginger had always shown interest in Caitlyn. You took a large sip from your glass, preparing for the tense moment you knew was coming.

"Congratulations, Caitlyn, truly a beautiful ceremony," Maddie said with a smile that, although seemingly friendly, had an undertone you didn’t miss. "And you too, you look... very happy."

Although Maddie's words were kind, her tone suggested something else. It was passive-aggressive. The barely concealed flirting toward Caitlyn made you feel a surge of jealousy, but you kept your composure. With a firm smile, you took Caitlyn's hand and intertwined your fingers with hers, making the bond you shared clear.

"How could I not be happy with a woman like this by my side? I can't believe she's mine now. My wife," you said, appreciating your partner’s divinity, your tone seemingly casual but loaded with warnings in big red letters. "Thank you, Maddie, we were very pleased you could attend," you added with a hypocritical smile.

Maddie seemed to get the message, and after a few awkward seconds, she bid farewell with a somewhat more forced smile. "Enjoy your night," she said before walking away.

"Was that necessary?" Caitlyn asked, raising an eyebrow, although her eyes showed a mix of amusement and reproach.

"I can't help it," you replied with a smile. "You're too irresistible. Besides, I don’t like gingers." Your comment made her chuckle softly.

The moment to throw the bouquet arrived. Standing together, you both tossed the bouquet back, and to everyone’s surprise, it landed in Jayce's hands. The bewilderment on his face was unmatched as his companion almost choked on her champagne. Caitlyn and you burst into laughter, a sound that echoed throughout the venue, filling the air with contagious joy.

The kiss that followed was the culmination of everything: love, commitment, and union. Everyone present looked at you with admiration, knowing they were witnessing a love that wasn’t seen every day.

As you walked down the aisle, all eyes were on you, but your gaze only sought Jayce, who waited at the end, standing beside the officiant, looking impeccable in his dark suit, his expression a mixture of emotion and admiration. When your eyes met his, all the tension vanished, leaving only the palpable love between you.

Jayce

The big day had arrived. The ceremony took place in a majestic hall in Piltover, with tall windows that allowed the evening light to stream in, bathing the space in a golden glow. The walls were adorned with elegant dark blue velvet curtains and chandeliers that cast a warm and welcoming light. The atmosphere was sophisticated, yet imbued with an intimate air that made every guest feel part of something special.

Upon reaching his side, Jayce gently took your hands in his, and the world seemed to stand still. The officiant began to speak, but the only thing that mattered was the moment you two shared your vows.

Jayce spoke first. He took a deep breath, his voice firm but filled with emotion, an emotion only you could awaken in him.

"Today, I give you not just my heart, but my mind, my doubts, my fears. I promise to always stand by your side, even on those days when everything seems uncertain. I promise that if the path ever becomes difficult, I will not abandon you. With you, I've learned that life isn't perfect, but the love we share is. And with every step we take together, I promise not only to love you but to be the best version of myself, for you, for us."

He looked at you tenderly as you absorbed his words, and then it was your turn. You smiled, and before speaking, you felt a torrent of emotions washing over you.

"I promise that in every challenge, in every little big obstacle, I'll remind you that we're not alone. We have each other. I don't have all the answers, and sometimes I'll be more human than you'd like, but I promise to always strive to be the best partner you could have. I promise that even when life gets overwhelming, I'll be the one to hold you up. I promise to see you, not just in your achievements, but in your doubts, in your insecurities, and to love you even more for them. I promise to keep growing with you, not just as a couple, but as individuals, always learning, always changing, but always coming back to each other."

You knew Jayce was holding back tears, so you didn't wait any longer and hugged him.

"It's okay, big baby, you can cry, no one will judge you. And if they do, that's what your wife is for, I'll eradicate them using some of your scientific gadgets," you promised, rubbing his back.

Jayce pulled back with reddened eyes, took your face, and kissed you once and for all. You knew people were clapping, you knew they were watching, but at that moment, you were lost in him.

The reception was equally unforgettable. The hall was decorated with warm lights that created a festive yet elegant atmosphere. Soft music filled the air as guests enjoyed the food and company.

The moment to cut the cake arrived with great anticipation. It was a masterpiece of several tiers, adorned with subtle, shimmering details.

With knife in hand, you and Jayce cut the first slice together, smiling. But in a moment of carelessness, the piece of cake slipped from your grasp, and just when it seemed it would hit the floor, Jayce caught it with quick reflexes. The hall was filled with exclamations of surprise.

Jayce stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with the cake in his hand, but you stepped forward, amused, and without thinking twice, took a bite directly from his hand. Your nose got smeared with a bit of cream in the process, and Jayce, infected by your spontaneity, did the same, taking the cake to his mouth with the other hand.

Both of you laughed, and without caring about the cake still on your faces, you kissed, a mixture of tenderness and fun that drew applause and cheers from the guests.

The night continued with dancing and toasts to the newlywed couple.

An old warehouse that had been partially restored with recycled materials from the city itself. The walls were covered with makeshift canvases, some blank, others splattered with vibrant colors. In the background, music filled the air, rhythms that made the structures vibrate and resonated in the atmosphere, music created from a mix of Undercity instruments and Zaun's machine sounds. This wasn’t a place of ostentation, but one full of life and soul.

Ekko

Your wedding with Ekko wasn’t going to be like the others you had seen. It wasn’t a pompous ceremony, there were no long dresses or elaborate rituals. Instead, there was a feeling of community, of closeness, something that could only come from a place like Zaun. The event wasn’t held in a shiny hall, but in a space that Ekko had carefully chosen, a hidden corner between the broken structures of the city that, in his words, had been the "epicenter of it all."

The decor was the complete opposite of what you would expect from a traditional wedding. Lights hung disorderly from the ceiling, some glowing with the dim light of gas lamps, while others flickered like the stars that could barely be seen through the thick fog. The guests weren’t wearing expensive clothes or formal suits, but what reflected their identity: work-stained clothes, leather jackets, worn-out boots from the long walks around the city. But everyone, absolutely everyone, was smiling.

You, standing in front of Ekko, felt such a deep emotion that words seemed insufficient to describe what was happening. He wasn’t wearing a typical suit or a ceremonial outfit. Instead, he had created something unique for that day. His jacket was handmade from recycled materials, with colorful patches and mechanical details that seemed to have a life of their own, as if the very essence of Zaun was woven into his clothes. The watch he once showed you was now tied to his wrist, not as jewelry, but as a reminder of his love, of the time you had spent together.

Beside you, your outfit was equally unconventional. You had opted for something comfortable but full of details that spoke of who you were: a light linen dress with hints of metallic fabric that subtly shimmered, and sturdy boots that allowed you to move freely, with a light cape that fluttered in the breeze. You didn’t need anything more to feel like yourself.

The children ran around you, laughing and playing while you imitated them in an impromptu dance. Some took your hands, others watched you with curiosity, but all were filled with that energy that only the youngest could offer. Ekko watched you from the side, leaning against one of the old columns, his face full of pure admiration. His eyes sparkled with the reflection of the lights, but what mattered most was the emotion that coursed through him.

Finally, after a while of music and laughter, the ceremony reached its most awaited moment. Ekko approached you, his gaze fixed, and his heart clearly beating in his chest. The bustle around seemed to fade as you began to hear his voice.

"Today, we’re not here to follow the rules others impose on us," Ekko began, his tone deep and serious, but with that spark in his eyes that only you knew. "I won’t promise you that I’ll be perfect, because I know none of us are. But what I can promise you is that I’ll never stop moving forward by your side. That, no matter how the world keeps turning, I’ll always be looking for ways to stop time so we can enjoy every moment together." He paused, his eyes fixed on yours, seeking your reactions, your thoughts. "And if you ever feel like everything is falling apart, I want you to remember this: no matter how much time passes, no matter how many times we fall, I’ll always be with you. We’re going to make every second count."

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth in your chest. Everything you had lived with Ekko had led you to this moment, and you didn’t need anything more to know that what he said was exactly what you felt.

Your turn came, and although you had no script, you knew exactly what you wanted to say. "In all this time, the only thing I’ve learned is that it doesn’t matter what future lies ahead, what matters is what we choose to do with it. And what I choose, Ekko, is to keep walking by your side. Because I don’t need anything more than you. I don’t care if everything changes, because what we have, this we’ve built, is what I want to keep forever. So yes, I’m staying with you, always."

The sound of applause resonated softly around you, but it didn’t matter because at that moment, only you and he existed. You both shared a smile, a look that said everything the heart couldn’t express. You didn’t need a ring, or a contract. Your love was your promise.

The party continued, the banquet began, and everyone gathered to share the food, laughter, and joy. Ekko and you toasted, raising glasses filled with a drink that tasted like life, like everything you had overcome and everything yet to come.

Finally, the night reached its climax. Ekko took your hand and, without saying a word, you both walked toward the exit, where your hoverboards awaited. You got on the floating platforms, and with a swift movement, you began to soar through the skies of Zaun. As you rose, the city of lights stretched beneath you, but the most beautiful thing was the moon shining above, large and serene.

In a secluded corner, where the stars seemed to touch the moon, Ekko stopped the hoverboard. The city appeared to sleep beneath the mist, and only the two of you remained, suspended in the air, floating in your own universe.

Without saying another word, you kissed. A kiss that tasted like a happily ever after.

"Together, always," you murmured, and Ekko, with a calm smile, replied: "Always."

You, standing at the makeshift altar, felt a mixture of nerves and serenity. The dress you wore was a deep black, the same color Silco wore. The design was custom-made, a corset that accentuated your figure and a long skirt that fell gently to the ground, with dark lace details playing with the shadows of the flowers. Jinx had left her personal touch on you: a small touch of fluorescent green paint at the edge of your dress, almost invisible at first glance, but enough for you to remember her presence when you looked at it.

Silco

The wedding ceremony between you and Silco was everything one might expect from such an imposing, calculating man, yet so deeply different when it came to his most profound feelings. The light in the greenhouse was dim, filtered through the leaves of the rare flowers that wound around the metal structures. The air was thick with a sweet, fresh scent, as if the space had been designed not only to house plants but to keep secrets, to conceal moments that escaped the outside world.

Silco, as was his custom, made no extravagance. His perfectly tailored black suit seemed almost made of shadow, as if his presence filled the space around him. His jacket was closed, but the high collar and the lines of the design denoted power and elegance, alongside his character of absolute control. Despite his impassive face, there was something in his gaze that softened when he looked at you, as if he had finally allowed himself to be vulnerable before you, even if only for a brief moment.

The only witnesses were Sevika and Jinx, who remained silent, watching from a corner of the greenhouse, though Jinx couldn’t help but murmur something under her breath, always so enthusiastic, always so unpredictable. The ceremony was brief, without flourish, as if both of you knew that no grand words were necessary to seal what you felt. The moment was perfect in its simplicity.

When Silco began to speak, his voice was low, deep, but filled with a sincerity he rarely allowed himself to show. "You know what we are, what we have been. You know what I’ve done for this world, for my people... but you also know I can't go on without you. I don’t want to." His gaze fixed on you, so steady, so sure, as if this was the exact moment everything he had done until now made sense. "I don’t offer you a life without risks, without pain... but I offer you all that I am, all that I can give. And I ask that you be mine, not just now, but forever."

Your words came out with the same intensity, though the softness of your tone showed how much you loved him. "I don’t want a future without you, Silco. I don’t care what comes, as long as I’m with you. Everything I’ve lived has led me to this moment, and here, with you, I feel complete. I don’t want to go anywhere without you. I love you."

Before you could say more, Silco took a step toward you and, with an unexpected delicacy, kissed you. The air around seemed to dissolve as the world, the chaos, the city itself faded away. In that moment, only he and you existed.

Just as the kiss ended, Jinx's loud laughter echoed through the greenhouse, followed by a strong "Ugh!" that interrupted the solemn silence. Sevika rolled her eyes, and you could only smile, knowing that Jinx was part of this world, a world you accepted with all its imperfections. The ceremony hadn’t ended, but the atmosphere felt lighter than ever.

After the ceremony, Silco took you to a private area of the greenhouse where the two of you could speak quietly. The tension in the room seemed to relax, but not for long. Soon, the sound of a fight reached your ears. Jinx and Sevika were arguing. Sevika, visibly upset, was complaining that Jinx had thrown something green at her, probably one of her "explosive things."

Silco, who usually ignored these altercations, stayed in his place, but you couldn’t just sit idly by. You stood up with determination, and with a firmness that even surprised Silco, you walked over to Jinx.

"Jinx," you said, your tone firm but not cruel. "That wasn’t funny. Don’t you know there are limits? If you don’t respect Sevika, you’re disrespecting everyone here."

Jinx, at first surprised, lowered her head, clearly understanding you had touched a sensitive nerve. In that moment, something changed in her. Without offering a single excuse, she looked at Sevika with an expression that was rarely seen on her, and said, albeit grudgingly:

"I guess I’m sorry," Jinx rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

Jinx’s attitude surprised everyone, especially Silco, who watched with a slight smile on his lips. Though he knew what that gesture meant, he couldn’t help but notice that, for the first time, Jinx was willing to be disciplined for something greater than herself.

Without wasting any time, you took Jinx’s hand and guided her to a nearby table where there was a chocolate cake, the one you had chosen because you knew she loved it. As you sat her down, your tone softened.

"What you did wasn’t okay, but we all make mistakes. Come, let’s eat this cake, alright? It’ll be our way of leaving it behind."

You looked at her, trying to ease the tension, and she, despite her mischievous nature, accepted with good grace, lost in the chocolate. Silco approached afterward, seeing how the two of you shared a calm moment, and let out a small laugh.

"You’re going to be a good mother," he said with a tone that, though almost dry, didn’t go unnoticed. The phrase left you in shock. The idea of being a mother had never crossed your mind in that context, especially with someone as complicated as Silco.

Before you could respond, Jinx, with her mouth full of cake, turned to Silco and, with all her innocence, said:

"Yes, I want a kid! One to teach him how to make explosives or something fun!"

Silco’s laughter was genuine, and though the situation was absurd, it was the kind of moment that felt perfect. Jinx, as always, without a filter, but with a pure heart in her madness.

Suddenly, Jinx didn’t stop, looking at Silco with intensity.

"Old man, when are you going to make that kid? I already have plans for us!"

Silco raised an eyebrow, clearly bewildered but, in his own way, entertained. "Yeah, sure, we’ll talk about that later," he said, as he moved to his next suggestion. "Why don’t you go accompany Sevika for now?"

Without thinking twice, Jinx quickly got up, hopping over to where Sevika was, no doubt ready to continue her mission of annoying her.

In that moment, you approached Silco, your gaze fixed on him. The question you had been holding in your heart came out in a whisper:

"Is it true what you said? Do you really think I’d be a good mother?"

The silence between the two of you was brief, but enough for him to take your hand gently, as if he didn’t want to break the magic of the moment.

"I know. You have everything it takes to do it. I just trust you."

The intensity of his gaze was all you needed to feel that, beyond the shadows both of you inhabited, there was a light. And that light was the love you shared, the promise of a future together.

In that moment, the greenhouse seemed to disappear, and only the two of you remained, surrounded by a future that no longer seemed so uncertain.

Mel

The hall glowed with a golden light, reflected in the intricate decorations that combined the opulence of Piltover with a personal and intimate touch. At the center, surrounded by a delicate crown of white and gold flowers, the portrait Mel had painted of you presided over the ceremony, a silent witness to your love.

Mel was radiant, wearing a black dress that hugged her body in clean, modern lines, with asymmetrical cuts that elegantly revealed glimpses of skin. The edges of the dress were finely outlined in gold, a nod to her lineage. Her makeup was subtle yet impeccable, with golden shadows that accentuated her dark eyes, and her hair, gathered in a high bun, was adorned with small golden pearls.

You wore a deep sapphire blue dress, with an elegant design that contrasted with the delicate opulence of the ceremony. Your accessories were simple, reflection of your individuality, fit perfectly with the aura of confidence you exuded.

When the time for the vows arrived, Mel took your hands and looked at you with an intensity that seemed to stop time. Her voice, low but firm, resonated with a sincerity that made everyone present hold their breath.

"With you, I have learned that control is not the only form of power. You have shown me that there is strength in surrender, and beauty in imperfection. I no longer want to live a life of rules and expectations; I want a life with you, full of adventures, challenges, and above all, love."

She paused, squeezing your hands slightly before continuing.

"I promise that I will never stop finding new ways to love you. Because with you, I have found something more valuable than anything I could ever possess: I have found the true meaning of freedom."

The emotion in her words made your eyes soften with love, but you held firm, knowing it was your turn.

"Mel, since I met you, I knew your soul shone with a light that no one else could match. You taught me that even in the midst of luxury and opulence, one can find humility and depth. With you, I have learned that love is the greatest adventure of all. I promise to stand by your side, not just in the easy days, but in the darkest ones, when the pressure of the world becomes unbearable. I will be your support, your confidant, and the person who will always remind you that you are more than enough."

The vows ended, but the silence that followed was charged with emotion. Mel leaned towards you, whispering only for you to hear:

"With you, I have found the only jewel that truly matters."

A smile of love crossed your face before you kissed her full lips.

As the guests toasted and immersed themselves in conversations, you felt Ambessa Medarda's gaze on you. The powerful matriarch approached with her imposing presence, each step radiating authority. She took advantage of the moment when Mel was speaking with an important politician. You mentally prepared yourself, knowing that any interaction with her required tact and firmness.

"I must admit, I didn't expect someone like you to capture my daughter's attention in this way," Ambessa began, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "But Mel has always had a knack for seeing beyond appearances."

Her tone was sharp, like a carefully sheathed knife, ready to cut if the opportunity arose. However, you kept your composure, returning her gaze without blinking.

"Mel has seen something in me that perhaps others fail to understand," you responded calmly. "And I am grateful that, despite everything, she trusts what we have built together."

Ambessa raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your response, but before she could continue, you added: "And I know that, although our differences may seem vast, we both want the best for Mel. That will always be my priority."

For a brief moment, Ambessa's cold facade seemed to crack. She nodded slightly, acknowledging your strength and determination, before turning and walking away, leaving in the air a hint of hard-earned respect.

The music shifted to a slower rhythm, and Mel, with a gentle smile, extended her hand to you. "Shall we dance?" she asked, her voice a whisper only you could hear.

You accepted, letting her guide you to the center of the floor. All eyes were on you both, but at that moment, only the two of you existed. Mel wrapped her arms around you, her movements fluid and graceful. The warmth of her body, the softness of her touch, completely enveloped you.

The music seemed to weave a spell around you. Each step, each turn, was a non-verbal declaration of love, a choreography of synchronized hearts. At one point, Mel drew you even closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered: "You make all of this make sense. With every step, I feel my life takes on a new meaning. I am so happy."

Your lips curved into a smile, and your response was a simple, yet emotionally charged, "That will always be my goal." You kissed the tip of her nose with a tenderness impossible not to envy.

After the dance, you both retreated to a room to share a moment of tranquility away from curious eyes.

Suddenly, an idea crossed her mind, and with a mischievous smile, she proposed: "What do you think about doing something completely ours, away from all of this?"

Surprised, but intrigued, you asked: "What do you have in mind?"

Mel winked at you. "Something spontaneous. Tomorrow early, let's escape together. Let Piltover take a break from us while we lose ourselves in the unknown. A day just for us, without titles or expectations."

The plan seemed reckless, but also perfect. This wasn’t typical of Mel, which intrigued you even more to see this new side of her. You nodded, feeling a new wave of excitement. "I love the idea. Let’s do it."

The location was a small corner of Zaun, a place that had often served as a refuge for both of you after difficult nights. The walls, covered with moss and vines, gave a sense of intimacy that only this place could offer. There were no flowers or extravagant decorations, only the soft light from a few lamps that you had brought, just enough to illuminate your faces.

Sevika

The ceremony was simple, almost improvised, but not any less meaningful. Sevika and you had decided to keep it a secret, just the two of you and the person who officiated the ceremony, someone who knew well the value of discretion.

Sevika wore a simple black shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, revealing her mechanical arm, as if there was nothing to hide, as if that arm was just another part of who she was.

On the other hand, you wore a red princess-cut dress, an unusual choice, but one you made to mark the importance of the day. The skirt was wide and flowing, but you opted for sturdy boots instead of the traditional heels, a practical reminder that you were always ready for any eventuality. Around your neck, a black silk scarf hung gracefully, adding a touch of sophistication, but also a hidden utility that only you knew about.

The person who officiated the ceremony stayed in the background, allowing both of you to take control of the moment. There were no scripts or elaborate promises, just sincere words, the ones that truly mattered.

Sevika took your hand in hers, her grip firm yet gentle, and when she spoke, it was in a low, deep voice that seemed to resonate in the space around you.

“I’m not good with words,” she began, her eyes fixed on yours, “but I know what I want. And what I want is for you to be by my side, today and always.”

There were no embellishments in her words, but each one carried a weight that you felt deeply. It was her way of saying she loved you, even though she never put it into so many words. It was Sevika, in her purest form, without filters, without masks.

When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, though you knew there was no need for perfection in that moment.

“I know we never planned this, but what I feel for you doesn’t need plans,” you said, your voice trembling slightly but filled with emotion. “I want to be with you, Sevika. Through all the battles, through every moment of calm, I want us to keep being us, facing whatever comes, together.”

The silence that followed was brief but significant, a moment in which both of you processed what you had just said, what you had just promised.

The person who married you barely whispered the necessary words to seal your union. There were no grand speeches, no tears, just a mutual understanding, an unspoken agreement that this was the right thing.

When everything was over, Sevika leaned toward you and, with a barely visible smile on her lips, whispered:

“See? We didn’t even need a ring to make this real.”

But before you could complain, she pulled out a small box from her pocket, and from it, a dark metal ring with a large diamond in it, fitting perfectly on your finger.

You admired it with emotion, Sevika knew about your obsession with jewelry, especially when they looked so exotic and expensive.

“I promised, didn’t I? I told you it would be a diamond,” she said, and this time, you couldn’t help but smile widely.

The kiss that followed was a fiery whirlwind, nothing calm or passive. You two were fire. Impossible magnets to separate once united.

As you pulled apart, Sevika looked at you with a seriousness you knew well. “Silco is waiting for us. It’s not the best time, I know, but we have to go.”

You nodded, understanding the urgency. It wasn’t unusual for missions to arise at the most inconvenient times, and this time would be no different.

Sevika adjusted the strap on her mechanical arm, quickly checking to make sure everything was in place.

Sevika looked you up and down and smiled slightly. “You’re going to break more than a few bones today, doll. Those idiots will drool over you, over my wife.”

You almost groaned when she called you her wife; it felt so good to know you belonged completely to her.

“You’ll drool over me later, I’ll make sure of that,” you replied with a playful smile, while adjusting your scarf.

“That remains to be seen,” she murmured, before offering you her normal arm. “Let’s go.”

The night enveloped you as you headed toward the place Silco had indicated. The city was dark, and the air was thick with a tension that could only presage trouble. But that was your life, and in a way, that constant state of alertness was what kept you both alive.

The mission took you to the outskirts, to one of the most dangerous areas controlled by Silco’s enemies. The information was vague, but enough to know you were up against an armed group that wouldn’t surrender easily.

Upon arrival, you found yourselves in an ambush. Enemies emerged from the shadows, armed and ready to attack. Sevika reacted with the speed of a predator, her mechanical arm glinting in the dim light as she blocked the first attack. You, for your part, pulled out a small device from your scarf, a clever invention of yours that released a dense cloud of smoke, disorienting your attackers.

The battle was fierce. Sevika fought with a mix of brute strength and precision, using her mechanical arm to clear a path through the enemies. You moved with agility, seizing every opportunity to disarm opponents with quick and precise movements. It was like you were dancing a deadly choreography, each of you complementing the other perfectly.

At one point, one of the attackers managed to corner you, his knife gleaming in the dim light as he lunged toward you. But before he could reach you, Sevika appeared out of nowhere, grabbing him and slamming him to the ground with a force that knocked him unconscious instantly.

“Are you okay, doll?” she asked, her deep voice full of concern.

“Yes, thanks to you,” you replied, out of breath but determined.

The fight ended shortly after, leaving both sides exhausted but intact. The mission was complete, and once again, you had survived together.

Sevika looked at you with a mix of admiration and relief. “You never stop surprising me,” she murmured, before lifting you in her arms, a combination of strength and tenderness that made you feel safe even in that hostile environment.

“I should say the same about you. Come on, take me home, my big and strong wife,” you replied, resting your head on her shoulder as she carried you out of harm’s way.

The contrast between the battle you had just fought and the sweetness of the moment couldn’t have been more perfect. There, in Sevika’s arms, with your red dress stained but intact, you felt that everything was perfect.

[astraystayyh]

Breathe

hyunjin x photographer!reader. friends to lovers with so so much tension and pining. hyunjin is too pretty (yet again). suggestive in the end and reader is wearing a dress. inspired by Bathtub hyunjin.

thank you hyunjin yet again for being my eternal muse and inspiring this brainrot. wrote this while listening to All mine by plaza so.. please enjoy <333 feedback is highly appreciated 🫶🏻

Is it possible to drown in the depths of your emotions, until breathing becomes a forgotten process, one that eludes each one of your senses?

Yes, you believe, if standing before a vision of ethereal beauty, as you are now, all encapsulated within Hwang Hyunjin’s being.

The camera slightly shakes in your grasp as you linger by the threshold of the bathroom, eyeing Hyunjin’s silhouette submerged in the waters. He’s sitting inside the bathtub, fingers running through his raven locks, awaiting your return.

He doesn’t seem to notice your presence, nor do you wish him to. Instead, you remain silent by the door, allowing yourself a few seconds to savor the intoxicating aura he exudes.

See, he isn’t doing anything particular, nor is he adorned in anything enticing— a simple white shirt and matching linen pants. And yet, his presence fills the air, compelling oxygen particles to flee from your being, leaving you transfixed, unable to do anything but gaze at him.

“I can feel you staring,” he remarks casually, his eyes still drawn before him as he leans back, tapping the edge of the tub with his ring-clad fingers.

Your heart pulses against your ribs, a dance that the organ knows intimately by now, one that Hyunjin alone can orchestrate. It isn’t the first time he’s had this effect on you, it is a familiar territory you first breached when Minho introduced you to him.

Hyunjin is a friend, but his hands find your waist more times than deemed platonic, and you like his touch much more than you’d like to admit.

“I'm assessing my subject, you know?” A faint grin dances upon your lips as you approach the bathtub. Hyunjin is doing you a favor— you just booked your first photography gig, and your client only has one condition: to shoot it in a bathtub. You wanted to translate your vision to life beforehand, and Hyunjin volunteered to help you.

“And how do I look?” he inquires, his smile a sugary dream that coaxes forth his left dimple. You place your camera gently on the countertop, bending down to inspect him up close.

His eyelids glisten with the golden glitter you delicately applied earlier. His skin is dewy, glistening underneath the warm lightning, and his lips drip crimson, courtesy of the cherry chapstick you carefully tapped into place.

There is always a myriad of visions that come to your mind when you think of Hyunjin— a blazing fire where each flame surges higher towards the heavens, a burning dance of passion and confidence; or a delicate red rose standing resilient in an empty field, vulnerable yet unwavering in its strength.

And now, you see a siren, beckoning mortals with a voice of beauty, ensnaring them with its hypnotic allure, much like he captivates you in this moment.

“You look nice,” you settle on saying, and he playfully pouts, his thumb grazing against your wrist lightly, akin to the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wing. “That's it? You never compliment me properly.”

“Someone’s gotta keep your ego in check,” you shrug, grabbing a dozen of roses and scattering them all around his body. You nod, satisfied with the outcome, finally retrieving your camera.

“Let's start with a simple shot, look at the camera, as you would when seducing someone.”

Instead of looking at the lens, Hyunjin's gaze finds yours first. With a deliberate slowness, his eyes trace the contours of your form, sending delicious shivers down your spine. His pupils dilate, his gaze darkens, before he reluctantly tears his eyes away, finally shifting his focus to the camera.

it takes you a few beats longer to find your voice once again.

“Hold still, one… two… three,” you murmur, capturing a few shots, pausing for a few seconds to admire the warmth of the light bouncing off his honeyed skin. “Perfect.”

“Me or the picture?” he teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you roll yours in response.

“The photographer.”

“You’re right, you're perfect,” he replies simply, and you're momentarily taken aback, your eyes widening slightly. He notices, a small smile playing on his lips as you grab his hand to adjust his pose.

“You aren't allowed to speak anymore,” you declare, guiding his index finger to his lips while his head rests on his other curled fist. He grins, before his expression morphs into a smoldering gaze, one that blankets your skin in hues of red from its sheer intensity.

“Look at me this time,” you instruct, and he nods obediently, directing his gaze towards you. Though your eyes remain fixed on the lens, you can sense the intensity of his gaze piercing through you—suddenly, the white dress you're wearing feels too sheer to contain the flames ignited by his stare.

“Mm,” you hum in approval as you look at the result. A sweet realization washes over you as you notice the subtle shift in his gaze— does he know his eyes unconsciously soften when they land on you?

With each click of the camera, your nerves dissipate, replaced by a growing confidence as each shot turns out exquisitely. They look worthy of gracing billboards worldwide, a privilege of working with a model as beautiful as him, one who portrays emotions as if they were crafted solely for him to feel.

“Good, let's try an overhead shot now,” you instruct, slinging the camera strap around your neck before climbing into the bathtub, legs on either side of his body. You’re hovering over him as he gazes up at you, his fluttering eyelashes echoing the erratic beat of your heart.

Your eyes briefly trace the contours of his now-translucent white shirt, a veil that delicately clings to his form, accentuating the sculpted lines of his physique—the arc of his v-line melding seamlessly into the fabric of his trousers. He possesses the body of a masterful dancer, a muse Michelangelo himself would have revered.

“Take off your shirt,” you suddenly request, and though your words are met with a quirked eyebrow, he obliges effortlessly. With a fluid motion, he peels the garment from his frame, sending it sailing across the bathroom's expanse.

“Good?” he questions but you remain silent because words have suddenly become beyond your grasp. Your client's request for a portrait suddenly feels inadequate and you almost itch to cancel it, because you know it won't exude the same beauty as Hyunjin’s. For each fiber of his being flusters you, makes you hyper aware of your every pulse point and how they all come together to chant Hyunjin’s name.

“Look up at me as you lean back,” you finally say, positioning the camera directly above his head. With each click, your heartbeat speeds up even more at the sight— collarbones and arms bathed in the play of light and shadow, his long, wet hair cascading over broad shoulders, and worse of all, a faint smirk that graces his placid face, as if he's aware of how breathtaking he looks in this moment.

“Should I do this?” he asks, picking up a rose and brushing its dewy petals against his lips. You swallow hard, nodding meekly before swiftly capturing a few more frames.

Emotions twist you into a peculiar being, yearning for your very soul to liquefy, transforming into the water droplets adorning the rose's petals, longing to caress Hyunjin’s lips too.

Hyunjin suddenly straightens his posture, hands coming to rest gently on your calves, fingers dancing along the hems of your dress with a delicate touch.

“How’d I do? Do I look good for you?” he asks and your knees weaken beneath you, his words rendering you a merciless leaf, swayed by the fiery winds he commands, with his words, with his touch, with his eyes, all solely on you.

“For me?” you echo, and he nods, his hand moving languidly up and down your leg, pausing delicately at your knee.

“Mm. You're the only one I want to impress.”

Your response escapes your being breathlessly. “And why is that?”

“Didn't you ask me not to speak?” he grins, running a hand through his hair. Swiftly, you place your camera on the counter before kneeling down, your thighs now brushing against his own.

“Speak,” you command, and in an instant, he seizes your waist, drawing your body close until you're straddling him, legs enveloping his middle.

“Say it again,” he whispers, and you thread your fingers through the strands of his hair, gently tugging at the edges until his head tilts back, exposing the expanse of his neck.

“I said…” you trail off, leaning in until your nose grazes the warmth of his skin.

Being this close to Hyunjin isn't unfamiliar to you; your interactions have always teetered on the brink of almost-kisses, your bodies drawn together like magnets, two halves of an orange yearning to reunite.

Yet, this moment feels different, much more fateful, as if the universe has granted you one final opportunity—to finally ignite in passion or perish into ash.

“Tell me. I want to know,” you urge, your voice a whisper against his skin, laden with unspoken desires.

“Because... I like you a lot. So much that you're the only one I think of all day. And I want you to like me too. I feel like I need it to breathe.”

His response catches you off guard with its vulnerability, the intimacy it drapes on this moment. The water envelops your intertwined bodies as your hands find solace atop his chest, his rapid heartbeat seeping into your palm.

“I always forget how to breathe around you,” you confess, a sheepish smile gracing your lips. The grin that blooms on his face is radiant, casting a glow on the room that cannot be replicated by artificial lighting.

“If you forget how to breathe, I'll give you all my oxygen,” he promises, his thumb tracing gently across your cheekbones. You see the sun in his smile, feel its warmth in his words that burn you. “I think it always belonged to you anyway,” he murmurs, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. “I think... I wanna give you back what's yours. Would you let me, pretty?” he asks, his voice a tender plea.

And amidst all the planets you know and the countless universes that may exist, you cannot fathom a single one where your answer would be anything but yes.

“Please,” you whisper, and his lips crash against yours in a fervent dance.

Your lips part before swiftly meeting again, and you close your eyes, surrendering to a world where all your senses converge to breathe Hyunjin in—your hands exploring the contours of his chest, your mouth savoring the sweetness of his lips infused with your cherry chapstick, your nose inhaling his scent, a delicate blend of vanilla and tobacco pulling you into a dizzying dance, your ears catching the gentle rhythm of his breaths and the faint thud of his heartbeat, all resonating within you.

And you don't need your eyes to see Hyunjin; he's indelibly etched behind your eyelids from all the time you've spent admiring him before.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he draws back, “I should have kissed you much sooner.”

“Mm?” you grin, intertwining your hands behind his neck, “Was it that good?”

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

“Then show me,” you grin, a playful glint in your eyes.

His gaze sparkles with mischief, his lips curling into a self-assured smirk, his hands finding your waist once more. Breathing is not necessary if it gives you Hyunjin in the end.

“Oh, I will.”

[valyriandreamer]

𝔖outhern 𝔚ife

summary: to Cregan Stark, winter was comforting; to his southern-born wife, it was cruel. but with their child on the way, he’d shield them both from the north’s relentless cold — no matter the cost.

paring: cregan stark x southern!reader (house not specified)

The North had always been an unforgiving place. To those who called it home, it was a land of harsh beauty, where the cold was a constant companion, and survival was more than a mere skill—it was a way of life. But to outsiders, the North felt more like an eternal challenge, an unrelenting test of endurance.

For Cregan Stark, the endless white blanket of snow and the biting chill in the air had always been sources of comfort. The North was his sanctuary, a place where he felt both bound and unshakably rooted. In the winter, when the skies turned grey and the world seemed to hold its breath beneath a blanket of snow, he found a quiet peace. There was something almost sacred in the solitude of those cold days, something that echoed within the depths of his own heart.

But when he looked at you, he saw an entirely different story.

You stood near the grand hearth of Winterfell’s main hall, wrapped in furs far heavier than anything you’d ever needed in the warm, golden South. The flames cast a soft glow across your face, warming your cheeks, and for a moment, Cregan let his gaze linger, watching the subtle, delicate way your brow furrowed as you stared into the fire, seeking warmth. The South had been your world—a land of balmy breezes, of flowering gardens and warm sunshine. Winterfell, with its ancient stone walls and freezing nights, must have felt like a fortress built of ice and shadows.

His gaze softened, though his features remained as stern as ever. In you, he saw a softness, a gentleness that the North rarely harboured. It was as if the warmth of your homeland clung to you still, like a tender light that persisted against the cold. But he could see it too—the subtle, weary lines in your expression, the faint tremble in your hands when the chill crept too close.

And it was more than just you now. The child within you, the life you both awaited with an unspoken hope and an unyielding fear, made the stakes even higher. The North would be his child’s home, just as it was his. But as much as he loved his land, he knew it would be no kinder to his child than it had been to him.

As he approached, his footsteps slow and deliberate, you looked up, and a gentle smile lifted your lips. He could see the love and trust in your eyes, the quiet faith you held in him to keep you safe, even here in this unfamiliar land. He moved closer, his large frame casting a shadow over you, his rugged face softened just a touch by the flickering firelight.

“I know this place feels foreign,” he murmured, his deep voice as steady as the mountains, “but I swear to you, it will be a home for you… for both of you.” His gaze lowered to your abdomen, where his child grew beneath your heart. A sacred duty—that was how he saw it. This fragile life, a blend of him and you, a delicate piece of both your worlds brought together—it was his to protect.

You reached out, placing a hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath layers of wool and leather. “I trust you, Cregan,” you whispered. “I know the North is in your blood. And I know… our child will come to love it, too. But sometimes… sometimes, it feels like the cold is too much, like it seeps into my bones.”

Cregan felt a pang of something he rarely allowed himself to feel: helplessness. He could swing a sword against any enemy and defend his land and his people against any threat. But this? The cold was an enemy he could not strike down, a force he could not control. All he could do was keep the fires burning, wrap you in furs, pull you close to his chest, and let his warmth shield you, even if it never quite chased away the cold completely.

“Then I’ll stay close,” he replied, his voice a low rumble as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. His hands, large and rough from years of sword-wielding, settled gently on your back, holding you as if you were as precious and fragile as the finest glass. “And when the cold feels too strong, I’ll be here to keep it at bay. My warmth, my strength—it’s yours. Every bit of it.”

You leaned into him, letting the heat of his body seep into you. The broadness of his shoulders, the unyielding strength that he carried so effortlessly, was a balm against the chill that seemed to haunt Winterfell’s halls. As you pressed your cheek to his chest, you felt his fingers gently brush your hair, an act that was tender in a way only he could make it—subtle, almost hidden beneath his roughness.

The silence stretched between you, a silence that spoke of shared worries, unspoken hopes, and a deep, quiet love that neither of you had yet fully put into words. For a man like Cregan, love wasn’t something expressed in declarations or grand gestures. It was in the steadfastness of his gaze, the unwavering loyalty he showed, the way his arms tightened around you as if vowing never to let go.

His grey eyes, as sharp and fierce as the winter storms, softened as he looked down at you, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your back. “The North is harsh,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It can be cruel. But it can also be… protective. Strong. Like the walls of Winterfell. I know it seems bleak, but it’s a kind of strength. The kind that will protect you, that will protect… our child.”

You lifted your gaze, meeting his eyes, and saw something in his expression that stole your breath—a fierce, unbreakable promise. In that moment, you understood the North a little better. It wasn’t a place that gave its love freely; it was a land that guarded, that endured. And in Cregan’s embrace, you could feel that same strength, that same loyalty, radiating from him.

“Then I’ll learn to love it,” you replied softly, your voice steady with a resolve that matched his own. “If the North is your heart, then it is mine too. And our child will have the strength of both worlds.”

Cregan’s gaze held yours for a long, silent moment, as though committing every word, every promise, to memory. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the scratch of his beard warm against your skin. It was a kiss that felt like a vow, a promise that no matter how cold or dark the North became, he would be there to shield you from its worst.

As the night deepened, he held you close by the fire, his presence a solid wall against the chill that surrounded you both. And for the first time, you felt a little less of the foreign cold, a little more of the warmth and strength that Cregan carried within him.

In his arms, you realised, Winterfell did not feel quite so strange or unwelcoming. It was slowly becoming a home, built not just of stone and ice, but of shared warmth, unspoken promises, and the fierce loyalty of a man whose heart beat steady and unyielding as the North itself.

[aceyalonso]

make it rain - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader kinktober day 14 - tattoos

summary : a little rain never hurt anyone... not until lewis almost breaks y/n's back (in a good way)

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, praise kink, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!!!), body worship, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of "baby" and "good girl"

word count : 5.3k

a/n : im ovulating

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

Y/n hurried through the rain-soaked streets, her hair plastered to her face. She pulled her red leather jacket tighter around herself, trying to shield as much of her body from the relentless downpour as possible. Beside her, Lewis was equally drenched, his shirt clinging to his muscular frame.

They reached the apartment building and rushed inside, slamming the door behind them. Y/n shook the water from her jacket before slipping it back on, her teeth chattering slightly from the cold. She ran a hand through her wet hair, pushing it out of her face.

Lewis glanced around the lobby, taking in the modern decor and sleek furnishings. "Nice place," he commented, his deep voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

She nodded in agreement, her gaze lingering on a particularly striking abstract painting on the wall. She started towards the elevators, eager to get out of her wet clothes and into something warm and dry. As she pressed the button, she couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis from the corner of her eye.

Y/n's eyes roamed over Lewis's soaked form, taking in the way his wet shirt clung to his broad chest and defined abs. Even drenched, he looked incredibly handsome, his chiseled features and piercing gaze sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

She bit her lower lip, feeling a familiar heat pooling in her core as she imagined peeling off those wet clothes and running her hands over his glistening skin. Y/n quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the inappropriate thoughts. They had more important things to focus on right now.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Y/n stepped inside, motioning for Lewis to follow. As they ascended, she could feel the tension crackling between them, the small space suddenly feeling much too intimate.

Lewis cleared his throat, breaking the charged silence. "So, uh, which floor?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than usual.

Y/n shivered as the cool air from the elevator's AC unit washed over her damp skin. "Fourteenth floor," she replied, her teeth chattering slightly. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to generate some warmth.

As the elevator began its slow ascent, Y/n couldn't help but steal glances at Lewis. The way his wet clothes clung to his muscular frame was incredibly distracting. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over those defined abs, to trace the lines of his sculpted chest...

She blinked, realizing she had been staring at Lewis for an uncomfortably long time. Y/n quickly averted her gaze, focusing instead on the slowly climbing floor numbers above the elevator doors.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever, the two of them standing in awkward silence as they continued to shiver from the cold and the AC's relentless blast. Y/n's mind raced with thoughts of what awaited them on the fourteenth floor, but she couldn't quite shake the distracting images of Lewis's wet, half-naked body from her imagination.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Y/n practically lunged out into the hallway, desperate to escape the confines of the small space and the heated looks Lewis had been giving her.

Y/n hurried down the hallway, her keycard clutched tightly in her hand. She reached her apartment door and quickly unlocked it, stepping inside and holding it open for Lewis to follow. He entered behind her, closing the door with a soft click.

"Sorry about the mess," Y/n said apologetically, gesturing to the neatly folded clothes piled on her couch. It wasn't really a mess, just a temporary holding spot for the items she hadn't had a chance to put away yet.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Looks pretty tidy to me," he remarked, his eyes roaming over the pile of clothing. "Though I wouldn't mind helping you 'clean up' a bit more..."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush at the suggestive tone in his voice. She busied herself with hanging up her dripping wet jacket, trying to ignore the way Lewis's gaze seemed to burn into her back.

She shuddered as she peeled off her soaked leather jacket, the cold material clinging to her skin. She draped it over the back of a chair, not bothering to zip it up properly in her haste to get out of the wet garment.

Underneath, her thin tank top was practically transparent, molding to her curves and leaving little to the imagination. The leopard print of her bra was clearly visible through the damp fabric, the lacy cups barely containing her ample breasts.

Y/n paused as she felt Lewis's gaze on her back, his eyes no doubt drawn to the tantalizing glimpse of skin and lace. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her tank top, suddenly very aware of how little she was wearing.

"I never knew you had a spine tattoo," Lewis remarked, his voice low and appreciative. "It suits you."

Y/n turned to face him, her cheeks flushed. She crossed her arms over her chest, acutely aware of how the movement pushed her breasts together, making them appear even fuller. "I don't necessarily advertise it," she said with a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "I got it on a whim."

She smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You of all people should know better than to be surprised by hidden ink. I seem to recall a certain someone having quite the collection themselves."

She sauntered closer to Lewis, her hips swaying with each step. When she reached him, she trailed a finger lightly down his chest, tracing the edge of one of his many tattoos. "What's the count up to now? Ten? Eleven?"

Lewis caught her wandering hand, his larger fingers engulfing hers. He brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "Fifteen," he murmured against her hand. "But who's counting?"

Lewis plucked the dry shirt from Y/n's grasp, setting it aside on the couch with a suggestive smirk. "Maybe you can wear your clothes later," he purred, his hands coming to rest on her hips. "For now, I think I prefer you like this."

His fingers dipped beneath the hem of her tank top, grazing the soft skin of her lower back. Y/n shivered at his touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of his exploration. She leaned into him, her hands splaying across his firm chest.

"Is that so?" she breathed, tilting her head to expose the column of her throat. "And what exactly do you plan to do with me while I'm half-naked?"

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and full of promise. His hands slid around to her front, skimming over her ribs and coming to rest just below her breasts. "Oh, I have a few ideas," he murmured, his thumbs brushing maddeningly close to the swell of her cleavage. "But I think I'll let you decide how far we take this."

Y/n smirked up at Lewis, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'll let you go far, alright," she purred, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. "But we need to be equal, don't we? So maybe you should take that shirt off too."

She stepped back, giving him room to maneuver. Her gaze raked over his body, lingering on the tantalizing glimpse of skin where his shirt had ridden up. Y/n licked her lips, her tongue darting out to moisten the plump flesh.

Lewis grinned, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. He made quick work of them, shrugging the garment off and letting it fall to the floor. His torso was a work of art, all hard planes and rippling muscle, adorned with intricate tattoos that told a story of his life.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she drank in the sight of him. Her fingers itched to explore every inch of his exposed skin, to trace the lines of his abs and feel the heat of his body against hers.

Lewis pulled Y/n flush against him, his lips crashing down on hers in a searing kiss. She melted into his embrace, her hands fisting in his hair as she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Their tongues danced and tangled, exploring each other's mouths with hungry abandon.

Y/n gasped as Lewis's hands slid down her back, gripping her ass and lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried her over to the couch. The pile of clean laundry went tumbling to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Lewis laid her down on the cushions, his body covering hers as he continued to kiss her senselessly. His hands roamed over her curves, slipping beneath her tank top to caress the smooth skin beneath. Y/n arched into his touch, desperate for more contact, more friction.

He grinned as he noticed the "Lucky You" patch on Y/n's jeans. His fingers deftly unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, tugging them down her long legs. "Looks like I hit the jackpot," he quipped, tossing the discarded jeans aside.

Y/n started to make a comment about the fallen laundry, but her words were cut off by Lewis's lips on her stomach. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of her abdomen, his stubble deliciously abrading her sensitive flesh.

Y/n's back arched off the couch, a breathy moan escaping her parted lips. Her hands tangled in Lewis's hair, holding him close as he worked his way lower. "Lewis," she gasped, her voice thick with need. "Please..."

Lewis hooked his fingers in the waistband of Y/n's panties, which matched her bra in a delightful surprise. He slowly dragged them down her legs, using his teeth to tug them off and leave them dangling precariously from her ankle.

With Y/n's hips lifted, Lewis settled between her thighs, his hot breath ghosting over her most intimate parts. He nuzzled her inner thigh, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin as he worked his way closer to his prize.

Y/n's moans filled the room as Lewis's tongue delved between her folds, lapping at her slick arousal. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue before dipping lower, thrusting in and out of her tight channel. His hands gripped her ass, holding her steady as he feasted on her pussy like a starving man.

Lewis groaned against Y/n's pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. "Fuck, you taste so good," he mumbled, his words muffled by her slick folds. "Don't hold back, baby. I want to hear you."

Y/n's moans grew louder, echoing off the walls of the apartment. "Oh god, Lewis," she cried out, her hips bucking against his face. "Your ex was so lucky to have this mouth on her every day."

Lewis chuckled, the sound sending delicious vibrations through her core. He doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, stroking her inner walls. His nose rubbed against her clit with each pass, adding an extra layer of stimulation that had Y/n seeing stars.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Y/n's moans grew louder and more desperate as Lewis continued his relentless assault on her pussy. "Oh fuck, Lewis, just like that," she panted, her fingers digging into his hair. "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop!"

Lewis growled against her slick folds, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her veins. He sealed his lips around her clit, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers deep inside her.

"You like that, baby?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "You like feeling my tongue on your pretty little pussy?"

Y/n nodded frantically, her hips rolling against his face. "Yes, fuck yes," she gasped, her thighs trembling with the effort of holding herself open for him. "I love your mouth, Lewis. I love how you make me feel."

Lewis slowed his movements, savoring the taste and feel of Y/n's pussy on his tongue. He wanted to draw out her pleasure, to make her beg for release. Y/n whimpered, her hips bucking against his face in search of more friction.

"Lew, please," she panted, her voice strained with need. "Go faster, it felt so fucking good."

Lewis chuckled, the sound vibrating against her sensitive flesh. He placed a final kiss on her inner thigh before pulling back, leaving Y/n aching and desperate for more.

"Patience, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over her slick folds. "I want to savor every inch of you."

Lewis peppered Y/n's pussy with feather-light kisses, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin. Each brush of his mouth against her slick folds sent electric jolts of pleasure racing through her body, making her moan loudly.

"Lewis, please," she whined, her hips twitching with the effort of staying still. "I need more, I need you inside me."

Lewis grinned against her flesh, his breath hot and teasing. "All in good time, baby," he murmured, his fingers dipping between her folds to circle her aching clit. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your own name."

Y/n's head fell back against the couch cushions, her hands fisting in the fabric as Lewis worked her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy, desperate for the final push over the precipice.

Y/n's moans grew more desperate, almost bordering on whimpers as she begged for Lewis to put his tongue back on her aching pussy. "Please, Lewis, I need you," she cried out, her voice raw with emotion. "I need your mouth on me, I need to feel you inside me."

Lewis obliged, his tongue delving between her slick folds once more. He lapped at her hungrily, his stubble abrading her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. Y/n's panties still hung precariously from her foot, a tangible reminder of how far gone she was.

Lewis's hands gripped her thighs, holding her open for his ministrations. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, flicking motions against her clit, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice muffled against her pussy. "Let go, let yourself feel good. I've got you."

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the couch as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her. Her legs wrapped around Lewis's head, holding him in place as she rode out the intense sensations.

"Oh fuck, Lewis!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Lewis doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside her as her pussy clenched and fluttered around the intrusion. He lapped at her slick folds, eagerly drinking down her essence as she came undone beneath him.

Y/n's fingers tangled in Lewis's hair, holding him close as she shuddered and twitched with the aftershocks of her climax. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat.

Y/n gently pulled Lewis away from her sensitive pussy, a satisfied smile on her face as she took in the sight of him. His lips and chin were glistening with her arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

"You look so pretty like that," she purred, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Lewis grinned, crawling up her body until he hovered over her. He pressed soft kisses to her stomach, her ribs, the valley between her breasts. His hands roamed over her curves, mapping out every dip and curve.

"I could eat you out for hours," he murmured against her skin, his stubble delicately tickling her flesh. "You taste so fucking good, baby."

Y/n smiled against Lewis's lips as they kissed, her hands deftly working at the button of his jeans. She popped it open and slowly dragged down the zipper, her fingers brushing teasingly over the bulge straining against the denim.

"Take them off," she whispered against his mouth, her breath hot and inviting.

Lewis groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily into her touch. He sat back on his heels, allowing Y/n to tug his jeans and boxers down his legs. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Y/n licked her lips, her eyes hungrily taking in the sight of him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly from base to tip. "Fuck, you're so big," she breathed, marveling at the size of him.

She gathered some saliva in her mouth, letting it pool on her tongue before leaning forward and spitting it onto her fingertips. She wrapped her slick fingers around Lewis's cock, using her own spit as makeshift lube.

Lewis moaned, his hips twitching at the sudden sensation. "Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back as Y/n stroked him slowly.

"I want to feel you inside me," Y/n purred, her voice low and seductive. She released his cock, shifting her hips to align him with her entrance. "I want you to fill me up, Lewis."

Lewis pulled back, a wicked grin on his face. "I want you on all fours," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see that tattoo while I fuck you from behind."

Y/n eagerly complied, rolling over and presenting herself to him. Her spine tattoo was on full display, the intricate design seeming to dance across her skin as she wiggled her hips invitingly.

Lewis ran his hands over her ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh. He positioned himself behind her, the head of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, eliciting a sharp gasp from Y/n's lips.

"Fuck, you look so good like this," Lewis praised, his hands gripping her hips as he began to move. "That tattoo is so fucking sexy."

Lewis traced the intricate lines of Y/n's spine tattoo with his tongue, his lips pressing reverent kisses to her skin as he thrust into her from behind. Each word he spoke was punctuated by a deep, powerful stroke of his hips, driving his cock deeper into her slick heat.

"So... fucking... sexy," he groaned, his breath hot against her spine. "Love... this tattoo... love how it looks... on your perfect body."

Y/n moaned, pushing back against him, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor. The sensation of his lips and tongue on her tattoo sent electric shivers down her spine.

Lewis continued to praise Y/n, his words dripping with lust and admiration. "Fuck, you're so good for me," he groaned, his hips snapping against her ass with each powerful thrust. "Such a perfect, sexy little thing."

Y/n's hands gripped the couch cushions, her knuckles turning white as she held on for dear life. The pleasure was overwhelming, building and building until she thought she might explode.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," Lewis commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how good I make you feel."

Y/n's body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She came hard, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's cock as she squirted onto the couch. Her moans filled the room, her hair falling in wild disarray around her face as she shook and trembled with the force of her climax.

Lewis grinned, praising Y/n as she came hard on his cock just as he told her to. "That's it, good girl," he groaned, his hips still rocking into her as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. "You did so well, cumming just like I wanted."

Y/n's moans were loud and promiscuous, echoing off the walls of the apartment. Her body shuddered and twitched, her pussy clenching rhythmically around Lewis's shaft.

As her climax began to subside, Lewis pulled out, his cock slick with her juices. He stroked himself quickly, his hand flying over his shaft as he chased his own release. With a final grunt, he came, his seed splattering across Y/n's back and painting her tattoo in pearly white streaks.

Y/n collapsed forward onto the couch, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She was a sweaty, disheveled mess, her hair matted and sticking to her forehead. But the satisfied smile on her face said it all - she had thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

Lewis gently rolled Y/n onto her side, concern etched on his face as he brushed a few strands of hair from her flushed cheek. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked softly, his thumb caressing her skin.

Y/n nodded, a lazy smile spreading across her face despite her labored breathing. "Mhm," she managed to get out, her voice hoarse from all the moaning. "I'm more than okay."

She shifted slightly, her leg brushing against Lewis's thigh. The contact sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her veins, and she knew she wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.

"I think," Y/n began, her voice low and seductive, "I think I need a round two."

Lewis gently flipped Y/n onto her back, his strong hands guiding her until she was sprawled out on the couch cushions. Y/n let out a small protest, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Lew, wait," she said, her voice breathless. "I want this, but... my couch is gonna get dirty."

Lewis silenced her with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth. When he finally pulled back, he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about it, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing down her side. "I'll take care of it later. Right now, all I want to do is make you feel good."

Lewis's fingers traced delicate patterns over Y/n's sensitive pussy, eliciting a soft whimper from her lips. The delicate folds were puffy and tender from their previous activities, but that didn't stop Lewis from exploring every inch of her.

"Shh, relax," he cooed, his other hand coming up to gently stroke her hair. "I've got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good."

His fingers dipped lower, teasing her entrance before slowly pushing inside. Y/n gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily at the intrusion. Lewis held her down with a firm hand on her hip, his fingers curling and stroking her inner walls.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. "You're doing so well, taking my fingers so deep. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n moaned softly as Lewis's fingers continued their gentle exploration of her sensitive folds. "Your rings are cold," she whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of discomfort and arousal.

Lewis leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "You can handle it," he murmured against her mouth, his fingers never ceasing their movements. "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

Lewis groaned, his fingers still buried deep inside Y/n's slick heat. "Fuck, I should've done this sooner," he admitted, his voice rough with desire. "I'm getting addicted to how good you feel, baby."

He curled his fingers, stroking her inner walls in a way that made Y/n see stars. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"You like that, don't you?" Lewis purred, his thumb circling her clit. "You love having my fingers inside you, stretching you open."

Y/n let out a breathy moan, her hips rolling against Lewis's hand as he continued to work her over. "Yes," she gasped, her voice strained with pleasure. "I was so jealous of your ex, hearing you guys fucking while you were in the studio."

Lewis grinned, his fingers pumping in and out of her slick heat. "You should've been there with me," he growled, his thumb pressing down on her clit. "Should've been the one taking my cock, screaming my name."

Y/n moaned wantonly, her body writhing beneath Lewis's skilled touch. "Lewis, fuck that feels so good," she panted, her hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis chuckled, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive folds. "I won't stop, baby," he promised, his voice low and rough with desire. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your own name."

Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling under Lewis's touch. "I was so jealous of your ex," she confessed, her voice breathy and strained. "I wanted it to be me, to have you all to myself. To feel your tongue worshipping my body."

She emphasized her words with a roll of her hips, grinding against Lewis's fingers. "I wish it was me, Lewis. I wish I could've been the one to make you feel good, to hear you moan my name."

A wicked chuckle escaped her lips as she added, "It's her loss for breaking up with you. Because now, I have you all to myself."

Lewis grinned, his fingers still buried deep inside Y/n's slick heat. "Mhm, it's such a win for me," he agreed, his voice low and rough with desire. "Now I have you, all to myself. So good, so tight, so fucking mine."

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from Y/n's lips. Her walls clenched around him, as if trying to keep him inside her forever.

"You feel so perfect, baby," Lewis murmured, his thumb circling her clit. "Like you were made just for me. And now, I'm never letting you go."

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the couch as her orgasm approached. "I'm gonna cum," she panted, her voice strained with pleasure. "Lewis, I'm gonna cum!"

Lewis held her close, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive folds. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and soothing. "My good girl, squirt for me. Let go, let yourself feel it."

With a final cry of ecstasy, Y/n came undone, her body shaking and trembling as she squirted onto Lewis's hand. He worked her through it, his fingers and thumb stroking her through the waves of her climax.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're doing so well, baby. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n's moans grew louder as Lewis continued to pump his fingers in and out of her sensitive pussy, even as she rode out the waves of her intense orgasm. "Lewis, stop," she pleaded, her voice strained. "It's too much, I can't take it anymore."

But even as the words left her lips, Y/n found herself grinding against Lewis's hand, her hips moving of their own accord. The overstimulation was almost too much to bear, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

Lewis grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "You're such a pretty liar," he teased, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault. "Your body doesn't lie, baby. It knows what it wants."

As if to prove his point, Y/n came again, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's fingers as she squirted onto the couch once more. The sensation was almost too intense, but Lewis held her through it, his fingers and thumb stroking her through the aftershocks of her climax.

Y/n was still shaking from the intensity of her orgasms, her body sensitive and overstimulated. Lewis rubbed the head of his cock against her slick folds, teasing her entrance with the promise of more.

"Do you want me inside again, baby?" he asked, his voice low and rough with desire. "Do you want to feel my cock stretching you open, filling you up?"

Y/n nodded slowly, her eyes glazed with lust. Despite the sensitivity, she craved more of Lewis, more of the pleasure only he could give her.

"Yes," she breathed, her hips lifting to meet his. "Please, Lewis. I need you inside me."

Lewis slowly pushed forward, his cockhead parting Y/n's slick folds. He went inch by inch, savoring the tight heat of her pussy as it enveloped him. Y/n moaned, her walls fluttering around his length, still sensitive from her previous orgasms.

"Fuck, so good baby," Lewis groaned, his hips rocking shallowly. "You feel like heaven wrapped around my cock."

He set a slow, teasing pace, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in. Y/n whimpered, her hips lifting to meet his, desperate for more. Lewis grinned down at her, loving how responsive she was to his touch.

Y/n arched her back off the couch, her body undulating with each slow, deep thrust of Lewis's cock. "Oh god, Lewis," she moaned, her voice high and breathy. "Feels so good, so deep. You're hitting all the right spots."

Her hands fisted in the couch cushions, her knuckles turning white as she held on for dear life. Each drag of Lewis's cock against her sensitive walls sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, making her whimper and praise him.

"Yes, just like that," she panted, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. "Don't stop, please don't stop. I need more, need you deeper."

Lewis moaned Y/n's name, his hips snapping forward as he drove into her. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "Not even my ex could make me feel this good."

At the mention of his ex, Y/n felt a twinge of jealousy. She tightened her walls around him, clenching down on his cock. "Well, you might as well moan out her name if you keep bringing her up," she said sarcastically, her tone a bit sharp.

Lewis grinned, undeterred by her comment. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "I'm not thinking about her," he murmured against Y/n's mouth. "I'm only thinking about how perfect you feel wrapped around my cock."

Lewis thrust sharply, making Y/n moan loudly. "You don't need to worry, baby," he assured her, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not thinking about anyone else but you. You're the only one who makes me feel this way."

To emphasize his point, Lewis changed his angle, hitting a spot deep inside Y/n that made her see the heavens. She cried out, her back arching off the couch as pleasure coursed through her veins.

"Oh god, right there," she panted, her nails digging into Lewis's shoulders. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis grinned, his hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm. He could feel Y/n's pussy fluttering around his cock, her walls tightening with each thrust. He knew she was close, and he was determined to push her over the edge.

Lewis continued to thrust into Y/n, his cock hitting all the right spots inside her. Her breasts were still constrained by her bra, the lacy fabric a tantalizing contrast to her flushed skin.

"Fuck, your tits look so good from this angle," Lewis groaned, his eyes dark with lust. "Maybe later, I'll bury my face in them, suck on those perfect nipples."

His words of praise sent Y/n over the edge, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. She came hard, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's cock as she squirted onto the couch.

"Oh god, Lewis," she cried out, her voice strained with pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis pulled out of Y/n, his cock still hard and throbbing. He stroked himself quickly, his hand flying over his shaft as he chased his own release. With a final groan, he came, his seed splattering across Y/n's stomach in thick, white ropes.

Y/n lay there, panting and trembling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She looked down at the mess on her stomach, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

"Mmm, you made quite the mess," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "But don't worry, I'll clean it up later."

Lewis grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "I'll help you clean up," he murmured against her mouth. "And then, maybe we can go another round."

Y/n laughed, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasms. "My pussy can't handle another round," she admitted, her voice breathy and strained. "You've worn me out, Lewis."

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[almightyelectro]

@octoboltflash asked:

[NOODLES] Hand resting on the end of the pool noodle as if it were her actual sword, Acheron makes a swift movement mimicking that of an unsheathing. Her 'blade' is brandished in a challenge, eyes narrowing as her focus attenuates to the other woman before her. "A storm's on the horizon. Will you weather the gales, or be consumed by oblivion?"

x x x

Such strange toys. While it makes sense that they wouldn't want anyone using a real sword during what was meant to be a 'fun time at the beach' (something she learned first hand by being challenged by another stranger, summoning her sword only for other beachgoers to run in fear), such flimsy things could hardly be used the same as a sword.

Still, she raises her blade, the 'tip' pointed towards her opponent. A...familiar looking woman, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. No, it was more like she didn't want to admit it.

"A storm...worry not, I have no intention of stepping down because of a little bad weather." There is the slightest hint of a spark in her eyes at the mention of oblivion. Such a concept...was an enemy of hers. Her nails dig into the foam, though she doesn't dare move. Such was the way of an honorable battle. "Never will I give in to oblivion-- not so long as the storm guides my blade."

...Even if it was a fake one.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

The Two (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Galadriel fights to withhold Nenya and the Nine, but in the end she fails to stop your husband placing yet another ring upon your finger

Warnings: evil!reader, killing (sorry Adar), allusions to smut, injuries suffered by reader (bad ones but not very graphically described), blood drinking for healing purposes

Note: another one in the evil!reader collection. Shout out to this lovely anon for the inspiration behind a certain bit of dialogue.

This is not exactly where you had imagined you would be on this day—shackles around your wrists and blood marring your brow, being escorted through the woods in a filthy and tattered dress by a band of Orcs. You admit it isn’t the best look on you, but circumstances change, and so you must adapt.

So far, you’d say you’re managing quite well.

Adar is not alone as you reach him in the clearing. Facing him is a blonde-haired Elf with whom you have been itching to meet again, now that she has found out the truth of your identity. Galadriel turns towards the approaching Orcs, her eyes widening slightly when she sees you. She may not have known you all that well, but neither could she have imagined that one of Celebrimbor’s unassuming aids was the one being held dearest of all by the very darkness Galadriel had sworn to destroy.

Adar, on the other hand, had never known you as anything else.

“What an unexpected honor,” he says when he sees you. “To what is it owed?”

You stare him down—the Uruk who had been your husband’s near destruction, leaving you to await his return for what had felt like an agonizing eternity. If looks could kill, he would be in bloody pieces.

It’s Glug, one of the Orcs at your side, that answers him. “We found Sauron. He tried to make us betray you, but we resisted. We lost many,” he shoves you into stumbling forward, “but we got our hands on this one. His Queen, he said,” Glug mocks, and the group of Orcs breaks into a cacophony of snorted laughter. Your face remains impassive as Adar approaches you.

“Indeed, Sauron’s bride herself.” Adar stands before you, meeting your gaze head on. “After all this time, you are still at his side.”

“I am at his side once again,” you correct him coldly, “after you took him from me. For centuries.”

“So long ago, yet your hatred of me has not waned,” Adar muses. “I always wondered how deeply this great love he claimed to feel for you truly ran. Whether you were another of his victims, or some unnatural exception. I can only hope he values you as much as you do him.” He turns to Galadriel. “With any luck, she will be enough to draw him out—”

His words are cut off abruptly, and Galadriel gasps—for the tip of a sword had emerged from Adar’s stomach, then withdrew as swiftly as it had cut through him. He falls to the ground, clutching at his wound, looking up only to see you as you truly are.

Without the illusion, there is not a speck of dirt on you, never mind blood or shackles. You stand clad in elegant battle armour, your bloodied sword held in your hand with the ease and practice of centuries.

Realization dawns on Adar’s face, as you had seen it on those of so many others before, a little too late. “My children!” he calls out, visibly astonished that he even has to. Yet not one of the Orcs move.

“For years, I’ve wondered,” you mock his musing tone from before, crouching to his level and slowly putting your blade to his neck, “would it please me more to kill you myself, or to watch my husband do it? But then, I realized—and he agreed—what end could be more terrible to you than to be killed by that which you love most?”

You stand back up to your full height. To Adar’s credit, he struggles to his feet as well. Even if what happens next is plain to see, before you even speak the words.

“Uruks,” you command, a sinister smile tugging at your lips. “Finish him.”

Your new servants surge from behind you, surrounding Adar and plunging their swords into their former master. It’s poetic, really—an inverted mirror of what your beloved suffered all those years ago, whilst your husband himself walks into the clearing, no longer hiding in the shadows, and recovers the crown that should have been his in the first place from the boulder on which it had been placed. Galadriel doesn’t see him, her eyes fixed on you in anger. It’s a delight to watch it be replaced with dread when she hears your husband’s voice call her name.

By now, Adar has fallen to the ground once more, yet the Orcs are slow to cease their blows. Galadriel is frozen in place as your husband joins you at your side, both of you looking down at the Uruk who has tasted your vengeance.

“My... children...” he croaks out, pitifully.

“They have found new parents,” your husband says, pitiless.

You exchange a look with Glug, and if there was any trace of hesitancy left in him, it vanishes under your demanding gaze. With a roar, he plunges his sword into Adar’s heart, putting an end to him and the killing frenzy of his brethren.

“What orders,” he asks then, his irritatingly pitched voice downright fanatical, “Lord Sauron? My Queen?”

“Raze Eregion,” your husband says evenly. “Leave no Elf alive. But bring me their leaders.”

“Be sure to destroy every single record of Celebrimbor’s works,” you add. “We would not want the secrets of the Rings’ craft revealed.”

The Orcs bow their heads, so wonderfully obedient as they begin to chant, “Hail Sauron, the Dark Lord! Hail our Dark Queen!” They repeat it as if in a craze, still muterring the words in their speech as they scurry away to carry out your orders. Glug, however, lingers by your side.

“Forgive me, my Queen!” He drops to his knees, all but touching his head to your boots. “For the offence I brought you. I only meant to convince Adar of our lie.”

You tilt your head, such an indulgent expression on your face, one might think it was genuine if they knew no better. You put a finger beneath Glug’s chin and lift his head, his bulbous eyes widening in awe as he meets your gaze.

“Earn my forgiveness,” you say sweetly, “by carrying out the task you have been given.”

“Yes, my Queen!” he exclaims, shooting to his feet the moment you release him. “My Lord!” he bows to your husband as well, then rushes after his companions as you watch, deeply satisfied. So this is what it feels like to be worshipped as a goddess. For now, by Orcs—later, by every being in Middle-Earth. The mere thought of it feels like a sip of the most exquisite and intoxicating wine, the elation second only to that sharing in this glory with your husband. You would love nothing more than to bask in the moment, mark it with a kiss, but there is still a pressing matter to attend to beforehand.

And, at once, she demands your attention.

“All this,” Galadriel says, voice thin with held-back terror, “was your design from the beginning!”

“Not all of it,” your husband tells her with eerie humility. “When my beloved came to find me,” he glances to you, letting his knuckles graze a gentle line down your shoulder, “having sensed my presence as I strived to regain my form, we believed we would never be parted again. It was hardly by our design that we were separated in that shipwreck. Once the sea brought you to me, however—”

“—an opportunity arose,” you continue seamlessly, smiling up at your husband, “too tantalizing to pass up.” You turn to Galadriel with a self-assured gaze. “You see, my love and I may be apart in body, but never in mind. And though not even we knew where our paths would lead, we trusted that we would be reunited at the end, and be all the better for it. So, I made my way back to Eregion, where my false life still awaited me—”

“—and I let you take Halbrand there yourself,” your husband finishes. “With a Númenórean army to fight against my enemy, and your trust to help me earn Celebrimbor’s. So, in the end...” A devious smirk tugs at his lips. “One could say it was your design.”

Galadriel purses her lips, keeping them firmly shut. She knows better than to take that bait of self-blame, you can tell. Instead, her eyes dart to her sword, discarded on the ground—betraying her intentions.

In an instant, you both bolt for her sword—and it’s only by a fraction of a second that you stomp your foot on the blade before she can lift it, leaving her to pull helplessly at the handle whilst you put your own sword to her throat. She glares up at you, her words spit out like venom, “You are a traitor to your people!”

A short, sweet laugh escapes you. “I am a traitor to all peoples.” You knit your brow, feigning bashfulness. “How kind of you to notice.”

Galadriel blinks at you, a trace of pity mingling with the disgust in her eyes. “Your mind has left you.”

You open your mouth, prepared to let her know you completely agree, and are rather pleased with yourself—when your attention lands on her hand, drawn there by a glimmer of light reflected off the gem on her finger. Nenya, the Ring of Water, shines before your eyes in all its devastating perfection.

You almost forget to keep your blade at Galadriel’s throat as you crouch down and grab her hand. She flinches, but your grip is relentless as you hold her hand still, admiring the Ring.

“Oh, this is simply...” you murmur, almost tearfully, “exquisite.”

In your long life, the only sight to grace your gaze which held similar beauty was your husband, in any form of his. And perhaps, only perhaps, from a purely aesthetic point of view, the Ring might just surpass him.

The thought, even just in passing, leaves you disoriented. And Galadriel takes full advantage of it.

She moves swiftly. Whilst you are distracted, she yanks her sword from underneath you and you lose your balance, finding yourself face up on the ground, barely parring the immediate blow she aims at your throat. Unsurprisingly, she is strong, making it a real challenge for you to keep her sword at bay with your own, but your mind is now fully present once more and you hold your own as fiercely as ever.

You don’t have to do it for long, however. Your husband’s sword intercedes between yours and Galadriel’s, breaking them apart and forcing her to fall backwards. She scrambles back to her feet, but now she is being attacked by a doubly armed foe, and it is her on the defence, struggling to match your husband’s skillful blows. You’ve stood back up, ready to fight again, but you can’t help taking a moment to behold the glorious sight of your husband fighting. It’s a rather short dance between them, brought to a halt as their blades clash and your husband swings Morgoth’s crown at the place where they meet, trapping both within its iron spikes.

Both of Galadriel’s hands hold the hilt of her sword in a white-knuckled grip, giving your husband a full view of the Ring as well. It tempts his gaze as quickly as it did yours.

“Even more beautiful than Celebrimbor led us to believe,” he says, bemused. “It would compliment your wedding band beautifully.” He glances at you. “Don’t you think, my love?”

As you meet his gaze, you are left breathless with how ardently you want to say yes. To have him place that wondrous Ring upon your finger, just as he did your wedding band all those years ago, and to admire the jewel on your hand as it touches every single inch of your husband’s skin whilst you make love for days and nights on end. You would begin right there, in the clearing, if not for the unwanted company.

Galadriel grunts, breaking away from your husband. Their withering stares remain locked as he circles her widely, coming to stand at your side. Can she not grasp that she is at a disadvantage?

“This is hardly fair. Two against one” you say, trying to sound reasonable. “It would be much wiser to simply give me that Ring, and him the Nine.”

“We do not wish to harm you,” your husband says, in that falsely reassuring tone that has worked wonders on so many others. Galadriel is having none of it.

“Do you wish to heal me?” she asks, defiantly. You would admire her determination, if it wasn’t so inconvenient to you personally.

Your husband proves more patient than you feel in his answer. “We would heal... all Middle-Earth.”

“As you have Eregion?” she growls, face twisting in rage as she readies her sword.

“Well, then,” you sigh shortly and do the same with yours, glancing at your husband, “ladies first, I suppose.”

And so you are the first to meet Galadriel in her attack. For a little while, you are evenly matched, but once your husband joins you shortly after, well—that is a different story.

You have to admit, Galadriel lives up to her reputation as Commander of the Northern Armies and then some. And yet, the fight would have been much shorter if it weren’t for a silent agreement between you and your husband, for the sadistic streak you share that makes you want to draw this out, let her believe she might prevail before you prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she never stood a chance.

You had almost forgotten the utter pleasure that it was to fight at your husband’s side. It’s no less harmonious or fierce than when you are making love, how fluidly you complement each other’s movements, acting as though you are simply an extension of the other. In that way, you suppose, the fight is fair—Galadriel’s opponent is as one alone, in all but flesh.

The Ring, however, and the Nine whose presence your husband must feel as keenly as you do, prove a distraction. Your blades draw Galadriel’s blood, but the wounds are relatively minor, and she manages to nick your skin as well in moments where your eyes stray to the Ring on her finger, your mind clouded with thoughts of it becoming yours.

You can’t explain how else she manages to gain the upper hand as she eventually does, catching your husband sufficiently off-guard to kick him down from a small height. Your battle had taken you to the ruins of an old stone structure at the edge of a cliff, your husband landing gracelessly in the midst of it. You’re more concerned for his pride rather than his body, however. Panting from exertion, you and Galadriel lock gazes.

“You say you let him use me,” she challenges, taking her chances at riling you up now that you are alone. “Do you know what he offered me?”

“What he pretended to offer you was mine already,” you say, unwavering. “Had been for a long, long time.”

“He seemed rather convincing,” Galadriel taunts, “when he called me his Queen.”

You huff out a chuckle. “How could you not be convinced,” you retort, “when you so badly wanted to believe him?”

You charge at her again. Perhaps she has managed to make your blood boil after all, but it only works against her, because your attacks are all the more vicious as you force her backwards, down a set of stone steps leading to where your husband had fallen.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” you taunt her between strikes, “for desiring him.”

“I did not desire—!”

“Liar,” you hiss, narrowly parrying a particularly rageful swing of her sword. “I quite liked that form myself. Had a certain roguish... charm to it.” The word becomes a grunt as you kick her back into the stone wall, your swords and gazes locked together in a battle of unrelenting wills. “That stubble of his... felt especially pleasant on my skin.” You smile wickedly, voice laden with sinful implications. “Did you never imagine it on yours?”

She must have—otherwise, her eyes would not betray the sliver of shame that they do as she cries out and pushes you off her with renewed strength. You stumble to the bottom of the stairs with a deranged chuckle, putting your fingers to the stinging spot on your cheek and finding it wet with blood. She had managed to cut you.

And she seemed intent on trying to do worse to you, if not for your husband distracting her with something yet more disorienting than your words.

She freezes in place when she sees him standing before her—not as Annatar, but as Halbrand.

“Fighting at your side,” he says, as if from a distant dream, “I felt if I could just hold on to that feeling...”

Words that had once tugged at her heart, no doubt. They are not enough to deter her from attacking him now, but the internal conflict painted on her face is a delight to watch as they cross blades. Your husband changes the guise of Halbrand into that of Galadriel herself, then that of Celebrimbor. Each of them taunting her with the words he knows would cut the deepest, driving her into one attack after the other.

Until the old structure on which they are fighting crumbles, and they fall along with the boulders back to the ground. Your husband is the first to rise, back to the form he had taken as Annatar, and as you meet his gaze, alight with wrath, you both know—it’s time to put an end to this.

Galadriel gathers her sword from where it has fallen, staggers back to her feet, stubborn and determined as ever as the fighting resumes. But there are two of you, and she is more tired. Before long, you have her backed into a corner—or rather, with the very edge of the cliff at her back, with nowhere to go but into a deadly fall to the ground below. She fights valiantly, but in the end the inevitable happens. Half-distracted by you, she is not quick enough to stop your husband from plunging one of the crown’s iron spikes deep into her shoulder. He backs her into a pillar of the stone arch at the cliff’s edge, and in that position it’s too easy for you to knock the sword from her hand, once and for all.

It’s almost sad, seeing such a mighty warrior reduced to cries of pain, sagging helplessly against the stone. When your husband pulls the crown from her, she falls limp to the ground, the satchel containing the Nine slipping from an inner pocket at her chest. Leaning down, your husband finally reclaims his creations, then slips the Ring of Water off Galadriel’s trembling finger. She is too weak to do anything but groan, her eyes fluttering shut in defeat.

“The Rings are ours,” he says proudly. With his opponent utterly defeated, he lays down his sword and the crown on a nearby boulder, then tucks the satchel away within his own robes. The Elven Ring, however, he keeps in the palm of his hand as he leaves Galadriel lying there and turns to you. His steps are slow and measured as he comes to stand before you, close enough to take your hand in his if he so wishes to. But he withholds, his eyes boring into yours.

“My love,” he says, and it feels like a vow. “My Queen.” He holds out his hand, reverently. “Allow me.”

Your chest swells as you place your hand in his. You hold each other’s gaze a moment longer before you both look down and watch as he, with utmost delicacy, slips Nenya onto your finger, right next to the one that wears your wedding band. Your sword clatters to the ground, unwittingly loosed from your grip, but you don’t even hear it. The sight before you is almost too beautiful to behold, making you weep with joy.

“With this, I vow my life to be yours,” your husband says then, voice strained with emotion. “In life and in death—”

“—and for all eternity,” you finish breathlessly, raising your tearful gaze to meet his. The vows you had spoken to each other on the night you had bound your souls together, repeated with equal devotion after all this time.

His brow furrows in awe, and he beholds your face as though he cannot believe you are real. Your Ring-bearing hand trembles in his as he raises his other one to your cheek, thumb gently brushing the skin beneath the cut left there by Galadriel. He leans in and kisses the wound, his warm tongue soothing the pain and relishing the taste of you. You feel it too, sweetly coppery, as he then seals his mouth to yours with soul-wrenching tenderness. And you already know, but it still sweeps the floor from underneath your feet each time you are reminded of the full might of your adoration for him. You would crumble to the ground with the force of it, if not for your husband holding you close.

“Wed again,” you murmur as your lips part, lightheaded with bliss. His smile is soft, his knuckles grazing your temple reverently.

“I never imagined you could be even more beautiful than you already were,” he all but whispers, glancing down at the Ring of Power upon your finger. “Yet as my Queen, your radiance is nearly too great to look upon, even for my eyes. All of Middle-Earth shall bow to worship at my beloved’s feet. All shall love you and despair.”

And you shall love to be adored, yet his adoration would forever be the one you cherish most. You are leaning in to taste his lips once more, when the voice of your all-but-forgotten-about foe rudely interrupts.

“The free peoples of Middle-Earth,” Galadriel declares, “will always resist you.”

With a small sigh, you turn to her. She has managed enough strength to sit up sideways, her glare as defiant as ever even as the poisoned wound left by Morgoth’s—by your husband’s crown slowly consumes her. She’s resilient, fearsome and beautiful. Like you.

Now that she is no longer a real threat, you allow yourself a spark of admiration. Sensing your wish, your husband leaves to break away from him and go to her, lowering yourself to one knee so you meet her at her level.

“I could yet help you heal,” you offer mercifully, knuckles grazing her jawline as she flinches away. “You could yet pledge your allegiance to your King and Queen.”

“Not while I still breathe,” she spits the words obstinately. Predictably.

It seems you’ll still have need of your sword after all.

“This is a waste, truly,” you say, and mean it. “You would have made a great ally.”

Galadriel frowns, as if contemplating your words. “Perhaps,” she admits. “You, on the other hand...” She leans close to you, and hisses in your face, “...would have made a dreadful Queen.”

‘Would have’? You’re about to tell her you already are Queen, and always will be. A taunting smirk is already tugging at your lips—

—quickly snuffed out by a sharp pain, deep in your chest. Jaw slack, eyes wide, you look down to find Galadriel’s hand there, gripping the hilt of the dagger she has plunged into your heart. Nothing but a small blade, most likely conjured from some hidden pocket in her garments whilst you and your husband had been absorbed in each other, and which she had concealed within her sleeve since—it hardly matters. It all happens too quickly for your husband to reach you, and it’s distraction enough that all you can do is gasp as Galadriel grabs you by the shoulders and, with the last of her strength, pulls you over the edge of the cliff along with herself.

Your name, roared out by your beloved, is the last thing you hear as you fall.

*****

You’re alive.

Barely.

You exist somewhere between wakefulness and oblivion, the sounds around you distant and pain threatening to greet you once you have returned to your full senses—if you ever will. But a touch of your husband’s godly nature has resided within you ever since you bound yourself to one another in marriage, and so your form endures, your mind alert enough to serve you even as you lie broken on the ground.

“She should be healed,” a voice says, and you recognize it—king Gil-galad, no doubt come to recover Galadriel from where she must be lying close to you. “And made to face judgement for her treachery.”

There is another presence, yet closer to you. As a hand touches your neck, fingers pressing to your pulse point, you grasp at every last sliver of your power to conjure one small, but vital illusion.

The hand leaves you.

“I agree,” you hear Elrond say. “But she is dead already.”

Relieved and utterly spent, before long you are lost to the world once more.

*****

Your name, whispered softly by your beloved, is the first thing you hear as you wake up.

The next is your own weak moan, pain spreading through your body as feeling returns to you. The room to which you open your eyes is, thankfully, low-lit—you doubt they could handle anything else. But all that truly matters is that you are met with your husband’s gaze, relieved and endlessly caring as he sits at your side, leaning over you.

“Shh,” he cooes, caressing the crown of your head as a tear slides down your temple. “This too shall pass, for I will look after you as you did me in my time of need. I’m here, my love,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’m here.”

The pain mercifully dulls once again, most likely your husband’s doing. This time, you are at peace as you drift away.

*****

It isn’t pain, but warmth and comfort that greets you when you next wake. Your limbs are still weak, your body made heavy with a dull ache all over, but the familiar feeling of being cradled in your husband’s arms overshadows the lingering discomfort. Your head is resting on his chest, and, in natural reflex, you nuzzle into him, lips searching for his skin and pressing to his neck.

“My love,” he greets softly, his pulse a pleasant thrum beneath your mouth. “You are awake at last.”

You lift your head, wincing at the stiffness in your neck, and look into your husband’s eyes. “Did I keep you waiting terribly long?” you ask, finding the strength to work a trace of playfulness into your tired voice. Something in his gaze breaks in the face of it.

“Unbearably so,” he replies in earnest.

There’s no response you find within you other than to press a light kiss to his lips, reassuring yourself that this is real. After, you allow him to carefully maneuver you so that you are both sitting up against the headboard, with you still tucked into his side.

“You are nearly recovered, my love,” he says as you grimace and shift, looking for a comfortable position for your aching joints, “but your strength will return with time. Until then...”

He offers you his hand, his black blood already spilled from a cut in the palm of it. It’s fresh, different from the one he had used to provide the false mithril for the Nine. This sacrifice he has made for you alone, to mend his beloved piece by piece. You don’t need him to explain all of this—you simply offer him a grateful smile as you cradle his hand in yours and bring it to your lips, kissing it almost as you would his mouth as you gather his blood with your tongue.

“There,” he says hoarsely, eyes fluttering shut with the great pleasure of feeling you consume him, any part of him. “Take my strength,” he urges, cradling your head as you drink from him. “Make it yours, my love.”

The effect may be temporary, but the relief is instant. You pull away, sighing pleasantly as you wipe your thumb over any lingering droplets of blood on your lips, and lick those off your finger as well. You feel almost as new, as if you had never even taken a blade to the heart and a shattering fall.

The memory sends a jolt through your chest. Instinctively, you bring your hand to it, looking down at the place where Galadriel had managed to stab you. The wound has been healed, but the spark of rage is kindled within you once more. And it grows into a wildfire when you notice your horribly bare finger.

“Where’s Nenya?” You scramble from your husband’s arms and off the bed, gripped by a sudden, blind panic. “Where’s my Ring?” you demand, nearly a growl. His gaze becomes grim.

“The Elves took it back,” he says darkly, standing to face you. You huff out a furious breath. So, Galadriel succeeded, then. She recovered the Ring, even if it meant taking all of you along with it. Even if she was risking her own death.

You sincerely hope she survived the fall and the wound inflicted by your husband’s crown. Otherwise, you would have no revenge to look forward to.

“And Eregion?” you ask, scrambling for some victory to which to cling in your rage. “Our army? What of it?”

“We are in Eregion,” your husband tells you, adding proudly, “what is left of it. As for our armies... nearly all Middle-Earth is ours for the taking.”

“Nearly?” you frown.

“The Elves have used the Three to create a sanctuary beyond my reach.” His voice drips bitterness. But as he steps to you, taking your hand in his, he seems more disturbed than vengeful. “Had I found that they had taken you there... where I could not follow...”

You soften, then, your anger tamed by the torment in his gaze as he trails off. You wonder if, within this sanctuary of the Elves protected by the light of the Three, you could still feel your husband’s dark soul caressing yours even from afar. The thought that you might not, that you had been at risk of suffering such an appalling emptiness, is sickening.

“It is well, then,” you say, chasing away the dread of what might have been, “that I led Elrond to believe I was dead. That is why they took only Galadriel.”

“My love.” Your husband smiles, pride swelling in his eyes as he cups your cheek. “Clever and fierce, even as you lay broken.”

“I knew you would find me,” you say simply, as if nothing more had been needed. But then you sigh, and take hold of his wrist, lowering his hand from your face. “But our victory is not yet complete,” you say sullenly. “The Three are free of your influence and beyond our reach.”

“Do not despair, my love,” he is quick to reassure. “The Seven have known my touch. We have the Nine. And very soon...” Something sparks in his eyes, cunning and mysterious. “...we shall have more.”

You raise a brow, intrigued. “More?”

He nods, brow knitting slightly as he begins to explain. “You told me it did not sit well with you that I had used only my blood in the making of the Nine. You were right, my love,” he admits. His gaze drops to your hands, his thumb brushing over the empty spot where Nenya had been. “And so,” he says, locking his gaze with yours, “it shall be with your blood and mine combined that we will forge the Two.”

The words linger in the air, ominous and captivating even before you fully grasp their meaning.

“Two Rings,” your husband continues, wrapping your hands in his and bringing them to his chest, where you feel his heart beat as furiously as yours as he speaks. “Born of our flesh and love, inextricably intertwined with one another. Whose power shall be as fierce and eternal as the devotion between you and I, greater than that of all the other Rings. Great enough to bind them in the darkness we share, and to rule them all. One for their King...”

“One for their Queen,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if they had always been there. Always locked behind your tongue, written in your fate, meant to be spoken in this very moment. This feeling, the things of which he speaks—it is all so intoxicating, a design too perfect in its terrible splendour to imagine it being brought into existence.

“Is that possible?” you ask, cautiously.

“If it is not... then we shall make it.”

And when he says it like that, gazing so deeply and so fiercely into your eyes, you believe him.

“Will you join me in this act of creation, my love?” your husband beseeches, so desperately hopeful. “Will you stand at my side?”

There is only one answer that could ever leave your lips. But first, you lean in and capture his in a deep, ravenous kiss, the taste of him both remedy and fuel to the delirium surging within you.

Creation. Not meant for Elves, or Dwarves, or Men. Not crafted through the deception of Celebrimbor, or even so much as with another’s aid. The very embodiment of your entwined souls, brought into being and meant to be worn by you and your beloved only.

The fruit of your union.

You break apart, opening your eyes to find the same all-consuming desire reflected in your husband’s. And once again, you speak the vow that shall very soon become inscribed upon the gold of the Two.

“For all eternity.”

Previous fic with same reader -> Defied

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱

daughter of poseidon!reader x luke castellan 🫧

IN WHICH.. in an attempt to keep percy from going insane, y/n is forced to keep her relationship with luke a secret

warning! the fic contains- feminine reader // post tlt but no luke betrayal (percy is there and chris and clarisse are together) // use of y/n

🎧- give you the world by steve lacy

2.4k

Since the dawn of time, you and Luke Castellan have been best friends. Attached at the hip since birth, the two of you have always been close. He was the one who helped you conquer your most intimidating challenges, whether that be the nervousness due to the first day of school or a Minotaur vigorously hunting you down.

And you assisted him, too. On those sleepless nights due to haunting nightmares, you lay beside him, comforting him through every scared shiver. It had always been Luke and Y/N, two peas in a pod, destined to spend eternity together.

Now, you both reside in Camp Half-Blood, eagerly awaiting your next adventure. You loved your time at the summer camp, whether it was tending to the young children or paddle boarding on the smooth and crystal blue lake that glimmered as sunlight passed through. It was thrilling to live such a beautiful life with the people you loved most.

It all started when you waltzed into the infirmary at fourteen, hurt and confused, with Luke and Annabeth by your side. The journey to get here was long and painful, losing one of your best friends, Thalia, in the process. Your head throbbed as Chiron explained the basis of everything, since this whole Greek God situation could be hard to process.

Poseidon, the God of the Sea, claimed you with ease the moment he saw you lingering by the lake all day. With Hermes, it took him a lot longer to accept Luke. However, you cheered him up when no one else could, lighting up his whole world, and no matter how bummed he was about his absent father, your illuminating smile shifted his mood instantly.

You’ve been a year-rounder since then; the world is too dangerous for you to venture off. Every once in a blue moon, however, you wish that just for one year, the monsters would stop prowling and you could explore the cities that tourists swarmed on a regular basis. Other times, you were happy to live in the warm solace you referred to as camp. The companions made inside the safe haven were incomparable to all the mysteries that roamed outside.

Around a year ago, a small blond boy arrived, his cluelessness mirroring yours when you first stumbled in. As you gave him the standard tour, something seemed to be off. The stories he shared of devious monsters attacking reminded you of your childhood, and a feeling of suspicion and concern arose.

Your wariness was only confirmed when the golden trident floated above Percy’s head. Sure, you were excited to have a younger brother, but you knew the dangers the life of a forbidden child contained. So, you made it your honorary job to protect him no matter the circumstance. You taught him how to surf and how to use his powers for the greater good.  And so a magnificent connection was formed, with you and him bonding like full siblings. He loved hearing all of the gossip between the older campers, and you loved when he updated you on how his friends were doing. Not to mention the chaotic board game nights you and he shared with Annabeth and Luke. There were almost no hidden secrets, for you told each other everything. Which is why you felt horrible about the massive personal detail you left out of your weekly yapping session.

You and Luke had been dating for three months. You had liked each other for a while, but eventually the overly flirty comments and long stares got the best of him, and he confessed . One breezy night, he asked you to meet him on the waterfront before bed. You obliged, stepping out into the chilly weather to find hundreds of blooming flowers (courtesy of the Demeter kids) arranged neatly in a heart. It was cheesy, but it was the exact type of movie love you were looking for.

That chilly, moonlit evening, you decided it was best to keep your relationship hidden from Percy and, for that matter, most of the camp. Close friends, such as Clarisse and Chris, knew, but that was only because you went on frequent double dates with the pair. But that doesn’t mean others didn’t bat an eye at your overly friendly relationship. You had almost been caught multiple times, despite Luke being the son of Hermes, who was known for his sly nature. 

The first time it happened was entirely Luke's fault. You and him had just finished archery training and were walking to lunch, where the rest of camp resided. As soon as you approached the bustling picnic tables, you were dragged off by the Aphrodite kids, who wanted your help with some fashion emergencies. That left Luke with Chris and Percy, along with some other campers from Hermes cabin.  -

“How was archery?” Asked an unclaimed kid, who Luke had little interaction with. They had small talk every once in a while, but not enough for him to know any personal details about his life.

“It was fine. You know, my girlfrie-“

Luke was lucky looks couldn’t kill, because with the way Percy and Chris were staring at him, he would have been six feet under already. He tried his best to salvage the situation, continuing on as if nothing had happened.

“My friend hit three bullseyes in a row. It was really impressive.” He finished, staring down as he pushed around his mushy broccoli with a flimsy spork, hoping to avoid the glares of his, let's face it, practically brother-in-law. Lucky for him, Percy shrugged it off, and the topic was quickly changed. 

-

The second time, however, was most certainly your mistake.

-

The dull light from the moon provided little protection from the consuming jet black sky. You and Luke had to sneak out after hours often, which was one of the major downsides to a private relationship.

“No!” You playfully shouted, trying to juke him out as you ran through the rocky sand of the shoreline. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), your boyfriend was the most athletic kid on camp. He easily caught you before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the navy blue lake. 

You gently punched his back through strained laughter, gasping for oxygen. But as he attempted to step into the cold winter waters, you used your powers to manipulate the sea so it avoided his path. And with one quick swoop of your hand, he was drenched with the cooling solution, and you remained dry. 

He set you down, aggressively shaking the water from his head. “I forgot you were like the princess of the sea.” He said. Your harmonious giggles caused him to grin from ear to ear. 

“Yeah, maybe not the best choice on your end. C’mon, Percy probably has a shirt for you.” You replied, interlocking your fingers and skipping back to your cabin. 

You sneakily creaked the door open, hand over your mouth to try and hush the laughs that spilled out. Percy was sound asleep, snoring softly as you made your way to his dresser, rummaging through the array of neon orange shirts.

“Here. Mr. D gave him the wrong size by accident a while ago.” You whispered toward him before dragging him back out with the fabric still in hand. Once outside, he slid his soaking shirt off, carefully placing it next to your clothes that hung on the drying line. After giving him the t-shirt, you kissed him goodnight and headed back to get some much-needed sleep.

The next day, Percy awoke you with violent shakes, causing you to twist and groan with confusion.

“Get up. It’s like eight already. Don’t you have counselor activities to tend to too?” He said.

You shot up in a panic, staring down at the clock that read 8:03 a.m., almost 20 minutes after your morning duties. With an exasperated sigh, you slipped out of bed and rushed to grab a clean t-shirt from outside. 

Still dazed, you grabbed a familiar shirt off the clothing line and rushed back inside, quickly changing in hopes of escaping Chiron’s anger for your unpunctuality. 

While you happened to make it to breakfast on time, you failed to notice how unusually long the shirt was or how the tag on the back had the initials “L.C.” loosely scribbled on them. However, everyone else noticed your strange outfit. 

“Whose shirt is that? Why is it so big?” Percy was immediately questioned as you sat down with your food tray in hand.

“What do you mean?" You asked, glancing back down at your lengthy attire, before realizing your mistake. “Oh! I spilled something on my only clean shirt, so I borrowed that old one from you. Sorry.” You salvaged, and others seem to believe you. 

You made eye contact with Luke from across the table, growing flustered instantly due to the anxiety-inducing incident.

-

The third and final time might have been your fault, too. But by then, the two of you were fed up of keeping it secret.

-

“Awe, look at the little lovebirds!” 

Clarisse voiced as she shakily pointed a digital camera towards Luke and you, who were engaged in your own conversation.

Gorgeous flowers blossomed around the couple, ranging in various colors and sizes. Laughs rang through the air as Chris, Clarisse, Luke, and you all hung out one hazy camp afternoon. 

You looked up at the girl, smiling brightly as you twirled a pink flower in your palm. Grabbing Luke’s jaw with your soft, freshly manicured hands and turning his head to look in their direction, Chris pulled out a Polaroid camera, snapping a photo of the teens. 

As the black picture slid out of the small box, Chris handed it to Clarisse, who shook it with force in order to see the image fully.

“Do you want me to take one of you two?” You asked, snatching the camera from Chris’s hands and pointing it towards them. 

They posed, and the photo turned out super cute. You stared down at your frilly ruffle socks that stuck out of your high-top navy blue Converse. The toes of the shoes had been decorated with the signatures of all of your friends.

“It’s getting late; wanna head back?” Chris suggested the others let out a groan. He was right; they had camp duties to attend to, but being wrapped in their loved one’s embrace was so much more appealing.

You hopped up reluctantly, Luke grabbing your hand as you took the scenic route back to the cabins, the other couple straying a different way.

“I love going out with them.” You declared, breaking the silence and dramatically swinging your intertwined arms.

“Me too. It makes me feel like we’re just regular people.” He responded, smiling at her with such genuineness.

“Maybe in another universe.” You replied, sighing as you let out a light giggle.

“Speaking of which,” you continued. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

“Duh. We’re probably Gwen and Spiderman in one.” 

“Totally.” They grinned, enjoying the comfort they brought each other in the chaos that was their life.

After hours of training, you slipped back into Cabin 3, taking the photo out of your back pocket and placing it on your bed. You smiled at the sweet situation before Luke burst in, calling you to the bonfire. Obliviously, the Polaroid was left open on your bed, exposed to the world.

You basked in the warmth of Apollo’s kids songs, zoned out while mindlessly swaying to the beat of the guitar. Luke, who was sitting beside you, noticed you staring off into space and questioned it.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“I wanna tell Percy about us.” You replied, looking into his eyes to detect his emotions. He seemed surprised at first, but his expression changed to one more supportive a few seconds later. 

“I agree. I mean, he might try to literally drown me, but I hate lying to him.”

“Me too.” You finished, turning back to face the singer. However, you instead met eyes with a furious-looking Percy, holding a small black rectangle in his hands. Your heart stopped, and you leaped up to rush and explain, Luke following behind. The young blond stormed off in the other direction.

“Percy, please listen. We couldn’t tell you because we knew how you’d react. I know you’re protective and all, and I love that about you, but Luke's a good guy, and we both know that.” You started, praying to the gods that this would work out. 

“I barely even know him!“ Percy lied straight through his teeth, trying to come up with a rational reason for his anger. 

“Are you kidding? You’ve known him for a year now.” You sassed back.

“How long have you been dating?” He threw away his last point, knowing he had already lost that argument.

“Three months, I think.” You whispered out, ashamed.

“Three months, and you didn’t think to let me, your little brother, know?” He screamed, speed-walking back to his cabin, irritated. 

You let out a sigh, facing Luke. Sadness coated your glossy eyes before seeping out onto your cheeks. Your boyfriend was quick to wipe the tears with his calloused thumb, comforting you.

“Hey, he’ll come around eventually. Let him sleep it off.” He whispered, embracing you in a tight hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, clamping your eyes shut.

As the sun rose the next morning and Percy stepped out of the cabin, you and Luke were waiting outside, prepared with a whole spiel about your relationship. To your astonishment, he greeted you with a smile and spoke up first.

“I’m sorry about last night. While I think this whole concept of you dating Luke is insane, he’s probably the best it’s going to get, so I approve.” You smiled back, a sigh of relief escaping your throat. 

“And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s just-“ 

“Don’t. It’s fine, really. Just absolutely no PDA in front of me.” Percy stated, a look of disgust appeared as he said the last sentence. Both of you agreed to his simple terms.

“I’ve gotta go to the arena. I’ll see you later.” Luke declared, and you nodded, ruffling your fingers through his curls before he departed. Once he was a solid distance away, Percy leaned in and whispered to you.

“Really? Luke Castellan? That's the best you could do?”

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[milkbobatyun]

foolish little dove

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: the consequences of not listening to the head of the oak family

word count: 936

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear

a/n: this can be read as a continuation of my first yandere sunday piece 'my love, mine all mine'

the plush mattress of the bed dipped underneath you, the room furnished with an abundance of luxury—silk sheets, velvet drapes, golden accents, all shining in the glow of the candlelight. it was more than any common person could afford. yet, this was just a gilded cage, a dream disguised as a nightmare,

you were the dove, wings weighed down by invisible chains, helpless as you await for the fate your captor planned for you. the balcony teased you, thick, tempered glass doors teasing you, though it remained locked, the taste of freedom just out of reach.

oh how you prayed you could fly into the sky from the balcony, to feel the fresh air blow gently against your skin.

the vast room seemed to grow larger every day, the loneliness gnawed at your insides, making you yearn for company.

the sun rose and fell, night’s moonlight flooded the room. the repetitive ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs struck through throughout the room, the gramophone’s needle scratched out the same haunting tune, echoing around the bed chamber. 

you lost count of how many days you were locked up. the staff brought you your meals, took you to the bathroom to bath, their routine revolving around you like clockwork. your days began to blend into each other, making your mind a blurry haze.

today, a key jangled in the lock, the soft creak of the heavy oak door echoing in the still room.

sunday’s heavy boots thudded across the floor, muffled by the plush velvet carpet.

your blank gaze slid away from where your hands tangled each other, your hair hanging around your face like lifeless vines, towards the new figure in the room. when you catch sight of a white coat and not the mundane black uniform of the servants, your head snaps up, eyes lighting up with hope.

your eyes meet sunday’s steady gaze, lunging forwards, hands grasping at him, at his clothes, to prove to yourself he wasn’t a figment of imagination. those hallucinations happened more often now. 

sometimes, it was your family, screaming in agony, their bloody hands clawing at your exquisite clothing, cursing you to eternal suffering, their screams worming its way into your ears. other times, it was the trailblazer, haunting the dark corner of your room, a silent visitor who would stare blankly in your direction.

the smooth velvety fabric rippled cooling against your soft and warm skin. sunday’s mouth twitched into an amused smirk, as he closed the distance in a few long strides. for a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to believe that he was here, to free you from the cold shackles around your ankles. his cold hands, concealed by his pure white gloves, traced your face.

“my, my,” he purred, voice soothing. “how is my little dove?”

“please,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “please, let me go… i beg of you” your voice trailed off, dying like the hope you held in your heart.

a hollow chuckle flooded the room, sunday’s face twisted in cruel humor.

“you still don’t get it, do you?” he hisses, voice taunting. “you’re mine now, little dove. even if i let you go, where would you go? home?” 

a twisted smirk adorned his face. 

“oh right,” he continued, tapping his finger on his chin in mock consideration. “you don't have one anymore! maybe because…they’re all dead!”

his eyes were alight with evil delirium, looking down upon you like a hawk would upon its prey. 

with one finger twirling a lock of your hair, sunday leaned close to your ear, lips brushing your ear like a lover’s promise, and whispered, “remember, my little dove, you’re mine now, always and forever.”

with a gentle, almost lover-like caress of your cheek, sunday placed a kiss on your forehead, before he turned on his heel, heading towards the door.

something within you snapped and you moved before you could think, hope shining in your eyes. you tried to run towards the opening. though your legs, weak with days of sitting around, failed you. sunday watched you with sadonic delight, gaze cold and emotionless as he observed you while you flailed about, like a newborn deer. 

throwing dignity to the wind, you dragged yourself towards the door, the comfort of the carpet burning against your skin. you watched as the shining sliver of freedom shut behind sunday. 

the door clicked shut with an echoing finality. hearing the snap of the lock, turning back into its place, you remained, clawing at the door. you were but a dove in a gilded cage, weighed down by invisible chains, freedom nothing but a cruel illusion, always out of reach.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[deanangel]

Under Heavens Control

pairing: sam winchester x angel reader .ᐟ | minors do NOT interact

synopsis: heavens weapon and a winchester, both destined for something better, yet stuck with each other. unclean and full of sin they meet.

warnings: religious themes , mentions of blood and death (very briefly) , smut p!v unprotected sex (wrap it UP!!) , finger fucking , kissing , cumming inside , cockwarming (if you squint) ..

word count: 1.5k

THE air inside was thick and cold, restricting the amount of breaths one could take. the sound of screams evident in one's ears. crimson liquid staining the concrete walls, metal chains bounding one in place for eternity. despair and death overwhelmed anyone who dared to enter.

heaven to humans was the best place to go to in death. anything you wanted, you would have. it was sickening for you to think about honestly.

locked up and forced to do the angels' dirty work was how you spent your days.

being a weapon was all you knew.

there was no escape even if you tried, the other angels – your 'siblings’ – kept you on a tight leash, always finding a way to fix you when you malfunctioned. 

the children of god were pure, clean, and all things innocent. while you were none of those. rabid, dirty, sinful, and so on is what would be used to describe you. the first to go to war and the last to come back, blood staining your entire being.

you found solace in the ones like you; however, they never lasted long. always being taken away far too soon. warm hands cradle your face as if you were their pet, cooing softly that this is what you were made for. that you didn't need friends, only them. so you stayed, and never fought back. angels were the light, yet somehow you were the dark.

chained down and all alone is how you sat, until the faint sound of footsteps echoed throughout the halls. your breath hitched, awaiting whatever came your way. the voice of another rang into the cell. 

“we need you to go down to earth, a few souls are to be collected…early.”

the booming sound was opposite to the eerie silence you were used to. you knew deep down that this could be your chance to break free, escape from the shackles of heaven that weighed you down. but when push came to shove, you were under their control. trained like an animal, domesticated like a dog to bend to their every word.

watching silently as they unchain you, immediately jumping back like you'd attack. some dogs go rogue on their owners, they're afraid you may be next.

standing up with shaky legs you follow them, shoulders slumped and head low.

“make it quick, we don't need to waste anymore time.” the voice ordered, harsh and direct.

the sound of bare feet pattering against the floors filled heavens walls contrast to the usual heels and dress shoes.

eyes following your form as you trudge through the halls. the prayers of humans wash over you like a tidal wave, ears ringing as millions of voices flood into your mind. yet, you found the power to focus on one. his voice was calming, you could listen to it for all of eternity.

the wind cascading around your form snapped you out of your trance, wings almost failing to set you down safely onto land. it had been millenia since the last time you were set to go to earth. you were here last when lucifer wasn't the devil, instead he was a friend..

shaking those memories out of your head, you focus on the task at hand. 

collecting souls.

the human soul was pure and untainted, it held power that many wouldn't be able to wield. the more souls in heaven, the stronger it was.

it was your job to help make the empire better. it was a shame that they took the souls early, poor people. as an angel you didn't have empathy, but you liked to pretend you did when regarding humans.

the names were engraved into your brain, programmed into your software. that's how they kept you sane. taking you apart and rebuilding you once you showed signs of rebellious behavior.

the suns harsh rays beat down on you; however, it wasn't uncomfortable. the heat was better than the cold dark room you were kept in. taking souls was a rather simple job, but not when the soul was him. the man whose prayers you zeroed in on while in such a weak state.

sighing you made a choice, he would be last. and then – hopefully – you would've gotten over the nagging feeling in the back of your head that he could save you. get you away from their judgmental gazes and harsh orders.

you didn't want to do this, you were an angel. why you? why not capture a demon and make them heaven's pet. 

instead god chose you.

did he get off on this? one of his children being used and crafted to be as vile as the devil himself. it was his sick and twisted way of entertainment.

you didn't dwell on the thought much longer. ‘make it quick.’ repeating in your head over and over. making your way around the world, taking each soul in swift and precise ways.

here you were, standing in front of him.

sam winchester.

his brown hair framed his face perfectly, his entire being ethereal under the moonlight.

from what you'd been told, he was somewhat like you. being injected with demon blood as young as 6 months old, watched and manipulated by demons it was sad really. your hand came down onto his face gingerly. caressing his soft skin with care. a warm feeling filled your body, engulfing you in a blanket of comfort.

sam stirred slightly in his sleep, eyes opening to look up at the figure standing before him. a warm glow emitting from them. their presence was calming, lulling him to slumber. yet, he knew better than to fall for the trap of the supernatural.

“shh, you're safe. i'm here to help.” you cooed softly, copying the way you were spoken to. hand coming up to stroke his hair. he grabbed your wrist to stop you, his touch didn't burn like others did. instead it felt right.

“who are you.” he questioned, his voice rough and hoarse from his previous sleep. your heart fluttered and the warmth came crashing down–harder this time.

“i..i'm here for your soul, sam. heaven's orders.” you couldn't help but admit, something inside you compelling you to do so.

like he had greater control over you than god, than heaven.

his grip tightened and he sat up, bringing you closer to him with a slight tug.

he was beautiful, so beautiful.

sam couldn't help but stare in awe at you. your beauty was unmatched, like a rose in a field of weeds. you stood out. he could tell you didn't want to, he felt something pull him to you. he fully knew that you wouldn't hurt him when he brought his other hand to your face, running his thumb over your bottom lip. his heart melted when he heard the hitch in your breath at his actions.

you were laying with him, soft moans leaving your now swollen lips as he pumped his fingers inside you. your nails dig into his forearms as he lay behind you. “sam..” his name rolling off your tongue like silk. your back arched, deepening his fingers. “just like that, sweet girl..” he whispered into your ear, edging you on. his long, thick fingers hitting that sweet spot everytime. your hips shuddered and bucked against his as your orgasm came down over you.

sam continued his relentless pace as you came down from your high. chest heaving and pants escaping your mouth breathlessly. “y'so good f'me.” he whispered as he brought you closer, slipping his cock into your tight cunt. his arms encased you, but unlike heavens hold it wasn't cold nor painful, it was warm and brought great pleasure. you whined at the feeling of him stretching you out, juices coating his cock until he bottomed out. he kept a slow and torturous pace, keeping you still with his hands so you couldn't move.

“please, please!” you let out, pleading loudly for him to go faster. he gently caressed your hips, his thumb tracing circles into the skin.

soon the sound of skin slapping filled his room, your moans and his grunts echoed through the walls. anyone within a mile radius could hear what was happening, and he nor you cared to mind.

you gripped onto him tighter and so did he, his hold on you was bruising. pushing himself as deep as he could, he came. a warm sticky substance coated your inner walls. tears were streaming down your face. he stayed inside, tugging you so you were facing him, bringing your lips to his in a searing kiss. it was passionate and full of love, not dark and hungry.

you and sam were connected, bound together. not by heaven but by the duality of man.

you were more bad than good, and he was more good than bad. yet, you found solace in each other. both born to be weapons.

one got away, while the other stayed under their holders control. but, that would not happen again, for sam was yours and you were his.

heaven had no control anymore.

authors note: hiii everyonee! this is my first sam smut so please lmk how you feel!! comments are appreciated. i hope its okay because to me its not the best but i had to get it out of my head!!

[heartcereql]

heaven is a place on earth with you

art donaldson x fem!reader || soft moments in your fresh new home

cw: smoking, minor cursing, no use of y/n (1240 words) a/n: writing about my sweet baby art during finals bc why not

you swore you could have stayed like this forever. tangled in silky bedsheets, soft rays of light that tingled on your face, body pressed against art's. one of those moments you wished you could pause and settle in for an eternity.

the mattress was on the floor, and cardboard boxes were scattered all around your apartment. your apartment. it felt blissful to say it. a life awaited you there, between the beige and baby blue walls that screamed for another hand of paint. it was far from the ideal, but it was perfect because it was yours. art's and your world. didn't it sound so pretty?

you looked over at him. eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his head a blond mess of curls and his skin warm despite the moring breeze that slipped inside the room through the opened balcony. art looked otherworldly. he always did, in your eyes. and you felt like the luckiest woman on earth with him, because he looked at you, because he touched you, because he loved you. because he felt for you what you felt with him.

and you two were fucking living together. the thought was enough to bloom a grin on your lips. a pure, joyful smile that made you want to jump and dance all around. pressing a feather-like kiss to his temple, you sat up, careful to untangle yourself from his arms and slinging over one of his standford t-shirts.

you reached over to your bedside table- well, the brown leather suitcase on which you had left some stuff. a provisional nightstand, let's leave it at that. you took a cigarette out of the box, holding it between your lips as you grabbed the lighter and your sketchbook and pencil.

the cool air of the early morning greeted you as you stepped out onto the balcony, goosebumps appearing all over your skin. you lit the cigarette with the pink lighter art had gifted you on your fourth date, all that time ago, when you mentioned you kept losing all your lighters. it was safe to say you'd kept this one. it had fake rhinestones forming your initial on one side. you recalled thanking art with a very excited hug and an even more excited peck.

"you made it?" you had ask him, the glint in your big eyes almost matching the glimmer of the rhinestones under the streetlamp. when art nodded, you gushed, hugging him again. "it's beautiful, art, i love it."

"i'm so glad," he smiled. you looked ethereal, all the eagerness painted on your face, cheeks rosy from the cold, babbling about how sweet you found it.

"hey, do you have any more rhinestones left?" you asked.

"yeah, yeah, here," he handed you the stickers, watching you start putting some more on the other side of the lighter. "what are you-"

but he was shut as he guessed the shape of his own initial, a very shimmering 'A'. once finished, you showed it to him proudly.

you both broke into laughter, cheeks flushed and hurting from the smiles, but it didn't matter. not when you felt so safe around him. and certainly not when he pulled you in for a kiss.

taking another drag of the cigarette, you traced your fingertips against the initials on the lighter. call it luck or fate or whatever, but none of the rhinestones had ever unstuck from where you both had originally placed them.

you sat on the beach chair that you'd placed on the balcony last night, before getting trapped between art's arms and lips, and getting lost in him. tipping the ashes off of the end of the cigarette, you opened the sketchbook. it was actually another of art's little thoughtful gifts that he loved to give you, and you loved to receive.

on the first page of it was a sweet little dedication art had written.

'for my angel girl, so you can be an artist and carry me always with you (get it? because i'm ART and you're an ARTist? so funny, i know.) love you forever baby <3'

it always made you smile when you read it, and reach over to kiss him for no apparent reason, leaving him a curious, flushed mess.

on the page you were currently at, there were some seashell doodles from your last trip to the beach. art had picked them out for you, and peered through the whole process with his head resting on your shoulder. beneath the collection of seashells was a watercolor drawing of art's beautiful, dual colored eyes, and a little sketch of a couple of figs.

looking over, your eyes settled on the pastel colored laundry your neighbors in front had hanging and swaying lightly with the dawning breeze.

your traces were fast but precise. soon, the laundry was replicated under your pencil. shirts and pants and socks and even a bra. the cigarette dangled from your lip, forgotten amidst your concentration.

you were so absorbed in drawing little daisies on the socks you didn't hear the sheets rustling as art stirred awake, or his soft footsteps as he approached you. thus, when you heard his voice, you were startled for a second.

"hey, artist."

you turned to him, eyes big. the movement was so sudden the cigarette fell to the floor.

"hey, art," you smiled, setting down the sketchbook and pencil and standing up to greet him.

his hands were on your waist in no time, pulling you in for a kiss. you nuzzled your head onto the warmth of his chest, running your hands on his back.

"morning," you looked up to him. art smiled. god, that smile. it drove you crazy, made you weak at the knees. your soft fingertips drove up to trace his smile lines, trailing down to his jaw in no time.

he tucked some strand of hair behind your ears, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "were you drawing?" art asked, spinning you around so you both faced the view, his arms around your waist.

the sky was not fully blue yet; pink and purple hues shining over the horizon.

"mhm," you hummed. "i want to colour it later, will you help me?"

"of course, baby," he mumbled, pressing kisses to your cheek.

it was something silly you two did sometimes. after pouring you both some coffee (you made it for art the way he liked, as he prepared yours as he'd learnt from several coffee dates), you'd pull out some colour pencils or sharpies and paint the little doodles you had drawn.

"hey," art whispered. "we live together."

you smiled. "yeah, we do. it's perfect."

art huffed at that. "the walls are on the verge of falling apart. and the people from the bar downstairs were noisy as fuck. and the shower-"

"shut up," you playfully hit his arm, rolling around again to face him once more. "it's you and i. sounds perfect to me."

he gifted you another smile. "you're right. it's ours. that's more than enough."

was this your own personal heaven? you found yourself thinking that often, as you got lost in his always tender eyes, or the sound of your laughters together, or the tingles he left on your skin, or the way you loved each other. as he lifted you up and carried you inside for your first breakfast at your place, you were sure of the answer. yeah, of fucking course it was.

© heartcereql, 2024 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

[verstappensrealwife]

My Race Winner - Lando Norris x Reader

[lando norris masterlist  / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... reader rewards lando for his first GP win. ʚɞ fluff, smut  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 1200 words ʚɞ warnings: sex

-୨♡୧-

Your knuckles turned bone-white as you clutched your fists tightly, the intensity of your grip a physical manifestation of the emotions churning within. From the moment Lando, your cherished boyfriend, surged into the lead, you became ensnared in a whirlwind of hope and apprehension, clinging to the edge of your seat with bated breath.

With each passing moment, the gap between Lando and his competitor, Max Verstappen, widened, a visceral testament to his dominance on the track. What began as a slender one-second advantage burgeoned into a nerve-jangling two, then three... until the chasm yawned wide, stretching to an agonizing eight seconds between Max and the man you held dear.

Every heartbeat echoed like a drumroll in your chest, each pulse a relentless reminder of the stakes riding on this race. You poured every ounce of your being into willing Lando onward, a silent prayer uttered with every fervent beat of your heart, beseeching the racing gods for his triumph.

Anticipation coiled like a serpent in your belly, mingling with the icy tendrils of fear that threatened to ensnare your thoughts. As the final lap unfurled before your eyes, you were ensconced in a maelstrom of emotions, caught in the tumultuous currents of exhilaration and trepidation.

Every turn of the track became a crucible of tension, each corner a crucible where hopes soared and fears faltered. The harsh mixture of roaring engines and screeching tires filled the air, a symphony of speed and adrenaline that reverberated through your very soul.

With every twist and bend of the circuit, you felt yourself teetering on the precipice of ecstasy and despair, the line between victory and defeat blurring in the haze of adrenaline-fueled passion. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, time stretching and warping as you clung to the edge of your seat, consumed by the drama unfolding before you.

But then, in a blaze of glory, Lando surged across the finish line, his victory a triumphant crescendo that shattered the tension like a thunderclap. HE JUST WON!

A primal roar of jubilation erupted from your lips, an explosion of unbridled joy that reverberated through the air. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the fact that the love of your life had emerged victorious, his triumph a beacon of light in the darkness.

As Lando leaped from his car, his victory celebrated by the crowd and his team, his gaze sought yours amidst the chaos. Tears of pride and elation welled in your eyes as you watched him, your heart swelling with love and admiration. Without hesitation, you rushed into his arms, the force of your embrace nearly toppling him over as you enveloped him in a fervent hug.

"You won!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion as you held him close.

"I did!" he replied, his own excitement mirroring yours as he returned your embrace with equal intensity.

A squeal of delight escaped you before you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I'll let you have your way with me later, race winner." The promise hung in the air, charged with the electricity of anticipation, before you whisked him away for further celebrations before the podium.

The adrenaline rush of victory still surged through Lando's veins as he practically bounded down the stairs after the podium ceremony, his eagerness palpable as he urged you towards the awaiting taxi with an infectious enthusiasm. The thrill of triumph painted his features with a radiant glow, his eyes alight with anticipation for the intimacy that awaited you both at home.

Efficiently dismissing and thanking everyone who congratulated him, Lando took your hand in his, leading you out of the bustling venue and into the waiting taxi. Each step seemed charged with anticipation, the air electric with the promise of the passionate reunion that awaited you both.

As the taxi pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colours, the world outside transformed into a mesmerizing tapestry of motion. Inside the cab, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation, every moment stretching out into infinity as you both eagerly anticipated the intimate moments you would share behind closed doors.

The journey felt like an eternity, each passing second marked by the pounding of your heart and the soft hum of the taxi's engine. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you stole glances at each other, the tension between you palpable as the anticipation mounted with each passing mile.

Finally, you arrived home, the key card in hand trembling with anticipation as you fumbled to unlock the door. With a click, the door swung open, revealing the familiar haven of your shared sanctuary bathed in warm, welcoming light.

Stepping inside, the world outside fell away, replaced by the sanctuary of your private retreat. The air was heavy with anticipation as you found yourselves locked in a passionate embrace, the heat of your desire igniting like a flame between you.

Clothes were shed with reckless abandon, discarded in a trail leading to the bedroom where you both collapsed onto the bed, consumed by the urgency of your longing. In that intimate space, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

His touch was like a bolt of lightning, each caress sending delicious shivers cascading down your spine, igniting a symphony of sensation that reverberated through every fibre of your being. With tender reverence, he explored every inch of your body, his hands tracing a map of desire as he worshipped you with an intensity that stole your breath away.

Each kiss was a flame, fuelling the inferno of passion that blazed between you, igniting a wildfire of longing that threatened to consume you both. In the heat of the moment, time seemed to lose all meaning, the world fading into insignificance as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

With deliberate slowness, he entered you, savouring the exquisite sensation of your bodies melding together in a seamless union of flesh and spirit. Each thrust was a declaration of love, a testament to the deep connection that bound you together, the rhythm building to a crescendo of ecstasy that left you both trembling with longing and breathless with desire.

You were a babbling mess, not knowing how to speak, what to say if you could, it was a lot and it was overwhelmingly sensual and passionate.

Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep you away in a sea of bliss. In that transcendent moment, there was no past, no future, only the blissful present of being together, lost in the rapture of shared passion.

As he collapsed against you, spent and breathless, you cradled him close, cherishing the weight of his body against yours. With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, gazing into his eyes filled with love and satisfaction.

"My race winner," you whispered softly, your voice a tender caress as you held him close. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you knew that you were home, your hearts beating as one in perfect harmony, a silent affirmation of the love and joy you shared in that tender moment of afterglow.