#yet he received the worst fate imaginable

[sasahuaa]

Guide on how to get married (by the God of Spring)

Synopsis: To love and be loved is the greatest blessing both deities received, as conversations about the future started to arise, the deity of the Underworld was afraid of forever ruining their lover, but the god of spring begs to differ.

A retelling with Persephone!Childe and Hades!gn!reader

first time writing more os reader’s pov instead of the character bc it would fit better in this, honestly both Childe and reader bullshit their perspective a lot, reader is a bit insecure but not unwilling, and Childe kinda comforts them in the end, the three-day ceremony is a mention how the ancient greek did weddings but not very much dived into in this situation (I tried to research how gods used to marry in mythology but I didn’t find any descriptions, just a “oh and then they got married/was forced to marry”, genuinely, is there any hellenic text that describes it? so this fic is just a non conventional way of eloping)

The god of spring giggled merrily as he put a flower crown on your head, his deft fingers making the flowers bloom and release pollen, he lowered his hands until they wrapped around your neck, blowing wind to your face with plenty of petals following his will.

Years ago, when both of you met for the first time, he wasn't as keen to physical touch like he is now, seeking your warmth willingly and falsely whining when his needs aren't met. Your younger selves met during one of your outings from the Underworld, the melancholic reign is suffocating and gloomy on good days, and a living nightmare in the worsts.

To look at the bright sky and hear the song of the birds were incomparable experiences after dealing with the screams of agony from wandering souls. And though Childe couldn't say he faced the same situation, he still delighted anytime he ran away too far away from his home, for to go around the world filled him with indescribable joy.

It was kind of amusing, if not borderline insane, that from all the people that he could choose to have a relationship with, from gods to mortals, he would choose just the one that home was almost like a prison.

And there was always a pinch of guilt when you thought about the future, Childe would often babble about it, how he wanted to spend it with you, to the decorations and foods your house should have to the names of possible pets. This saddens you so, because for the way the god talked, it would mean that the Underworld would lock him in.

For all the years spent together, though still indulging him in his dreams when he mentions them, you never really took a step to really achieve them. It was just obvious, marrying the deity of the underworld is the worst fate to exist.

And you loved him so much, he was really the ray of sunshine that your home misses, a flame of affection so gentle that contrasts with the cold and dark walls of your palace. Being with him was one of the best things that happened to you, as his love for you also burns deep and is capable of igniting even a forest of ice, and yet, your heart hurted from imagining how miserable Childe would be if they end up together forever.

You hoped that Childe saw that the same way, that it meant giving up his freedom to partake in the food from your realm. But yet, most things hardly ever go your way.

“We should marry already” he smiled, his eyes so usually dull sparkled at the mere word “It has been a while, don't you think so?”

“An” you avoided his eyes, the flower crown slowly started to wilt, though you were unsure if this was result of your own nervousness as you lost control of death or if it was a sign of Childe's impatience, and an excuse needed to be made quickly, before the other god lost his spark again! “I am not acquaintanced with marriage rituals, beloved”

Even if it was a dumb, shit excuse!

“Different cultures have different customs” Childe waved a finger before your face “As for the godly customs… while I would like the usual three-day ceremony, I would also very much appreciate a banquet in the name of our love.”

“Why not celebrate the three-day ceremony?”

“You know the other gods wouldn't agree to that” his shoulders slumped “Worst case scenario we should pretend that you kidnapped me”

“Oh” you blinked a couple of times before his suggestion downed on you, immediately making the probably most smart decision of pretending you heard nothing and focus on the important part, Childe's freedom! “Maybe the other gods have a point-”

“Never” Childe said between his teeth “I know what is better for myself”

“... I see”

“So the proper way our wedding should proceed is being served the best food of all realms!”

The best food of all realms! You certainly could work with that, after all, Childe never tasted the Underworld food to appoint it as the best, and since the only way for him to be imprisoned there is by eating its food… You could avoid giving it to him entirely!

“You are right” he smiled sweetly at the praise “When would be a proper date for our wedding?”

"Right now”

“... oh”

“Listen to me, this is the ideal moment, before anyone else get wind of this”

“Alright” you sighed, catching his hands in your and bringing to your mouth to deliver small pecks on his knuckles. The god of spring felt goosebumps up his arms at the cold touch, kissing your lips as if to warm them with his.

There was a strain in your stomach as you opened a cleft through the earth, a clear passage to the Underworld right in front of your feet. It's the first time that Childe will venture these walls, and you couldn't help but worry that he would feel grossed out by the dark surroundings.

Stealing a glance in his direction, Childe looked around the place in interest, there was almost a skip in his steps, and his smile was as bright as it was when the both of you first confessed.

“Nice landscape, it seems like a lovely place”

Well, you guess you should know by now that Childe is not easily scared by the things the other gods avoid.

The deity praised your palace as you guided him, not once releasing his grip on your hand the whole way. As you entered the dining room and pulled a chair for him, you muttered a lowly sorry “I know you asked for a banquet, but this situation is very sudden, so I won't have much food available”

“You worry too much, love, any food is good” Childe pinched your cheeks and dismissed you to the kitchens.

It was quite untrue to say that your home was lacking food, for even the undead or the other resident deities enjoy to regale themselves with good food from time to time, what is true is the short stock of Overworld food, as you don't bring much back with you during your trips and most are gifts to the sleep deity that their earthly friends give them.

Either way, with the little you have you carefully prepare his meal, with a side dish containing figs and lotuses, a wine glass also was included on the tray. You knew that everything that was plated were things that he enjoyed, everything was accounted for, as you do love him and don't want to serve Childe anything less than perfect.

And yet, when the dishes were placed before Childe and you saw his eyes slowly darken and the corner of his mouth tensing, you felt a chill up your spine and a sense of dread in your chest. Your body momentarily paralyzed when he began to talk.

“My love, why didn't you serve me Underworld food?” the god of spring recomposed himself, eyes searching for yours when he looked up.

“Ajax, my dear, you know that the Underworld food will forever bound you to this place, I would never lock you here-”

“Why?” he interrupts sternly “I am aware of the consequences of eating anything from the Underworld, I was reminded constantly by my mother about it after the first time I met you, and I asked for eloping with food with purpose in mind”

You gapped at his words, dropping to your knees by his side and talking his hands in yours “Still, it would take your freedom away from you, I don't want you to resent being stuck here”

“I chose to spend forever with you and this is something I will never regret” Childe tightened his grip on you “But now I wonder if you had the intentions of spending forever with me at all”

“Of course I want to stay forever with you!” you immediately deny, hugging him close “You know the great cost of it though”

Childe sighed and petted your back, his gaze softened while he looked at you and cupped your face, tapping his index finger under your eye in admonishment.

“And I entered our relationship knowing that, I know you worry about me, but I know since the start what I got myself into and have been dreaming of that” Childe took a lotus seed in the middle of his fingers, forcing your mouth open with his other hand and placing the delicacy on your tongue “Won't you bring me proper food now, beloved?”

I began to write this because I had the phrase “He is not stuck with me, I am stuck with him” in mind but I guess I changed the writing direction by the end

fully focusing on Vil as an omega now, I am terrible with dates bc I figured I am a very slow writer, but I will try my best to post till sunday

[borgialucrezia]

The tragic disconnection between Lucrezia Borgia and Juan Borgia::

What I find sad and compelling about Juan and Lucrezia's relationship is that every time he genuinely makes a gesture to make her happy, it inevitably ends up being misguided, resulting in her getting hurt in some way. Like the debauched play he had prepared for her as a surprise at her wedding to make her smile, not realizing that it would anger her husband and cause him to hate her and her family even more. The Paolo situation is where their dynamic changed forever. Juan, as someone who was assigned as the protector of the family by his father and is already feeling inadequate and incompetent in his position, already saw Paolo as a threat. A guy who could expose his sister, calling himself the father of her child, making demands to see her? Had Juan known what Sforza did to her, the hell she was living, and how she found solace in Paolo, most probably, he would've let Paolo live. He legitimately believed getting rid of him (and he was motivated by jealousy as he has incestuous feelings for Lucrezia)—was the right thing to do—and expected applause for his misguided notions of protecting his family's honor. He didn't realize how much he hurt Lucrezia and tried to make her understand that he did it to protect her honor and didn't mean to hurt her. When he realized that she tried to avenge Paolo and kill him, he made a speech about how their family triumphed because they weren't dysfunctional when they came to Rome, that they should always stick together, and that he's motivated by wanting safety for all of them. After he came back from Spain a changed man, he gifted his sister something that positively represented her—a stunning rare panther in a gilded cage—a genuine gesture to reconcile with her and earn her respect. However, it bites her, and they're unable to make peace. And after Cesare betrayed him at Forli, he spiraled once again, and he realized that no matter what he did, he would never earn his siblings' respect, specifically Lucrezia's. This realization hurt him and made him act on his impulsive as by lashing out at her and dangling her baby from the balcony, which also gave Cesare the motivation to do what he always wanted and justify his jealousy by murdering him.

"I had an amazing personal journey to go on with that character and hopefully I presented it with a sense and reality and hopefully you will feel a bit sorry for the guy. I don’t think he’s useless. Everyone says he’s a useless coward. He’s just placed in some shit situations. He’s not afraid of dying in that sense, he’s afraid of not being liked or loved and being left by his family. Whether they know it or not, they have been ganging up on him from the very beginning of the first season. What’s the problem with him? I think he’s lovely. I think he’s really kind and compassionate and cuddly." — DAVID OAKES

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

---

Imagine a Logan who didn't lose the X-men, who still has his "family," but who still has his walls sky high. Who is still an alcoholic (albeit less chronically than our Logan) and still keeps everyone at a distance despite craving company like a moth to a flame. Who purposely isolates himself, denying it under the guise of indifference, out of fear of rejection. Who tries to protect himself by building a fortress around himself only to result in nobody being able to scale those impenetrable walls.

Who has people around him (Jean, Scott, Charles) but still feels alone in the world. Who is physically present (showing up at dinnertime, attending meetings, occasionally completing missions alongside them) but emotionally absent. Who tries so hard to try to be there, to be emotionally open, to give back what he's received, but fails spectacularly.

And everyone else notices. But they don't say anything, afraid of breaking the careful balance that keeps Logan just close enough to touch but just far enough that their fingers only manage to graze him. And so they keep up this balancing act, getting used to the tenseness and slightly uncomfortable silences.

They resign themselves to it eventually. To only being able to climb halfway and receive messages through a window.

And Logan resigns himself to this loneliness too. In 200 years, nobody has managed to break through. Why would they be able to now?

Imagine this Logan meeting the current Wade.

Wade was sent on some kind of mission by the TVA to investigate a disturbance in the timeline of this universe. His Logan offered to join him, but he turned him down. He felt uneasy bringing Logan to a universe where his team was still alive, where everything was eerily similar to his original universe except for their fate. He didn't want Logan to have to go through the pain of seeing the life he "could've" had if he hadn't been the "Worst Wolverine." (And, on a deeper level, he felt scared that Logan would realize that he was never enough to fill that void.)

And so he left a very reluctant Logan behind to delve into this alternate universe.

He stumbled out of the portal into some inconspicuous alleyway, brushing the grime off his suit. Lo and behold, he's in a big bustling city that looks almost identical to his own.

It doesn't take him long to begin investigating, searching for what could've caused the disruption in the timeline. He'd planned for this to be a quick mission, a one-and-done, clean-cut resolution so that he could get home in time to eat whatever scraps Logan had somehow managed to assemble into a decent-looking meal.

He was looking forward to eating dinner with Logan and Blind Al. To pressing his leg against Logan's a bit too closely to be platonic—but not yet explicitly romantic—and feeding Mary Puppins under the table to Logan's protest.

And yet, after hours of searching for clues and interrogating mercenaries and shady guys who knew about underground operations, he was stumped.

And so, naturally, when the bad guys didn't have the information he wanted, he turned to the good guys.

Unfortunately, the Avengers weren't particularly active (at least publicly) at the moment, and so he turned to the very group he'd been hoping to avoid: the X-men.

Maybe breaking into their mansion through a window on a random Tuesday wasn't the best way to make an impression, but it got the job done.

However, the X-men seemed to disagree on that front, considering how the few that had been inside (barely any he recognized) were all tensing up and drawing their weapons.

"Woah woah woah," Wade put his hands up in the air placatingly, "Slow your roll. I'm not here to cause trouble for you guys. I know it looks bad but I promise I'm here for very important, very legit, very legal, reasons."

"...Reasons that require you to break and enter?" some random X-man Wade didn't care about asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Wade chirped. "I'm sure we're all very busy and I want to go home just as much as you all want to redecorate whatever the fuck this mansion aesthetic is."

"What's wrong with the aesthetic?" Colossus (finally, someone he recognized!) asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Don't worry about it, pal," Wade quickly deflected, "Anyway, straight to the point: do any of you guys know what the hell could be fucking up your timeline? Because, unfortunately, none of the assholes on the streets seem to know. And, even more unfortunately, I have to fix that."

"...What do you mean fucking up the timeline?" Jean asked, slowly.

"Well, it's a long story—"

—one that ended up with Wade sitting in the big bad office across from Charles Xavier, who took an obnoxiously sophisticated sip of his tea.

"So you're from another dimension," he starts with.

"Yup, born and raised, baby."

"...And you're here because you believe there's something wrong with this timeline?"

"You know it. Although I don't see why we're going through the whole questioning shebang when you can just read my mind and get it over with," Wade leans back in the chair, his tone flippant.

"Well—"

Before Charles can finish speaking, the doors loudly slam open to reveal a very real and very angry Wolverine.

"Where is the fucker who broke in?" he growls, claws unsheathed.

"Right here, buddy," Wade grins and waves.

"Why is he still here and not locked up?" Other-Logan's fiery eyes flick toward Charles.

"Because—"

"—Because I'm here to save your ass, Wolvie. I wasn't the one who messed up your universe and I sure as hell wasn't the one who pissed in your cereal this morning, considering I, y'know, wasn't here."

Wolverine looks slightly taken aback at the audacity of Wade taunting him after breaking and entering.

"Now, not that I don't enjoy some eye candy—I really do, trust me—but can we finish this shit up so I can get back to my universe?" Wade eyed the tense, battle-braced posture Other-Logan was sporting, "And holy shit, peanut, we can try out pain play later but let's save the kinks for the bedroom, yeah? Put those claws away for now."

Wolverine looks like he's about to choke him or choke himself with the way he's clenching his fists in... anger? incredulity? Something to that effect.

And so began their very real, very legit, very spectacular journey to save the timeline! Unfortunately, the other X-men apparently had better shit to do (lazy fuckers), and so while they were out on their own pre-determined missions, Wolverine and Deadpool had to work together. Again. (Well, "again" for one of them.)

And it was going... okay. Surprisingly. They'd managed to locate a few places with suspicious activity using the X-men's network and while Wade would probably have to wait on that homemade dinner, the mission wasn't a total disaster so far (which was better than he could say for last time).

Except, there were a few... slip-ups.

It started when The Wolverine (because he wasn't His Logan, not to Wade) and Deadpool (because he wasn't His Wade either) were out raiding some base that had suspicious activity around when the timeline started having issues. They hadn't uncovered anything substantial so far, but there was definitely something shady going on. Call it a Spidey Sense.

Wolverine was slaughtering some enemies after threatening them within an inch of their life to spill their secrets, as usual, when one henchman (a mutant of some type, judging by the inhuman speed at which he moved) attacked him from behind. Wade didn't even have time to think, all he saw was Logan getting attacked and in an instant, he'd crossed the distance and embedded a katana in the fucker's head.

He knew Logan would heal. He did. But it didn't make it easier to look at him, bloodied and bruised, and not want to murder the person who caused it. It reminded him too much of the way Wade found Logan—reckless and suicidal, resigned to drinking himself to death and not caring how hurt he was.

(And, more than that, he just hated to see him in pain. He liked to think it was reciprocal, by the way Logan would slice someone into fucked up organ confetti the second they managed to land a good hit on Wade. He was always a bit more wound up on those nights, a barely tampered rage in his eyes and snarl to his lips that didn't subside until they were back in the apartment, out of their suits, where wounds stitched themselves up. Logan still had a shakiness to him, sometimes, until the injuries were fully gone. He'd thumb at a slash on his arm until the skin was back to the typical scar tissue instead of a distinct cut.)

Wolverine looked back to see Deadpool on top of the mangled corpse.

"Just doing my job," Deadpool said cheerily, trying not to let his voice waver.

"...Sure, bub," Wolverine muttered, eyeing him a second longer before going back to whoever he was torturing.

Fuck.

And then it happened again.

They were taking a breather in the facility they'd just raided, sitting down to catch their breaths and compile their findings before setting off to the next one.

Wolverine was digging through some medkits nearby, despite being healed.

"Woah buddy," Deadpool started, "Don't you think it's a bit early to be getting drunk? I mean, I'm all for freedom of choice, but I don't think the Founding Fathers thought that choice would mean drinking straight rubbing alcohol."

Wolverine stopped, his muscles stiffening.

"...What makes you think I'm looking for rubbing alcohol?" he asked slowly, a tenseness to his voice that was separate from the normal level of annoyance.

Wade quickly realized his mistake. "Oh, y'know, a hunch. I have a sixth sense. Like Spiderman. But cooler! Like instead of a Spidey Sense I have a... uhhh... Deadpool Danger Detonator?"

Wolverine looked at him suspiciously as he continued to ramble, but eventually let it go. Thank god.

And again.

They were fighting some higher-level henchmen, for once. Seems that their trail was finally leading somewhere. These guys were fewer in numbers, but actually packed some bang for their buck and all seemed to have decently strong mutations and some weapons training.

Now, Logan and Wade frequently went on missions together. In fact, at this point, they almost exclusively did jobs together. (It was part of the reason it'd been so difficult to convince Logan to let this job go. It had become routine at this point to go together, to be a Package Deal, Two Parts of a Set, Partners.)

(He'd noticed how Logan would pace anxiously when he went on more dangerous missions by himself. How he'd try and fail to distract himself and inevitably end up on the couch, tense and waiting for Wade to come home before finally, finally, letting out a deep breath and letting his muscles unwind as Wade flopped down next to him. He knew and yet he just... couldn't... this time.)

Suffice to say, Wade knew Logan's attack patterns. He knew where he'd strike and the openings he'd leave and how to cover them. He'd fought him enough himself to tell when he'd use a feint and when he'd actually go for the kill.

And so, when they were pushed back to back, surrounded on all sides, Wade let himself fall into the natural rhythm of it all. Weaving in and out between Wolverine's attacks, throwing knives where he'd miss with his claws, covering his back, and doing a masterful job at eliminating the enemies.

And Wolverine noticed. Because of course he did. He'd glanced at Wade with something akin to surprise (or even recognition) a few times when he'd managed to match him precisely.

But it felt oddly... good to be matched. Wolverine was used to working alone, to having backup but never really working alongside someone else. He fought on the same team as the X-men, yes, and they did sometimes go on joint missions together, but he never felt equal to them. Like he could throw a punch and they'd match him exactly.

He was used to leading the group, to being on the front lines of the attack, to splitting off and doing his own thing. He'd never felt this type of ease when working with someone. Like he didn't have to glance over his shoulder to check their work or see if they'd been hurt.

And so, as they fell into a comfortable rhythm, Logan found himself smiling. A feral, gleeful thing.

At the joy of finally having a match. The animalistic thrill of getting to play with his prey together without the other person shying away or shutting him down.

Logan always had to toe the line between human and animal. Giving in just enough to his animal instincts to make him a useful tool, a sharp weapon, while still retaining his humanity enough to be palatable. He could never just let go and be both. Let the line disappear in the sand as he dipped his toes in and out of the tides without feeling like someone was yanking him back or further in.

For the first time in his 200 years of existence, Logan felt free.

(When he finally came down from the adrenaline high, he looked at Wade with an indescribable expression. If Wade didn't know better, he'd almost say it looked like awe.)

And again.

They were bickering over something stupid. It doesn't matter how it started, only that now they both were bristling with annoyance and had their pride on the line.

"Can you shut the fuck up?" Wolverine growled, clenching his hands tightly.

"Or what? Is the kitty gonna unsheathe his claws?" Deadpool goaded, "Are you going to shish-kebab me? Stab me?"

"And if I do?" A challenging spark entered Logan's eyes.

"Been there, done that, honey badger. You'll have to get realllllll creative to top the Honda Odyssey," Wade smirked.

"What the hell does a car have to do with me murdering you?"

Deadpool blinked. Once. Twice. "Oh yeah, you wouldn't know that reference. Bummer. The point is, you aren't going to get anything out of impaling me. Except for the rise of a different type of weapon. If you get what I mean."

Wolverine gruffly retorted with some petty insult, but the searching look in his eyes didn't fade.

And again.

"C'mon Wolvie, you know I like it when you penetrate me, but let's try something new for a change, yeah? How about you hold me tenderly instead—" (Wolverine had never impaled him once.)

And again.

"Or what? What are you gonna say? 'Hey bub, I'm Wolverine, I'm The X-man and I'm masculine and I like woodworking and being a lumberjack in the forests of Canada.'" (Wolverine had never revealed that. To anyone, actually.)

And again.

"You know, maybe instead of drinking anything available, you can wait and I'll buy you some of the good stuff. I'll get you some beer and whisky on the house as long as you brave the very hard journey of staying sober for more than ten fucking minutes." (Wolverine had never told him his taste in alcohol.)

Until, finally—

"You know me."

"What?"

"You know me." It was a statement, not a question. Wolverine was looking at him with that same look in his eyes. The one he'd had since their first fight together where Deadpool had freaked the fuck out over someone nearly stabbing him.

"I sure hope I do, considering we've been working together for two days now," Deadpool chuckled, averting his eyes.

"No. You know me. You know me." Logan had a type of vulnerability in his eyes, one that he hadn't seen since he'd left his Logan behind.

"...What do you mean?" Wade asked, reluctantly.

"You know things about me that you shouldn't. But you couldn't have gotten it from anyone because nobody else knows them either. You know how I fight. What my habits are. What I like. What I hate. Therefore, you know me," he said, and that might be the most words Wade has ever heard this Logan speak at one time.

And Wade wants to deny it, if just to hurry along this mission and avoid the emotional turmoil of confronting his feelings with a Logan that isn't even his. But he sees the earnest look in Logan's eyes and he can't just ignore it. Can't deflect like he would for anyone else.

"...You're right, I do know you."

"How?" Logan's eyes are piercing, searching for answers. Desperately, almost. Like a man stranded in the desert, insatiably thirsty, who just learned that there's an oasis.

So Wade tells him. A short version, anyway. Tells him about snatching his Logan from another universe, getting thrown into the void, and then working together to save his world. Tells him about asking Logan to stay, and how they've been living together since. How they go on missions together and make dinner together and watch shitty reality TV together with Blind Al and their dog.

(Doesn't tell him how he refused to let his Logan come along, that he wanted to, that he'd do anything to keep his Logan with him even if it hurts to be away.)

Finally, the inevitable question comes up: "Why did Logan abandon his universe?"

And Wade tells him that too.

And Logan... doesn't know how to feel.

A part of him feels horrified. That there's a universe out there where he failed the X-men so horrendously. Where he drank himself into a stupor and stumbled back in to find them dead. Where he lived his entire life denying that he cares and building up his walls only for him to crumble anyway when they're gone (only for him to have nothing to reminisce on because of it).

But a larger part of him (a shameful, bitter part of him) feels envy curling around his chest, squeezing his heart and constricting his throat until he's barely able to breathe.

Because of course, it'd take losing everything that mattered to him right now to be able to find what he's been missing this whole time. He couldn't just be happy with the X-men, he had to be selfish and want more despite all they've done for him.

A greedy, wretched part of him thinks it'd be worth it. To throw it all away just so that he could have someone like Wade who talks about him not as a colleague, not as a teammate, but with a fondness so evident he could choke on it. Someone who knows Logan, not The Wolverine. Who cares about the little details like how he furrows his brow and what his favorite drink is and the exact pitch his voice takes when he genuinely laughs instead of just how quick he can kill enemies.

Someone who knows him as Logan—a selfish, possessive, scared, pathetic, insecure, asshole—and still wants him. Still loves him.

He's always had to hide parts of himself. Always had to don a mask of stoicism, careful indifference, and harsh words. Because then, people would hate him for that. They would push him away because he was rude, he was callous, he was brutal, but they wouldn't look deeper.

Because if Logan bared himself to someone as he is, vulnerable and terrified of losing those he loves, and they rejected him?

It'd be a worse fate than death.

But here Wade was, talking about him—as a person, not a hero—and smiling so visibly Logan can tell behind the mask, speaking of him warmly even when remembering how they used to fight.

Logan feels something unfamiliar in his gut. A concoction of jealousy, hatred, and... relief. Happiness. Possessiveness, even.

That he could be seen and loved despite it.

Logan knows what love feels like. Knows how it feels to care about people, despite how he acts. He knows how to feel protective and worried.

He's felt attraction before. To Jean, who had soft skin and a pretty smile and who always showed courage in the face of danger. To Scott, even, who commanded with a strength in his voice that sometimes had heat running through Logan's veins.

This is different.

This isn't just love. Isn't just attraction. It's yearning—awful, honest, raw yearning for something he desperately wanted but knew he couldn't have. Knew he shouldn't have.

But he wanted it. He'd felt empty for so long, even surrounded by people, even with people he cares about and who he knows reciprocate. He's been trapped in limbo for so long: never alone but always lonely, given enough scraps to stay in one place and fear loss while still feeling an itch under his skin for something more.

To be understood. To be seen. To be loved. To belong to someone instead of being a stray, wandering from door to door and taking whatever handouts he can while sleeping in their shitty garage.

Logan is an animal at heart, really. The Wolverine had always been inside him, influencing his feelings and emotions in a way normal humans couldn't quite relate to or understand.

And like all animals, the thing he wants the most is a home. A place to belong.

He stares at Wade as he continues rambling about the Logan from his world, talking with an energy he'd never had before.

A home, huh?

[mrinafria]

And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you. (CoS)

[contains spoilers; tw: blood]

When they ask me about the purest love story out there, I'd show them these two.

It's not the sacrifice per se that makes it great for me, it's the way they feel about each other, about the love they give and receive. Even in their last/worst moments, they somehow find the courage because the other one is safe? Im Sol is scared out of her mind handling this traumatic ordeal on her own so she seeks help from the detectives. Her only peace of mind is that at least Seon Jae is safe. Then she learns about his phone call and doesn't spare a second to run. The same girl who was so scared a while back throws all caution out of the window the moment Seon Jae is in danger, because she'd risk her life than Seon Jae's. Can you imagine the trauma seeing him dying for the third time, and her actually witnessing it this time around? If I were Im Sol, I would do anything to not have to go through that too. Even if it meant losing the person so they were never my person to begin with.

And Seon Jae. Boy is dying. Dying. You can see it in his eyes that he's aware of it too and yet, he is so grateful? So at peace with himself and with life? Like he has no regrets about any unfinished business, unlived years, unattained dreams, unspoken words to his loved ones. He already told Im Sol he loved her, and she reciprocated. That was enough. For him, that was good enough.

I go back to this scene like a masochist because THE DETAILS. By the time Im Sol arrives, you know Seon Jae is beyond saving. He knows it too. He's not even trying to escape or save himself. It looks like he's been holding on on his own for a while. His face has turned ashen, breathing uneven, hands slightly shaking. He's barely holding it together. Barely there.

However, he is not trying to push that guy away or take that knife out.

Instead, he's holding that guy's hand.

Let that sink in for a moment.

He is holding on to that hand. JUST SO HE CAN HOLD ON TO THE GUY.

Since the taxi driver is at an advantage here, and Seon Jae knows he cannot fight back anymore, so he is using whatever he can as a last resort to keep the guy occupied with him, and keep him from going after Im Sol. Seon Jae could perhaps guess Im Sol would arrive any time since the cliff was where he'd found her earlier, sitting in shock. But even if she didn't make it, you can bet he'd have spent his last breaths trying to fall off the cliff taking the guy down with him. THIS SCENE. The resolution is so clearly etched on his face.

And then he sees her. And the detectives. She is safe. She is saved. He did it. He saved her. And it's the Im Sol who knows him, who recognizes him, who loves him. She is safe, and that's all that matters. He saved the person he loves more than his life, literally.

His job is done. The choice he made gave him the outcome he wanted and desperately fought for.

And he is exhausted. All that resolve took a lot out of him. So we see his body finally giving up, him finally letting go. He resigns to his fate, but also not in a resentful way. He knew this was his fate all along (because no matter what choice Im Sol made, he'd choose to run toward her any day), it just happened earlier than expected. But he knew it, and he still made that choice. He doesn't regret it because he'd be making the same choice in every timeline (as he has been). He is able to see his Im Sol for one last time before his eyes close, with memories of their time together and Im Sol's voice echoing in his ears, his soul.

Sometimes you know the consequences, but make the same choice anyway. Because you like it.

The faint smile on his face in his final moments before he falls off the cliff? You'd think the boy won a gold medal for swimming or something. It's like he's achieved the biggest purpose there was in his life besides loving Im Sol. True to his words, he is grateful Im Sol exists in the world. That he got the chance to love her because she exists in this world. And he is thankful he gets to leave the world knowing Im Sol still exists in the world, his gift from the heavens.

One is jumping through space and time, living the same nightmare, constantly, over and over again, and yet going out of her way to save her love. Even if it means carrying the trauma and heartbreak and pain and loneliness and longing of three, four, multiple timelines, for the same guy. The other is making the choice to love her through all the storm, all the warnings, all the odds of time and space and fate stacked against him. How could you be so brave when fate is both so very kind and yet so extremely cruel to you no matter what you do? How do you choose to persevere? How do you get to have a love so pure?

Should I be ready to die if I want to be with you? - Ryu Seon Jae

[5cookiekitty-nsfw]

*『Sweet as sugar』

Yandere Alpha Buddha × Omega F.reader 『Nsfw』

Summary: Or the one where you knew he would find you again , he wasn't the type to let somthing of his go. You just wished you were more prepared. Maybe then you wouldn't fall back into his arms so easily

Tw: fated mate/soulmate au , Yandere behavior , Possessive Behavior , alpha/omega dynamic , reader gets pregnant at the end but only for like 200 words , Nsfw:Alpha/omega dynamic , oral(F receiving) , vaginal fingering , knotting->creampie , praise kink , nicknames , biting , Dub-con-first smut please go easy on me.

Green tea , Petrichor , and warm honey.

It was a warm sunny day when you met him. So tall and imposing as he was intimidating , you knew he was dangerous the first time you laid eyes on him. Yet his very being brought nothing but a sense of tranquility and safety your body still craved to this very day.

His scent of green tea , petrichor , and honey was not as strong as any alphas you've ever met-not as dominant and overpowering as it was in most. It didn't need to be. He was dangerous all on his own and didn't need his scent to bring that across.

The feeling of joy and happiness that busted from your chest when you realized that this powerful deity was just as much of yours as you were his.

You didn't realize at the time how much he took that seriously.

Even now , sitting in a small ,old ,run down building ,you knew you couldn't truly hate him. His kind words and eyes full of love as he held you gently was a memory that your brain refused to forget. That you refused to forget.

You were lucky to escape before he was able to place a mating mark against your scent glands forever bounding you to him.

You laid your head against the cool window brought on by the heavy rain outside. You hate rain now. The scent it brought after always left that ache in your heart that almost made the omega in you cry out.

"My beautiful lotus."

You shook your head and let his sweet voice fade from your head ,lest you find yourself crying your heart out in the pitiful nest you made.

It's been almost a year since you ran away from that embrace. It's getting easier to cope , easier to breathe , and easier to live without the feeling of him by your side. Some days are easier than others but you're slowly getting there.

But right now you had more important things to worry about.

With the one year anniversary of your runaway approaching , you know your heat is not too far behind. You can't even begin to try to imagine what that's going to be like now that you've met him. Probably the worst one you've been through to-date.

But you were , if not anything else , too stubborn for your own good and you would rather throw yourself off into the deep end than to go anywhere back near him.

You knew you wouldn't be able to make yourself go if you saw him again.

A sudden strike of lighting brought you back to the real world and your eyes flickered across the window before you slumped off the windowsill and towards the bed. You let yourself drop onto the uncombable mattress with a sigh.

You pulled the old , thin blanket over your body as you curled up. The feeling of phantom hands were quickly shaken off as you let your head be cleared. With thoughts about your terrible heat approaching and the way you knew you would have to be moving again to avoid getting caught , you want to sleep with worry in your mind and a thousand thoughts running through your head. It was amazing how he managed to occupy almost all of them.

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The feel of a breeze gently swaying your hair brought a smile to your face as you sat below a tree. Arms tightened around your waist and you pushed yourself deeper into his embrace. You felt him bury his head into your neck where your scent glands were located and you tilted your head to allow him better access. He hummed in apparition of your gesture and showed it by placing a small kiss on the outline of your glands making a shudder run through your body.

You loved having his time like this. Just the two of you basking in each other's presence with nothing but love in your hearts. It was the only time he allowed himself to truly relax with you in his arms. No one around but just the two of you.

“What's got you so happy?” His voice managed to let your attention fall on the feeling of your lips stretching up into a smile. He placed his chin on your head as he pulled your back flushed against him and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Me i hope.” you didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling , the way his fingers playfully danced along your side was enough evidence of the fact that he was. You scoffed lightly and he barked out a laugh at the sound. “I'm guessing I got it wrong.”

“No you got it right.” you said as you rolled your eyes. “But to guess yourself first is a level of confidence and self assurance that only you would have.”

“Only because you're involved” his words never failed to make butterflies go off in your stomach. Even after months of knowing each other he still manages to find new ways to make your heart flutter.

You felt those butterflies increase when his hands came to the cup of your cheek and pulled your face back to see his. He smiled , one of his rare genuine ones , as his brush brushed the corner of your lip. “My lotus.” he placed his forehead against yours. “I wish for his moment to last forever.”

“But then we wouldn't share any more moments.”

“No i supposed we wouldn't.” he pulled his head back slightly to look you in the eye. “But I might as well make this one more special than the rest.”

His lips met yours in the first kiss you two shared.

It was under that tree that you both shared the first kiss and it was under that tree when you made the decision to run away from him.

Even to this day you still remember the feeling of his lips against yours and the tears that spilled from your eyes as you left the home you had built by his side.

•~•○•~•

Something was wrong.

You just didn't know what…

Whatever it was , it was setting off your omega brain in a way that felt oddly familiar. The feeling poked in the back of your mind for hours as you walked the little town you found yourself in.

It was warm and the feeling of wind on your skin felt good as you walked around the town you found yourself in. You managed to pick out some ripe fruit and a little bit of rice , stuffing your goods into the sad little brown sack you called a bag before you started to make your way back to the motel you were staying in.

Waving to the desk clerk as you walked by , you made your way up the stairs and towards the very end of the hallway where your room was. You threw the sandals you had on onto the floor before an odor caught your nose. You sniffed at yourself and wrinkled your nose when you did so.

‘I need a shower badly’ you thought as you started to make your way to the bathroom. You took off the black halter neck wrap dress you had on before turning the shower on and stepping in. “damn this feels good.” and it did. rarely did you get warm showers , instead more often than not you took a bath in the river due to staying in abandoned houses more often than not.

Humming to yourself you lathered up your body before letting the shower rinse you off. You stayed there a good few more minutes before your fingers started to wrinkle and you stepped out. You grabbed at a towel and wrapped it around your body before stepping closer to the bathroom door and-

Green tea , Petrichor , and warm honey.

The feeling of calmness and safety washed over you did little to quell the burning panic and horror that was creeping up your body. You stood there , paralyzed and rigid as a million thoughts ran through your head. You had no idea what to do.

He wasn't the type to just let his scent run wild like this ,he had better control than that. No , if you could smell him all the way into the bathroom it was because he wanted you to. Wanted you to know he was here.

You swallowed as your erratic eyes set their vision on the window above the bathroom door. It was maybe dangerous and you may sprain something but at least you'll have a headstart in ru-

‘Don't run , Don't Run , DON'T RUN FROM ALPHA.ALPHA.ALPHA.ALPHA’ you choke on your spit when your instincts immediately object to the idea. It was burning and you were forced to turn your head away lest you forcibly drop in the middle of the bathroom with the person who you have been trying to avoid for a whole year right outside the door.

Damn it. You can't run , your stupid instincts won't let up after coming into contact with his scent after so long , and you sure as hell can't fight him. Nothing

There was nothing that you could do to get out of this situation.

You knew this day would come , that he would eventually drag you back into his embrace. You just wished you also knew what to do when that day came. Your arms felt heavy from where they hung at your side and your shoulders hunched over in defeat.

You slowly walked over to the black dress you had on and slipped that and your undergarments on before facing the door. You straightened , squaring your shoulders and evening out your face as you walked over and twisted the door knob open. His scent hits you like a train but as you walk to where your beds were located and stop right under the arch that separated the room.

He still looked as beautiful as you remember him to be.

He sat on the bed , one leg crossed over the other and his face leaning into his hands with a sucker in his mouth , looking like the beautiful god he was. He stared at you and you stared right back. It was silent as you both observed each other before a little smile appeared on his face.

“My beautiful lotus.” he cooed and you shivered a little at hearing his voice.

“Buddha.” was all you said , tone even and he frowned a little.

“Really? Is that all I get after you disappear for a year without telling anybody.” he didn't sound mad , Just annoyed , as if you disappearing for a year was more of an annoyance and hindrance if anything. To him it probably was , what's one year compared to the thousands he lived. Still-the tone did make you flinch a little despite your best efforts not to. If he saw it he didn't say anything about it , only moving a finger in the ‘come here’ motion. You didn't and when he waited for a few more seconds he spoke. “y/n.” ok so maybe he’s feeling more than just a bit annoyed.

Having him use your name instead of his enduring nicknames splurged you to move towards him at a reasonable pace. Buddha watched you , intently , as you made your way over to him before stopping at the food of the bed where he sat. he reached his hand out and pulled you into his lap , cradling you to his chest as one would do a baby with your legs dangling off the sides of his.

“There we go.” you didn't say anything about the slightly relieved tone you heard. “Did you have fun on your little adventure.” he took to rubbing your body , where his hands held you , with his thumb. “I sure do hope so.” and suddenly his scent spiked and with your head being right next to his neck it sent you into a daze that left you a gooey , puddling mess in his hold as you went. “Cause it's going to be the last time I'll let you leave that again , pretty little omega.” He then began to pull something out from god knows where and when your eyes caught sight of it you began to fight the haze that had covered your mind to squirm.

“B-buddha pleeease don't.” your words slurred as you tried to plead with him to not put on the omega collar. God knows that as soon as that thing injects his pheromones into your system you'll become an even more puddle of instincts eager to please the alpha in front of you. “I-i d-don't want it.” he just cooed down at your form as he held the cursed thing up in the light.

“It's ok little lotus , It will just make you a bit more receptive to my demands. I'll take it off as soon as we get home and you'll go right back to your normal self but right now I can't have you fighting me.” the damn collar was pretty too-even if you didn't want to admit it. It was fluffy and the color of his eyes with a golden tag in the shape of a lotus hanging from a loop with the word ‘buddha’ was neatly inscribed on it.

You hated how the omega part of your brain preened and begged for him to put it on , to show all of the valhalla who you belonged to. Your rational part of your brain silenced the omega part and made you squirm harder as you ranked your nails on his arms holding you. “What the-Hey! Stop that you -Don't try to bite me!” you did in fact not stop and continued to fight him as he struggled to hold your flailing form. “No , No , NO! Don't you dare buddha! Let me go and leave me alone-”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” the alpha voice immediately made you stiffen as your limbs locked in place. For him to yell-his annoyance must be flying through the roof right now. “Now , you're going to sit still and let me put the collar on you like a good little omega.” you hated how patronizing he sounded. You hated how your body was forced to listen to his command even more. He seemed to fiddle with the damn collar before it opened , ready to be put around your neck and seal your fate.

“Y-you. What do you plan on doing.” that seemed to stop him as he blinked down at you wide eyed before a wistful smile crossed his lips. “I love you so much. Do you not know how close you were to breaking me after you left. Putting me through this goose chase after you just to have you in my arms again. And while I do respect your wishes and boundaries you obviously cannot be trusted with your own self considering how you still kept away despite it hurting you. Hurting us.” you wondered how long he had known where you were at to even know that info. You hoped he didn't see the nights of you crying in bed because of how much your heart ached to have him back with you. “So I'm doing what's best for the both of us.”

“If I put a pretty little mating mark on your neck you won't be able to stay away.” your eyes widened as you tried to protest his words.”wait , buddha no-” Key word being tired cause he once more interrupted you “Buddha , yes. I won't let you deny yourself happiness cause of-god knows why you ran away.” he then started to move the collar towards your neck. “I'll figure that out after we've made it home.” tears left your eyes as the fur touched your neck.

He wipes them away with a free hand before kissing you on the forehead. “It's ok little lotus. Your alpha is going to take real good care of you.” and then that damn collar was clamping on your neck and all you knew was a haze.

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your once cotton brain was filled with thoughts you were able to comprehend , slowly , over the course of half an hour. It was only after that time did you realize what your brain was trying to tell you.

Why were your eyes covered?

Your hands flew to your head to tug off the silk that covered your eyes but to avail. It was as if the damn thing had a lock on it that you couldn't feel with how hard it was to even tug the edge of it off your face. One of your ankles was also bound to , what you could assume , was a bedpost by the same indestructible silky material.

You laid there , tossing and turning in your spot as you let the thoughts eat away at your brain. Damn buddha-

Oh…that's right.

Buddha took you once more. You hate yourself for getting too comfortable with your freedom and now you're paying the price for it. You wished you could say you hated being in his arms again. What did he plan on doing to-

“My beautiful lotus.” there was a hand gently moving along your ankle all the way up your calf and you jumped a little. You had been so lost in thought that you didnt hear him enter-that if he left at all. “Did I scare you little one?” he chuckled to himself as that hand continued to crease its way up your body all the way to your face.

You felt the bed dip as the hand cupped the other side of your cheek to move your face towards what you assumed was his. Your suspicions were proven to be correct when you felt hair crease your forearm and a breath fan your face. “Right back where you belong.” he continued to run his hands along the sides of your body.

It was only when you began to shudder and squirm that he pulled away only to bury himself into your neck as he pulled you up , how he did that with chain , you had no idea and finding out didn't seem so important-not when he was pulled you into his lap and forcing your nose to bury itself into his scent glands.

He then begins to pet your hair as he whispers in your ear “I missed you so much you know. It was agony for me to not be able to hold you in my arms everyday that you were gone.” there were fingers tilting your head up and you could feel his lips centimeters away from yours. “Won't you grant me this one thing , my love.” and then his lips were on yours.

It's been so long since you felt him in this way and you hated the way your body seemed to relax in place as he pulled you closer to his body-you hated even more how your body seemed to slot perfectly against his. Like a final puzzle piece being put into place. The kiss was getting even a little too steamy for you as his tongue found its way into your mouth and tangled itself with yours. He pulled away to let you breathe only to dive right back in once you got that gulp of air.

Finally , after only he knows how long . did he pull fully away and you felt a string of saliva on your chin. “If only you could see yourself.” the husk in his voice made you shiver and he nipped at your ear with those tusks of his. “So sweet for me aren't you .” and then you felt him tug on the cloth covering your eyes and an orange glow entered your eyes.

His room was still the same as you remembered it.

It was covered in an orange glow and the center of it all was the man whose lap you currently sat on. His hair down and sprawled out behind him , he wore nothing but an open robe and some pajama pants. You took a quick look at your outfit and noticed he had changed you into a fur trimmed , spaghetti strap , baby blue , satin nightgown.

You could only imagine how you looked. Flushed cheeks , mouth open a little with salvia , and dazed eyes accompanied by your nightgown strap slipping off of you. It's proof of his control that he hasn't pounced on you yet and even then you could feel that sleeping through his hands.

“Do you have any idea on what you do to me , the effect you caused on my life since you came into it? You think its ok for you to just fuck off for a year without telling me where you are.” One of his hands came to cup the back of your neck and pulled you towards him until the both of yall were chest to chest. You had to crane your neck up to even look at him because of the way he loomed over you. “Were you even thinking of the damage you might have caused because of your little adventure?”

The growl in his voice made you shiver and he cooed mockingly down at you from the feeling. “My poor omega. Were you scared without me there with you? Did your heart pang as much as mine did when I wasn't there? I bet it did.” the hand on your neck trailed slowly down your back causing you to arch to get away from the fiery feeling of his hands.

Why did everything seem so-so-God damn it! you can't put a name to it but whatever it was it was making being this close to him all more intoxicating. That's when your eyes noticed some incense around the room and-Oh my god. “Buddha -buddha no. please dont-” he shh your pleads and peppered your face in kisses as you shook there.

He had put up heat inducing incense around the room and in your panic you didn't see or smell them until it was too late. Now you knew what that feeling was in the pit of your stomach that seemed to get worse now that you knew about it.

It was your body calling for its alpha to take care of it.

“I love you so much and it broke my heart to have you away from the safety of my arms like that. But i can assure you it won't be happening again.” he nipped at your ear and a small whimper escaped your mouth. “If I put a pretty little mating mark on your neck you won't be able to leave.”

“Buddha wait please , let me-”

“There's only one thing I'm letting you do tonight.” he interrupted you and suddenly you were flipped onto your back with him between your legs. He was pushing up your dress with one hand while holding down your squirming hips with the other. “Now take it like the good girl you are.”

The feeling of his fingers teasing your slit through your panties made you shudder. “Look at you. So wet for me.” he pinched your lips , making your clit puff out from in between and leaving a nice wet patch on your panties. “I do wonder what the source looks like.” your pussy was exposed when he tore off your last defense from his hungry eyes.

He teased your slit once more before spreading you , exposing your hole out as he whistled. “So pretty for me baby.” he blew and watched as the hole twitched as a whine escaped your mouth. He circled around the hole as his other hand teased your clit until you were a whining , squirmy mess beneath him. Buddha watched the way your face turned red and your expression haze as you became more lost in your heat-induced mind. “There we go omega , so good for me.” he encouraged as he cooed over you. He was going to have you cock drunk by the end of this he was sure of.

He lets one of his fingers collect your wetness before slowly sinking it into your core. the sound that tore through your throat was nothing but whorish. You were going to be an embarrassed mess the next morning but right now all you cared about was the way buddha's finger slipped into your walls. He seemed to still one he got knuckles deep before pulling back and slipping right back in with a slow pace.

He worked you up on just one finger alone before your voice was begging for more in which he slipped a second finger in. this time he sped up the pace as he curled his fingers. That little action seemed to have hit a nerve in your body that caused pleasure to spread all the way down to your bones as you jerked your hips to catch his hand.

He pushed your hip down but continued to fuck you on his fingers. “So beautiful , so perfect for me like this.” The wet sound of his hand meeting your ass cheeks every time he came into contact with them made you shudder as he continued to hit that sweet spot in your core. “Taking my fingers so well my little lotus. Can you handle a bit more?” and then he was leaning forward as his tongue caught your clit suddenly.

You screamed from pleasure as he swirled and sucked on your clit all the while you lost yourself on his fingers-when did he add in three-that were plugging in and out of you. It was becoming too much and you felt your hands scramble for purchase to ground yourself. You found them tangled in his hair and the groan he let out only made you moan more as the vibration traveled straight to your core.

“Buddha , buddha , love , please i cant-cant-” you were a babbling moaning mess as he ruined you completely. His fingers were curled now , catching your g-spot everything the went in and out , and his tongue was practically makingout with your puffy clit. He seemed to give your clit a break as he pulled up. “Yes you can. You can take it little lotus. I'll. make. Sure. of it.” Each word was met with a kiss to your clit before he dove right back into his mistreatment.

Something was building up in the pit of your stomach and you felt yourself getting tighter and tighter the longer he continued. “Buddha , buddha-please i'm about to-” he growled as he got up just enough for him to speak. “Then by all means , cum for me omega.”

And who were you to deny your alphas order.

With a couple more thrust and a swirl of your clit he had you seeing whiteness as you sprayed yourself all over his hand and chin. His thrust was a little weaker as he coaxed out your orgasm for as long as physically possible. He only let up once he heard your little whine as he sat up to lock eyes with you. He made a show of licking your essence from his mouth and fingers as you looked away embarrassed.

Your heat was in full swing now and right now all it cared about was getting his cock and knot inside you.

You heard the shuffling of clothes being taken off and you felt him spread your legs wide apart before settling in between them. “Tonight we join as one. When this is all over you will be mine as I am yours.” you felt the head tease at your entrance as it gathered up some of your slick. And then he was slowly dragging himself in and-Oh my god.

You've never felt so full and so right as he bottomed out and a moan left your mouth at the feeling. He seems to be frozen in place , taking the time to feel how your pulse and flutter around him as a groan leaves his mouth. You felt just as perfect as he imagined you to be.

And then he started moving and your hands went fumbling once more before he hooked your legs over his shoulders to grab at your wrist and pin them above your head. “Calm down little lotus. If you break, I'll be sure to put you back together again.” with that he was thrusting into you hard and fast. It knocked your breath out and soon enough you were a moaning withering mess once more. The feel of him dragging himself in and out of your walls left sparks sizing your nerves in the best way possible.

Buddha looked down at you as he continued to roll his hips. Face flushed in red and moans leaving your lips like prayer , it was a beautiful sight that egged him on more. He leaned up , still having your legs thrown over his shoulders , and left a kiss on its febrile skin. “You look so beautiful, split open on me like this.” a strangled keen left your mouth at the praise and he chuckled into the skin of leg. “You feel so good wrapped around me yeah? Do you want more , do you want more of your alpha?”

You couldnt think clearly , not when his hips were rolling into yours and not when he took your legs off his shoulders to press them firmly back against your chest. That seemed to allow him to deeper and a garble escaped your mouth as he drilled himself deeper into you. “Buddha! Buddha! Buddha!” you chanted his name like it was the only thing you could remember. He lets out a please him as he reaches down between your legs to roll your pearly bud between his fingers , leaving one hand to hold up your legs.

That got you screaming out in pleasure as he continued to play with your body to his own pace. “Buddha ! buddha!” a single word left your mouth that caused the temperature in the room to skyrocket. “Alpha~” that seemed to get him going as a growl left his lips and suddenly he was really fucking your brains out.

“Thats right , its your alpha taking care of you and its your alpha thats fucking you.” that familiar feeling was creeping back up your body and buddha hissed when he felt you tighten. “You're not ever leaving my side again. I won't allow it.” h was swirling and pinching at your clit and you felt yourself shake in pleasure at the mistreatment. “Now do as our alpha says and cum.”And with that your legs are shaking as your second orgasm hits you for that night as your nerves light themselves on fire.

Yet despite this something was still missing and you felt yourself sob out for whatever it was. “Was you not cumming enough?” buddha teased as he fucked you through your orgasm with no sign of him stopping anytime soon. “What does my omega want huh? A kiss? Another orgasm?” his hair was sprawled out everywhere around y'all as those blue eyes of his seem to glow in the dimly lit room. “My knot?”

That was it , that was what you wanted-no needed. You nodded your head “yeah , yeah.” he chuckled as his legs felt limp and twisted yall body’s so you were seated on his lap as he continued to jack hammer into you. He moved your hair from one side on your neck as he nibbled on the sensitive area that was your scent glands. You jerked and whittered from the new position as the base of his shaft started to expand. “So pretty for me , like on the most beautiful goddess laid out before me.”

“But do you know what would make you prettier?” he said as he scraped his teeth along your scent glands causing you to shudder. “Having my mating mark on your neck.” and then everything happened all at once. His knot grew and he slammed it into you and his hot spurts of cum shot inside you leaving you thruly fucked out of your mind and unable to form a sentnse or word. And then he was biting into your neck and you felt the bond forming between the two of you as he let go of your neck to lick at the blood dribbling out.

You feel your own fangs come out and Buddha pushes you towards his own scent glands with a gentle petting hand. “Go on omega , mark me as your.” and mark him you did , biting down on the gland caused another spit of his cum to shoot out from where he was locked in with you causing your wall to flutter around him.

He lets his face fall into your neck where he kisses the newly mated mark on your neck with a pleased hum. “Mine.”

•~•○•~•

The wind was blowing through your hair as you stood in the garden of buddhas palaces. You let yourself wander around the area until a familiar scent reached your nose. You didn't move to greet him , only stood there watching as a butterfly went from one flower to the other.

He reached and when he did he placed a kiss against the scared over mating mark on your neck causing you to shudder. “Little lotus.” He greeted you with a warmth that left it hard to stay in any short of a bad mood around him no matter how hard you tried. “Buddha.” you greeted back and you could imagine the smile he sent your way. He never did figure out why you ran away that day and you weren't ready for him to find out. Least he make good on that promise you unfortunately overheard.

You felt him cup your belly , now round and filled with his child , as he lets you lean into his embrace. “Come along now little lotus , I've got something to show you.” you let him lead you into the house with the sun rising behind the two of you.

[anglingforlevels]

An Owner's Dedication (Yandere Demon x Reader)

In which, you wonder why your demonic captor even took an interest in you to begin with.

CW: Yandere, monsterfuckery, human pet, pet/owner dynamic, not proofread, captivity, dead dove

Minors DNI

Amon took on many shapes and forms, each with their own quirks and anatomical impossibilities, each varying from terrifying to confusing to uncannily realistic to whatever he intended to masquerade as. But you could always tell it was Amon. Something distinctively him about the look, something always just a little bit off, enough so that you’d never mistake him for whatever he was parading as.

Presently, he had his legs folded beneath him as he donned the physicality of a horse with a face just a tad too long, and muscles a tad too sharp, to be any real horse, not that the unusual folding of his legs that bended all the wrong ways, would have you believe it was a real horse to begin with.

Why he changed forms at seemingly every glance, you weren’t sure of. But as alarming as the shifting creature before you was, it felt far more like a warning to see him remain consistent in his form. It meant either he had a guest whom he took on a shape for or he wanted to provide a bit of consistency for you, or put in other words, he’d be insufferably attentive for a while.

The worst of his forms were the ones he donned most frequently, or as you considered them, his default forms. Most of them were humanoid but left no doubt of his demonic nature, and the ones not humanoid were incomprehensible, with no end or beginning in sight. It was when he presented himself like this, that you could no longer let your imagination fly, to pretend he was something more palatable.

“You’ve been quiet as of late, my pet.” He spoke through a beak that should not know how to, his form now a strange owlish silhouette of goo. He seemed to, quite literally, change each time you blinked now, instead of the leisurely yet frequent changes of before, it meant he wasn’t yet fully invested in the conversation or his own questions but still wanted you to be on your toes, at least, you figured it was something like that. Not that you ever could let your guard down around him.

Pet. That was what you were. That was why you were sitting here with him now, struggling to uphold composure. Of course, you knew you should be happy with this role, or at least, have some form of gratitude for your situation. You had been by his side long enough to see what he did to the “toys” dragged along by visitors as gifts, what humans who seemed to draw much less endearment from him received of attention.

Compared to those humans, you really were lucky. The clawed fangs you had witnessed tear into jugulars and peek out through irises, would gently pat your head, the vicious tongue there had torn others very core to ribbons or sentenced people to their doom, would simply grow condescendingly sweet and coo at you.

You weren’t unlucky, at least not fatally so, you recognized that.

You lowered your eyes, your hands feeling clammy. You hadn’t responded yet and the air felt suffocating. You were ashamed of the notion of giving in to the sweet treatment of an adored pet, precisely because you had seen the fates of your fellow man, but what other options did you have, when a single look from him had you paralyzed in terror?

Even more, you feared being tossed aside, what of you then? Amon tapped a clawed finger against the marbled floor. From beneath your lashes, you could see he had taken on his most favored form, the vaguely humanoid void of claws, sharp teeth, feathers and burning flares. It seemed he would not be relenting on the question. You had been keeping quiet for too long, as was.

“Why,” you forced the words out, despite your throat feeling tight and closed-up, and your words were barely floating above a whisper. “Why me?”

“Why you?” Amon shifted, looming over you. You shrank into yourself, feeling so terribly small. It wasn’t just the towering size difference but the crushing presence that had you scurry to take up as little space as possible. A long, clawed finger with greying skin lifted your chin, “Why does a human take a dog or rabbit?”

You were now forced to stare into obelisk eyes that seemed surrounded by flickering flames. “Because they’re cute?” It almost felt like a trained response, having been subject to Amon’s comments about you for a while now. Amon released your chin with a satisfied hum but remained a looming figure above you, his shadow engulfing you completely.

“Right. And how endearing you are, my pet.” There’s a dismissive lilt to his tone, as if to say he’s still a little dissatisfied with you words. “And now, what would have such a darling pet distressed?”

Ah. Right. He never felt he owed you an explanation for your questions, not a real one with any depth, but you couldn’t get away with vague responses. His original question remained unanswered. That was how it always was. As far as Amon was concerned, he needed to know everything, but you only needed to know that you were an endearing, cute thing for him to pamper and burn away idle hours with.

But would you remain endearing to him? Would you one day annoy him, or would your cuteness evaporate as you aged? You struggled to imagine your aged figure, more wrinkles and loose skin than anything else, being afforded the same attention by someone who could discard and take as he pleased, especially when you couldn’t even comprehend his current attention.

“What if…” Your tone was careful as you asked, “One day, you don’t want me around? Like, when I start changing, humans aren’t as… long-lived. What would you do then?”

“Hm? If I tire of you, I’d toss you aside.” He said, matter-of-factly. “But meager concepts like age are nothing to me, such lowly things… For humans to concern themselves with it, you’d put us demons out of jobs, had there not been so many ways to cause misery.”

Amon, with a firm hand on your back, led you to sit on his lap. There was smoldering warmth and a feathery terseness whenever you moved around, prompting you to remain still in whatever position he arranged you in, so that the feathers would at least provide some level of softness.

“My attention is nothing as fickle as that.” Amon spoke again, you felt the rumble for each word he spoke. “Why, are human owners in the habit of taking on kittens only to abandon them as they grow weary and slow?”

No. Not anyone of worth, at least. Amon’s clawed hand came resting at your head, running across your head in a smooth motion. “It seems worthless troubles like these has kept you miserable, but my pet has no use for thoughts. Would it not be easier to simple stop thinking and enjoy my care?”

It would. Part of you, the tired and exhausted part, wanted to lean into his touch. It was better than the alternative, it felt easier. But it felt like the part of you that resisted would die alongside something important within you, should you do it.

“Why me?” You asked again. Because you were endearing to him? You didn’t understand why you were here. If Amon felt annoyed at the repeat question, he didn’t express it. His voice felt closer to you, as did his embrace that no longer felt loose but restrictive.

“Because I wanted you here.”

And, in the end, that was all the reason Amon would ever need. Amon never needed any justifications or excuses for his actions, he didn’t need to delude himself into believing you’d thrive or even accept it, in the end, it hardly mattered to him – he wanted you here, so here you were.

After all, a pet’s place is by their master.

[mccall-muffin]

The Lady and the Major - Part 3/3 // John "Bucky" Egan x OC

Summary: Bucky is gone. For Liz, a world fell apart. But being the daughter of a duke, there still are responsibilities.

Warnings: Language, loss, slight depression, family duties, family fight. FLUUUUFF

A/N: And now this little story comes to an end. It was fun :) Hope you enjoyed it!

Here is my Masterlist

Tags: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @mads-weasley, @brassknucklespeirs, @softguarnere, @shesgonna

London, Early 1944

The vibrant correspondence between Liz and Bucky, once a source of joy and anticipation for Liz, has fallen into a distressing silence since October 1943. Each letter she sent without receiving a reply added another layer to her growing concern and heartache. Liz's letters, once filled with playful banter and teasing affection, have grown more earnest, culminating in a confession of her deepening feelings for Bucky—a letter that, like its predecessors, remains unanswered.

The once lively spark in Liz's eyes has dimmed, noted by all who know her but most acutely by Mrs. Baxter, who has served the Cavendish family for years and has come to hold a particular fondness for Liz. It's a quiet afternoon when Mrs. Baxter finds Liz in the garden, her laughter at something in a book not quite reaching her eyes, a shadow of her usual vibrancy.

"Miss Elizabeth," Mrs. Baxter begins, her voice laced with concern, "you've been ever so down lately. It's not like you to let the world weigh on your shoulders. Is it that young American soldier? You've not mentioned him in quite some time."

Liz, caught off guard, closes her book, a sigh escaping her lips. "Yes, it's Bucky. I've not heard from him since October. I fear the worst, Mrs. Baxter. But part of me wonders... what if he's simply moved on? Or found someone else? Or worse..." Her voice is a mix of sadness and fear, the possibility of Bucky being gone forever a thought she can barely entertain.

Mrs. Baxter, wise in the ways of the heart and the harsh realities of war, shakes her head. "Miss Elizabeth, the way that boy wrote to you, I can't imagine him simply forgetting about you or finding another. It doesn't sit right. Why don't you write to his superior? Just to ask, to know for certain."

The suggestion stirs a turmoil within Liz. The thought of reaching out to Colonel Harding, of whom Bucky told her, is daunting, not only for fear of seeming desperate but also for the terrifying possibility that her worst fears might be confirmed—that Bucky is indeed lost to her, either through death or by a change of heart.

"But what if I find out he's..." Liz can't finish the sentence, the fear of Bucky's potential death choking her words.

"Miss Elizabeth," Mrs. Baxter says, taking Liz's hand in her own, "not knowing is a torment all its own. It's clear you care for him deeply and living in this limbo isn't fair to you. Writing to that Colonel might bring you the clarity you need to move forward, one way or another."

Liz contemplates Mrs. Baxter's words, the wisdom in them undeniable yet terrifying to act upon. The possibility of learning that Bucky is indeed gone is a reality she's not sure she's ready to face. Yet, the perpetual state of not knowing, of holding onto a thread of hope mixed with fear, is its own kind of purgatory.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Liz nods, a decision made. "You're right, Mrs. Baxter. I'll write to his Colonel. It's better to know than to spend my days wondering 'what if.'"

Mrs. Baxter squeezes Liz's hand reassuringly, offering a smile that's both encouraging and sympathetic. "Whatever the response, Miss Elizabeth, you won't face it alone. We're all here for you, always."

With a newfound resolve, albeit one shadowed by apprehension, Liz sets out to pen a letter to Colonel Harding, seeking the truth about Bucky's fate. It's a step fraught with the risk of heartbreak but also the only path toward peace, whether it leads to closure or rekindles a flicker of hope.

Dear Colonel Harding,

I hope this letter finds you well amidst the challenging circumstances that I know the brave men under your command face daily. I am writing to you with a heavy heart and a hopeful spirit, seeking information about Major John Egan, who I believe is (or was) under your esteemed leadership.

It has been several months since I last heard from Major Egan, and his silence is uncharacteristic and deeply concerning. We had been in regular correspondence until October of last year, after which all communication ceased abruptly. Understanding the nature of his duty and the risks involved, I am painfully aware of the potential reasons for his silence.

However, the not knowing has become a burden too heavy to bear, and so I find myself reaching out to you, Colonel, in hopes that you might be able to provide any information regarding Major Egan's status. It is my deepest hope that he is safe and well, but if that is not the case, I am prepared to face whatever truth there might be.

Major Egan spoke very highly of you and his fellow soldiers, and it is clear he holds great respect for the sacrifices and efforts of the 100th Bombardment Group. It is in this spirit of respect and concern that I reach out to you now.

Any information you can provide would be immensely appreciated, not only by me but by all who care for Major Egan.

I thank you in advance for your time and assistance in this matter and for your service to our countries. Please extend my gratitude and best wishes to the courageous men under your command.

Yours sincerely, Lady Elizabeth Cavendish of Wellington

Dear Lady Elizabeth Cavendish,

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you regarding Major John Egan. First, let me express my deepest gratitude for your kind words, the respect you've shown towards our unit, and the sacrifices made by our servicemen. It is the support and thoughtfulness of individuals like yourself that bolster our spirits in these trying times.

Regarding Major Egan, I regret to inform you that his plane was shot down during a mission over Münster, Germany, on October 10th. The circumstances were such that we have been unable to ascertain his whereabouts following the incident, and as of this moment, Major Egan is classified as Missing in Action (MIA).

This news is undoubtedly difficult to receive, and it is shared with the greatest sympathy and respect for your connection to Major Egan. Please know that our efforts to learn more about his status continue unabated, and any new information will be communicated to you as soon as possible.

Major Egan is remembered among his peers for his bravery, leadership, and the indelible mark he left on all who had the privilege of knowing him. In these challenging times, we hold onto hope and the belief in the resilience of the human spirit.

Should there be any way we can be of further assistance to you during this period, please do not hesitate to reach out.

With deepest sympathies, Colonel Neil B. Harding 100th Bombardment Group United States Army Air Forces

July 1945, Hyde Park, London

The park, with its sprawling greens and tranquil ambiance, serves as a refuge for her thoughts, a place where memories of Bucky feel both painfully close and achingly distant. As she walks beside Mrs. Baxter, her mind is only half-attuned to the conversation about her impending nuptials to Lord Henry Ashcroft, a man of good standing and disposition but whom Liz regards with a sense of resigned acceptance rather than love.

Lord Henry Ashcroft, chosen by her father, was a man of considerable charm and intellect, a diplomat who had spent much of the war negotiating on behalf of Britain. While Liz could appreciate his qualities and the comfort of their companionship, her heart remained untouched, locked away with the memories of a love lost too soon.

As Mrs. Baxter prattles on, Liz's attention is stolen away by a voice, a familiar timbre that cuts through the noise of the park and straight to her soul. "Planning your grand escape, Liz? Or just hiding out from all those wedding planners your father's set on you?"

The voice, unmistakably Bucky's, sends a shockwave through her. She turns, disbelieving, to see him leaning casually against a tree, that all-too-familiar smirk playing on his lips, his arms crossed as if he's been waiting for her all this time. For a moment, Liz is frozen, her heart caught between joy and disbelief.

"Bucky?" she breathes out, her voice a whisper lost in the wind. The world around her seems to come to a standstill, the chatter of the park fading into nothingness as she takes in the sight of him. He's thinner, the signs of his ordeal evident in his eyes, but it's unmistakably him.

Bucky pushes off from the tree, taking a few steps toward her with a grin. "In the flesh," he confirms, his eyes lighting up with the warmth she remembered so well. "I must say, I've had quite the adventure. But I always knew I had to find my way back to you, Liz."

Tears well in Liz's eyes as the reality of the moment washes over her. The pain of the past two years, the resignation to a life without him, suddenly lifts, replaced by a surge of hope and love so strong it leaves her breathless.

"But how? I thought you were—" Liz starts, unable to finish, the question hanging in the air, laden with the weight of untold stories of survival and loss.

"A POW," Bucky finishes for her, his voice softening. "It was... rough. But I never stopped thinking about you, Liz. Not for a single day. It's what kept me going, knowing I had to come back to see you again."

The revelation leaves Liz reeling, the pieces of her carefully constructed resolve crumbling under the weight of her emotions. Here, before her, stands the man she believed she had lost forever, a living testament to the resilience of hope and love.

Mrs. Baxter, sensing the magnitude of the moment, discreetly withdraws with the dogs, leaving Liz and Bucky alone in their bubble of reclaimed time.

Liz steps forward, the distance between them closing with each tentative step until she's close enough to touch, to confirm that he's real and not a figment of her longing imagination. Without a word, she reaches out, her hand trembling as it meets his cheek, the contact sparking a connection that time and circumstance had failed to sever.

"Bucky, I..." Liz starts, the flood of emotions rendering her speechless.

"Shh," Bucky soothes, wrapping her in his arms, his presence a balm to the scars left by war and separation. "We have time, Liz. All the time, we thought we'd lost. We'll figure this out together."

In the embrace of the man she never stopped loving, Liz allows herself to believe in the possibility of a future she had mourned as lost. Hyde Park, once a sanctuary for her solitary reflections, now bears witness to the resurgence of a love that survived against all odds, promising a new chapter for Liz and Bucky, one where 'what if' transforms into 'what is.'

In the opulent salon of Wellington House, the tension is palpable. The Duke of Wellington, a man of formidable presence and traditional values, paces the room, his anger reaching a fever pitch. The assembled group—Liz, her fiancé Henry Ashcroft, her brother Edward, her mother, and Bucky—watches in a mix of apprehension and disbelief.

"My daughter, marrying an American? A soldier with no title, no lands, no... no nothing!" the Duke bellows, his voice echoing off the walls, laden with centuries of history and tradition. "This is not a matter of mere preference, Elizabeth! It's about duty, about the legacy of the Cavendish name. An arrangement has been made with the Ashcrofts, a union that will benefit both our families."

Liz stands her ground, her resolve steeled by the love she has for Bucky, a love that has endured the trials of war and separation. "Father, I respect our traditions, but I cannot—I will not—marry a man I do not love. Henry is a fine gentleman, but my heart belongs to Bucky. I must marry out of love, not obligation."

Her plea falls on deaf ears. The Duke, red-faced and seething, turns his ire towards Bucky. "And you!" he accuses, pointing a finger at the soldier who has unwittingly become the center of the controversy. "Do you think you can just waltz in here and claim my daughter's hand? What do you have to offer her? You are a commoner, an outsider!"

Bucky, despite the hostility, remains calm, his respect for Liz and her family evident even in the face of the Duke's wrath. "Your Grace, with all due respect, I understand your concerns. I may not have titles or lands to my name, but I love your daughter and swear to devote my life to making her happy. Isn't her happiness worth considering?"

The Duke's response is a derisive snort. "Happiness? You speak of happiness in a world where lineage and alliances dictate our very existence. You are not suitable for Elizabeth. This... this farce ends now!"

Liz's mother and brother exchange troubled glances, the family torn asunder by the clash of duty and desire. Henry, for his part, remains silent, his own feelings a mixture of resignation and relief, having sensed Liz's lack of affection towards him.

The room falls silent as the Duke delivers his ultimatum. "Elizabeth, you will marry Henry Ashcroft as planned, or you will face the consequences. You will not defy the wishes of your family or the expectations of our society. This is not just about you; it's about the Cavendish legacy."

The weight of her father's words hangs heavy in the air, a gulf widening between tradition and the yearning of the heart. Liz, caught in the throes of an impossible choice, looks to Bucky, her eyes filled with a mixture of love, defiance, and the dawning realization of the sacrifices they must both be willing to make for a chance at a life together.

As she can't take it anymore, Liz flees the salon and her father and is quickly followed by her mother.

In the quiet aftermath of Liz's hurried departure, the salon becomes a stage for silent contemplation and uneasy alliances. As Henry speaks privately with the Duke, Edward shares a moment of understanding with Bucky, and the pieces of a complex puzzle begin to shift. The choices made in the hours and days to come will redefine the futures of all involved, setting them on paths none could have anticipated.

Edward, acknowledging Bucky's resolve with a nod, breaks the silence. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. Facing down the old man is no small feat," he comments, a hint of respect threading through his words.

Bucky, his determination unwavering, responds with a sincerity that speaks volumes of his experience and the depth of his feelings for Liz. "I've seen too much, lost too much, to not fight for what truly matters. Liz... she's changed everything for me. This time in captivity, it made me realize life's too short for regrets. I need to spend mine with her, no matter what."

Edward sighs, a look of understanding crossing his features. "I get it, I really do. But you must understand our world... it's governed by rules, by expectations that have bound families like ours for centuries. It's a tangled web."

Meanwhile, in Liz's room, the atmosphere is thick with desperation and the weight of impending decisions. Her mother, the Duchess, attempts to provide comfort, but Liz's turmoil runs too deep for simple reassurances. "I can't do it, Mother. I can't marry Henry knowing that Bucky is alive and the one I love. It would be a lie, a life built on pretense. I'm not like you; I can't hide my feelings or live a lie."

The Duchess, faced with her daughter's anguish, feels a pang of sorrow for the constraints their world imposes. She knows the Duke's stubbornness all too well, his unwavering commitment to duty and legacy. Yet, in her heart, she understands Liz's longing for genuine happiness. With a heavy heart, she reveals the only solution she sees.

"There is one way, Elizabeth. You must elope with Mr. Egan. It's the only path to true happiness if you're sure he's the one. Your father... he may never forgive you, but this is your life, and you must choose how to live it. But you have to know, if you decide on this, there is no coming back."

The suggestion of elopement, radical and fraught with the risk of scandal and estrangement, hangs in the air like a lifeline amidst stormy seas. It's a testament to the lengths to which love compels individuals to go, challenging the very foundations upon which their lives are built.

For Liz, the idea is both terrifying and liberating. The prospect of defying her family, of stepping outside the protective yet confining boundaries of her world, is daunting. Yet, the chance to build a life with Bucky, to embrace the love they share, is a beacon of hope in the darkness of her predicament.

As the vast expanse of the Atlantic stretches out before them, the cold ocean breeze tangles through Elizabeth's hair, a stark contrast to the warmth of Bucky's arms around her. His kiss on her cheek is a gentle reminder of the new reality they've stepped into together—a world away from the grandeur of Wellington House, a future uncertain but theirs to shape.

Bucky's voice, filled with affection, breaks the silence. "You sure you're okay with this, Lizzie? Leaving everything you've known... for me?"

Turning to face him, Liz's eyes meet his, shining with a resolve that belies any lingering doubts. "Bucky, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. With you, I have everything I need. You are my home now."

Bucky's smile in response is one of relief and love, his hand coming up to caress her cheek. "Liz, you've given up so much. I promise you, I'll spend every day making sure you never regret this decision."

Their conversation, intimate against the backdrop of the vast ocean, is a testament to the strength of their bond, a love that has transcended societal norms and the expectations of their respective worlds.

Flashback: In Liz's room, the Duchess's hands are steady as she helps pack the bags, her face a mask of resolve. "Remember, you're stronger than you think, Elizabeth. You're making a brave choice, for love. That's something I've always admired in you." As Bucky is led into Liz's room through the servants' corridors, his eyes quickly find Liz, his expression a mixture of surprise and admiration. "Lizzie, are you sure? This means leaving everything behind—your family, your title..." Liz steps close, her hands finding his. "I've never been more certain of anything, Bucky. As long as I'm with you, I'm where I belong." Her mother's voice, soft yet urgent, interrupts their moment. "You must hurry, my dears. And be careful." Handing Liz some money, she adds, "This should help you get started." She puts her arm on Bucky's. "Take care of my daughter." Bucky nods. "I will. Always." The goodbye is swift, a final embrace shared with her mother before Liz and Bucky slip out into the night, embarking on their journey towards a new life.

As Liz reaffirms her commitment, Bucky's eyes soften, the weight of her sacrifice not lost on him. "Lizzie, you're my world. I'll make sure you have all the happiness you deserve."

Their kiss, passionate and full of promise, seals their vow to each other. As they stand there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the future unfurls before them—not as a path laid out by lineage or duty, but as a journey they'll navigate together, bound by love and the shared courage to defy expectations for the chance at true happiness.

"We're in this together, every step of the way. I love you, now and forever," Bucky whispers, his words carrying the weight of an oath, a pledge of a lifetime together, against all odds.

And Liz, gazing into the horizon, her heart full, knows that no matter what challenges they may face, their love will be their guiding light. "I love you too, Bucky. Here's to our new beginning."

[tellmegoodbye]

Thank you @ironheartwriter for tagging me!

Welcome to yet another Sunday where I refuse to actually count out seven sentences and just go with vibes instead. Here's a little something from the wedding fic.

The worst part is he knows how Carlos must be feeling right now. Something inside of him died tonight, just as it did in TK on that fateful night he answered his phone and received the news of his mother’s death. They’re both missing a part of them they can never get back. A piece of their hearts broken off, stolen from them far too early, bonding them in a way TK had never imagined.

That's the realization that does him in, the final crack in the dam that has TK collapsing in on himself and all of the anguish he had been shoving down flooding into his body at full force. After hours of tonight’s events not quite setting in for him, hours of dread slowly crawling throughout his body and clawing its way up to his heart, TK doesn’t have anything holding him back anymore.

He hangs his head with a gasp and finally lets himself cry.

He still can't focus on anything other than the sound of the running water coming from the bathroom. He just knows that the water has been turned up to a boiling hot temperature, almost hot enough to sear the pain right off of his fiancé's body, replacing it with a soothing, manageable burning sensation. If he listens closely enough, past the sound of his own strangled breaths and the sound of the water spraying angrily against the tiles, against skin, he thinks he can hear Carlos crying too.

Tags!

@strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk @heartstringsduet

@honeybee-taskforce @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @emsprovisions @bonheur-cafe @welcometololaland

@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @literateowl @freneticfloetry @paperstorm

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Thirty-Eight

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues, conspiracy theories.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: I'm struggling with my health, so motivation and writers block is hitting me, but, trying to keep up a little, enjoy!

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee @talialovesmiw @shilohrosechicken @thatchickwiththecamera @tamtam-elizabeth

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

What the hell was happening?!?

Chris was staring at his phone and trying not to freak out. Breath, just breath. What was he going to tall Ricky and Talia? This, this was, this was… what the hell was this? Let's be real, he didn’t know what to tell Ricky and Talia because he had no idea what the fuck this was himself! It wasn’t just beyond confusing. It was insane! Forget about not using that word because of the sensitive issue about the fact both Talia and himself had been committed, he had been trying to be careful about saying, thinking it.. But push come to shove, right now, this felt utterly insane. A man he had been getting to know for years, that he had had intense philosophical conversations with, conversations that changed how he saw the soulmate bonds completely at times, just seemed to completely, what.. What the fuck?

Nothing made sense about what had just happened. Micah wouldn’t have turned on him, because that was what it felt like, Micah turning on him almost, somehow, just, a little bit. Or was that all in his head, was he over thinking this? Was, was he just imagining things here? Was he paranoid in that phone call because of the changes with his tattoo and reading too much in what had just happened? Maybe Micah was having a bad day. Still, what was wrong, what was happening? Why couldn’t he call that number anymore, this was all just so very, deranged.

“Hey Chris, have you heard back from that scientist guy yet? Because I was just think-”

Rick walking into the kitchen he stopped in his tracks taking one look at him, maybe it was the look on his face, or the fact he had been in the middle of making his lunch and had stopped cold, and it was all out on the counter forgotten. Something very unlike Chris. Leaving food out and risking it spoiling when he had to deal with enough finding decent vegan food in the past, and literally taught himself to cook to make his own, Chris didn’t just randomly leave food out. Ricky knew that, everyone that knew Chris well enough knew that.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Shit shit shit.. But honestly, Rick already had second thoughts about the scientists with his insistence on the testing elements, that much was obvious, and was getting the worst feeling now.. What was he supposed to say to him? Chris looking over at him after a moment, he swallowed, he didn’t know what to say, what could he say, that the hope he had for some answers had just gone down the drain.

Yes, they could wait and see if these tattoos could work themselves out on their own, but what if they didn’t? Would they be living with these effects for the rest of their lives? How would that work, at any moment it could affect them. Any moment, after what Ricky said he’d felt just from Chris kissing Talia, imagine Talia being in the middle of a tattoo and feeling him kissing Ricky out of the blue. That could have massive ramifications for her, and her client. 

“I, ah, heard from Micah, my scientist fr- guy.”

He wasn’t sure, were they friends right now, it made him feel sick to question it, when Chris trusted someone enough to call them his friend, it took a lot these days after everything. So to question it now, that hurt, and he hated himself just a little bit for it.

“Oh yeah? I'm guessing, from the look on your face, the news wasn’t great.”

Chris frowned, his brow furrowed slightly as he stared at Ricky for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, how to explain that conversation when he didn’t even know he could explain it to himself. So he decided to just say that, he didn’t know.

“I don’t know what it was. He got, cagey.”

“Cagey? What do you mean?”

Chris sighed, back to how to explain, start from the top he guessed.

“Well, I didn’t want to tell him about Talia, or you, because I didn’t want to risk anyone getting pulled into anything, so I spun a story about random soulmate stupid theories, and started sprouting off different random theories. All different ones, bits and pieces from other theories Rick, throwing this one into the mix. I didn’t even mention tattoos causing strange sensations, just changing, after, well, a soulmate died. Instantly this guy I’ve been talking to for years, that I’ve sent Christmas cards to, even birthday cards to his kids, starts getting fucking weird and cagey.” As he explained it, Chris went from being worried to actually being annoyed. Because, what the hell, what was going on?!

“Considering I was sufficiently freaked out by the time he was asking me if it was my tattoo that was changing, there was absolutely no way I was telling him, I hesitated. I might as well have screamed yes at the top of my lungs, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Now I feel completely fucked because then it got even creepier when he goes.”

Chris imitates a low raspy faux villian voice, they both know how good he is at changing his voice, it sounded nothing like Micah, but that was not the point of why he was using it. He just wanted to be anything but himself right then.

“Chris, whatever you do, don’t call this number again, I’ll be in touch. and then just hangs the hell up. What Ricky, what? Next thing I know, you're walking in. I trusted this man, what, what am I supposed to do, what if, shit, what if there is some conspiracy-”

“Hey, I’m the conspiracy-nut here, leave that job to me.”

Chris couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that with a scoff.

“This isn’t the time to joke Rick, I’m scared, my tattoo is changing, and someone I thought I could trust to ultimately listen and help me figure out what is happening to me eventually just-”

“Hey, hey,”

Swallowing, feeling Ricky’s hand on his arm.

“You know, whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

Ricky squeezed his fingers around Chris’ arm. There was no way he was going to walk away from Chris dealing with this, not now, not ever, not even if Talia wanted to go home. She might be his original soulmate, but Chris was his best friend, and he’d already been through hell and back. Besides, while he couldn’t guarantee it, not by a long shot, he didn’t think Talia was the kind of person that would just talk away. Not if Chris really needed her. Yes, it was just a tattoo to most people, but theirs was affecting them on an entirely different level, he was sure if anyone could appreciate that, Talia could after what they’d already gone through. What she’d already been through. Considering Talia for that matter, 

“Would you like me to call Talia, we can disc-”

Before he even finished what he was saying, just thinking that they could talk about what they wanted to do from here, Chris’ phone suddenly alerted them to a message, causing the taller man to startle out of nowhere. They were really going to have to do something about Chris stress level. He had always been a perfectionist, but he was not dealing with any of this very well, and Ricky was starting to get worried about him going over the edge from all of this.

“For the love of-”

Waiting while Chris checked the message, a groan coming from the man.

“Well, that’s just the icing on the cake, look at this.”

Chris practically shoved his phone over to Ricky for him to take.

“It’s a message, from Micah, it's an unknown number, but that’s how he signs off all his texts.”

“Okay.”

Well, that, was curious. Considering the only part of the message that made any sense whatsoever was the end where Micah had signed it off according to Chris, it was interesting to say the least. The rest was some kind of jargon, the entire thing was written in some kind of code, letters, numbers, and for the life of him, there was something familiar about it. 

“Do you have a notepad and pen anywhere?”

Rick wanted to write this message long hand so he could work it out other than on the tiny little screen of the phone. Obviously, it had to be something that Micah thought that Chris might be able to figure out, or at least, hoped he would be able to find a way to be able to. If he wanted him to at all. Chris could be right, it could be a conspiracy, this could just be a wild goose chase that they were about to be sent on. There might be every chance that Ricky was about to jump down the rabbit hole pointlessly, or, alternatively, Chris had a friend that was trying to actually help him, and was honestly trying to warn him away. Ricky, while had been very pessimistic lately for Chris’ sake, was willing to hope on the latter.

At the very least, he wanted to know what this damn message meant.

Even if it was just a rabbit hole.

With Chris handing over a pen and notebook, Ricky sat down at the kitchen table while the singer went back to work on finishing making lunch, only this time he set to making something for both of them. Ricky sat there, muttering to himself over the numbers, and letters, working through the different combinations, and possibilities, and while he could be going online to look up different cyphers for codes, he didn’t want to risk it. This wasn’t some random puzzle, this was Chris’ life, this was their life, and if he couldn’t figure it out, then what was the point of the code at all?

Having finished their lunch, and multiple cups of coffee, Ricky was looking at Chris suddenly, blinking…

“Could it be that simple?”

Murmuring to himself, and ripped yet another piece of paper from the notebook and scrunched it up and tossed it to the bin.

He missed.

Again.

The utterance however seemed to have gotten Chris’ attention, looking up from his phone that he had been looking over. Ricky hadn’t been paying attention to what the other had been doing, just engrossed in the message.

“What is it?”

“Just a minute.”

Ricky was already scribbling away furiously on the fresh page of the notepad, a whole new set of the figures as he glanced back to the code that he’d written out cleanly still beside him on the table. So far it was working, so far, the new page, it was making sense. So far, it really was that simple, and he was kicking himself for having not considered it before. Of course, Micah being a scientist, he’d gone for that side for, idiot. Sighing, he shouldn’t have been focusing on the science, he should have been thinking like Chris, like himself, like a musician.

“He has sent instructions, basically, buy a burner phone, call this number, and only call it at a certain time of day.” Ricky flipped the paper around so that Chris could read what the message had said,

“And a warning, not to talk to anyone else about your tattoo changing.”

Looking down at the scrawled message on the paper. So Micah was trying to help him, that, terrified him even more, that someone out there could be out to get him. Maybe not just him, but what if they came for Talia and Rick too for being connected to him now? 

“Shit.”

Reading over the message that Micah sent for him, so he guessed he was going to have to go buy a burner phone. 

“Looks like I’ve got a trip to the store ahead of me.”

Glancing at his watch,

“And about an hour before the first chance to call, I’m going to go now.”

He was not going to waste time. Chris wanted to find out what the hell was going on here, why Micah had suddenly started freaking out on him, otherwise he was going to be a mess all night and he knew it.

“I don’t think I can handle another day of spy games.”

Standing up from the table, he didn’t trust just sending someone else to grab a phone for him when it came to this. Chris swallowed as he glanced at Rick when he immediately followed suit, standing right alongside him.

“I’m coming with you. Don’t look at me like that, Talia is safe at Vinny’s, and if anyone is at risk from whatever the hell could be going on, on the other end of that phone call, it's mostly you, Chris. So I’m not letting you out of my sight until we know what's happening.”

Chris sighed,

“Alright, but I’m driving, Road Kill.”

Smirking as Ricky rolled his eyes, he was never letting that go.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[honey-minded-hivemind]

For the Creed of the Diamonds AU, let's figure out which Diamonds the ferals are:

Sabretooth: Tawny Diamond

Wolverine: Black Diamond

Beast: Blue Diamond

Laura/X-23: Brown Diamond

Reader: Yellow Diamond

They made up the Great Diamond Authority, where each one ruled a part of the gem empire and ran a certain aspect of its society. The oldest three were Tawny Diamond, Black Diamond, amd Blue Diamond, who were also the largest of the Diamonds... And then there were the two youngest, and smallest, Diamonds, Brown Diamond and Yellow Diamond...

Tawny Diamond was in charge of punishments and one half of the gem army, focusing on strong soldiers and ruthless warriors, and would collect the shards of the gems he had shattered as trophies or for experiments...

Black Diamond was in charge of rewards and one half of the gem army, focusing on strategists and common soldiers, and was known to have liked colonies closer to Homeworld...

Blue Diamond was in charge of laws and experiments, helping build up Homeworld and make many weapons, rejuvenators, and injectors for the armies, as well as run courts on Homeworld for disputes among gems...

Brown Diamond was in charge of reports and fleets, finding new galaxies and planets to conquer, and sending soldiers amd scouts to clear out any organic life forms, and had a liking for water planets...

And Yellow Diamond was in charge of rewards and celebrations on Homeworld, being known to make extravagant gifts and throw lavish balls, and had a knack for making other gems feel important and special...

When Yellow Diamond finally received their first colony, a resource rich planet called Earth, it was the beginning of the end of Era One. With Earth came a rebellion, a gem who called themselves Citrine, who defied Homeworld and sought to rip Earth from Yellow Diamond's clutches-! Yet Yellow Diamond put up a fight, even calling the other Diamonds of this dastardly gem. But they did not care, and told the youngest Diamond to finish what they started.

It would be the worst mistake they ever made, and it would cost all of Homeworld dearly...

For the horrible Citrine... SHATTERED Yellow Diamond!

It was the worst event the Empire had ever known. The armies of Yellow Diamond wept, their servants poofed in despair and pain, their loyal advisors and guards could only scream as the remains lay in the dirt, bright yellow and faded, like the dying embers of a star...

And the Diamonds?

They, for once, regretted their choices. If only they had been there to advise their fellow Diamond... if only they had sent their own soldiers... if only they had told them how strong strong were... if only they'd been kinder, more caring to them...

If only they'd actually cared.

In their grief-filled rage, the called back all of Homeworld's forces from Earth, and swore vengeance on Citrine! With their combined powers, they blasted the planet, sealing its fate, and leaving a curse buried under the surface... One day, they hoped it would destroy the defective Citrine, and bring justice for Yellow Diamond...

And thus began Era Two, an era filled with mourning, new laws, and the worst punishments the empire wouod face, without the bright Yellow Diamond to help guide them...

(Imahine a random gem who was once from Yellow Diamond's court wrote this. It could be from maybe Kurt or Kitty, who I imagine were Reader's two friends back on Homeworld in their court, and who miss Diamond Creed Reader dearly... Or it could be from another gem from a different court entirely... Or even from Yellow or Gold Pearl Creed Reader...)

[tea-mew96]

hi meow :^) can i geeeeet optimus priiimal

Why, yes you can!

Send me a character and I'll tell you my...

First impression

This guy seems neat. Not sure how I feel about this whole furry alt mode thing, but I'm curious to see what else this character has in store.

Impression now

My beloved ape dad, munky queen, and comfort character.

Get past the "lol munky" jokes and you will find what is IMO one of the best designed characters in Optimus Primal. His iterations do differ (mainly in terms of the sass level he possesses), but the one constant is that he is a perfect ambassador of his beast mode: gentle, caring, and protective of his team and friends-sometimes to a fault-yet powerful and not afraid to smack a bitch if need be. Favorite Transformers character of all time, if you don't like him we can't be friends /hj

Favorite moment

You could put all scenes of Primal in the Beast Wars episode "Gorilla Warfare" here, but I'm specifically gonna pick the scene where Primal is going on a rampage through the Darksyde. Berserk Primal always lives rent-free in my head.

Idea for a story

I've given quite a bit of thought to an origin story for Optimus Primal, specifically for the original show. Decades later and we've never gotten canon info about his life before Megatron stole the Golden Disk, which baffles me.

To keep the story short, I imagine Optimus Primal's origin story being complimentary but opposing of Megatron's. While Megatron took the name for himself out of a power-hungry ego to be better than the Megatron of legend, Optimus Primal received his name upon activation due to his similar appearance to his namesake. However, he has a rough upbringing due to the pressure to be "perfect" like his namesake, despite not wanting anything to do with being a political leader or spiritual successor to Optimus Prime (hence pursuing a career in space exploration instead once he was older).

Unpopular opinion

I personally like Optimus Primal in Beast Machines for the most part, primarily from a psychological perspective.

Yes, he is snappy to his team, he's not as cheery or light-hearted as he was, but that's entirely because of the extreme negative situation he's faced with.

I always remember what Primal said to his fellow Maximals in episode 3: "Megatron decimated this planet because of me, you think I can bear losing any of you?!"

I bring this up because this is what signaled to me that Primal is not mentally doing well. Primal is blaming himself for Megatron's escape and his subsequent unleashing of the virus, blaming himself for the millions of sparks and future of Cybertron now on the line due to Megatron's actions, blaming himself for putting his teammates right back at square one but now with limited resources and numbers. Primal is putting a lot of unhealthy pressure on himself and it shows.

I just think it sucks that a lot of people don't seem to talk about this when it comes to his characterization. Most of what I see usually starts and ends with how preachy he is when that's only scratching the surface of his character IMO.

Favorite relationship

I will always stand by Primal, DInobot, and Megatron polycule, though only in an AU/what if scenario.

If referring to canon material though, I like Primal and Dinobot's relationship because of how sweet their friendship ends up being. Primal believes in Dinobot more than Dinobot seems to believe in himself, and Primal still supports him even during his worst moments.

Meanwhile, I find Primal and Megatron's dynamic fascinating to study, primarily because of how strongly linked their fates are with one another. They don't get along at all, yet their opposing characterizations and mannerisms ironically compliment each other well.

Favorite headcanon

He doesn't get many chances to do so, but Primal is a talented singer that knows how to play the guitar and piano (or whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of those instruments are.) I like to believe he's sung lullabies to Cheetor when the young bot can't sleep. Yes, this headcanon is based off Garry Chalk.

[honestly-oceanie]

My heart's ripped into pieces, I'm just trying to keep it together || TWTPTFLOB, TVIAM

Synopsis: a salvation they seek, the salvation they received. But is it a sin to dream and wish of you?

CW: hallucinations, self-harm, suicide ideation, refusal to eat, depression, alcoholism, (in Rezef) the reader is not real, (in Jeremy) the reader is real but dead so he imagines her alive.

Requested by: @pinky-kittys-world

《Jeremy Agriche, Rezef Hill | gn!reader》

{Angst◇ | ●headcanons●}

A/N: I'm so sorry it took long૮(˶╥︿╥)ა I lost motivation for the past few weeks.

The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

Jeremy Agriche

🦋Jeremy is completely aware of how, when, and where you had died. He was there after all when it happened.

🦋 But despite all that, he'd rather live the rest of his life with his delusions of you—alive and unharmed, just patiently waiting for him in his room like the good pet that you are—than face the reality of you gone.

🦋 It is probably his unconscious guilt eating him up, whispering to him how he was weak resulting to him losing you. Both reasons are upsetting to him making Jeremy lose his mind more and more; his hallucinations kept winning.

🦋 Jeremy's denial of the situation have made the other members of the Agriche feeling either amused or bewildered. They never expected him to be so attached to this extent.

🦋 During the times Jeremy faces the reality he had tried everything he could: completely stopped eating, poisoned himself, injuries causing him blood loss, tries to get himself killed in missions, hell he even tried to end his life by himself just to be with you. Yet fate decides to play sick games with him just to make him suffer more and worst.

🦋 The servants are even more creeped out of him now, but why should he care when all he needs to bother himself about is if you'll love the new surprise gift he got for you.

The Villainess Is A Marionette

Rezef Hill

"Prince of Eldyme Empire"

🦋Rezef was never an alcoholic but ever since he "met" you he became worse.

🦋 When his day was terrible or he feels lonely, all he needs to do is go to his room, drink, then talk to you. Really. Just that simple lifestyle with his beloved:)

🦋 Even when he was slap with the harsh truth by his dear sister, his love for you and how he sees you will never change, not even to the day he dies.

🦋 You had been there for him when he was at his lowest point. You were the only one who saw Rezef's vulnerable side, you are the only one he's ever felt so comfortable with that he can just be himself when around you. So why should he believe those damn filthy lies those peasants are trying to contaminate to him, right? He can't believe that even his sister is siding with the dirt when she should be adoring you too like he does.

🦋 Even with the fight he has to put up with, for you he will do anything to defend your honor and dignity cause that's just what a depressed drunk man in love would do for his love.

🦋 Rezef knows that with all that's happening around you may have cause you some stress, to make it up to you, he'll give you anything that you wish for. Just say the word and Rezef present it to you with that prince charming smile of his. Even though he's actually just smiling all by himself at his room.

Feel free to give feedback!!

|＾▽＾)ノ

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Honestly, Oceanie

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

[changbunnies]

Sugar (18+)

♡ Pairing: Cowboy/Outlaw!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: wild west au, cowboy/outlaw au, porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k (i got carried away lmao)

♡ Summary: Despite how terrible of an idea it is, Y/N can't seem to stop herself from continuously going back to the outlaw she let defile her. This is a sequel, and you can read part 1 here !

♡ Warnings: changbin is still mean and condescending in a "nice" sort of way. not as dubcon as part 1 but it is still a major theme, references to guns and gun fights+ bounty hunters + death + murder, discussions about morality + having a morally gray sense of right and wrong, discussions on purity and being impure / tainted / a "whore" (remember that this is a historical setting, and those views don't hold up! your worth as a person is not measured by purity and sex), their relationship is probs toxic lmao

♡ Smut Warnings: references to part 1 and other past dubcon situations, petnames (darlin, sugar, sweetheart, good girl, baby. reader is also refered to as a toy but not outwardly called one), power play, oral (f+m receiving), fingering (f receiving), orgasm denial, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: a sequel to Outlaw that no one asked for but i was compelled to write :') as usual, if you’re interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

no first paragraph before read more because it goes straight into a dubcon discussion and i don't want anyone who would be bothered to accidentally see it! <3 just click the read more and enjoy !

You really should know better. You should know it’s a bad idea to keep going back to the outlaw who violated you, who treated you like a toy, who’s sense of morality was gray at best and entirely nonexistent at worst. How foolish must you be to continually make the same mistake over and over again? To return to the man who treats you as an object suited to his needs and entertainment?

Yes, you really should know better. And yet, here you are again, with the object of your fury and desire standing before you with that signature smirk and amused glint in his eye. Because despite everything, you find yourself addicted to him. You seek him out, again and again, unable to resist no matter how much the rational part of your brain screams at you not to. 

The first time you met him again following that fateful first encounter was by coincidence. Changbin had strolled into your town as the sun hung low in the horizon, tying his horse to one of the many hitching posts outside your family’s saloon before entering. You didn’t notice him right away, much too busy serving drinks to the men on the opposite end of the bar from where he sat, but once your gaze finally reached his.. 

You froze completely, eyes wide and breath halted. His brow raised when yours eyes met, a delighted glint in his eye as his famous smirk overtook his features. Your mind and heart were racing, grappling between what you should do and how you will look if you make a scene out of him being here. He didn’t intend to stumble upon you here when deciding to settle in town for the night, but by God, was he glad this was the place he chose. 

He had noticed you first evidently, and was just waiting for the moment when you’d notice him too. And it was amusing seeing you so disconcerted by his presence, your strong persona faltering the minute he entered your space.

He knew where your safe space was now, knew where you called home and where to come find you if he ever so chose to. You, the timid rabbit ensnared in a trap, and Changbin, the deadly hawk ready to devour.

You had to get it together, had to proceed as normal if you didn’t want someone else taking notice of your odd behavior and asking questions. If you were in your right mind, you could probably think of an appropriate excuse to why you were pushed off kilter, but Changbin left you anything but in your right mind. 

“What can I get you tonight, sir?” You said after taking a brief moment to steady yourself. The entire exchange of looks the two of you shared likely lasted mere seconds in reality, but it felt like an eternity. He smiled, a mischievous one that did your racing heart no favors, before he answered, “A bourbon, if ya please.” 

The night continued as normal for a time following that, with Changbin acting as a surprisingly well behaved bar patron. Though, the only reason he was well behaved was because his eyes were fixed on you. He watched in delight as you wrangled in rowdy patrons and ducked advances from drunken men left and right.

It was fun for him; watching you in your element like that, navigating the clamorous saloon with ease and redirecting trouble with a well practiced stern sweetness. Even your rejections to your patrons were sweet, almost sickeningly so; batted eyelashes, rehearsed apologies and excuses, with empty promises of a ‘next time.’ 

Eventually it came time for the saloon to close, with locals shuffling through the streets back to their homes while guests from out of town had to decide whether or not they’d be paying for a room to sleep off the drink in. And it’s during that time that Changbin finally caught you alone, the door to one of the saloon’s secluded storage cupboards left ajar after you entered the room. 

You were just following your nightly routine, checking what stock you had left and taking note of what you’d need to get more of before the week’s end, when you heard the subtle squeak of boots behind you. “Hey there, darlin’,” he smiled as he closed the door behind himself, stepping closer to you after the lock clicked. 

“Changbin–” your voice came out in a stern whisper, unconsciously taking a step back as he moved closer, though there wasn’t far for you to go in the small space, “Get out.”

“Now, now,” he tuts, feigning disappoint as he takes another step forward, further closing the gap between you, “is that any way to treat a payin’ guest?”

“Regardless of that, you still aren’t allowed in here,” you scowled, but his grin didn’t falter; if anything, it grew larger, gratified by the brave front you were putting on. If it were with anyone else, your bravery wouldn’t be a front at all, because you certainly are a brave woman– just not with Changbin.

With him, you’re weak, your spark diminishing the instant his eyes fall on you. And you’ll fight it, of course you will, but when all is said and done, you will give in. Because that’s just the effect he has on you. 

“If you’d rather we do this out in the hall, I’m fine with that,” he challenged you, knowing very well that’s the last thing you’d want. His hand reached up to your neck, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and exposing your neck. “It’s a shame the marks have faded,” he said, voice low as his fingers traced your skin, “what do ya say we bring ‘em back, hmm?” 

“Absolutely not,” you hissed, your hands landing on his shoulders as you tried to push him away from you. He stood firm despite your pushing, letting out a low chuckle as his fingers moved from your neck to your shoulder, and down the length of your torso. And to be fair, you weren’t actually using your full strength; you were holding back, and he could tell.

He’s familiar with how a woman who's desperate to get away will react– screaming, hitting, clawing; none of which is what you’re doing. And maybe that would make sense if you were the sort of person who’s fight or flight instinct was to freeze instead, but you're not. You’re brave, you fight, you don’t let men get the better of you.

So why is it that when it’s Changbin putting you in this situation, you easily relinquish control? Why were your attempts to put up a fight so feeble, as if you want to let him overpower you? The answer to that question is clear– the biting words and scornful looks doing little to hide the glimmer that hides underneath.

You want him. And if you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet, he’d help you see it. 

He brought his face close to yours, foreheads just barely touching, the scent of bourbon strong on his breath. The saloon had grown quiet with the closing of the bar and guests retiring to their rooms, and it made you wonder if Changbin could hear how hard your heart was beating. Your eyes were looking to the side, avoiding his piercing gaze. 

Eyes that looked straight through you, eyes that uncovered your deepest, darkest desires with ease, eyes that left no room for secrets or lies. Those were the kind of eyes Changbin had, and he used the power they held to his advantage with you. You can’t hide from him; his eyes strip you bare, leaving you as transparent as glass. 

Whether you admitted to your desires or not, he’d be the winner. If you gave in right away, confess that he filled you with an impulsive need you previously thought impossible, he’d take pride in the fact that he made you that way. And if you fought, if you denied and rejected, you’d grant him satisfaction when you inevitably crumbled to his touch. Either option left you the loser, because he knows he’s right, and there’s no escaping it. 

A one-sided stalemate, where the victor was already predetermined. Your fate unavoidable, Changbin’s hold on your senses undeniable. He has you, and that's why you couldn't look at him. Because no matter how hard you denied it, the truth would be apparent. Much to your dismay, he sees you for who you are– try as you might, there would be no hiding it. 

“Look at me, sugar,” he said as his hand hiked up your dress. He wanted to see the expression you held, wanted to see how far your self determination had fallen. Whether it was a look of submission this early on, or a look of pure contempt, it wouldn’t matter; because either way, there’s fun for him to have with you. 

“What do you want from me?” you asked with eyes squeezed shut, voice beginning to tremble as his hand rubbed between your thighs. You’re not even sure why you asked, entirely; you knew this was nothing but a game for him, an addictive cat and mouse. He’s in it for the pleasure, for the thrill of making you crumble to his whims– it was as simple and clear as that. 

“Oh, darlin,” he cooed as he leaned his head further down, lips brushing against your ear, “you already know what I want.” Fuck. He could see goosebumps erupting on your skin, noticed the way you instinctively tried to close your legs together, though his hand instantly stopped the act from happening. Fun, he thought. Toying with you is so fun.

“I want you,” Changbin continued, bringing his other hand to your face and forcing you to look back at him. “I want you pinned down underneath me. I want to hold you by the throat while I fuck you. I want to watch you become stupid from my cock.”

Oh, God. Your face was on fire, heart bursting out of your chest, hopelessly ensnared by him; caught in a trap you had no hope of escaping from unscathed. 

“I’m not going to let you do that,” you managed to say without stuttering, a feeble attempt to stand your ground, though the proverbial floor to stand on no longer existed. But with his hand nestled between your legs, you couldn’t hide the way your body reacted to his words; couldn’t hide the way arousal pooled in your underwear. Once again, your body has betrayed you. 

“Is that right?” he grinned as he spoke, the amusement in his voice clear. He knew you’d let him have you, but the fact that you were denying it makes things much more exciting. “I don’t think that’s true, sugar,” Changbin said, now directly rubbing over your soaked underwear, “I think you’ll let me do anything I want.. I think ya want me just as bad as I want you.” 

He was right, of course. Maybe you’d hide it for a time, but you won’t be able to resist for long. He’s frustratingly smug and assured, but it’s not without reason. Your self respect, your dignity, your purity– what had become of it? In blatant terms, it’d been ruined– forever marred by his touch, the damage to your body and mind irreparable.

And whatever you could reclaim from what was left has been forever tarnished by your own actions. Tainted by your desire for the man in front of you, your thirst forever unquenchable, the very sanctity of your being in the hands of a criminal. 

And in the end, he fucked you right there, in the small, tucked away storage cupboard, with your back against the wall, and legs around his waist. His strength held you up, his arms hooked under your own and supporting all of your weight, your desperate noises muffled only by clamping your hands over your mouth.

He made regular visits to the town after that, becoming a loyal regular of the saloon, charming staff and other patrons alike with his wit and allure. It was infuriating watching him play the role of a simple wanderer looking for work, his true nature and motives known only to you.

No one else seemed to know what lied underneath the charming front. The worst kind of man, a manipulator through and through, a deviant who beckoned you to his room in the late hours of the night, the proprietor to a secret affair not yet uncovered by those around you. 

However, he couldn’t hide his identity forever; his past actions eventually caught up to him when a gang of bounty hunters began to sweep the area with wanted posters in hand, eager to collect the reward for the head of Seo Changbin. He left town in a blaze of smoke and gunfire, shooting back at anyone who dared follow him.

You were relieved at first, knowing that Changbin couldn’t return without instigating a fierce gun fight for his life. But as the weeks passed, a gnawing feeling began to eat away at your chest. The bounty hunters moved on, carried by the promise of wealth further west, and yet Changbin hadn’t returned to town. And that was a good thing– or at least, it was supposed to be. 

Did you.. miss him? No, that was impossible. Completely unfeasible, utterly out of the realm of possibility. That’s what you told yourself, but the gnawing feeling didn’t recede in the slightest; if anything, it grew stronger with each passing day.

Did you really want to see Changbin again? No, it had to be the hormones talking– surely you weren’t actually hoping to see him again. He twisted your beliefs and made you confused, that’s all; you could recover from this with time. 

But you’d been thinking a lot lately about what made Changbin different from the bounty hunters that hunted him, and you came to the conclusion that they weren’t much different in the end; they went wherever money and women called to them, a penchant for violence ingrained in the very essence of their actions.

The only difference between them and Changbin was that he didn’t live under false pretenses or a faux sense of morality; he knew exactly who he was, and he didn’t pretend to be anything different in front of you. 

And can you call a bounty hunter morally superior when at the end of the day they are still taking a life in exchange for money? Can you really say that one sin justifies another? Is it okay to kill someone if that person was in the wrong first? You didn’t think about these things until you met Changbin, and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know where you stood anymore on whether or not someone like him deserved to die. 

You found yourself questioning the people you used to applaud, and wondering if you were really as good of a person as you thought you were. Maybe these complicated feelings always lied within you, and all it took to bring them out was meeting the right person.

No, it was all Changbin’s fault that you’ve begun to feel this way. He warped your thoughts and desires, he made you doubt what you once held firm to, he’s bad for you.

But even so, knowing he’s bad for you, knowing that he makes you act irrationally, knowing that he triggers your deepest impulses, you are here again. Back in the place you first met him, the place you once called home, surrounded by the ghosts of your past, of the person you were before you met him. 

“So we meet again, darlin’,” he said when your figure first emerged in his doorway, tense frame instantly relaxing when met with the sight of you, hand falling from its readied position on his gun holster.

You are no threat to him, hungry for his touch as you are. Any threat from you would ring hollow, because for better or worse, he knows you. And you're certainly capable of a lot of things, but fighting against your basest desires doesn’t seem to be one of them. 

You stepped inside fully, trying to have a nonchalant air about you, though you’re sure Changbin was able to see through it. He always reads you easily, always takes notice of even the most minute of changes in your body language. You’re sure that even now, he can sense the subtle shy anxiety that wells under the surface. But regardless, you’re here now, having come too far to retreat at the last minute. 

And you know that he knows what it is you want, knows why you are here, but should you still be honest? Debase yourself by admitting your most carnal of desires? But at this point, what were you if not tarnished?

Your worth can’t go any lower than it already has– you were already brought to your lowest point, so what was the harm in indulgence? If you were already ruined, why shouldn’t you disregard all you’ve ever been taught, all you ever thought you knew, and let him devastate you? 

But no, you can’t do that. It would be too easy, and if there’s anything you’ve learned about Changbin, it’s that he doesn’t like easy. He wants you to stand your ground, he wants you to argue and fight against everything he says and does. He wants your eyes angry, for your voice to tremble with indignation, because it’ll make it that much better when he dismantles you. 

He wants to be the object of your ire, for your resentment to build to the point of eruption, only for it to be eclipsed by how good it feels when he fucks you. Whether or not you truly hate him is up for debate at this point, and ultimately doesn’t matter much. What does matter is the fun you grant him, the cat and mouse game culminating into a moment that can only be described as pure bliss.

“I know, I know. Ya want me to fuck you, don’t ya darlin’?” He smiles as he says it, anticipating what your reaction will ultimately be. A glare maybe, with your face hot and red, or mousy as you finally admit openly how bad you want him.

While the looks of animosity are his favorite, he likes the shy looks too; the timid expression on your face when he catches you off guard, a quick glimmer of embarrassment or sheepishness before you can conjure your antipathy to replace it. 

“No. I want to fuck you. And you’ll let me,” you say, hoping to come across as confident and stern, “You’ll do whatever I want you to do.”

“Oh? Is that right?” Changbin lets out a laugh, head tilting as he grants you another amused look. That’s certainly a surprise, but he’s not opposed to it. He can easily do that– give you a taste of control, that is. It’s an interesting proposition; a fun one. 

He can let you believe you’re the one in charge, that you have the power to make the rules and that he’ll follow them. And maybe he will follow them– to an extent, of course.

He’ll give you his ‘yes, ma’am’s’ and ‘whatever ya say, darlin’ ‘s, play the role of the obedient man cursed to follow your whims, hit you with tongue-in-cheek remarks and let you ‘tame’ him with harsh looks and biting words when he steps out of line. All so that in the end, when he easily takes all the control away from you, it’ll be that much sweeter. 

It’s a fun game you’re offering him, so he’ll play the hell out of it. “Sure, sweetheart. You’ve been a good girl for me, I can give ya a reward,” Changbin smirks as he says it, clearly not taking you seriously in the slightest. But that’s okay, because you didn’t expect him to; you knew any attempt to wrestle control would be met with an amused smirk, you knew that none of your harsh words would do anything but fuel his delight. 

The reason you’re doing this isn’t to try and gain some sense of control that you know you won’t be granted, and you don’t intend to make him genuinely submit to you; it’s just part of the game between you, and you’re doing your part to make it the most enjoyable it can be. Because if you’re addicted to Changbin, if you can’t escape the way his touch makes you feel, if you can’t get past the need and craving for him, then you need to make him just as addicted to you. 

Just as your thoughts are consumed by him, you want his to be consumed by you. Think of only you, crave only you, make it so that no one else in the world can compare. You want to be the first person, the only person, he goes to when he wants to fuck. You want to be the drug in his veins, you want to eat away at his self-control the same way he eats away at yours. 

Changbin could easily fight against your touches, stand firm in place and overpower you if he so chooses, but he’s letting you push him to his knees. “Oh, this is what you want?” he asks with his usual smirk, his hands already moving under your dress to squeeze at your thighs. “Ya could’ve just asked, sweetheart. I’ll do it if you ask me nicely.” 

You roll your eyes, letting a scoff escape your lips. The only way he’d listen to a request from you is if he relentlessly teased and embarrassed you first. You can easily picture the way he’d grin at you, and the condescending tone and words he’d use to make your fists tremble and skin flush. Yes, even if you asked nicely, begged sweetly, or even desperately, he’d use it to ruin you. 

“I’m not asking,” you say as you pull your dress up and over your head, tossing it to the floor beside you, because if Changbin is going to be between your legs, you want a full view of it. Rather than act though, he stays completely still, looking up at you with a lifted brow and not at all subtle smirk, as if to challenge you. A look that says ‘aren’t you going to make me?’ 

You bring your hand to his hair, tugging roughly as you pull him closer to your center, commanding him to get started. “So pushy, are you always this needy?” he teases with a laugh, but adheres to your demand nonetheless, wasting no time in letting his tongue out to lap at you, his hands now squeezing your thighs rougher than before. 

Your previous affairs were a secret you held close to your chest, as you knew you’d be branded a “whore” if it was known you’ve had sex whilst unwed. That being said, you’d only done the act with those you had serious interest in. Sweet men, who treated you like an angel, with the utmost care and consideration. Careful touches and soft kisses that were carried through all interactions with you. 

When they ate you out, they did so sweetly, with slow kitten licks and gentle caresses to your thighs. And it was nice, you even thought you liked it at the time, but you know that’s not what you want now. Everything about Changbin is different from every other man you’ve been with, and you want this moment to be different too. You want him to devour you, to make a mess of you, to make you feel a pleasure so foreign and intense that it consumes you. 

And that’s exactly what he grants you– a pleasure so explosive you have to bite your lip to hold back the noises that threaten to leave you. The drag of his tongue can only be described as euphoric, and when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, you can’t help but let out a loud, shuddering gasp. You want to keep watching him, but you can’t– your eyes refuse to stay open, the pleasure much too intense to do anything else.

He can tell you’re close when your thighs start twitching, quick breathy pants and whines leaving you freely. And that’s when he gets an evil idea– an idea that will make you desperate and whiny, one that will rip any semblance of control out from your hands and place it back into his. A strong suck on your clit, a few quick flicks of his tongue, your body trembling as your mind screams close, close, close–

And in an instant the feeling is gone, all the built up pleasure receding into nothing. A frustrated whine leaves your lips, looking down to see Changbin staring back at you with that stupid fucking smile he has every time he successfully drives you crazy. “F-Fuck, you fucking asshole, you–” you prattle off insults, though the act does nothing but add to the satisfaction he feels; this is exactly the reaction he was hoping for. 

You move your hand to the back of his head, pushing him back to where you want him and demanding that he keep going. And to your surprise, he does, though not without a muffled snicker first. And if your mind wasn’t so clouded by the desire to cum, you might have realized what his intentions were by going back in without a fight, but you didn’t have the mental capacity for that any longer. All you knew is that you wanted, needed, to release all over his tongue. 

Changbin goes through the same motions as before, expertly building you up to your release, getting you so, so close, before pulling away again right before you can. Another frustrated, high pitched whine leaves you, hips stuttering in an effort to feel something, anything to bring your release to you. You look down at him again, eyes glossy from the tears welling in them, and fuck, that look really does it for him. The pretty look of aggravation mixed with desperation makes his cock impossibly hard. 

You try to push him to your pussy again, but this time he resists, staying firmly in place and watching the way your expression twists into one of near anguish with an amused satisfaction. “Changbin–” your voice doesn’t come out anywhere near as stern and commanding as you wish it to; instead, his name leaves you as an urgent, desperate mewl.

“Aww, poor thing. Ya gonna cry?” he mocks you, head tilted and an infuriating grin plastered on his face. Fuck. You knew it wouldn’t be long until Changbin flipped the script and put you back at his mercy, but this soon?

And he didn’t know whether you were genuinely vying for control or not, if you went into this with the intent to fight until the bitter end or if you were resolved to relinquish it after some time; what he did know is that he loved seeing you like this. Broken almost, resolve crumbled like a sand castle hit by a wave, so weak and ruined, all because of him. 

“Want me to keep going?” he asks in a tone that is almost sickeningly sweet, another twisted smile of satisfaction on his face. You nod frantically, a shameless display of your need, and he smirks, answering your reaction with a condescending, “Why should I?” Another whine, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as indignation and desperation eat away at you. 

Changbin coos when he sees the tears fall, another “poor thing” leaving him. Funny how he’s the one on his knees, yet is the one entirely in control. You beg wantonly now, countless utterances of “please” and “I need it”, all sense of restraint and shame seeming to have evaporated the moment your tears began to fall. The display makes his cock throb in his trousers, erotic beyond words, utterly enthralling and so pretty. 

“Shh, that’s enough darlin’,” he says as he takes one of your legs and guides it over his shoulder, fully ready to support your weight and keep you standing for what he plans to do next.

You keen when his tongue finally makes contact with you again, body shuddering as your head lolls back. One arm snakes around the leg not propped up on him, squeezing at the flesh within his reach, while the other moves between your thighs, fingers prodding at your entrance for just a moment before sliding easily inside. 

He gives you no time to adjust to the thickness of his fingers, setting a fast pace with them from the very start. Your eyes roll back, a cacophony of lewd noises filling the space as your high quickly builds back up for the third time.

Between the earlier denied orgasms, the relentless pace he’s setting now with his fingers and the way his lips feel wrapped around your clit, you’re already dangerously close. Your fingers tangle in his hair, both as a means to ground yourself and to keep him as close to you as possible; and it only takes a few more thrusts of his fingers and flicks of his tongue to send you over the edge.

You cum hard, Changbin’s body and hold on your leg being the only thing keeping you upright as the waves of pleasure course through you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your entire body shaking, with the only noise you’re capable of making being sharp gasps as your release spills on his tongue and fingers. 

You sink to the floor when he moves back and lets you go, legs akin to jello and no longer able to support your weight after having what was easily the most intense orgasm of your life. Your eyes are still closed, breathing labored as you try to bring your mind back down to earth. Changbin meanwhile rises to his feet, being the one to look down at you now. 

It’s a pretty sight; your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, tear stains on your cheeks and body flushed. But it could still be prettier, and he knows exactly how he wants to achieve that look. “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” you hear Changbin’s voice call to you from above, and when you do you’re met with quite the sight. 

His cock is in one of his hands, trousers having fallen to the floor around his ankles. You must have been too lost in your haze to hear him unzip his pants, or to hear the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor. You look up at his face next, taking in the expectant gaze he’s shooting at you. 

You’re half tempted to say no, to make a big show out of protesting and coax him to put you back in your place, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want his cock in your mouth right now. It’s not often you’re granted the pleasure of sucking him off, as he usually he goes straight into fucking you after he’s done with his merciless teasing– so you’ll play the good girl role, just this once.

You shift to be fully on your knees, opening your mouth wide for him and letting your hands rest on his thighs. He brings a hand to the back of your head, pushing you the rest of the way when you hesitate, ensuring you take the entirety of his length in your mouth in one go. You gag when the tip touches your throat, but Changbin’s hand holds you in place, preventing you from instinctively retreating. 

The way you're looking up at him through your lashes, eyes glossy with fresh, unshed tears and nose touching his pubic bone– it’s enough to drive him wild. But he won’t lose it just yet; he’ll grant you a small kindness by giving you a few moments to adjust, to familiarize yourself with the feeling of his cock down your throat and learn how to breathe through it. He can’t let his favorite toy completely suffocate on him, after all. 

He sets a brutal pace once he’s sure you’re adjusted, sparing your poor throat no mercy. You can barely even hear the low groans he lets out over the salacious sounds leaving your mouth and throat. It’s a struggle not to choke and sputter every time he thrusts back into your mouth, and each failed attempt causes the tears on your lashes to spill over. 

The saliva that has pooled in your mouth escapes out of the sides, sliding down your chin and dripping onto your chest. You can’t help but squirm as he holds your head in place, your nails digging into his thighs as you try your hardest to ignore the growing ache in your jaw and effectively breathe through your nose. You can feel his cock twitch against your tongue as his pace becomes the slightest bit more sporadic, and for a moment you think he intends to cum down your throat, but he doesn’t. 

He pulls out instead, a subtle smirk on his face as he watches you take big, gulping breaths to allow air back into your lungs. You wipe your face clean with the back of your hand before you look up at him, knowing he’s far from done with you. He takes you in his arms, helping you rise to your feet (though you doubt he’s helping you due to any sort of caring, and is only doing it to get you where he wants you faster.)

“Come with me, darlin’,” he says as he leads you to the bed with him, paying no mind to the unsteadiness in your legs as you try to keep up with his pace. Changbin sits first, pulling you onto his lap immediately after. You already know what he wants, but you can’t– your knees ache from the time spent on the hard floor, and the usual strength in your legs has all but evaporated.

“Bin–” you start to whine, complaints lingering on your lips, but he tuts before you can even begin to speak them. “What’s wrong, sugar? Didn’t ya say you wanted to fuck me?”

Fucking asshole, throwing your words back at you and looking at you with that devilish smile. He should know you weren’t even that serious about it! He’s just being cruel. “I can’t, I–”

“You can,” he interrupts, guiding you to align yourself with him, “You will.” His hands are holding your hips, another expectant look on his face as he waits for you to sink down on him. “You’re so fucking mean–” you cry, body trembling as you lower yourself onto his cock. He just grins, knowing very well that if you truly hated how mean he was, you wouldn’t have crawled your way back to him. 

Your pace isn’t all that fast given the ache in your knees, but contrary to what you’d expect, Changbin doesn’t scold you. Instead, he cups your face under the chin, directing you to look at him. “So sweet, aren’t ya sugar?” he smiles, thumb rubbing your cheek while his other hand stays firmly on your hip, “such a brat sometimes, but you do whatever you're told in the end, don’t ya? Such a good girl when ya want to be, huh?” 

You should be ashamed of the way his words fill your stomach with butterflies, but you truly can’t help it. He knows what he’s doing too; knows how to drive you absolutely crazy, knows how to be mean in just the right way, so that when a praise hits your ears it affects you all the more. 

However, despite your best effort, you can’t get your legs to cooperate with you any further. Your legs feel so heavy, and having your hands firmly placed on Changbin’s chest for support does nothing to ease the unsteady trembling. It’s a subtle sort of humiliation– making you do something he knows is near impossible in your current state.

The tears are welling in your eyes again and threatening to spill, frustration in your gut and exhaustion completely taking over your body. Your legs throb from the exertion and fatigue, your energy beyond spent, you can’t keep going. Your pace slows to a near stop, and you look at him pleadingly, teary eyed and pouty, a silent beg for his help. 

He knew you wouldn’t be able to do it for long, but he made you do it anyway, because this is what he really wanted. He wanted to watch you turn into a pathetic, whining mess, he wanted to relish the look of anguish on your face. He has to be cruel to you, because the end result is always so addicting. 

“Tell me what you need, baby. Need my help? Need me to fuck you?” he smiles sweetly as he asks, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. You nod quickly, leaning into his touch that shouldn’t at all be comforting but somehow is in your near-delirious state. “Use your voice, sweetheart. I gotta hear you say it.”

God, he loves when you get to this point– where all anger and shame has been replaced by the overwhelming desire and need you feel for him. You’re babbling out pleas over and over, and he takes a moment to savor the sound of it before shushing you. “Hush now, darlin’, I’ll give ya what you want.” 

He flips your positions easily, you landing on your back against the mattress and Changbin now hovering over you. You stare up at him as he sinks back into you, the sight of him making your heart race. It’s infuriating how handsome he is, especially in moments like this, where sweat lingers on his brow and his jaw clenches. 

Changbin is good at acting unaffected by you, always able to make it seem like he’s not at all enthralled or addicted, always making your need for him appear one-sided. But the truth is he needs you just as bad as you need him, because in you he has finally found his perfect match. You wanted him to crave you solely, to look for you and only you, not knowing that he already was. 

He didn’t seek you out all those times after your lucky re-encounter because it was easy or convenient; it’s because it was you, specifically. He’s no stranger to brothels and bordellos, nor to the coy advances of working women. There are countless women in the world, countless establishments he could spend his coin at to satiate himself, but they weren’t you. All he wants and all he needs, the very picture of perfection, you. 

He leans down, capturing your lips in a sensual kiss as he starts to thrust in earnest, and the act makes your stomach twist. He’s kissed you before of course, but only ever with the intent to tease or humiliate you, and never while his cock was inside you. And you don’t know why, but it feels good. He can tell you like it too, by the way you clench around him, and from the way a pleasured noise he’s never heard before leaves your throat. 

He keeps his lips attached to yours, tongues sloppily rubbing together. His fingers dig into your hips as he fucks into you, his tight hold leaving indentations behind in your skin. Changbin curses under his breath when he pulls away, both of your highs quickly approaching. You’re squeezing him so tight, and the feeling of your nails digging into his skin is intoxicating. 

“Fuck, ‘m so close-” he groans, pace quickly becoming more sporadic. And this is normally the point he’d pull out, letting his cum spill between your thighs or onto your chest and stomach, but.. He looks at you, and all he can think about is how you’re his. He wants no one else to have you, no one else to touch you, no one to even look at you the way he does. 

So instead, he pulls you in even closer, your chest firmly pressed into his as he presses his lips to your ear. “Gonna cum in you darlin’. You’d like that, right? Want me to fill you up?” You gasp at his words, one that transitions into a moan as your arms and legs wrap snuggly around him. It’s a bad fucking idea, but you want it so bad. 

Whatever the consequences are, you’re too far gone to care about them. You want him to claim you in all ways; his teeth, his nails, his cum– it didn’t matter, so long as you were his in the end. “Y-Yes, please, I want it,” your answer comes out between shuddering inhales, desperate and eager for Changbin to release inside you. 

It only takes a few more thrusts for him to spill inside you, the sensation of his cum shooting in you both foreign but good beyond what you ever could’ve imagined. His hips don’t stop moving even as he cums, and the continued thrusts paired with the feeling of being filled up for the first time sends you over the edge too, body convulsing in his hold as pure pleasure fills your senses. 

You’re both breathless when you finally come down from your high, body going limp as you release Changbin from your hold. He pulls out slowly, and fuck, the sight of his cum dripping out of your hole is utterly intoxicating; he’s definitely going to become addicted to it. He lies next to you when he’s done admiring the view, looking at your face next with a subtle smile.

“What do ya think about being my lady? Hmm, baby?” he asks as he pulls you in, pressing your body into his as his arm wraps around your waist. You blink as you process it, a sort of warmth overtaking your body as the question settles in you.

“...Are you serious?” you can’t help but ask, unsure if this is going to transition into some sort of tease if you say yes, or if the question is genuine. 

“Dead serious, darlin’,” Changbin answers easily, his smile the most earnest you’ve ever seen it to be. Not at all condescending, no trace of a humiliating remark waiting to be said; he’s simply asking you a question, with nothing more beyond it.

And he wouldn’t say it’s love that drives him to make you his, because genuine love is a foreign thing to a man like him, but this is likely the closest he’ll ever get. He just wants to know you’ll always be there, that you’d follow him anywhere he goes, that no matter where life takes the two of you, you’ll belong to him and he’ll belong to you. 

And fuck, it’s a really bad idea. You really, really shouldn’t– you should know better. So why are you entertaining the idea? Why does the thought of spending your days with someone so objectively terrible make you so happy?

He’s really fucking ruined you, it seems. He’s a terrible man who does terrible things, he’s a criminal, he’s a manipulator– your immediate answer should be a resounding “no.” But the truth of the matter is that Changbin makes you feel like no one else; infuriated but desired, broken but simultaneously put together.

You’ve come to enjoy the dynamic you have with him; you now understand the fun in the back and forth, the pleasure to be had in the banter and fight, how impossible it is to let someone who matches your energy go. And a life with him would surely be a life of turmoil, of danger and of risk, but it would also be one of pleasure and unforeseen excitement.

Your life was good before meeting him, but it was also dull and predictable. You were likely to spend your whole life in the same place, forever at the beck and call of your parents, or a man that while sweet, wouldn’t excite or please you the way Changbin does. If you say yes, your life will change forever. 

No, that’s not quite true; your life already has been forever altered by meeting him. You’re already his, and this is nothing more than a formality. Because why else would you be here right now, if you weren’t already his? For better or worse, you belong to him, body and soul, and you’ve come to realize that nothing will change it.

“Teach me how to use a gun and I’m all yours,” you finally say, and Changbin laughs, clearly pleased with the answer you came to. “You got it, darlin’. Just promise ya won’t shoot me by the time we’re done.” 

“No promises. I’d be careful if I were you,” you smile, tone light and playful. “Is that a threat, sugar?” he meets your smile with one of his own, tilting his head to the side as he always does when he’s amused.

“Sure is. Don’t pretend you don’t deserve it,” you answer, and he laughs again, pulling you into a kiss afterwards. Body to body, limbs tangled together as you smile at each other, he thinks about what a perfect partner in crime you’ll be from here on out.

[luminaryofblood]

((Came across the ‘in vivid detail, tell my muse how’d you f**k them’ post on the timeline & got an idea, feel free to ignore this if any of this makes you uncomfortable at all! This will also be from my ‘Romina’ muse because why not so hopefully that’s okay.))

With Romina & Mohg, I think she’d just warp the centipede half of her body carefully and gently around Mohg’s own body, the face of her centipede half would be looking him in his good eye a good few times whenever possible, just watching to see if any of his facial expressions changes at all while her human hands slowly shift & travel over and even down the front of his body and over the next few moments or so, just over the top half of his wings, his chest, the side of his face, a few of his horns even, and maybe even lower after all that, but nothing to much just yet, her scorpion stinger would also be involved, though it would really just be something almost ‘dangerously’ close to his neck but still at a somewhat safe bit away for the most part, just at a happy medium for the time being, though the tip of her stinger would sometimes be just softly touching the side of his neck every now and again, nothing actually dangerous but still it would be there, and be something most definitely be something noticeable over the course of this all.

I’d imagine after a little while more she’d try to give him soft kisses on the side of his face, his shoulders and most likely his upper chest to just see, hear &/or feel any sort of his possible reactions to her actions over this all, but also, she’d really just be trying to take it somewhat ‘slow’ or at least mostly easy for the time being, but still at a good &/or fun pace/speed at the same time, however I can see it being a little bit longer before anything ‘more’ actually happens even during this whole thing, but the praising, there would be so much unconscious praising coming from Romina towards him during this whole thing for sure.

((This isn’t exactly ‘graphic’ or really that dirty by any means but I think it gets the point across just fine ngl lol, //From an0ther-f00ls-muse\\

Tell my muse in vivid detail how you would fuck them.

Oh, he'd be into that...

Feeling the way the centipede wraps around him - serpentine, in a way. He would meet with the centipede's own gaze, unblinking, watching, but keeping absolutely calm. Even as feels the stinger ghosting along the flesh of his neck. The absolute worst thing anyone could possibly do is panic.

And the scarlet rot was most potent...

The human half... He would be purring at the attention. As her hands roamed, fingers raking through his feathers. Feeling the soft little kisses along the side of his face. He would attempt to bite. Not anything hard. Just a nip. Gentle. Nothing more.

In the Lands Between, he was called an omen. A thing harboring ill-fate. A monster. But here in the Land of Shadow, he was called Hornsent. And where once he was condemned for his horns, here he was praised. And his wings were a thing that inspired much awe. A mark of divinity.

And he wondered for a moment, how would she feel, to receive the same praise that she offered him? From something that was considered divine?

[sayurifellfrost]

Prompt #9: Fair

Character: X’farraia Ndae

Age: 31

X’rhakih watched his sister from afar, ears flat on his head as the woman merely sat at the edge of the cliff, legs folded and head tilted back to stare at the sky. She had returned to the tribe a mere few sennights ago, a young boy and girl in tow that shared her features.. And that of the Nunh of the section of their tribe she had stayed with for the past sixteen cycles.

A slow exhale left his nostrils before he began to approach, a weak ear flicker being the only indication that she heard his footfalls.

“.. You’ll catch a cold if you sit out here for much longer, Far.”

“.. I don’t care.”

Her tone was hollow, body remaining in the same direction it had been - eyes locked upon the star dotted blanket of darkness above. X’rhakih’s ears drooped further, lips tugging downwards in a small frown.

“..I.. received a missive.” He uttered, carefully. “.. From X’aoki.”

Only then did her head lower, ears pinning back and tail whacking against the ground irritably.

“.. What does that jackass want?”

“.. His children.” X’rhakih eyed his sister cautiously. “.. He has requested they be sent back to him.”

“That fuckwit doesn’t make requests.” X’farraia snapped. “He makes demands, and he can take his fuckin’ demand and shove it where Azeyma’s light doesn’t bloody reach.”

Her tone became angry, making X’rhakih’s features scrunch up slightly.

“.. He believes you are unfairly withholding them from seeing him.”

“.. Was it fair to take my fuckin’ daughter from me, making me believe she died as an infant and put her in the arms of another fuckin’ woman?” X’farraia turned, grief and rage shimmering in a volatile concoction within her silvery glare. “To have me watch as another spineless woman barely fuckin’ raised her, and didn’t try her damnest to protect her from him?”

X’farraia’s pointed fangs grit together in her anger, before she parted to continue voicing her grievances.

“That fucker has no right to try to tell me what is and fuckin’ isn’t fair.” She growled. “Rhityaia and Tchas are old enough to decide if they want him in their lives or not, and they don’t.”

X’rhakih kept his quiet, fully attentive to what his sister was saying - his own expression falling into a disapproving frown at her words. She had already told him about it all, of course.. But hearing it a second time was no easier, and he couldn’t even imagine being in X’farraia’s position - or how someone could do such an awful thing.

“If he didn’t want his kids to despise him, maybe he shouldn’t have lied. Maybe, just fuckin’ maybe, he shouldn’t have exiled a bloody four cycle old girl to a fate nobody but him knows for sure, leaving us all to assume the worst.” She grit her teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. “Leaving me to mourn my fuckin’ daughter again.”

“..Farraia..” He spoke softly, head lowering.

“I ain't going to send them to him, no matter what you say. They don’t want to see his fuckin’ face.” X’farraia snapped, before a single other word could be spoken.

He slowly crouched down next to her, even as she bared her fangs at him. A slow yet calm sigh left him as he draped his arms around her and pulled her against him in a tight hug, silencing her mid snarl at the pull.

“.. I’m not going to make you send them, Farraia. I’m not siding with him, after all you have told me.. And I am so sorry that he put you through this.” He murmured, resting his chin atop her head. “.. He’s not welcome here.”

X’farraia slowly eased at her brother’s words, ears drooping before she slowly wrapped her arms around him, tugging herself a little closer in the much needed comfort. Having X’rhakih’s support meant more to her than she could possibly describe - or even would, if she could. It had never been her strong suit when it came to herself.

Alas, he knew. He knew it better than she.

[mjrnl]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐗

SUMMARY: In the picturesque town of Esmeralda, Italy, a homeless girl named Fioria survives alone on the streets. Her life takes a turn when she discovers an abandoned castle hidden deep in the woods. Within its crumbling walls, she finds rare and beautiful Smeraldo flowers, which become her lifeline. However, as she tends to the flowers, Fioria stumbles upon a revelation that changes everything—an unexpected encounter with a mysterious boy with a mask. This serendipitous meeting intertwines their fates, revealing a past filled with pain, hope, and a bond that blossoms like the flowers she cherishes.

GENRE: romance, fantasy, angst (aka pain)

A/N: This is inspired by an Italian story about Smeraldo flowers—which is a fictitious flower, also an inspiration of BTS’ song “The Truth Untold.”

The old woman—Mrs. Marina—told me where Dante was buried; at San Cataldo Cemetery. She shared many stories about Dante, especially before he was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. When I told her my name, she seemed to recognize it from a letter Dante wrote before he died. I asked her why he never sent the letter, and she explained that his father was very strict about sending and receiving letters from anyone outside their mansion. Hearing about how strict his parents were upset me.

I wore a black dress and a black hat as I stood by his grave, gripping the letter in my hand. Guilt consumed every part of my body, making me feel like I was the reason he was buried six feet under where I stood. 

I opened the letter once again, staring at his messy handwriting with the words slightly smudged, assuming the smudges of ink were caused by tears. It ached my heart as I shut my eyes tight, imagining him—dying—as he wrote his last letter to me. He was suffering and I was completely oblivious about it. I was also completely oblivious about the fact that he was the boy I met during my childhood and the one who saved me from the fire.

He told me he was insecure of his scars. He said he was ugly with it. Yet, he never blamed me for them. 

He never blamed me for the scars that almost cost him his life—saving mine.

I choked back a cry, fighting to keep myself from breaking down. He had saved me, but I couldn't save him. And worst of all, I had been oblivious to his inner turmoil. If only he had told me. If only he hadn’t been so afraid. If only he wasn’t such a coward.

If only I hadn’t forgotten about him.

My teary gaze shifted at the letter, reading them for the tenth time.

Fioria,

I’m weak—I’m growing weaker and weaker. I feel like my body’s slowly dissipating—withering away, just like flowers do when they’re not cared for. But I guess it’s part of nature. I’m not ready to die yet because I’m waiting for you. I believe you’ll come back. I know destiny will bring us back together again. I've never forgotten you since that day in the garden, but I understand if you've moved on. I don't blame you. 

I’m so sorry you had to see me like this. My face—I know they’re horrible, and I’m sorry. Can we be friends again? I miss you—terribly, but I don't think I can hold on much longer. I'll wait for you. Whatever happens lies in the hands of fate. Yet, I still hope for some serendipity to reunite us once more—even if it might be more catastrophic this time.

I didn’t notice how tightly I was gripping the paper until I heard it crumple, almost tearing it as droplets of tears fell onto its surface. I harshly wiped off the tears escaping my eyes with the back of my hand. Even on the letter—he’s still sorry. Sorry for what? Why does he keep blaming himself? 

"What the hell are you sorry for, silly?" I managed to say, my voice breaking as I stared at his gravestone. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

Mrs. Farina had also mentioned how Ilario would often stand by the window, sometimes for hours, staring out as if waiting for something or someone. When she asked him what he was looking at, he'd simply say he was waiting. She asked who or what he was waiting for, but he never gave an answer. He’d just stare outside with a longing expression on his face.

Sometimes she would hear him screaming and crying at night, and then the next day, he’d have a straight face, as if he hadn’t been breaking down the night before. It seemed like he had gone numb.

Mrs. Farina also mentioned that Ilario had always been a secretive person since he was small. He would often disappear somewhere, even sneaking out a few months before he was diagnosed with a severe illness. They never found out where he had been going, but he did mention it was a place where he felt safe.

He was talking about the treehouse and the ruined castle—and only he and I knew about it. I took out the small jar of seeds from my pocket. Mrs. Farina gave me this, saying it was among Ilario’s possessions, with the name “Fioria” written on it. The moment she asked my name, she immediately recognized me and thought about handing me the jar.

And when I grew one seed, it left me completely baffled to realize that he had given me all the Smeraldo seeds. So I decided to plant them back in the castle—in that very room that I considered home—the Smeraldo room.

I took care of the flowers, watering them every day and monitoring their growth. When they bloomed, I would pick one and visit Ilario’s grave every week to place it there. During these visits, I would talk about how my week had been. But despite my efforts, guilt and pain still plague me every day—I don’t think I can ever fully recover from it. Every night, it crawls under my skin. Whenever I think of him, I can’t help but hate myself—for making him hate himself.

I was the reason he felt so insecure. If only he hadn't saved me in that accident, he wouldn't have been hurt and scarred his face.

What devastates me the most is that he never blamed me for it.

And I hate him for that.

I heaved a deep sigh, feeling the cold breeze against my bare skin as I placed the Smeraldo flower on his grave.

"I hope you can forgive me, Ilario. I'm so sorry," I whispered softly, a tear escaping from the corner of my eye. "May you find the peace you deserve."

chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten