#you captured their beautiful eyes so well

[embbarnes]

Just As You Are. | B.B

summary: He tries his best for Valentine's Day.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | Fluff | CW!Bucky x Fem!reader | Cunnilingus | PiV sex | Light dirty talk | Unprotected sex | Slightly insecure Bucky

a/n: I'm not big into Valentine's Day just because it feels very commercialized to me, but I like imagining it with Bucky. This plot changed so many times lmao but I think I am satisfied with how this turned out. If you're allergic to strawberries, just imagine a different fruit. Not beta read. ;; wc: 4.2k

Bucky stood motionless in the bustling store, his steely eyes fixed with a deep frown upon the endless aisle dedicated to Valentine's Day merchandise.

He didn't remember it being so...big back in the day. The sheer volume of products and options left him feeling completely overwhelmed, his mind drifting back to simpler times when a thoughtful bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolate were considered more than acceptable tokens of affection for your sweetheart.

Now, he watched as frantic shoppers rushed past him, their arms laden with elaborate bouquets, towers of candy boxes, and enormous stuffed bears that seemed to grow more ridiculously sized with each passing year.

There were some shoppers who took a different approach, selecting items for personalized gift baskets filled with practical things like cozy socks or fragrant bath bombs. That seemed more personalized with his old-fashioned sensibilities, but you weren't particularly fond of long soaks in the tub, making that option feel somehow inadequate.

A wave of insecurity washed over him unexpectedly. Despite knowing that you had never once demonstrated materialistic tendencies or pressured him for presents, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he should be showering you with gifts. Traditional values ingrained in him insisted that as the man in the relationship, this was his role to fulfill. His heart warmed slightly at the mental image of you beaming with delight over an armful of fresh flowers or savoring each piece from a velvet-lined, heart-shaped box of premium, ridiculously expensive chocolates.

Truthfully, he felt completely lost about what would be the perfect gift for you. The confident, charming young man he used to be - the one who could effortlessly capture a lady's attention with just a well-timed smile or clever word - seemed like a stranger from another lifetime. These days, the gazes that would drift to him were filled with suspicion and barely concealed hostility.

Defeated and increasingly anxious, Bucky turned away from the crowded store aisle, his mind spinning with uncertainty as he struggled to think of what to get you for this special occasion. As he made his way through the bustling shop, he passed by an enthusiastic florist who was eagerly displaying enormous bouquets of perfectly arranged, vibrant red roses.

The vendor was encouraging every passing customer to purchase one, his sales pitch well-rehearsed and persistent. The sight made Bucky recall a conversation from several months ago, where you had expressed your views on traditional romantic gestures. You explained that while roses were undeniably a sweet and romantic gesture, they felt somewhat predictable and conventional to you. Too ordinary, you had said, preferring instead gifts that showed genuine thought and consideration.

"Sure, roses are beautiful. I think they're a wonderful gift for birthdays or valentine's, whatever. But...I don't know. Everyone gets roses. I would be happy but it would also sort of feel like you didn't really try, since they're so abundant and common. It makes them feel less special. Hopefully that doesn't make me sound snobbish. I'd rather get a more personalized bouquet or...one with my favorite flowers instead." You glanced up at Bucky who was nodding and listening, remembering, for later.

Though the roses were beautiful, their pristine petals catching the store's fluorescent lighting to aid in their deep crimson coloration, Bucky could practically envision the polite but slightly underwhelmed expression that would cross your face if he chose such a common option.

Plus...why were flowers so expensive these days? A dozen roses for almost a hundred dollars? The modern pricing was ridiculous - back in his day, that kind of money could have bought several weeks' worth of groceries. Besides, a lot of the bouquets contained wilted flowers. If he got you a bouquet, each and every flower would be alive and well.

He didn't want to leave without getting you something special, something that would bring a genuine smile to your face. He stood there for several long moments, running his flesh hand through his hair as he considered what kind of gift would truly resonate with you, something that would perfectly balance thoughtfulness with appropriateness while still managing to surprise you.

After spending what felt like hours wandering through the store's aisles and watching other men pick the big red hearts off the shelves without a second thought, he began to carefully examine each heart-shaped box of chocolates, reading every label and ingredient list to ensure he found the exact type of varieties you had mentioned loving. Finally satisfied with a winner, he put it in the basket he grabbed.

Moving through the store, he made his way to the stuffed animal section, where he spent considerable time comparing different plush versions of your favorite animal, wanting to select the one with the perfect expression and the softest fur. That one looked too grumpy, that one looked lopsided, that one wasn’t proportioned right - but he found the perfect one.

Then rather than settling for a pre-arranged bouquet, he thoughtfully handpicked each individual flower, remembering all the times you had pointed out different blooms during your walks together, creating a personalized arrangement that represented all your favorites. Even with the care and attention he put into each gift selection, a nagging feeling of inadequacy crept in - everything he chose, while thoughtful, still felt too ordinary.

Bucky shook his head and paid for the items, ignoring the feeling.

Back at home, he arranged everything perfectly. He individually wrapped each item, positioning them precisely in the basket alongside the plush animal and chocolates. Taking his time with the flowers, he trimmed each stem at exactly the right angle and arranged them in the vase until the composition was just right. When Bucky finally stepped back to assess his work, his heart sank slightly, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

The entire arrangement somehow still didn't feel special or unique enough.

Alpine gracefully leapt onto the counter, her blue eyes focusing intently on the array of gifts laid out. She lowered her head, her pink nose twitching as she investigated each item curiously. "What do you think, girl...good enough?" Bucky asked softly, his fingers running through the ragdoll's silky fur as he gently stroked from her head down along her back.

After her inspection, Alpine cast one final, contemplative glance at the presents. Then, with typical cat-like indifference, she turned away from them, her fluffy tail held high like a banner as she delicately padded across the counter to the edge, and descended to the floor with one smooth leap.

"Bad, huh?" Bucky released a heavy sigh, his eyes lingering on the carefully chosen gifts as waves of uncertainty began to wash over him, his anxiety gradually creeping in and eating away at him.

He didn't have more time to wrestle with his uncertainties as the sound of keys jingling at the front door caught his attention. You made your entrance quicker than he had anticipated, your exhausted form slowly making its way through the doorway after what was clearly an demanding day at work. You kicked off your shoes in a haphazard manner, letting them land wherever they might. The weariness etched across your features told him everything he needed to know about the challenging nature of your workday.

"Hey," Bucky offered in greeting as he made his way over to you in the entryway, his mind racing as he tried to keep you from noticing the carefully prepared gifts just yet. Perhaps if he could buy himself a little more time, he might figure out something better to give you than the basic gifts.

A soft, tired grumble was all you could muster in response, though the gentle warmth in his eyes worked its magic in lifting your spirits considerably. "Hey..." you murmured an actual response, crossing the space between you to wrap your arms around his sturdy frame. He gladly hugged you back, letting you bury yourself against him.

The thought of spending the entire day at home with him had been your secret wish throughout your shift, but responsibilities couldn't be ignored. He had promised to make the evening special, and that thought alone helped you persevere through the long hours of your workday.

Bucky thought fast, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze with those intense steel-blue eyes. "How about a hot bath? I can get one ready for you, make it nice and warm - it'll be perfect for those sore muscles of yours...plus, I know you’ve been on your feet all day." He offered gently, his flesh hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. A playful smirk slowly spread across his lips as he added, "I could even feed you some fresh strawberries while you relax..."

"Ugh, that sounds so heavenly right now..." You agreed with a soft, appreciative moan, already imagining the soothing warmth of the water and the sweet taste of cool fruit.

Bucky made his way to the bathroom, wanting to create the perfect relaxing atmosphere for you after your long day. He tested the water temperature with his flesh hand until it reached that ideal warmth you always preferred, then clogged the drain.

While the tub filled, he selected your favorite aromatherapy soap, watching as it created billowing clouds of soft, luxurious bubbles that released that soothing scent you loved so much. He also scattered rose petals across the surface - special ones he had purchased with your other gifts. They would slowly dissolve into the water, but for now they created a nice, romantic display as they rested atop the peaks of foam.

In the bedroom, you gradually shed your work uniform, letting each piece fall away with relief before walking into the bathroom to meet him. He remained unaware of your presence for a moment until he turned, and when he did, he took the chance to admire you. Bucky rose up to his full height and approached you, his hands finding their familiar place on your hips. "You're so beautiful, doll..." he murmured, his voice full of affection as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek, before adding, "Bath's all ready..."

"It looks perfect," you replied in an equally soft and tired tone, carefully stepping into the steaming bath water and sinking down with a contented moan.

God, it felt absolutely amazing - after countless exhausting days of non-stop work, your muscles were crying out for relief. Your back and neck were especially sore from hunching over your desk for hours on end. The perfectly heated water enveloped your body like a warm hug, melting away the tension and aches that had built up over time. The chosen aromatherapy oils filled the air with a soothing blend of lavender and eucalyptus that relaxed you even further.

"Thank you, Bucky... this is... exactly what I needed," you mumbled appreciatively, slowly sinking lower into the luxurious bath until the fragrant bubble clouds rose around your shoulders like a soft blanket.

Bucky's lip quirked up with a gentle, knowing smile as he reached for a plump strawberry from the delicate pink crystal bowl beside the tub. His eyes sparkled with affection as he held the fruit up teasingly, "Of course doll... now open wide~"

"Tease," you said playfully, leaning for the strawberry he held between his fingers. You gladly accepted the offering, letting your lips brush against the plump, red fruit before taking a delicate bite. The sweetness burst across your tongue as you savored each moment, watching his expression intently. Unable to resist the temptation, you gently caught his finger between your lips, your tongue darting out to taste the lingering juice - a deliberately cheeky move to provoke a reaction.

Bucky's eyes darkened as he watched you, a knowing smile spreading slowly across his face. His fingers twitched slightly at the sensation of your tongue, and he leaned in closer. "Don't start something you can't finish, doll..." he warned in a low, honeyed voice that made you shiver, even in the steaming water. "You know exactly what'll happen. Besides, it's Valentine's Day..." He reached out to trace your jawline with his thumb, his touch feather-light and promising. "...I'll make it all about you..."

You couldn't resist the temptation that coursed through you, causing you to slowly emerge from the water just enough to delicately capture his hand between your teeth and deliver a playful nip. Your lips ghosted across his wrist and laid a kiss, "I think I wanna see what you mean..."

That's how you ended up on the bed with his face between your legs.

Your swollen, sensitive pussy being devoured by the soldier keeping your legs spread open. His tongue flatly lapped at you before he would encase your delicate clit in his lips and desperately suckle. The alternating movements kept you close enough to the brink of orgasm, but he wouldn't let you finish all the way yet.

"Bucky! Pl-please," you cried out desperately as he suctioned to your throbbing clit once more, his skilled tongue working magic against your sensitive bud. Your trembling hands clung tightly to the twisted sheets below your hips, your knuckles turning white from the intensity of your grip. Your cheeks were deeply flushed as tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

It felt so fucking good - Bucky always dove into you like a starved man who hadn't tasted such sweetness in decades, you were a fruit from Eden and he wouldn’t stop until he has had all of you.

Which was kind of true, until you two had started dating and everything changed. Over time, he gradually gained the confidence he needed, becoming more and more comfortable with engaging in intimate acts. The hesitation that had once held him back melted away completely, and once that newfound bravado took over, he became a passionate and attentive lover who knew exactly how to make you come undone.

Bucky growled against you, tugging you even closer as he kept his face against your folds and lapped at you repeatedly. His eyes would peek at your expression from time to time, but he mostly kept them closed, purely focusing on your taste. So sweet and delectable, you were his favorite thing to lap up and devour. He never wanted to stop. This was his favorite thing ever. Being the source of your pleasure and hearing how you whined and squirmed underneath him.

"Come for me, baby...come on. Give it to me." He muffled against you as his tongue continued to move up and down with his repetitive licks, getting your juices and making sure to run over that swollen bud.

Fuck, you were. You were going to.

You moaned loudly as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, the tense burning sensation gradually building deep in your belly while your legs trembled uncontrollably. Bucky kept a firm hold on your legs, keeping himself buried in your pussy as he continued his feast. Heat radiated outward as you began to feel your nerves come alive, electric sensations traveling from your core and flowing down through your limbs to the tips of your fingers and toes. The pressure continued mounting until finally, everything began slowly blossoming and unwinding into an overwhelming, desperate climax.

When he pulled away from your folds, his face and dark scruff were thoroughly soaked with your juices. The smug, satisfied bastard slowly licked his lips and began climbing over your shaking body, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from your sensitive belly all the way up to the crook of your neck. "Y'r so soft...god, I love every inch of you," he whispered in that husky, desire-laden voice as his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

"Bucky..." You whined needily, the desperate tone in your voice betraying just how affected you were, but you couldn't bring yourself to care - you were absolutely burning with desire for him. The delicious scratching sensation of his rough scruff against your skin felt absolutely divine, and you couldn't help but nuzzle your cheek against his strong jaw, seeking more of that friction. Your responsive action drew a knowing smile from Bucky as he pressed his body more firmly against yours, allowing his head to respond to your pressure and reaching his hand down to carefully position himself against you.

"Easy, my beautiful girl...I promise I'll give you everything you want and need. My perfect doll...just lay still for me, just like that...looking so gorgeous spread out underneath me..." He praised in that gentle, soothing voice that you normally adored, but in your current state of desperate arousal, his sweet words only served to turn you on even more. Something about it drove you insane.

When he finally breached you, your body arched off the bed and your hands immediately grabbed onto him, mindful not to claw at his heavily scarred shoulder.

The moan that escaped from between your parted lips was abruptly silenced as he captured your mouth with his own. The lingering taste of your pleasure danced on his tongue as it skillfully glided past your own, delving deeper to thoroughly explore every corner of your mouth. A deep, resonant hum of satisfaction rumbled in the soldier's chest and vibrated against your lips as he pressed into the kiss with mounting intensity, perfectly matching the quickening rhythm of the increasingly passionate snaps his hips made against you.

The gentle slapping that filled the room was drowned out by your cries of unison - the two of you spewing groans and moans of all kinds as his cockhead repeatedly kissed your cervix and coated it with his precum. The gummy walls of your tight cunt continued to squeeze and massage his cock with each little movement you made squirming beneath him and listening to his lower pitched sounds of pleasure.

"Bucky...ah, feels so good...feel so full," you whined and fell back onto the sheets, ignoring the gentle bulge that appeared beneath your skin each time he hilted himself inside you.

"So perfect for me, doll...made for me, made for my cock," he whispered with reverence, his voice thick and heavy. He leaned down, pressing hard, passionate kisses against your neck, which you willingly allowed. You tilted your head back, exposing more of your sensitive skin to him as he skillfully left a trail of bites and gentle purple bruises blooming across your flesh.

Prettier than any of those damned flowers he saw today.

"R'member when I bit all over you... 'round Christmas? I was so lost and confused back then and..nngh...all I knew was you. All I could think about was you. All I ever wanted was you...completely all to myself..." His voice came out rough and broken between desperate grunts as his hips pistoned at an increasingly frantic pace, his movements becoming more urgent with each thrust.

"Ah, yes...I remember it...you were so needy," You gasped breathlessly, a small knowing chuckle escaping your lips as you eagerly took him harder.

"Now look who's being needy...f-feel you squeezing around me so tight..." Bucky hissed through clenched teeth as he pushed even deeper inside you, his thick cock swelling noticeably with his rapidly approaching orgasm.

"Come for me, Buck Buck...I want it inside. Want you to fill me up," You reached up to him, yearning for more, pulling him down closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His silken hair cascaded down like a brilliant curtain, framing his face while he let out pants from slightly parted lips. The cool metal of his hand gripped firmly at the meat of your thigh, his touch both gentle and possessive, chilling the skin beneath it.

Bucky ducked his face down and pressed closer to you, a deep groan tore through his throat as his rapid thrusts finally stilled - you felt his thick member twitching inside you as he coated your pretty velvet walls in his cum. As his orgasm washed over him and made him thrust a few more times for good measure, the overwhelming sensation brought you to yours again.

You both panted, breathing heavily in unison as you relished in the feeling of him still tucked inside you, thick cum oozing out as you let out soft laughs together.

"That was absolutely incredible..." You breathed out in a contented sigh, your voice thick with emotion, "I love you so much..." Your lips tenderly found his in a series of gentle, loving pecks, while your fingers delicately traced patterns across his cheek, savoring the warmth of his skin.

"I love you too, babydoll. And actually, I have something special waiting for you in the kitchen..." He began, his eyes flickering towards the doorway. With a knowing smile, you gently guided his face back to yours, your fingers lingering on his jaw.

"Would that happen to be that beautiful arrangement of flowers and those decadent chocolates I spotted sat next to an adorable plushie?"

"Wait, what? How did you -"

"I saw the setup when you were preparing my bath earlier...sweetheart, you really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble. I feel terrible now." You propped yourself up slightly on your elbows, guilt evident in your voice. "Work has been so hectic lately, I didn't even manage to find time to get you anything..."

He drew you even closer into his warm embrace and gently rolled both of you onto your sides. As his softened length slipped free, you nearly whimpered at the loss of connection, you held the pout back for now. "Doll, you should know by now that I don't need fancy gifts or presents. What matters most to me is having you here, sharing these moments together.” He winked playfully before returning to a more serious tone, “You coming home to me is the greatest gift I could ask for. And you know what? The night's still young - we could curl up together and watch a movie, if you'd like..."

You smiled and nodded, letting out a soft chuckle. "That sounds wonderful, but I really think we should freshen up first...things got pretty messy and you made me feel all sticky." You whispered with a playful lilt in your voice, carefully lifting yourself from the tangled sheets. As you made your way towards the bathroom, your hips swayed flirtatiously, each step a teasing invitation. Pausing at the doorway, you glanced over your shoulder with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "C'mon baby...if you're good, I’ll do that thing you always like..."

His reaction was instantaneous.

Like a coiled spring suddenly released, Bucky leapt from the bed with the same sharp reflexes from his military days - every muscle alert and ready. His blue eyes darkened with desire as a roguish grin spread across his face. "Yes ma'am," he responded, voice husky with anticipation. In two swift strides, he crossed the room and swept you up into his strong arms, making you squeal and laugh with surprise, cradling you against his chest as he carried you eagerly toward the shower.

When your feet touched the cool tile of the bathroom floor, Bucky was already eagerly anticipating another passionate moment together, but you gently placed your hands against his firm chest, causing him to pause. Your eyes met his as you spoke softly but earnestly, "And just so you know, everything you got me was absolutely perfect. I love it all so much. You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble - just spending the evening together would have been more than enough for me, but...everything you did get makes me feel so special. The arranged bouquet with all those beautiful flowers, the adorable plushie of my favorite animal, and those delicious chocolates...it's all too much. You are perfect."

Bucky felt an overwhelming wave of relief wash over him at your heartfelt words, the tension he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying suddenly melting away. His voice was tender, slightly hesitant as he responded, "O-oh... yeah, of course. I...I really wanted to make tonight special for you in every way possible. I picked all your favorite colors and included those specific flowers you always stop to admire during our walks together...and I made absolutely certain the chocolates only contained ingredients and flavors I know you enjoy...and found you a soft, cuddle buddy to keep you company when I have to be away." He ducked his head slightly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he added with endearing awkwardness, "Besides Alpine, of course."

"Yeah, whenever she's in one of her affectionate moods and decides it's snuggle time," you added with a gentle, warm chuckle, your eyes crinkling at the corners. He swore his heart beat faster each time he saw those delicate lines. "You are enough, Bucky." You gazed deeply into his eyes, taking in every flicker of emotion that passed through them, before offering him a tender, reassuring smile.

Your hand came up to cup his cheek as you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, feeling the tension slowly melt away from his body as he relaxed against you. Drawing back just enough to meet his gaze again, you whispered to him with absolute conviction so he could feel the words as much as possible.

"You are always enough, and don't you ever doubt that for a second..."

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[gothamrain]

THAT’S NOT A PART OF YOUR ASSIGNMENT

Dick Grayson x art student!reader || 1.6k words

Warnings: smut, naked cuddling, blow job, slight exhibitionism but not quite

Summary: You have an assignment for figure drawing and thankfully have a willing model (along with yourself). Time to take some reference photos. Unfortunately for one horny boy, this means he can’t move. lol poor guy.

a/n: goddd i’m a senior so i’ve spent a bajillion hours in figure by now oof. so here, let me indulge my fantasies. need me a muse like Dick Grayson… well, maybe it’s for the best, since this fic shows how i wouldnt be getting anything done with him around agdjhsajhfk

“Hey, Dickie, can you come in here for a second?” you called and instantly you heard the sock feet of your fiancé come padding towards you.

“Do you need me for something, Baby?”

You were too distracted with the task at hand to pick up on his flirting, “Yeah, just come lay on the bed for a bit.”

“Oooh. Of course~” Dick grinned as he eyed the camera you were adjusting on its tripod before he flopped down onto the bed, “any particular pose?”

“Nah I’m just fixing it right now, you can do whatever as long as you stay on the bed,”

You had meant, like, maybe he could scroll on his phone while you worked. But he took that as ‘whatever sexy pose you want, Babe’ and began showing off his lithe body. Little distracting, but you were used to him enough to successfully ignore it. But damn, was it hard. Especially when he turned around so you could get a nice view of his ass.

“So, we shooting sex tapes or what?”

You rolled your eyes, “No, we’re not shooting sex tapes. I need references for a piece for Figure. We’re supposed to be focusing on the ways the human body will fit together, so we need at least two models,”

“Sound’s intimate,” he schmoozed.

You sighed, “Yeah, that’s why I thought I should just draw us. I like the intimacy of the way we fit together—“

“So we are making sex tapes,”

“No. We are going to just be cuddling, I'm not going up in front of my class to present an explicit piece of us fucking, thank you.”

“But we are going to be naked?”

You sighed even more dramatically this time, “Yes, Dick, we are going to be naked. I have to ‘show off the beauty of the human form’…”

He raised his eyebrows at you suggestively, you shook your head, “and I'll admit, I wanted it to be a little sensual, okay, but it's not like that,"

You went back to fiddling with the camera, ignoring his childish snickering. You positioned it perfectly, able to capture Dick's full body but not too much background with it. Hopefully cramming yourself in there too wont crop anything weird.

Humming to yourself, you grabbed the tiny remote for the tripod and tested it to make sure it was working. Doing so, you accidentally got a shot of Dick taking off his shirt. The way his stomach and chest were flexed as he lifted the shirt over his head was beautiful. Just what you wanted, art. You didn’t delete this test shot like you would’ve done on any other day. Don’t tell Dick.

“Little eager there, Babe?” you flirted.

He had already moved on to stripping off his sweatpants. As he threw the garment across the room you noticed he uh, had a little problem growing. Ah..

“The faster we get these pictures the faster I can convince you to “take a nap” before patrol tonight,” he slipped his boxers off as he talked to you.

“Uh. Yeah. Um,” you started unbuttoning your shirt, “Let’s get this done, yeah…”

Great, now you’re flustered. You’d think you’d learn your lesson by now, to not use your own boyfriend as a model. But he was so pretty, it was always so tempting. If you had your way, all you’d ever draw were portraits of Dick. If you did that, though, you’d quickly get known as “that kid who only draws local celebrity Dick Grayson” around your university, which would most likely get shortened to just “Dick Kid”, and you did not need that kind of bullying in your life right now. You’re a professional studio artist now, goddamnit.

You heard the springs of the bed as Dick laid back down, “So what were you thinking?”

“…” man what were you thinking again? Oh, “I wanted to start with a shot of us spooning. You know, how the legs fit together, how a face fits into the crook of a neck,”

He smiled, “Do I get to be the big spoon?”

“I guess,” you teased.

You took off your own pants and underwear and gave your hair a good finger comb through before laying down on the bed with Dick. He smirked as you cozied up to him. He placed his hand on your hip as he repositioned himself.

“So you want my leg like—”

“Uh huh,” you felt the heat of his bare body melting into yours. And his errection nestling into your ass. Geez…

“And my face—“

He nuzzled into the side of your neck, brushing against the sensitive artery there. Hoo boy, perhaps this is a bad idea. Dick hummed against your throat as he began peppering the area with light kisses.

Mmm, perhaps it’s a really good idea.

“Dick, pose,”

He stopped his onslaught on your neck for a moment, keeping still as you pressed the button on the remote to take a few shots.

“Thank you,” you shuffled over to check the photos, much to Dick’s disappointment at you leaving his embrace, “these are good, next pose,”

“What now,”

You adjusted the angle on the camera, “okay now sit up, on your knees,”

He did as you told him and you crawled back over.

“Uh, sorry, I promise I’m trying to keep professional thoughts right now,” he gestured to his now very prominent boner.

“That’s fine, Baby,” you snickered as you started straddling him, “they’re not gonna be able to see it. This one’s about how legs perfectly bracket a waist,”

“Hands?”

“On my chest, with your fingers in between the ribs,”

Dick was a little confused on what you meant there for a moment but he found it. You were right, his fingers did perfectly slot in between the bones of your ribcage.

Took everything in him to not start running his hands up and down your sides, feeling more of you beneath his fingertips. The gentle way your skin was always soft, no matter where he touched you drove him wild.

And it’s like you knew, the way you grinned and shook your head.

“Here,” you dipped your face towards him and he greedily took the kiss you offered.

It was just a chaste thing, when he tried to deepen it you pulled away. Dick had to fight back the whine in his throat.

“Forehead to mine pleas—“ he gingerly complied, “there we go,”

Dick’s eyelids were pressed tightly shut, but he heard the click of the shutter go off a few times. You then disentangled yourself from him to go check the photos. He missed you immediately, even though you were just right over there.

Damn. This was horrible. Torture. His punishment from the gods like Tantalus’s fruit. He’d rather clean the Batmobile with a toothbrush than have you naked in his lap and not be able to do anything about it.

Okay so maybe he was being a little overdramatic. Can you blame him, though? He can’t just hold his everything in his hands and not make love to them. It feels irreverent.

“Okay, last one”

Thank fucking god. He could feel his cock throbbing and it was starting to get painful.

“Come get close to the camera, this one doesn’t need to be fullbody,”

He crawled closer as you adjusted it once again, “what’s up with this one?”

“How hands were made to cup our curves. I’ll need you to hold my chin in your hands,”

Done. You don’t have to ask him twice. But damn, as you positioned yourself to how you wanted, was it hard to not just start kissing you.

He gazed lovingly at you as he gently played his part, holding you for the camera (and a bunch of students, apparently) to see. He hoped he was doing you justice in this, in all of these. Although, a part of him didn’t want them to be good, didn’t want other people to see how beautiful you could be for him. Your home was his own private little gallery with you as the star and maybe he didn’t want to share.

Gatekeeping art. Tsk…

The shutter clicked and flashed but you didn’t really care anymore. That was the last picture, after all, and Dick was looking at you like he was about to devour you.

And you were right, as he realized he had a greenlight and dove right in.

Dick wasted no time in shoving his tongue into your mouth this time, lapping at your molars. Two can play at that game, so you licked into his mouth as well, only for him to fight dirty running his tongue along the roof of your mouth in flicks. A shiver ran down your spine as Dick pulled your face, still cupped in his hands, further into his. He moaned with the action, and damn, he really was trying to devour you.

He continued his attack on your mouth, sliding his tongue along yours in the most delicious way. You felt the vibrations of another groan as you let your hands start to wander down his body. His trapeze artist tits pecs.. his grabbable hips… his very hard cock weeping precum onto your hand as you fisted it. He pulled out of your mouth with a jolt, panting for air.

“Please—“ he was cut off by a surprisingly high-pitched noise breaking out his throat as you went down, wasting no time in taking him into your mouth.

You took him as far as you could, the head hitting the back of your throat. You pressed your tongue flat into the underside of his cock, slowly dragging it along his tender shaft before pulling off of him again. He made a strangled noise as you looked up at him.

“What?” why’d you stop before you even started?

“Well look,” you placed your tongue back into the divet where his tip met his shaft, “it’s like my tongue was made to be there. Fits together perfectly,”

God, you were going to be the death of him.

[jiminomenon]

assistant! reader going viral and capturing the attention of model! karina’s fans

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 843

summary: when karina posts a mirror selfie, y/n unintentionally steals the spotlight, sparking a viral reaction. as fans focus on her assistant, karina struggles with unexpected feelings of possessiveness and jealousy.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it all started with a selfie.

jimin had been in one of her moods, insisting on taking the perfect photo for her instagram. “y/n, set up my phone,” she said, handing over the device. “i want a mirror selfie, and make sure you get my good side.”

y/n, who had long since mastered the art of dealing with jimin’s diva moments, sighed but obediently propped the phone up on a nearby shelf, angling it toward the full-length mirror in jimin’s dressing room. “your good side is literally every side, jimin. just smile already.”

jimin pouted but struck a pose, her perfectly styled hair catching the sunlight. as the timer counted down, y/n stepped into the frame to adjust the angle, her unimpressed expression clearly visible in the mirror behind jimin.

“let me see,” jimin said, grabbing the phone. she frowned at the photo. “ugh, you ruined it! delete it and take another one.”

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. she assumed that was the end of it—until the next morning, when she woke up to a flood of notifications on her phone.

“what the…?” y/n muttered, scrolling through her social media. her inbox was full of messages, and her follower count had skyrocketed overnight.

“good morning, sleeping beauty,” jimin said, sauntering into the kitchen with princess in her arms. “why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“did you… post that photo?” y/n asked, holding up her phone.

jimin blinked innocently. “which photo?”

“the one where i’m in the background!” y/n said, turning the screen to show her. the photo had gone viral, with thousands of comments and likes. most of them were about y/n.

who’s the assistant?? she’s so pretty!

karina’s assistant is stealing the show 😍

someone get this girl a modeling contract!

jimin’s smile faltered for a split second before she shrugged. “oh, that one. i didn’t think anyone would notice you.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “really? because it looks like everyone noticed me.”

as the day went on, the comments kept pouring in. fans were obsessed with y/n, dubbing her “karina’s pretty assistant” and even creating fan accounts dedicated to her.

jimin, meanwhile, was not handling it well.

“why are they so obsessed with you?” she grumbled, scrolling through the comments during a break in her photoshoot. “you’re not even doing anything in the photo.”

y/n smirked. “maybe they just have good taste.”

jimin glared at her. “this is my instagram. they’re supposed to be talking about me.”

“well, maybe next time you should make sure i’m not in the photo,” y/n said, clearly enjoying jimin’s frustration.

by the time they got home, jimin was in full denial mode. “it’s not that i care,” she said, flopping onto the couch. “i just don’t understand why they’re so interested in you.”

“maybe they think i’m cute,” y/n said, shrugging.

jimin’s eyes narrowed. “you’re not that cute.”

y/n laughed. “says the person who’s been sulking all day because i’m getting more attention than you.”

“i’m not sulking!” jimin protested, crossing her arms. “i just don’t like sharing the spotlight.”

“uh-huh,” y/n said, clearly not convinced.

later that night, jimin found herself scrolling through the comments again. she told herself it was just curiosity, but deep down, she knew it was more than that.

the truth was, jimin didn’t like the idea of y/n being in the spotlight—not because she was jealous of the attention, but because she didn’t want to share her with the world. y/n was hers. her assistant, her confidant, her… well, she wasn’t sure what else, but she knew she didn’t want anyone else to have her.

“stupid comments,” she muttered, tossing her phone aside.

“still obsessing over that photo?” y/n asked, walking into the room with a cup of tea.

“no,” jimin said quickly. “i just… don’t like people assuming things about you.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “like what?”

“like… that you’re available,” jimin said, her cheeks turning pink. “or that they can just… have you.”

y/n blinked, surprised by the intensity in jimin’s voice. “jimin, are you… jealous?”

“no!” jimin said, too quickly. “i just… you’re my assistant. that’s all.”

y/n smiled, setting down her tea. “you know, for someone who’s not jealous, you’re acting pretty possessive.”

jimin opened her mouth to argue but stopped when y/n sat down next to her. “look,” y/n said softly. “you don’t have to worry. i’m not going anywhere.”

jimin looked at her, her expression softening. “promise?”

“promise,” y/n said, smiling.

the next day, jimin posted another photo—this time, a selfie with y/n clearly in the frame, smiling this time. the caption read: “my assistant. hands off.”

the comments exploded all over again, but this time, jimin didn’t mind. after all, she’d made her point.

y/n rolled her eyes when she saw the post but couldn’t help smiling. “you’re such a drama queen, jimin.”

“maybe,” jimin said, smirking. “but you’re still mine.”

[megwritesriddles]

Tightening the Knot ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Reader is captured at the end of the war as the Death Eater's celebrate their victory. She is told she is to marry Tom Riddle, but can't figure out why he'd want her or why she isn't trying harder to escape…

Tags: Forced marriage, P in V, Unprotected sex, Fingering, DarkLord!Tom Riddle, Set after a vague Wizarding War, Not canon or timeline compliant, Voldemort wins, Reader is a member of the Black family, Enemies to lovers (?), Imprisonment, Implied age gap (but i was thinking of it as like 10 years at most, again, not timeline compliant).

Word count: 2.6k

all fandom masterlist | hp masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: This was based on a request that I changed a bit to make myself more comfortable writing it (e.g. making the age gap smaller but vague enough so you can imagine whatever you like while you read it). Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

It wasn’t what you would picture as a prison. The plush furnishings, grand windows and monumental bookcases suggested an atmosphere of comfort and luxury, but make no mistake, this palatial room was your holding cell. The order had fallen, and the writing had been on the wall for some time now, however, there was no giving up in the fight against evil, so they fought until the bitter end. You were one of the lucky few still alive after the battle on the grounds of Hogwarts, although you hardly felt lucky given the circumstances. You stared at the ridiculously ornate, but admittedly beautiful, wedding dress hung in the small walk-in-wardrobe across from your bed, wishing it would light on fire from the anger in your gaze alone. But of course, it doesn’t. You have been stripped of your magic, your wand is who knows where and your room is enchanted to allow no magic inside it, all to prevent your escape.

Why he chose you, you can’t understand. Sure, you were from a well-established pureblood family with a deep history as he’d explained to you the one time you’d seen him since your capture, but there were many girls like that for him to have his pick of. You were angry and defiant, you didn’t wish to bend to him, you spoke back and you lashed out when he tried to touch you. Why would he choose that over, say, your relative Bellatrix, who seemed to constantly be vying for his affection and shared your heritage? Throughout the war, you had constantly found yourself facing against him. He had even commented on occasion that it was always you in his way. Perhaps, this was merely his final revenge.

“I don’t even like you!” you’d protested, sitting across from him at the grand dining table of the Malfoy or Nott or Lestrange manor, whichever of his snivelling followers house this was, shackled to the tall-backed, velvet upholstered chair.

“You do,” he’d smiled smoothly, sipping his red wine, eyes drinking you in with something like amusement. “You think I’m handsome, you can’t deny that,” he added with a smirk. Your cheeks bloomed red and you scoffed, looking down at your shackled hand, the other free to allow you to eat. He’s right, you can’t deny it, you’re aware of his skill at legilimency and you’re sure he has watched a few of the dreams you’d had since you’d got here and been told you were to marry him a few weeks ago. Filthy dreams about what your wedding night might look like, how rough he might be with you or how gentle. Later that night, a dream of him bending you over this very dining table, unaware of how close he had been to really doing so. Avoiding his eye, you continued.

“That is hardly enough to base a marriage on,”

“I have known marriages based on less,” he mused. “You will like it more than you think,” The smile that followed those words stirred your stomach in a way you don’t wish to try to interpret.

The wedding is a few days later. The decor in the manor is much darker than the decor for a usual wedding might be, feeling more mournful than anything else. It fits your mood, although from what you gather it’s merely an aesthetic consideration for the death eaters that put the event together. Your dress is beaded in intricate designs, black beads twisting around a white silk base, painting a design of thorns and roses across the fabric that almost reminds you of chains. Beautiful chains. How very fitting. Your veil is black, as is the bouquet of roses you are given to carry down the aisle. You wonder who designed everything, it was beautiful, presumably one of the death eater’s wives who had an otherwise unused eye for aesthetics. Bellatrix, the only relative you have around, is the one to walk you down the aisle, holding your arm oppressively the whole way. She is clearly bitter that she is not in your shoes, but still eager to please Riddle, who waits, standing tall and proud in front of all his death eaters in a pressed, pitch-black suit.

When you reach him, he slides his arm around your back and holds you tight, making sure you couldn’t possibly leave if you tried. He’s never touched you before, his hand is cold, large and imposing, making you want to lean in and away all at once. You are not asked to recite any vows or to say ‘I do’, the decision has been made for you. Once Riddle has agreed that he will take you as his wife, he turns you toward him by your waist and lifts your veil carefully, tutting at your unhappy expression underneath. He cups your chin and tilts your face up, leaning down to kiss you to seal your marriage. The kiss is forceful and possessive, but despite yourself, you lean in just a little, heat shooting through your veins as his lips press to yours. He is handsome and powerful, and as much as you want to resist, as much as you hate all he stands for, your body is weak. His fingers tighten into your dress, gripping the small of your back. You know what it means. You’re his now. 

Riddle keeps you held captive at his side throughout the reception as he talks and drinks with his followers. You can tell from the way they glance at you at his side, that they are as confused as you are about why he chose you to be his bride and not one of the many willing girls and women amongst his followers, but have clearly been told not to dare question his decision. Trying your best to distract yourself, you play with the wedding ring on your finger. A thin serpentine silver band winding around your ring finger, inset with emeralds and black star sapphire. Once again, you wonder who might have picked it out for you. Surely, not Riddle himself? To your surprise, Riddle also wears a wedding band. A plain one with a subtle carving of a serpent, complimenting yours without being anywhere near as ostentatious. It’s a surprise that he would want to advertise himself as being married, you hadn’t expected it, but you aren’t sure what to make of it, so you don’t dwell. At least the food at the beginning of the reception had been delicious, and the cake your favourite flavour, decorated with the same thorny patterns as your dress. 

You find yourself incredibly annoyed to stand around and listen to these men talk and laugh, wanting to retreat to your room, despite knowing what will follow. It’s your wedding night, and Riddle made it clear that he expects you to comply with traditional wedding night activities with him. At first, you were angry and disgusted, but now you just feel like you want to get to it as soon as possible, only to get it over and done with. His ever-present hand on your waist or lower back doesn’t help this feeling. Finally, once he is also sick of listening to his followers' drivel, he guides you out of the hall in which the wedding was held and up the stairs, not towards your quarters, but his own. You’re tense as you walk, knowing what is drawing ever closer and closer. His hand softly rubs your waist as he escorts you, presumably trying to ease a little of your tension, not wanting your apprehension to ruin his wedding night. 

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, which was somehow even larger than the one in the room you’d been staying in, you watch him loosen the tie at his neck, pouring himself a little champagne. 

“Want any, darling?” he smirks, sipping the drink, his eyes roaming the flattering figure your dress gave you. Part of you wondered whether you should drink to numb the experience, but all the same, you wanted your faculties about you. You shake your head silently and he shrugs. “Later then,” Once his drink is finished, he comes to sit beside you. You stiffen as his cold hands gather up your hair and move it out of the way, fingertips brushing the bare skin of your back. He waits a moment before popping the first clasp on your back. Goosebumps erupt across your skin and your muscles tighten, drawing in a breath. “You’re surprisingly willing, I told you that you’d like this more than you thought,” he ponders aloud with a hint of teasing, continuing to pop the clasps down your back. “I almost miss the fight,” he slips the sleeve of the dress off of your shoulder and bites down gently on the bare flesh. “Almost,”

The feeling of the cold air of the room meeting your skin sends a fit of shivers through you, the fabric of the dress pooling at your waist and baring your breasts to the air, your nipples hardening to peaks in an instant. Riddle hums, watching like a hawk over your shoulder, his hands caressing your skin just beneath your breasts, drawing yet another shiver from you. He slowly bites up and down your shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp, to leave behind small possessive marks. His warm chest presses to your bare back, the soft fabric of his dress shirt brushing against your skin, his suit jacket shed much earlier in the evening. 

“What has you so willing now, darling? You were so… incensed before,” he taunts, just gently brushing his thumbs on the underside of your breasts, his breath tickling your neck. 

“I just want to get it over with,” you mumble, observing as his large hands move across your skin. He chuckles.

“I’m sure,” he hums, clearly not believing you. You wouldn’t believe you either. “Be a good girl and stand for me,” Very hesitantly, and fighting against several tonnes of pride, you rise to your feet, jolting as he gently eases your dress down over your hips, taking caution not to rip the dress or damage the beading. Once it passes the swell of your hips, it falls easily to the ground, leaving you in only a pair of panties. You remain facing away from him, too sheepish to turn. His fingertips trace the edge of the material on your hips, down to your rear. You twitch away from his touch and he tuts. “Come now, you’re only prolonging this,” he gently grips your hips, guiding you back toward the bed, his hands skimming over you as he twists you around and lays you down against the pillows. Staring up at him, you notice a disconcerting predatory look in his eyes, despite the otherwise uncharacteristic softness in his expression. Even more bothersome is the way your stomach flips upon seeing it. He crawls up the bed to loom over you, a smirk decorating his handsome face. “Such a pretty picture you are, my beautiful bride,” he husks, leaning down to nip at your pulse point. You close your eyes. Bride. You couldn’t believe that word was real. This time, you feel the bite of his teeth and you know he’s leaving a proper mark. A whimper leaves your throat despite your reservations and you feel him grin against your skin, pleased to have evidence of your enjoyment of this, despite your performative protestations.

You keep your eyes closed as you feel him withdraw from you, hearing the rustle of fabric as he removes his dress shirt and the clank of metal as he reaches for his belt. Your thighs clench as the reality of what’s coming washes over you properly. Despite everything that you know should have you running for the hills, you are curious, too curious for your own good. So curious that when you feel his fingers hooking into the fabric of your underwear and beginning to softly tug downward, you wordlessly lift your hips and allow him to bare you to his gaze. He growls softly, presumably noticing the arousal that has gathered as he spreads your legs. 

“You don’t like me, darling?” he scoffs, repeating your words from a few days before.

“No,” you murmur. He brushes his thumb against your lower lip, which makes you part them obediently and clench around nothing. He notices your reaction instantly and gives a smug laugh.

“You are a terrible liar,” he purrs, placing his thumb on your tongue. “I think you like me very much,” he watches, enraptured, as you suckle on his thumb for the briefest of moments before you collect yourself once more. 

“I do not,” you protest weakly, finally opening your eyes to look up at him again, but you know you aren’t remotely convincing. “There is a difference between liking and lusting,” you huff. He rolls his eyes, though he looks amused.

“I suppose that is true, I’ll give you that,” he hums, using his now moist thumb to come down and begin gently circling your clit, drawing a ragged gasp from you. “You don’t like me, but right now, I reckon all that matters is lust, don’t you, darling?” Your head falls to the side as you avoid his knowing gaze, breaths coming short as he continues his intoxicating circles, the sensation enhanced by how worked up he has you. Your hips squirm lightly and he just seems to find it entertaining. You hear the rustle of fabric once more but pay it no mind, eyes fluttering shut at the syrupy pleasure he’s providing you.

You shoot up in surprise when you feel him prodding softly at your entrance, your eyes flying open to meet his. He shushes you gently, pushing you back down to lie and despite yourself, you go. His thumb never stops circling, making you more compliant than usual. He’s hot and hard against you and it makes you moan. It’s awful to realise just how badly you want him to press inside.

“You knew it was coming, just relax, we don’t want it to hurt, do we?” he soothes with his slightly patronising tone, but you just give a shaky nod. “There we go, you can be so good when you want to be,” he coos. After a few more calming circles on your clit, he’s pressing inside of you slowly. Your eyes roll back and your lips part, your walls fluttering as you do your best to accommodate him. He shifts, looming over you even more, propping his hand at the side of your head to support his weight. 

His eyes are dark as he stares down at you, growling in pleasure, finally inside of you like he has wished to be for so long. All those years of your infuriating scheming and fighting, only to end up a whimpering mess beneath him in your marital bed. The grin that graces his lips is downright devilish. He has you where he wants you, completely, rocking his hips a few times to draw those rousing mewls from your lips once more. Your hand grips his arm, the cool metal of your wedding band digging into his skin. Finally, he has you here and you’re willing, no matter what you assert. The sinful pleasure he’s giving you feels like sweet revenge as he begins to fuck into you properly, hips slamming into yours, slick sounds filling the room, claiming you entirely, consummating your marriage. The marriage you had claimed not to want, but never once tried to disrupt as it happened.

“You know what I think, darling?” he grunts, you don’t answer with anything other than a cry of pleasure as he angles himself to thrust even deeper inside you. “I think you do like me, and you will forever, whether you want to or not,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo

[gf2bellamy]

Hello !!

I really enjoy your writing and thought that I’d submit a request for a Spencer Reid x Reader fic :)

Essentially, Spencer and Reader just recently moved in together and are getting ready to go on a date. Reader is putting on makeup around the time Spencer finishes getting ready, and Spencer just takes a moment to admire her and says some sort of sweet comment?

(Sorry if that isn’t broad enough)

Thanks! 🫶🏻

- B

admiration — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: thank you so much for your request B !! <3333 i love it such an adorable idea ! i hope you like this

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, rummaging through your makeup bag. Your brows furrowed in concentration as you dug past mascara tubes, eyeliner pencils, and a stray hair tie. 

“Where is it?” you mumbled to yourself, frustration creeping into your voice. 

Finally, your fingers brushed against the smooth tube of your favorite lip gloss. Triumphantly, you pulled it out, unscrewed the cap, and paused for just a second to look at yourself in the mirror. A small, excited smile tugged at your lips. 

Tonight was another date night with Spencer—one of many you’d shared—but the excitement never faded. Even now, standing in the bathroom of your shared apartment, it still felt just as thrilling as the very first time.

Spencer always had a way of making things special, whether it was a night out at a fancy restaurant or an evening spent curled up on the couch with a stack of books and takeout. 

You leaned in slightly, applying the gloss with careful precision. Just as you capped the tube, you heard Spencer’s voice outside the door. 

“Hey, I’m ready,” he called, followed by a soft knock. 

A small smile played on your lips as you glanced toward the door. “You can come in.” 

Spencer slowly opened the door just as you finished applying your lip gloss, the soft click of the handle barely registering as you focused on your reflection. But when the silence stretched longer than expected, curiosity got the best of you. 

You turned to find him standing in the doorway, staring. 

His lips were slightly parted, eyes wide with something that looked a lot like awe. He wasn’t even trying to hide it—his gaze traced over you with the kind of admiration that sent warmth blooming in your chest. 

You tilted your head slightly, a small, amused smile forming on your lips. “Spencer?” 

Spencer blinked, seemingly snapping out of whatever daze he had fallen into. “You—uhm. Wow.” His voice wavered slightly, his brain clearly scrambling to form a coherent sentence. 

You bit back a smile, amused by his flustered state. He always did this—always got a little tongue-tied when you dressed up, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. 

“Well, thank you, Dr. Reid,” you teased, stepping forward until you were close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne. Your hands moved to his tie, adjusting it with practiced ease. “And you look very handsome yourself.” 

He smiled shyly at your compliment and then his voice softened. “You know…I’ve read about beauty before. Poets, philosophers, even mathematicians have tried to define it, to measure it, to explain what makes something—or someone—beautiful.” 

Your hands paused on his tie as your breath caught slightly. 

His gaze never wavered as he continued. “But I don’t think words could ever really capture what I feel when I look at you.” 

Your heart practically stopped. The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache in the best way. 

For a moment, you just stared at him, your fingers still lightly resting against his tie. 

Then, a small, breathy laugh escaped you as you shook your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?” 

Spencer smiled sheepishly. “Not always. Just when it comes to you.” 

You exhaled, feeling warmth spread through your entire body. 

“Well,” you murmured, smoothing your hands down the lapels of his suit, “you’re pretty impossible not to love, you know that?” 

Spencer’s expression shifted—his eyes softened. But instead of responding right away, he did something else. 

He leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough to make your heart swell. 

“I love you too,” he whispered against your skin. 

[madschiavelique]

Could I request nsfw headcanons for poly tavrem where everyone is jealous of some guy trying to flirt with female Tav but she's doesn't know it's flirting at all please?

ohoho they maddd (not proofread)

content warnings : jealous bitches, mayhaps a bit yandere if you squint, voice kink, knife play, biting, pnv sex, hair pulling, cunnilingus, they're all feral word count : 1.1k

you had stopped at a tavern to treat yourself to a well-deserved meal after a busy day killing enemies. knowing everyone's orders like the back of your hand when it came to their drinks, so you volunteered to go to the counter and order for everyone, leaving the rest of your group to sit at their table. however, while you were standing by the counter waiting to be able to place an order, a young man came up to you, and all pairs of eyes on the table found themselves riveted on you both.

wyll didn't appreciate the way he introduced himself, the young man coming to grab your hand to bring it to his lips without ever taking his eyes off you as he presented himself to you and you nodded. you weren't specifically attentive to his behaviour from what he could see, just smiling politely, but the idea that this fool's simple saliva could have a place on your body led wyll to grip the scabbard of his sword hard.

shadowheart wasn't keen on the fact that he was trying to get so close to you, to have a conversation while his eyes were roaming the length of your body a little too freely for her taste. how dare he gets so close to you? her nose wrinkled in anger when he came to whisper in your ear, and that as he stepped back you were laughing softly.

gale crossed his arms over his chest, frowning and huffing a breath of mockery while the young man performed a meager beginner magic trick to impress you and created a flower that he came to place in your hair. he could do better, he had shown you, even made you learn much better, and the tips of his fingers tingled as he itched to cast a spell on him to turn him into some kind of critter that he could crush.

karlach's body was spitting and crackling little flames of frustration as the fool ran his fingers through your hair, smiling at you when he probably wasn't listen to a single word you could say to him. until recently, the idea of being able to touch you for her was only an idea that she could never reach, and the mere thought that he would allow himself to touch you so simply made her engine growl.

astarion bit the inside of his cheek when the young man had the indecency to approach his hand to your neck, tracing with the tips of his nasty fingers the two marks that the vampire's bite had left on you the night before. what a nerve he had, to let his disgusting mitts approach where he had kissed your skin and whispered praises to thank you for the gift you offered him every night.

lae'zel could not prevent a tchk from escaping her as he pointed to one of your daggers and asked you to show it to him, its blade that she herself had sharpened passing over his unsightly fingers. your blade was far too beautiful to end up in the hands of a microbe like him, and if he pursued this way, it could soon make him discover the taste of the metal of her own sword.

halsin was not jealous by nature, otherwise he would not be able to relish in the relationship that you all had, but there was something in the young man's attitude that deeply displeased him as he put his hand on your shoulder. he had the urge to get it out of the way, to simply stand and walk up to him so that his size alone could lead him to step back from you.

minthara was already imagining how she could capture him and give it as a pittance to her spiders when he took a piece of paper and began to write on it his room number for the evening and he passed it to you. did he think that you were just a body to add to the list of his nocturnal conquests? that you could be worn out like a vulgar puppet for his good pleasures?

the order finally arrived, and you found yourself carrying a huge tray of all kinds of drinks. the young man suggested his help to you, but you refused it as you returned to your companions' table and put down the tray.

“I didn't know they made men as annoying as that anymore,” you sighed before taking a loaf of bread and taking a deep bite from it.

everyone at the table smiled, relief taking them as they all toasted and their frustration subsided, but they were not about to let this go so softly. once you'd came back to the camp, clothes had been thrown off the minute you had settled.

wyll's lips were all over you, kissing your every knuckles and fingers individually before he came to kiss you lips, nibbling the skin of your lower lip as he hummed in relief. if he had to cover the entirity of your body with his own mouth and saliva, he would.

shadowheart was kissing your ear, whispering sweet nothings to you and taking great pleasure to the way your skin covered in goosebumps by the simple sound of her voice and the effects her words were having on you.

gale had made vines grow to hold your body right for them all, your wrists and ankles tangled in plants which perfumes' made you feel all fuzzy and soft and needy for any touch they might provide you.

karlach's hand combed through the hairs on the back of your neck before she pulled on it, arching your back so good for her while her hot tongue licked your lips and jaw with hunger.

astarion's fangs grazed the soft skin of your inner thighs, biting relentlessly and leaving in the trail of his mouth marks after marks that he knew only him and his partner would see and touch on you.

lae'zel had taken your dagger, trailing the new cleaned blade on your body, the cold metal kissing your skin and making you shudder. she covered the handle of it with your slick, thrusting it in you as your back arched.

halsin halsin towered over you, his massive hands keeping you in place by holding your waist and shushing you down as once the dagger got removed his own length took its place.

minthara's tongue was lapping at your cunt, curling around your clit in madening circles before she came to suck on it, her eyes never leaving yours as her nails digged in your thighs.

[vampiriito]

Summer was my first muse.. (JJ Maybank X shy! kook! reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey loves! this is the second installment of summer was my first love and i just wanna say i love ya'll. You're all so nice, even the people simply liking, means a lot that my work is getting read. And the people asking to be on the taglist- you make my day. Anyway, here's your chapter, we're getting another interaction which I'm quite frankly very proud about. I like to think the reader is so funny, without actually trying, love her for wandering around the beach in skating attire. This work is dedicated to my friend, gwen :) love you wifey.

Summary: JJ Maybank spots you on the beach and discovers that his so-called good conversation skills are basically useless when it comes to you :) (although he still tries.)

You didn't know why you fell in love with JJ Maybank. He wasn't exactly the type of guy your parents would want you bringing home. Not with the reputation he liked to carry around just like you carried your camera or board. Well, until one day in 5th grade when your mom snooped through your diary and realized just how much you had been crushing on the blond hellion. Since then, your parents took a liking on the idea of you bringing home the guy who charmed his way into the heart of little 3rd grade you. But that was wishful thinking on theirs and Maisy's parts.

God, he was beautiful. His eyes were a shade of blue that you never quite managed to color match when looking for paint colors. The dimple on his cheek never failed to make your knees buckle and your tummy do a flip. You liked to think that if you actually had the courage to ever paint him, you'd paint JJ Maybank with gold specks deep in his baby blue irises and a boyish grin that managed to honor his dimple and the crow's feet by his eyes.

From this angle, the sun hit his hair just right, and despite being shrouded by the tree line you could still see the way the breeze brushed gently through the strands, messing them up and making them dance around his head like a halo. He's smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners like they do every time he's laughing or telling a story, and your finger hovers over the shutter-release button for a few moments simply just admiring him, before snapping a picture. It was like he was created to be photographed or painted, his smile and features so symmetrical that you envied him sometimes.

You watch as leans down and grabs a beer can, not paying too much attention at the hand offering it to him. He retrieves a small switch-blade from his board shorts' pocket and makes a small incision at the bottom of the of the can and bringing it to his lips. He successfully shot guns the can of Natty light and one-two-three.. click! another picture. You lower the camera and study the picture on the display, reaching up to adjust your glasses with a soft flick of your finger.

You liked photographing other things aside from JJ Maybank. Nature being second best on your 'favorites' list. The sky was so beautiful and the marsh and beach were your favorite places. The small creatures and the greenery or the ocean were your favorite attractions and no matter how many times you photographed them, they never looked the same. But as you wandered through the marsh that summer day, you ended at the edge of the tree-line, on the beach sitting none other than JJ, surrounded by his usual crowd of people, John B, Pope and Kiara, Sarah Cameron being an addition to their group a little later.

You didn't follow him out here. Much less with the intention of snapping secret snapshots from between the trees. Still, you felt like a creep... You raised the camera to your eyes again, capturing another shot. JJ was now gazing out at the water, pointing to the waves and laughing about something you couldn't hear. The scene was beautiful, his joy infectious. You lowered the camera and finally stepped out from the tree line onto the beach, frowning to yourself as you stepped on the sand, the texture of it already annoying you given you were wearing your beat up sneakers. There was a considerable distance between you, JJ and his crowd, so you weren't worried about being spotted or approached by him or his friends.

As you walked along the shoreline, your eyes were drawn to a starfish that had been washed up by the waves. Its delicate limbs sprawled out on the sand, glistening in the sun light. You decided to photograph it before releasing it back into the water. Crouching on the soft sand, you brought the camera's lens closer to the small creature, snapping a picture and then inspecting it happily.

The starfish, a fragile beauty against the damp sand, seemed to encapsulate a moment of pure serenity. A stark contrast from your everyday internal dialogue. How lucky was she, getting to live in complete silence and have people like you release her back into the ocean after being photographed?

JJ was still chatting and laughing with his friends, completely oblivious to your presence on the beach. He was in the midst of explaining the importance of timing waves while surfing when he suddenly caught a glimpse of something in his periphery view. He turned his head slightly and spotted you for the first time, kneeling on the sand a few yards away from him and his friends. He stopped mid-sentence, his attention momentarily shifting from his friends to you. He watched you kneel in the sand, taking pictures of a starfish that had been washed up by the waves.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to figure out why you always seemed to show up in the most random places, and why the hell were you wearing jeans and a hoodie to the beach? He had never really paid much attention to you before, but now he couldn’t help but be slightly curious about you.

He watched as you photographed the starfish, your face completely hidden behind the camera. He wondered what was so interesting about a simple starfish, but the longer he looked at you, the more intrigued he became.

You gently lifted the starfish after capturing its delicate beauty through your lens. With careful hands, you released it back into the water, watching as it gracefully disappeared beneath the waves. Your focus shifted to the rhythmic dance of the sea.

Raising the camera once again, you framed a shot of the sun's golden reflection on the waves. The light shimmered and danced on the water's surface, creating a breathtaking scene. This picture would need a bit of editing, but it was certainly worthy of posting on your Instagram. Aside from the pictures of JJ, of course. Those were just for you. You knew it might sound a bit strange and even creepy, but you weren't doing anything with the pictures. Besides, JJ wasn't the only one you photographed; he was just particularly captivating through your lens.

JJ continued watching you as you released the starfish back into the water, his curiosity growing with each passing second. He watched as you lifted your camera once more, snapping a picture of the sun reflecting off the waves. He couldn’t help but wonder what you found so interesting about the simple waves. He usually found himself taming the waves when he was out on the water, not admiring and taking pictures of them.

He found your interest in photography and natural beauty to be almost foreign to him. He’s always thought that everyone's interest laid in parties and surfing, not something so pure and quiet.

He sat there for a few minutes, continuing to watch you as you took more photographs of the ocean and the shoreline. He kept waiting for you to look over in his direction, to notice his eyes on you, but you seemed completely immersed in the viewfinder of your camera. He found himself watching with a mix of curiosity and fascination, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

The Boneyard was a breathtaking place—a hidden gem where the ocean met the land in a dramatic embrace. Sun-bleached driftwood trees stood like skeletal guardians along the shoreline, giving the beach its haunting name. The sand was cool beneath your sneakers, a mixture of fine grains and crushed seashells that shimmered like tiny pearls. The air was crisp with the scent of salt and the faint aroma of wildflowers that clung stubbornly to the rocky outcrops.

You were still aware that JJ was further down the beach, his laughter occasionally carried to you by the gentle sea breeze. Unbeknownst to you, his gaze had settled on you, a curious look in his aquamarine eyes. Oblivious, you turned away, your back now facing him. Your attention shifted to a new angle where the waves caught the sunlight just so, each crest adorned with a glistening spray that made the ocean look like it was covered in a blanket of diamonds. The water reflected hues of gold and silver, harmonizing with the deep blues and greens of the sea.

The Boneyard's beauty was a photographer's dream. You lifted the camera once more, framing the shot where the sun's rays kissed the waves, creating a mesmerizing sparkle that danced across the surface. The images of JJ, however, were different. Those were just for you—a secret collection of candid moments that captured something genuine and unguarded. It might seem a bit peculiar, maybe even intrusive, but photography was your way of connecting with the world, and JJ looked like he was made to exist through your viewfinder..

As you moved along the shoreline, the sound of the waves provided a soothing soundtrack, each crash and whisper syncing with the rhythm of your heartbeat. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows and bathing everything in a warm, golden light. Seabirds called out to one another as they swooped and dived, their silhouettes cutting gracefully through the sky.

The rugged beauty of the Boneyard captivated you. Clusters of sea grass swayed gently atop the dunes. You felt a profound sense of peace here, as if time itself had slowed down to let you absorb every detail. Raising your camera yet again, you captured the interplay of light and shadow, the textures of the driftwood, the endless horizon where the sea met the sky.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the concerns, the self-consciousness, even the awareness of JJ somewhere behind you. It was just you and the vast expanse of nature's artistry. You took a deep breath, the salty air filling your lungs, and smiled softly. This was why you loved photography—not just for the images it produced, but for the way it allowed you to see and appreciate the world in all its transient beauty.

JJ watched as you turned away from him, now facing the other direction. He took the opportunity to look at you without you noticing, his eyes scanning your form from behind. He noticed the way you moved around, trying to find new angles to photograph the waves. He was almost envious of how easy it seemed for you to just get lost in the moment, completely unbothered by anything or anyone around you.

He found himself wondering what it would be like to be so detached from the people and the world around you, just being completely focused on something as simple as the waves. He continued to watch you for a few moments, his eyes still fixed on your figure, before suddenly realizing that he had been staring for far too long. He quickly looked back to his friends, trying to play it off like he hadn’t just been blatantly staring at you.

He forced himself to keep his eyes off you, trying to tune back into the conversation that he was supposed to be a part of. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances in your direction, watching you as you moved and photographed the beach.

He found himself silently cursing the fact that he couldn’t just walk over to you and ask why you were so intriguing to him. He was JJ for crying out loud, he could talk to anyone he wanted.

As he continued to sit there with his friends, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated with himself. He was a confident guy, but for some reason he found it hard to approach you. Maybe it was because you were always so quiet and shy around him, or maybe it was because you seemed so engrossed in your photographs that it seemed like you didn’t want to be bothered. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted to get to know you, but he also couldn’t get up the courage to take the first step.

He tried to distract himself by joining in on his friends’ conversation, but his mind kept wandering back to you. He kept thinking about the way you knelt down in the sand, the way your face was hidden behind the camera, the way your hands moved effortlessly to adjust the settings of the camera.

Finally, his frustration got the best of him. He couldn’t sit there any longer, pretending that he wasn’t completely captivated by you. He decided it was time to act on his urges and finally talk to you, even if it meant facing your shy and awkward demeanor.

He stood up from his spot on the sand, the others in his crowd giving him quizzical glances, but he didn’t pay them any mind. He dusted off his shorts, his eyes still fixed on you, and began walking in your direction.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he got closer to you, his mind racing with thoughts of what he was going to say to you. 'What if you’re weird? What if you hate me? What if you start stuttering again?’ he worried while his legs carried him towards your form.

After capturing a series of shots of a seagull pecking at a stray French fry beside your feet—its feathers ruffling gently in the salty breeze—you felt a small surge of satisfaction. The gull was engrossed in its meal, oblivious to your presence, allowing you to document its simple pleasure, the sight of it quite funny to you. Just as you raised the camera, a shadow filled your viewfinder, causing you to flinch slightly. Startled, you realized that JJ's face had come into sudden, unexpected focus, his features accentuated by the golden hues of the setting sun.

Your heart skipped a beat as you lowered the camera shakily, fingers trembling ever so slightly. Adjusting your glasses, you looked up to find JJ standing startlingly close, his baby blue eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite decipher. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the distant crash of waves and the call of seagulls fading into the background. A flush of heat crawled up your neck. Anxiety twisted in your stomach like a coiled serpent. Had he noticed you taking pictures of him earlier? The mere thought sent a cold rush through your veins, making you almost queasy. The idea of him confronting you for your inadvertent creepiness was mortifying.

JJ came to a halt a few feet away from you, his eyes fixed on you. He stood there for a moment, studying your face, the way your eyes glanced at him nervously behind the frames of your glasses. He could see the anxiety written all over your face.

"Hey, mouse."

He said in his usual cocky and confident tone. He hoped he didn’t look as unsure as he actually was.

"Uh hey.." you said in an unsure tone, letting your camera dangle from your neck lazily, the strap snug around your neck. He was still calling you 'mouse', so he remembered the other night at the party, and the whole ordeal of getting shoved in a closet together. Of course he did, it's not everyday you get locked into a small space with a socially inept stranger.

JJ stuck his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning you up and down. He watched as you lowered your camera, letting it dangle from your neck. He couldn’t help but notice the way you fidgeted with the strap, seemingly uncomfortable with him being so close.

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, his face wearing a slight smirk. "So, taking pictures of seagulls now, huh?"

"It was eating a french fry.." you laughed weakly, pointing vaguely to the spot where the seagull was just a few moments ago. The little fucker had flown away, leaving you pointing to an empty space on the sand beside your feet. Suddenly the notion of it eating a french fry wasn't as funny anymore.

JJ let out a soft scoff, a small smile forming on his face. He looked at the spot you pointed to, where the seagull had once been.

"A seagull eating a french fry is picture-worthy to you?"

He raised an eyebrow, teasing you.

You nodded mutely, fidgeting with the strap of the camera nervously.

JJ watched as you fidgeted with the camera strap, your nervousness apparent. He couldn’t help but find your shy and awkward behavior interesting, although he would never admit that out loud.

"So, why seagulls and starfish and all that?" he asked, genuinely curious about your interest in taking photographs of mundane things.

You shrugged, gnawing at your bottom lip. The mention of the starfish made your ears perk up, 'so he was watching me for a little longer and more intently, if he saw me take a picture of the starfish.' you observed internally. The thought almost made you excited. "They look interesting.." you stated simply, humming faintly.

JJ's eyes lingered on you as you gnawed at your bottom lip, the action making him feel something in the pit of his stomach. He watched as your brows seemed to perk up slightly when he mentioned the starfish, silently finding that quite adorable. He had been watching you more intently than he would like to admit, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to your behavior.

He raised an eyebrow at your simple response, still watching you. "Interesting, huh? Interesting how?"

You stepped closer hesitantly, flicking through the pictures until you landed on the starfish, tilting the camera screen so he could study the picture himself, your actions silent. You watched his face as he leaned in studying the picture curiously, taking the time to study him, while he studied your picture. He was breathtaking. He smelled like cheap beer and his usual smell of ocean water and weed.

JJ furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned in closer to the camera screen, his eyes scanning the picture of the starfish that you had taken.

He had to admit, the picture was pretty damn good. The way you had captured the textures and colors of the starfish was fascinating, and he found himself looking at it intently.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, his eyes flicking up to your face as he continued to study the picture.

"Damn, you really know how to use a camera."

JJ continued to watch your face as he looked at the picture, noticing the way you observed him silently. He wondered what was going on in that shy brain of yours, and part of him felt almost nervous under your gaze.

Finally, he looked up from the camera and at your face again. He had to admit, there was something about your eyes that was oddly captivating.

"You take pictures like this often?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity.

A small smile made its way onto your face at his compliment. You hated taking compliments when it came to your photography or any of your other hobbies, but with JJ it seemed like it was almost welcome. Maybe your were just biased since he was the object of your pathetic pinning for almost 9 years.

You nodded, your mind wandering to how you took pictures of him secretly and you felt creepy again. It was a bad feeling, you hated it, you truly just liked how he looked through a camera and that's how you captured your love for him. Poets and painters used their paints and words and you... You used your camera.

JJ noticed the small smile that graced your lips as he complimented you, and he found himself feeling strangely satisfied with himself.

He knew that receiving compliments was probably not your thing, considering how shy and reserved you were, but he couldn’t help but want to keep drawing those smiles out of you. He found himself weirdly drawn to the way your face lit up when you were happy.

He watched as your eyes lost focus for a moment, a hint of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on flickering across your face. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly, wondering what you were thinking about, seemingly an occurring thought the longer he spent around you. You seemed to go to your own world for a moment, a subtle shift in your expression, an almost sad look in your eyes.

He took the opportunity to study your face yet again, his eyes tracing every detail. The way your eyelashes flickered, the way you gnawed at your bottom lip, the way your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your camera.

He wanted to ask you what you were thinking about, but he hesitated. Would you even tell him? He knew that you weren’t exactly comfortable in his presence and you always seemed a bit shy around him, but for some reason he wanted to know what was going on in your head.

He decided to try his luck, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"What’s on your mind, mouse?"

Your eyes snapped to his again, blinking a couple of times. You shrugged slowly pressing your lips in a thin line, "nothing.."

JJ’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched you snap back to reality, your eyes meeting his again. He could tell that you weren’t being completely honest, he could see it in the way you pressed your lips together.

He took a step closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. He knew you were hiding something, but he wasn’t sure what. "I call bs, mouse. Spill it."

"Are you this forward and personal space invading with every stranger?" you found yourself asking softly, surprised at how easily the words just rolled out of your mouth. Maybe it was the fact that you were nervous and you felt cornered. And besides you still sounded like a weak and quiet whimp. Your response gave you deja-vu.

JJ raised an eyebrow at your response, surprised that you had actually said something to him that wasn’t a simple one-word answer. He was even more surprised that you had actually called him out.

He took another step closer, leaning in slightly, his eyes still on your face.

"No, I usually don’t care about what strangers are thinking. But you’re different, mouse." He paused, continuing to observe you. He was standing pretty close now, but he wasn’t backing away.

You hummed nodding, taking a small step back to put some distance between the 2 of you. Close proximity wasn't your thing, especially when the other person was none other than JJ.

You probably looked rude, your body language was probably giving off repulsion, but you were just so shy and flustered, and you didn't want to look like a dumbass in front of him by stuttering and blushing like a schoolgirl. That would be so embarrassing, god. If you and JJ kept interacting, you'd probably end up getting a nose-bleed.

JJ watched as you took a step back, creating some distance between you. He noticed the way you seemed on edge, your body language giving off a repellant vibe. He knew from experience that you were probably just feeling shy and flustered, which was understandable given how shy you usually were around him.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for invading your personal space like that. But, he also was enjoying the fact that he was making you so flustered. The two feelings were crashing with each other in his brain and he wasn't sure if he liked that. "Sorry, mouse. Didn’t mean to crowd you."

Every time he was apologetic about something he did without meaning, which he thought made you uncomfortable, your heart fluttered for him. He seemed so much more different with you, in the 2 times you had interacted, like actually interacted. That made you like him more if it was possible. You were absolutely, mind bogglingly whipped for this dude, and what was even funnier- He had no idea. Absolutely comical.

You were silent as you stared up at him for a few seconds, before speaking up softly trying to reassure him as best as you could, "it's okay.. don't worry."

JJ listened carefully as you spoke, your soft voice sending a strange flutter through his chest. He noticed the look in your eyes as you looked up at him, and it made his stomach do a little flip.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing. He didn’t usually care this much about a stranger, but something about you had him completely enthralled. "Okay, mouse. I’ll try not to get too up in your personal space again."

He said, his voice softer than usual.

JJ stared at you for a few more moments, taking in your features. The way your hair fell softly in around your face, braided into two loose braids, the way you continued to fidget with the strap of your camera, the way your lips parted just slightly as you breathed quietly.

He found himself feeling oddly drawn to you, and he didn’t quite understand why. He had always thought of you as just "that shy girl from the country club," but now he was starting to realize that there might be more to you than he first thought. Maybe he shouldn't judge the people at the country club so quickly. 'What a dumbass conclusion to come to, 'm not prejudiced..'

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

You knew that JJ didn't care about personal space much, given you saw how he interacted with his friends or even girls he was trying to chat up at parties or around town. So his reassurance actually meant something to you. Although you kinda wanted him to invade your personal space now, despite knowing you'll probably die on the spot.

You studied him intently too, the way his blonde hair almost glowed in the sunlight and the way it was ruffled gently by the breeze. His eyelashes and those blue eyes which you loved to photograph so much when you had the chance. You suddenly wanted to make him laugh somehow, to also see the small dimple on his right cheek, but that was wishful thinking given you were just standing there mutely. Nothing was charmingly funny about being awkwardly quiet.

With the 2 of you standing there silently, just studying each other, JJ couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes scanned over his face. He wasn’t used to someone staring at him so intently, especially someone he didn’t know very well.

He wasn’t sure what you were thinking in that brain of yours, but the intensity of your gaze made his stomach do another weird flutter.

He cleared his throat once again, breaking the silence.

"So, uh... you like taking pictures, huh?" he almost face-palmed from how obvious that question was, especially with the camera dangling from your neck, basically rolling its eyes at him as soon as the words left his lips. What the hell was happening to him? Why couldn't he socialize properly?

You let out a huff of genuine amused laughter at his obvious question. You shook the camera gently as if it to say 'what gave it away,' studying his slightly awkward stance. Never in 8 years of liking him, have you ever seen JJ Maybank actually awkard. Of course he'd be awkward around you, that's what happened when people spoke to you.

"No i just carry the camera for bragging rights..." you spoke up suddenly, your tone sarcastic and amused but still soft and quiet.

JJ couldn’t help but smile slightly as you quietly laughed at his question. He felt another spark of satisfaction at himself upon hearing the surprisingly pleasant sound.

He raised an eyebrow at your sarcastic response, his smile turning into a smirk.

"Bragging rights? Damn, mouse. Didn’t peg you for the cocky type."

You shrugged, feigning smugness as you shifted awkwardly in your spot, looking up at him.

"Why?... i mean why are you asking me if i like taking pictures.." you spoke up again, blinking quickly, silently cursing yourself for stuttering a bit as you gathered the courage to ask the simple question.

He noticed the way you shifted awkwardly, and the slight stutter in your voice as you spoke. He could tell that you were uncomfortable, but he didn’t quite understand why. He just wanted to get to know you better.

JJ chuckled softly, his smirk widening a bit.

"Just making conversation, mouse. Plus, I figure something this expensive has got to mean something to you."

He gestured to the camera around your neck.

"It does... my mom got it for me." you spoke softly, looking down at your camera and adjusting your glasses.

You still remembered how happy you were when you got the camera, finally able to capture as many pictures of things you liked but couldn't quite put into your paintings. Although your relationship with your mom and parents in general was a little-.. Strained at the moment, you loved the camera as much as you loved your board, the two constantly battling for second best in your heart. Obviously JJ was first best.

He listened as you spoke softly, his gaze softening as he watched you look down at your camera.

He could sense there was more to the story than just "my mom got it for me," but he didn't push you. He knew that you were a private person, and he didn't want to push you too far out of your comfort zone.

He took a step closer to you, his hand darting out to gently touch the camera around your neck.

"Your mom has good taste."

JJ watched as you flinched slightly as he touched the camera, and he quickly pulled his hand back.

He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he took a half step back again, giving you some space.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up again, his voice softer than before. "Why do you take pictures of things like starfish and seagulls?"

You were surprised as he took a step closer, startled that he wanted to touch your old camera, but the feeling melted into disappointment when he stepped back.

"To paint them. It's much easier when the thing you're trying to paint doesn't move." you explained gently, you didn't have the courage to start painting him though. Across these years you took so many pictures but never actually had the courage to try and paint him.

JJ nodded slowly, understanding your reason for taking pictures of such mundane things. It made sense to him that you needed a still subject. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, his eyes locking with yours for a moment.

"You paint? What kind of stuff do you paint other than starfish and seagulls?"

"Scenery... my family... random things I like..." you listed awkwardly, your words trailing off as a faint blush warmed your cheeks. Humming in thought, you tilted your head back to gaze at the endless expanse of sky. Wisps of cotton candy clouds drifted lazily across the azure canvas, and the soft hues of twilight began to creep in. The vivid images of the paintings flooded back into your mind—rolling hills bathed in golden sunlight, candid snapshots of laughter-filled family gatherings, and close-ups of everyday objects that held secret significance.

JJ watched as you hummed in thought, your eyes cast up to the sky. He could tell you were thinking about your paintings, and he found himself wanting to see your paintings. He was curious about what your art looked like.

He cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him.

"Have you ever painted a person?"

"Aside from my family? no..." you mumbled, your eyes setting into his once again. Maisy was an exception, sometimes she forced you to paint her. Your favorite painting of her was of her one morning, with a massive hangover, makeup ruined and strawberry blonde hair sticking out in every direction.

He nodded slowly, noticing the way your eyes set into his. There was something about your gaze that was both captivating and nerve wracking at the same time.

He took a small step closer to you, and for some reason, he couldn't stop the words from falling out of his mouth.

"What would you paint if I were a still subject?"

"What do you mean?" you asked a bit confused, swallowing a small lump that was threatening to form in your throat.

JJ smiled slightly at your confusion, amused by how innocent and naive you could be sometimes.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between the two of you even more.

"I mean, if I sat completely still and acted as your still subject, what would you paint? Like, would you paint a portrait of me or something different?"

"Oh.. probably your eyes." you spoke without realizing, your eyes snapping up from the sand under your sneakers to look up at him with a slight panicked look. The response was vague and what you meant to say was: 'you'd paint a portrait of him' but the words came out weirdly.

JJ's eyebrows raised in surprise at your words. He wasn't expecting your answer to be so direct, but it honestly made him feel weirdly giddy.

He leaned in a bit closer to you, his eyes narrowed slightly. "My eyes? Why my eyes?"

"Well they're blue." 'yeah dumbass.. he knows his eyes are blue.' you scolded your self internally for your simple and dumb answer.

You resisted the urge to face palm at the simple and quiet statement whipped out in a nervous rush, just staring at him blankly, fidgeting with your glasses.

JJ chuckled at your response. He didn't know why, but he found it amusing that you answered his question with such a simple and obvious answer. He couldn't help but tease you a bit. "Yeah, I'm aware they're blue."

He said, his voice sarcastic and amused. He took another step closer, now standing only a foot away from you. He could almost see the panic in your eyes.

You felt like a dumbass. Who has the conversation skills of a baked potato? you seriously needed to get it together this was absolutely pathetic. His teasing statement didn't help how you felt either, growing more embarrassed as he spoke, the tips of your ears burning from being so flustered.

JJ could see the way you were mentally kicking yourself for your simple response. He found it slightly endearing how flustered and anxious you were at the moment, just because he was close to you and you couldn't string together a coherent sentence to save your life. It made him want to tease you even more.

He leaned in slightly closer, his face now only inches away from yours, his breath lightly touching your cheek.

"You know, you're adorable when you're nervous, mouse."

Which is all the time-... what? did he just? Refer to you as adorable? You felt as if your heart stopped for a second and started beating way too fast at the same time, your face heating up visually probably. You were so PATHETIC, ugh. Why couldn't you just take conversations in stride, just like he did, or any other fucking normal human on this planet?

JJ could see the way your face flushed with color, and it only made his smile widen. He found it incredibly endearing how flustered and anxious you were, and he was enjoying every second of it.

He reached up, his hand gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're blushing, mouse. Why are you so nervous around me all the time, hm?"

"I'm nervous around... everyone." you choked out, cursing yourself mentally once again for sounding so affected. It was seriously comical. You were wondering how he wasn't making fun of you by now. Also the tender gesture made your insides melt even more, despite hating when people touched your hair.

His smile softened at your admission, feeling a pang of sympathy for you. He didn't realize that you were nervous around everyone, he thought it was just him. He hummed softly, his hand still gently fiddling with the strand of hair he was holding.

"Everyone, huh? Why? Don't you have friends who make you feel less nervous?"

He continued to study your face, noticing the way your eyes darted around nervously and the way your cheeks were flushed a pretty pink color. He could see the anxiety in your expression, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Part of him wanted to tease you even more, but another part of him wanted to reassure you that everything was okay.

"You know, mouse, you don't have to be so nervous all the time. I don't bite. Well, not hard anyway."

You sighed, your fingers nervously twisting a loose strand of hair around them. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help it—you always clammed up like this. Words seemed to get stuck in your throat, despite the whirlpool of thoughts swirling in your mind. It was worse now, with JJ standing right in front of you; his mere presence amplified your anxiety, turning your usually rowdy internal monologue into static.

Your gaze shifted to the side, drifting over his shoulder. You noticed his friends in the distance, trying to get his attention. They were waving in your direction, their gestures frantic and eyes wide with impatience. Gathering a bit of courage, you pointed shakily toward them, your eyes meeting his briefly as you did so. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air, your heartbeat echoing in your ears as you waited for his reaction. A flush crept up your neck, the tension between wanting to say something—anything—and the frustrating quiet that held your tongue.

JJ followed your gaze looking over his shoulder, his eyes landing on his friends in the distance. He could see them waving and gesturing for him to come back, and he knew they were probably wondering what the hell he was doing.

He hesitated for a moment, torn between staying with you and going back to his friends. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Looks like my friends are getting impatient."

He let out a small sigh, not wanting to leave you just yet. But he knew he had to go back to his friends eventually, otherwise they'd just come over and drag him away.

He gave you one last glance, taking in your nervous expression. He smiled softly, his hand still lingering beside your ear. "I'll see you around, mouse. Don't disappear on me, okay?"

You were feeling disappointed that he had to leave. But you let a relieved breath out as he took a small step back. The close proximity was making your breathing go crazy and stuttery and your face heat up. You glanced at his friends and then at him, your eyes lingering on his face in an almost awe expression before nodding and humming, your hands fidgeting with the strap of your camera.

JJ couldn't help but notice the way your eyes lingered on his face, and he felt a small flutter in his chest at the expression on your face. He wasn't used to someone looking at him like that, especially you. He gave you one last smile, his hand reaching out to gently pat your head before he reluctantly took a step away from you.

"Behave yourself, mouse."

He said with a smirk and a wink before turning and strolling back to his friends.

As soon as his back was turned to you and he was walking back to his friends you let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding. Your hands reached up to fan your face gently, walking along the beach in the opposite direction.

You could definitely get used to interacting with JJ alone, have him look at you and call you mouse like that in his soft tone despite his boyish voice. Although the nickname was meant to be teasing, you still felt your heart do somersaults every time he called you it casually.

As JJ walked back to his friends, he found himself unable to keep his mind off of the interaction he just had with you. He couldn't get the image of your blushing face and wide-eyed expression out of his head.

His friends quickly pounced on him the moment he returned to them, their voices loud and excited.

"Dude, what was that all about?"

JB asked, his eyes widening with curiosity.

Pope chimed in with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah man, since when do you talk to the girl who's terrified of you?"

JJ shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing.

"I don't know, I was just making conversation." All four of his friends looked at him skeptically, not buying his casual response.

John B leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper so that no one else could hear their conversation.

"Do you like her or something?"

JJ's eyes widened in surprise at the question, and he quickly shook his head, trying to play it off.

"No way, man.. What, are we in 7th grade to be asking these types of questions?"

—♡‧

A/N: Here's the second chapter! God, you guys don't understand how happy i am. What do you think about the second interaction? I appreciate when you comment, or leave asks telling me what you think, so don't be shy! these can be read as stand-alone one-shots too but this is gonna be an entire story. Also i don't plan on following the main story-line of the show :( This and all my works will be written freely because i wanna give JJ the life of a teenager instead of a treasure hunter.

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen Have fun reading every one and I'll be seeing you all in part 3!

[seancekitsch]

Can we ask to see how Vik and Journalist! Reader met? That one request was so cute! I loved their dynamic

this is the prequel to this little bit

You look through the lens of your camera at the expanse of the room, much too large and much to garish in its lighting. You know for a fact you’ll have to be working extra time in your dark room to fix all of the yellow tint to this lighting. You snap the shutter a few times: at dancing couples, at dignitaries and councillors talking, at the fancy centerpieces on the tables filled with exotic flowers that probably cost more than your apartment. The night is a dull affair, but that was to be expected. All of these galas with insane names like “the covalence” or “inventorium” never failed to bore you to tears, sometimes literally. All night you find vantage points in balconies or certain corners or near the bar to capture portraits that you hope tell a story of opulence and progress. Sometimes, and more selfishly, you take pictures of what you think would make good gossip as well. More eyes means more funding for the scientists, and more money in your wallet when people pay good money for the stories those pictures could tell when you sit down in front of your typewriter tomorrow morning.

Your eyes scan the crowd from the little table that you’ve set yourself up at, a little plate of cheese and a shimmering and all too fruity cocktail that Mel, your point of contact, insisted you take. She always asks your publishers for you for these events, claiming that you capture the perfect photographs and quotes to report on the beauty and the fun of these nights. You don’t necessarily see it, as you never have any fun, but she makes sure you get paid very well and you cannot turn that down. Plus, she’s an angel, a contract you definitely don’t mind because of her sweetness and understanding. And her not-boyfriend, Jayce Talis, one of two guests of honor is maybe the nicest person in all of Piltover. 

You lift the viewfinder to your eye, ready to capture a shot of two of the academy students speaking to Heimerdinger when someone new comes into the frame. Holy shit, a new face, and a handsome one at that. Chestnut hair, pale skin, two moles punctuating sharp angles of his cheeks and jawline. Absolutely beautiful, even in the gaudy light that threatens to drown out his lovely details. 

You press the shutter without thinking. Capturing him feels like instinct.

He looks like any of the other scientists, really. The same uniform way of dress, the same colors, the same tired eyes that the rest of them have. 

You press the shutter again, still not thinking. 

He turns, stares back at you through the camera. With a smirk, he begins crossing the room with the help of his cane. You move your camera down, caught. Shit, you’ll have to think up a few bullshit interview questions on the fly. With luck, he’s as interesting as he looks. 

He crosses through the crowd, as if liquid and invisible, his command of the space impressive and making you feel for the first time tonight trapped. 

“You must be Councillor Medarda’s little reporter,” his heavily accented voice says, no proper greeting as you place your camera down on the table. The accent sounds familiar, you’ve definitely heard it before.

“Guilty,” you shrug, “So you’ve heard of me?”

“Eh, more like I was warned about you.”

That surprises you. Warned him? What would anyone need to be warned for about you? Sure, you can be a bit crass, drink a little too much, laugh a little too loud, get up to more gossip than appropriate. But none of that is really a problem on the level that any of these people should worry about. They’re scientists and politicians, people who genuinely deal with dangerous, taboo, and unknown matters. 

“Worried I’ll dig up some scoop on you, Mister…?” you trail off, hoping he’ll give you a name. 

“There’s not much to find, but my partner Jayce said you have potential to be vicious.”

You could ask him what he meant, but your eyes widen in shock. You’re so stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid.

“You’re Viktor!” you exclaim, and curse under your breath. He’s one of the guests of honor here. He and Mel’s not-boyfriend have just started some new breakthrough project. Of course, you should have known this was Viktor. Jayce had said ‘you’ll know him when you see him’ and he was right. He told you the man was quiet and aloof and not interested in impressing anyone. Jayce never told you he was so attractive, though. 

He nods, and plucks one of the cubes of cheese off of your plate as he leans himself against the table. 

“I’m supposed to ask you a few questions,” you tell him, but all of the questions you had come up with vanish from your mind now that his eyes are trained on you.

“I will answer one if you go over and ask that man for a refill of our drinks,” he says, which buys you time to think and space from him so that maybe you can think about anything other than his beautiful cheekbones and terrifyingly sharp eyes. You nod, smiling as you take a look at his cup, and he drinks a negroni. A man after your own heart, and maybe you’re fucked. You walk over to the nearest bartender, a worker just like you, with an apologetic smile. Mel always insists you enjoy, so why not actually enjoy? You ask him kindly for two negronis, pressing a few coins into his hand that from his reaction tells you has been his first tip of the night. 

What to ask Viktor, what to ask? You walk back over to him, feeling less stable on your heels not from the drink but from nerves. Viktor has, in the maybe three sentences he’s spoken, managed to knock you completely off kilter. You know you’re supposed to ask the details of the new project, of how it feels to work with the funding of the council, of the controversy surrounding their ideas, but it feels wrong. 

Viktor smiles when you return with the cups; he doesn’t smirk or scrunch his nose like you’ve noticed he does. He smiles with a lopsided and close lipped grin as you pass the cup to him. 

“Cheers,” you both mutter, clinking the rims before thunking your drinks down on the table and once again lifting them to press them to your lips. 

You sigh as you finish your sip, letting your cup rest gently on the little napkin on the table and you notice in your absence Viktor has stolen three more pieces of cheese. You’ll make sure he owes you them later, sometime. 

“So how does a breakthrough make you feel?”

Viktor seems taken aback by this question, as if he expected anything but this. It doesn’t feel out of the realm of the possibility, just not the boring normal sort of interview question. It’s vague and centered on him, not specifically the project. Maybe not what the press will want to hear, but interesting. You pull the recorder out of your little bag carefully, placing it on the table between the two of you as an unspoken ask of consent. He thinks for a moment, and then nods at you. You press the button. 

“It…. It feels like seeing an ancient God, maybe but also learning that a God exists. Euphoria and understanding meeting. Does that make sense? There’s something weird and otherworldly about uncovering something previously unknown.”

You nod, and stop the recording again. 

“That was my one, right? But can I ask for more off the record?”

“Thank you, for stopping,” he tells you, and takes a very long sip of his drink, “I will continue to entertain you because you did not ask a stupid question.”

“Thanks, Viktor,” you say, relaxing the reporter act, “Your accent though?”

You narrow your eyes, sip your drink, and watch his body language. He stays still, like a statue. 

“Are you from…?” you don’t dare say the word Zaun in this room, knowing better, “I’ve heard your accent before, I mean… I’m from.”

Again, you don’t say it, but Viktor understands what you’re trying to say.

“Are you?” he asks, “A long way from home, yes?”

You laugh, a sigh of relief. You nod and clink your glass against his again. He picks it back up and drinks again, this time feeling conspiratorial in nature. Two Zaunites in the room of Piltover’s elite. Interlopers willingly invited, beggars to the feast in the bourgeoisie midst and they might not even know it. 

“Too far, sometimes,” you admit, “But this is refreshing.”

“Yes, it is,” Viktor concedes, and silence fills the space between you. Comfortable silence, ease permeating the little bubble you’ve created for yourselves. Every once in a while you pick your camera up, taking photos of the councillors and well dressed patrons. The hours pass more quickly than they do on a usual job, with mostly silence between refilling drinks and snacks and the interludes of Viktor supplying you with a little snippet of gossip or some sharp witted insult about someone he doesn’t like. He’s such easy company, easy to talk to and easy to look at.

“That one,” Viktor tells you, pointing at Jayce Talis dressed similarly to himself, “My partner. Get his picture too.”

You point the lens where he tells you, and you snap a total of three pictures where Jayce is the focal point; a gap toothed smile and bright eyes command composition. You swivel around the room again to take a few more pictures before you decide that perhaps you have a photo of at least everyone for any editorial or photo gallery of the event your publishers would want. Before you put your camera down though, you turn it back towards Viktor. The angle and closeness will be awkward, not one that you can use for your story. You click the shutter as he grimaces.

“Must you commit me to film?”

“Well I’ve never seen you at one of these before, what if I never see you again? I need something to remember you by.”

Viktor’s eyes narrow as he takes in your words. He doesn’t respond immediately, as if he’s running some kind of calculation your voice had written.

“Do you… want to see me again?”

You bite your lip harshly, lest you shout your yes and embarrass the both of you. You taste copper.

“A little off-record meeting would be…nice.”

Viktor scoffs, and finishes his drink.

“Please, drop the professionalism,” he tells you, and it’s your turn to scoff, “I am a busy man, I would like it if you were upfront with your seduction attempt.”

“S- Seduction attempt?” you stutter before you regain yourself, leaning in closer to him as you realize he is messing with you, “is it working?”

“And if I say yes?”

Ego swells within you, and before you can think about bad ideas or prying eyes, you lean a little further until your lips brush his earlobe.

“Then yes. I’d like to see you again.”

[callmemonster68]

HEESEUNG - Pray for me ( smut )

Heeseung: Make your confessions, dear… which one is the worst?

Pairing: Heeseung X FemReader (Masterlist)

Genre: Smut

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises

The night was thick, charged with electricity. Y/N waited for Heeseung in her apartment, her heart racing in anticipation. Their relationship was a well-kept secret within the entertainment company where they worked as trainers. But, when they were alone, all the tension turned into pure and burning desire.

The sound of the doorbell pulled her out of her daydreams. Upon opening the door, Heeseung entered without ceremony, his dark eyes devouring her.

Heeseung: You're not wearing anything but my shirt. (he murmured, his voice hoarse, his fingers sliding along the hem of the garment)

Y/N smiled slyly, biting their lower lip, provocatively.

Y/N: I thought you would like it.

He laughed softly, but there was something different about him that night. Something wilder, more intense. Before she could process it, she was pressed against the wall, Heeseung's lips dominating hers in an urgent kiss. His large hands explored her body, moving up her bare thighs, squeezing her skin with a delicious possessiveness.

Heeseung: Call me superficial, but today I just need your beautiful face. (whispered against his lips, eyes full of obscene promises)

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of excitement and total surrender. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, tossing her onto the mattress without ceremony. His predatory gaze burned, and she realized she was about to see a side of him she had never seen before.

He ripped off his own shirt and knelt on the bed, his fingers sliding until they firmly grasped his hair.

Heeseung: Stay on the floor until your knees hurt (the order came laden with lust)

Y/N obeyed, sliding out of bed and kneeling before him. Her nimble fingers undid the button of his pants, releasing his rigid and throbbing dick. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with pure temptation, before wrapping her warm lips around the tip. Heeseung let out a low moan, one hand holding her neck while the other caressed her face.

Heeseung: No more prayers, darling, I will be your preacher. (his voice was laden with authority and lust)

Y/N intensified the movements, savoring every hoarse moan he let out, every tug on her hair that made her feel even more in control of the situation. He was surrendered to her, but at the same time, it was he who set the pace.

When he could no longer contain himself, Heeseung pulled her up, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss. He removed the clothes she was wearing, leaving her completely naked.

Heeseung: Make your confessions, dear… which one is the worst? (whispered in her ear, nibbling on the lobe right after)

Y/N: Maybe it's how much I'm enjoying the way you're treating me... (Y/N groaned, feeling his fingers sinking into her skin, preparing her for more)

Heeseung: So I'll keep guiding you... (he growled before putting her on all fours and fillingher, eliciting a loud moan from her lips)

The speed of his movements increased, each thrust making the mattress creak beneath them. He held her wrists against her back, completely dominating her.

Heeseung: You like it when I'm like this, don't you? (provoked, baptizing each impulse with fiery kisses on his neck)

Y/N: Yes... Heeseung, please... more... (pleaded, feeling the pleasure dangerously build up inside her)

He laughed softly, increasing the pace until they both completely lost themselves in pleasure, whispering each other's names like a profane prayer that would echo through the night.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[swagyalastorwife]

Marriage proposal!Hazbin hotel x reader part 2

⚠️Warning ⚠️: sex mention in the valentino part and that's it (^.^)

Author note : I really enjoyed writing this (^-^)❤️

Vox📺

♤At the moment he laid eyes on you, he went crazy, crazy with love for you, he transformed into a kind of yandere he watched you 24/7 until one day he he finally decided to approach you and invite you to dinner, it was the beginning of such a beautiful love story you were the only person who really understood him and who supported him you helped him regain the trust he had He lost his time to go. So one evening he decided to get down to business and ask you to marry him, he privatized one of the most beautiful and luxurious restaurants and in the middle of the meal he got down on his knees and said to you: y/n doll you are here the person I care about the most I don't want to lose you so what would you say about officially becoming Madame Vox?

Velvette🧵

◇ I can't really imagine her falling in love easily so the fact that you managed to capture her heart is a great feat so believe me that as soon as she knows how to put meaning on what she feels she won't leave you even going as far as to the point of asking you to marry but unlike the other the surprise is not so secret I mean once you saw him make and wear a wedding dress then, well you already suspected it a little, so one evening after one of your night out she will find a calm and bright place and she will tell you: uh uhh how to say uh I...I care about you a lot so I was thinking maybe we could, you know, get married

Valentino🦋

♡ Val!!!!! a human accepted without being forced to go out with him????? my god you have courage I mean between his occupation at the studio and everything else.... I see him proposing to you after a night have fun if you know what I mean 😏 I want he prepared a romantic night with a bath and rose petals, champagne, candles and everything else and it's after the act that he says to you: eh mi amore you know you are the person I love the most in the whole world so would you like to become my sex partner forever?

carmilla carmin🗡

☆To be honest you piqued her curiosity she was slightly attracted to you but nothing important enough to upset her until the day she saw you with one of these girls, you help her to complete a delivery, and she saw the complicity between the two of you so at that moment her heart began to beat harder and faster and she realized yes she understood that she loved you more than anything that's when you started to be a couple until the evening you became much more she invited you to the restaurant not necessarily the most expensive but the most quiet with few people and then she said to you: mi corazon you know that you mean a lot to me that's why I would like you to become my partner for life

Cherry bomb💣

♧ Bro you don't know what you got yourself into this girl knew that she loved you from the first sight but she is not the romantic type so she will compliment you spontaneously and very quickly she will invite you to go to a party with her then will ask you to be with her she will tell you that she really likes you a lot and would like to be your boyfriend until she realizes that her desire goes further she wants more with you and will die for a few a day later what she really wanted so with the help of Angel she organizes a romantic candlelight dinner and tell you: you know you mean a lot to me so well you know you want to marry me?

Adam😇

● The first man is the most arrogant and proud man in the world he thinks that the fact that he is the first man gives him a pass to be with whomever he wants except that you are not just anyone and that you have decides to make him run in all directions until he admits defeat and asks you in a nice and polite way to be his partner after telling him yes your life was like a dream he is the sweetest and kindest man on earth and he wants you all to himself so one evening during a romantic candlelit dinner he took out a box with a beautiful ring and he says to you: "baby you know that I love you more than anything in the world you are the only one who understands me with whom I truly feel loved and happy"

I hope i like it ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ (^-^)(^-^)/❤️

[imhereformysciencefriends]

Gaston is honestly the easiest Disney villain to do a Wicked-style perspective retelling of, imho. Like,

You are stupid, and you are arrogant, but your arrogance is not necessarily ill-earned. Your town might be a pretty damn small pond, but you are undoubtedly the biggest fish in it. You excel at all the masculine pastimes you pursue, you are well renowned amongst your peers, and you have multiple examples of women fawning over you.

You are attracted to the most beautiful woman in town. Of course you are. You are a simple man of simple wants, and although she is weird and bookish, she is uncontestedly the most beautiful fish in your small, small pond.

So you attempt to woo her. You flatter her with compliments that would be well received by any woman in your town that was not weird and bookish. But she is, so she does not enjoy your compliments. You spin a tale of a future that all your contemporaries would consider simple and idyllic, well regarded amongst the values of your time period. But she is a strange and funny girl, that Belle, so she does not want what you have been raised to believe that all people would want for their futures. When she rejects you, your feelings, ego, and the bottom of your chin are all bruised. 

So you have a sulk in the tavern about it. Softer souls than yours have nursed a broken heart over some ale and a game of darts, and your companions, your peers, your friends, all remind you of how highly they regard you, of how you have a whole community of people who know you, love you, admire you, and while the most beautiful girl in town may have rejected you, there are still plenty of women who are quite beautiful in their own right who do share your values and aspirations for the future. You are roused by their affection, and your spirits are once again high.

A while later, the father of the woman who rejected you bursts into the tavern, clearly unwell. He’s babbling, out of breath and talking fast, spinning wild tales of cursed castles, demonic furniture that moves on its own, and a terrible, lumbering beast that took him prisoner and, as the cost for his release, now holds his daughter imprisoned.

So you get in contact with the best option for medical treatment of your era. Your era will not be remembered kindly for its treatment of mentally unwell patients, but that will be then, and this is now, and so you arrange the best medical care that you have access to for him, and then organize a rescue mission. She broke your heart, but she is still a member of your community, reclusive and strange as she is, and as a member of your community it is naturally the responsibility of you and the townsfolk to go save her. Whether or not the beast is real, her father’s fear for her safety certainly is, and the fact that she did not come home with him is evidence enough.

But then she’s there! And she is also raving, she pulls a mirror from her bag to show you that the beast is actually a good person, but what she shows you is no simple man. There really is a beast. It is horrible, groaning, roaring, with giant fangs, horns protruding from its fur, muscles on its torso well beyond what even you, with a lifetime of dedication, have built and what’s worst of all—its eyes. There is something intelligent in those eyes. Something that scares you.

Clearly, entering that castle drives folks mad, because the next thing she tells you is that this beast, this thing, is not only a good man, but a man she has fallen in love with. You are not a smart man. You do not even know where to begin with that. But you do know hunting. You do know your townsfolk. And you do know that that beast cannot be left alone to continue capturing and terrorizing members of your community. Two good people have already been driven mad by whatever conspires inside its haunted home, and that is two too many. You rally your people. You have a beast to hunt. 

Like, we dislike Gaston because he’s an asshole, but you can very easily make and follow a logic trail for him that paints him as mostly-average and entirely reasonable. 

[silverview]

i famously don't know how to talk about art but thoughts below the cut anyways!!!

the title!! which is such a good line!! how the way he actually is curled up makes him look so little & childlike!!!! i'll go feral

the body hair looks so good!! and drew's gorgeous little curl & beautiful eyelashes..... and blake's beard + his hair which is absolutely spot on perfect. i love his face too he looks very calm & self-satisfied. you are so good at capturing their likenesses and vibes

love the choice to put blake in his episode costume but drew in just the tshirt & underwear, it makes him look more vulnerable, and the teeny tiny sliver of tummy 💕💕💕 soooo delicious

the teardrop..... drew's BEAUTIFUL eye + eyebrow + nose..... and the SCAAAAR 🫠

the self harm scars as well 😭 put me on the floor with grief when i noticed them... i need to protect him

the choice to put the diamond pattern on his boxers is so cute & clever. i too may need to steal that, if not explicitly then at least in my head

basically i can't express it properly but just know this is the coolest thing ever. tysm op, for bringing Them to life before our eyes and doing it so beautifully & thoughtfully, and enabling/justifying my continuing descent into brainrot about them 🥹❤️🥹❤️🥹❤️ i'm so happy to have a visual representation of these awful toxic boys, one that not only looks really good but also understands & speaks to the many layers of their horrible horrible dynamic 🖤🖤🖤

Curled tight as a question mark...

(01/2025)

Ok so I've been super obsessed with the AMAZING Trolley Problem AU fics by @silverview & @unreesonable (where Drew is the 22 year old Blake abuses instead of Ellie) for literally ages so it was only a matter of time before I'd end up doing some art based on it pfft...

Links to the fics below btw (also gonna ramble about this piece a bit since, as usual, I put way too much thought into it pfft)!!!

a better son / daughter

special arrangements

and all I'll do is kiss him (btw title of this piece actually taken from a line in this one which I really loved!!!)

spaces between

Highly recommend all of them btw, they're so GOOD!!!!!

~~~

Ok, so I immediately wanted to do a sorta twisted version of Klimt's 'The Kiss' but the concept kinda got away from me as I was painting it... Plus I couldn't get the vibrant gold colour to work with the general colouring of the figures so the background became like vaguely vaginal curtains that I could probably spin some kinda symbolic link to Drew's mother if I wanted to lol...

(think I made a joke on bsky that I'm in my Georgia O'Keeffe era and NO one laughed smhsmh...)

I've also been wanting to do something based on the iconic The Fallen Angel painting by Alexandre Cabanel but never really had a particular subject in mind... until NOW! (ofc the emotion is different but idk I think the reference still works... Drew's tears are more desperate, hopeless, resigned, and perhaps less angry than Lucifer's?)

I wanted the piece to feel like Drew is trapped. Trapped by his turbulent relationship with his mother and father, trapped by his status and position in life, trapped by his sexuality, trapped by the drugs... And ultimately trapped by Blake, who was supposed to offer him a paternal embrace, a comforting hand on his shoulder, to properly help guide him out of the hole he's stuck in but all he did was take advantage of his vulnerability and drag him further into that pit...

Also, kinda funny story, but I tried doing a cute romantic in9 art before I started this but my brain and hand were having none of it lol... NO adorable yaoi for you manipulative toxic yaoi ONLY !!!!!!!

Stylistically I wanted to try and make this look sorta traditionally painted, which involved me using a combo of my regular program alongside ms paint since I like the texture of some of the brushes on there tbh (plus those brushes are really great for painting body hair which I had so much fun drawing a lot of here lol)! Overlaid with a vaguely canvas-y texture lol

Oh, and also I put the diamond pattern of the jumper Drew wears in the episode on his underwear here both because it was going to get covered if I put it on his t-shirt and because it's sorta a fun way to reflect how this is an AU lol

Also have some close ups since tumblr has completely destroyed the quality of this lol:

(final close up is actually of a version of the painting without the texture overlay btw which is why the colours are slightly different, but I thought it might be interesting to share so u can see the brushwork texture a little better??)

uh anyway... that's all folks lol!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

WWWOOOPS FORGOT I MADE THIS. drew this back at around when the hyperbolic time chamber training arc was just starting. remember that? huh? remember the hamspter??? ohhhhhhhh youll remember the haspter!!!! oh my god yknow what else i remember. williams overwhelming love for christmas. oh my god. spooky zombie boy loves the christmas.. literally the best possible thing for him...

[poisonf0rest]

Intertidal Zone

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.

♱⋅── word count: 6.7k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf

art credit to @/khouxy on instagram

You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose. 

The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.

It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.

It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind. 

Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night. 

“How’s your drawing?” 

Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but. 

“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.

He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder. 

“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?” 

You hoped the together was implicit by now.

But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”

Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness. 

Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was. 

Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship. 

You’re leaning in despite yourself. 

Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away. 

You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before. 

When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”

The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him. 

But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.

He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.  

"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."

A laugh. Dry, humorless. 

His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.” 

You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.

"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"

"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."

"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.” 

Like he’s always fucking starving.

Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”

You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.

“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"

Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."

You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."

"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"

The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more. 

“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.” 

Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.

“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”

His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another. 

“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”

You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.

More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you. 

The glass lays shattered against the floor. 

Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses. 

“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.” 

The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever. 

“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”

“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts. 

“Fuck.” 

You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”

You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you. 

By the third time, you know something is wrong. 

It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long. 

But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues. 

So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up. 

You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel. 

His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again— 

It’s the cold that wakes you up. 

Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs. 

“Rafayel?”

A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand. 

“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console. 

He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.

Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.

"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.

Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."

The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.

Yet again, he stops you halfway.

“Do you want to go back to your room first?”

At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point. 

“You’re not coming with me?” 

Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”

“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”

“Cutie…”

“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”

Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?” 

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.

Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”

“What kind of promise?”

A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”

There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true. 

So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”

Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true. 

Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching. 

You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.  

Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”

Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.

Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets. 

You need him. 

Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.

The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire. 

And then the room is all too hot once again. 

Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated. 

A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing. 

Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.

You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.

How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.

And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.

Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”

Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—

Without him.

A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.

You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"

The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs. 

There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains. 

You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition. 

It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it. 

Shit. This is Rafayel’s room. 

You must be trying to kill him.

Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.

Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.

The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.

Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart. 

It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.

Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.

He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.

But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul. 

It’s not fair.

No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.

Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.

Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left? 

Shit. He’s hard.

“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?” 

The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites. 

The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide. 

Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”

The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear. 

Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.

As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.

A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you. 

Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him. 

You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.

The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.

But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.

Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.

He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.

There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.

It's the last breath you take.

An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.

“Rafayel? What are you doing here?” 

The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs. 

Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.

You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”

Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again. 

You can feel the cloth slipping.

But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.

It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.

So you bite him. 

“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”

Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile. 

Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.

"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat. 

“Or was that intentional?”

The look in his eyes is feral. 

There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper. 

The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again. 

“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”

He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin. 

“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”

Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours. 

Oh.

A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.

Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—

“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."

A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.

"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."

Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess. 

He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you. 

“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”

He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”

Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit. 

Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk. 

“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”

Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.

Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again. 

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—

The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.

“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whiping his chin as he goes to decline the call.

But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard who tried to take Rafayel from you tonight. 

“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”

Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept. 

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”

Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back. 

His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm.

Ripping his shirt’s buttons off, you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man. 

“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses. 

No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again. 

You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest. 

And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more. 

Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”

“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”

Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,��� before flashing twice, still running. 

Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.

“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”

“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."

He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.

“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”

“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”

“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”

At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you. 

You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in. 

His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots. 

Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.

Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.

It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.

But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.

Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.

He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.

"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.

But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.

"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."

He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.

Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.

"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there. 

It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.

Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.

It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips. 

And that alone is enough.

Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still. 

"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."

You're cumming.

He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears. 

Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies. 

As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods. 

God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun. 

The one who's still kneeling before you. 

The one who you love. 

"Maximum voicemail length reached, recording sent."

♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.

Oh the things I’d give to hear Raf sing~

[gojosprettyprincess]

Kento’s favorite position will always be fucking you in a mean mating press where he had your body forcefully folded in half by his, because there’s just something so raw and intimate about having your bodies and soft skin pressed up against each other in such a filthy manner. Both of your sweaty bodies melted into each other’s as he pounded you deeper and deeper into the soft mattress with such neediness and desperation. Every time he’d possessively thrust himself into you, it had the entire bed creaking and the mattress sinking lower and lower because of his overpowering strength and weight. It’s almost crazy how he’s practically crushing you with his muscular body. The way he’d manhandle you and bend your legs into your body was so inhuman and fucked up but obviously based on the countless times that he had wrecked your little pussy and stretched your tight walls soo widely to hug his cock in such an ideal way that was only meant for him, in that exact familiar routine of a position. You were very much used to it by now.

The way his damped, tousled blonde hair gently brushed against his chiseled face captured your attention—God he’s so beautiful, no renaissance painting could ever be compared to Kento's face. It was a literal masterpiece. God you couldn’t wait to start a family with this man because you already know you’d have the most cutest babies. He stared down at your fucked out expression that he fucking loved seeing so much, so pretty and alluring. All dumbed down and stupid just from his cock. It never fails to captivate his soul each time he's making love to you. He could stare at you for hours.

You weren’t the most flexible person but of course, Kento always managed to manipulate and manhandle your poor body effortlessly in whatever position that he desired. He’s not mean during sex but he’s definitely not the sweetest either, Especially after he returns home from a frustrating and tough day at work, his mind consumed with stress and pent-up desire and his cock twitching in his pants with heavy, thick balls filled with seed that he’s been storing up to stuff into you with, after he comes from work.

It wasn’t even a second after you greeted him, that honeyed tone in your voice humming his favorite tune, “Kentooo, you’re back!!”. Barely two minutes had passed and in the blink of an eye, you were trapped beneath his large, muscular frame with his aching, swollen length buried sooo deep between your tight walls. his mushroom tip kissing the tender, sensitive spots that made you soo mindlessly dumb, it had you forgetting about the little rule you had about no sex until he’s well fed after work because as his devoted housewife, you also labored diligently to prepare dinner for him.

What if it gets cold?!!

Well, Kento sure doesn’t give a fuck because he’s way too hungry for something else.

His black and yellow tie is loosely dangling over your face as the gentle waft of his minty cologne which you had sprayed on his chest earlier before he went to work, drifts in your nostrils, making your mind hazy and had your pussy pooling even more slick around his veiny shaft. “Good God, fuck this pussy is perfect darling, sooo perfect almost as perfect n pretty as you” his husky voice echoes with admiration, the outline of his bulging veins on his arms straining through his rolled-up sleeves, showcasing the raw strength he had as he gripped onto the sheets besides your head for sheer stability as his tired eyes—visible with exhaustion and teary, lazily stared into yours.

“Kento–“ you cried out, your nails digging into his beefy forearm as you looked up at him with pleading eyes that sent his cock throbbing embarrassingly. Fuck it took everything in him to restrain himself from not getting you pregnant with his kids right now.

“Yes, my love? Tell me what you need darling, m’here for you”. He whispered tenderly, he flashed a charming smile at you before placing a quick, affectionate kiss on your ankle that has been thumping against his huge shoulders the entire time as he ruts his hips into you animalistically.

“Missed you ken!, so so much” your heart beating with desire and love as his chest smushed your soft breasts against him. Beads of sweat glistening from his hairline, threatening to drip onto your face as you move your hands up to wrap them around his neck. A genuine smile spread across his face due to your performance of affection.

“Missed you too my love, God you were clouding my thoughts so much sweetheart, couldn’t stop thinking about you and this pretty little pussy today.” He confessed to you in his deep, sexy voice before smashing his soft lips onto yours. Your nails violently dug into his clothed back that was fortunately shielding him from the nasty, red marks you were plotting to leave. Both of you groaned into the kiss, your spit and saliva mincing together lewdly to the point where it was steeping out of your mouth. His swollen lips feverishly melded against yours, making it practically impossible for you to breathe but you didn’t mind one bit. It all just felt so delicious. His glossy, pink tip skillfully pokes against your sensitive g-spot, making your toes curl in your socks at how good he’s making you feel. God, he was so perfect. His huffs of golden, blond pubic hair tantalizingly grazed against your sticky clit— rubbing it unintentionally, making your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head as he assaulted your lips. your tongues now entwining and swirling together disgustingly. The kiss was so sweet and affectionate, it made your heart fluttered.

His grunts and moans filled the room like a symphony. it was nothing but music to your ears. Kento was perfect in every single way possible. He was such a man, not just any man. He's a gentleman, his masculine presence would be overwhelming for any soul that has never experienced what it'd be like to encounter a real man.

You’d do anything for him, you loved Kento in a particular way where it would be so fucking offensive to the person who founded feminism.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Part Two: Wedding Day

-

Luci did in fact get married on the day she was supposed to, but not to the man everyone thought she would wed, but rather the beautiful gardener that captured her heart.

Adaline looked stunning in the dress that Luci suggested, it was lace with flower designs. It emphasizes her breasts, waist and a slit up to her hip it practically looked like a fancy linguire set, the giant diamond ring sparkled on her dainty hand, her smile lighting up those perfect eyes of hers.

Luci herself wore a white suit with some details on her shirt to match Adaline. In her suit pants she had on a purple colored strap on, her bride's favorite color. She couldn't wait to use it tonight.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are in that dress?" Luci said as they swayed gently to a slow song.

Adaline smiled, she bit back a moan as the vibrations from the bullet vibrator pressed against her G-spot making her wet and sending small sparks of pleasure through her. "Only every chance you get." She was only wearing a very thin pair of panties.

Luci kissed her and pressed the firm outline of her strap on into Adaline's pelvis, their hips and chests flush together leaving no room between them. "Well get used to you.~"

Adaline felt so needy and Luci's hand on her ass wasn't helping her horniness. "Luci, I need you so badly.~"

Looking around the room briefly, Luci smirked as some people left early, some didn't or couldn't look at them. That was fine this wasn't about those assholes, the ones telling her that she was making a mistake and throwing away a "good man" for some "low life dirty street rat."

Those people could bite her.

"Do you my precious dove?~" Luci cooed as she kissed her wife's neck sensually and gently making the brunette shiver. Adaline gave a long moan and Luci smirked. "Awww, did you cum love?~"

Adaline gasped. "A little bit.~"

Luci tisked, she tucked some of that silky soft brown hair behind Adaline's ear. "That won't do, you should be having much bigger orgasms on your wedding night.~"

They left to go to the limo that was going to take them to their honeymoon.

Adaline was on Luci's lap as they kissed, she gasped as she felt Luci's fingers reach in and pull her panties down and remove the bullet vibrator. She whined at the loss but got excited when Luci undid her pants letting the strap on dildo free.

"Have a seat wifey.~"

Adaline wasted no time and lowered herself, they kissed and Luci kissed down to her neck, one hand on her ass encouraging her to ride her. "I-I-I love you Luci.~"

Luci softened and kissed her sweetly. "I love you too, Addie, be a good girl and ride me until we get to our private jet.~"

Adaline moaned and moved her hips the way her wife loved it. "Anything for you Luci.~"

They made out as Adaline rode her strap on, all the way to their private jet, that would take them to their honeymoon in Hawaii where it was just the very beginning of their wedded bliss.

Adalines Dress:

Luci's Outfit:

Prompt by @inubaki

-

Luci sighed as she looked over her papers, more requests from the man that she was meant to marry. Lohith was a tall handsome man that her parents wanted her to marry to close a business deal that would do so much for the companys.

She didn't love him and she wasn't sure she ever would. "I need some air."

She got up and went out to the gardens, the gentle summer breeze gliding over she pale skin. There was a small russling coming from the sunflower patch, a woman in a sun hat with long wavey brown hair, green gloves, blue jeans, a flower pattern shirt and a green apron came out holding gardening tools.

When she looked up at Luci, it was like time stopped when she looked into the most beautiful eyes she has ever seen in her life. They were bright like the sun and rivaled the very sunflowers behind her.

She smiled at Luci and it made her eyes light up more. "Good afternoon miss Morningstar, I'm not sure if your father informed you but I'm your new gardener."

"Oh, he did mention someone. But he never said you were so beautiful.~" She glanced at her name tag, it read Adaline and somehow that seemed to be the perfect name.

Adaline flushed, pink dusting her tan cheek making her freckles stand out. "O-ooh, that's very kind of you."

Luci smiled, they talked for a little while more and Adalines personality was as warm as her eyes.

She had to have her.

- 4 Weeks Later -

"Oooh Luci!! Ahhh!!" Adaline moaned as Luci ate her out, she was sprawled out on her bed. Luci kissed up her body until she got to her mouth and kissed her deeply and entered her with her strap on.

Luci grinned as she thrusted slowly, they had time to make love. Adaline wrapped her arms and legs around Luci keeping her close, moaning as she felt Luci reach down and play with her clit. "Who's a good girl?~"

Adaline gasped, "M-me!~"

"Who do you belong to?~"

"You Luci, always you.~" They kissed some more and if Luci had it her way Adaline would never leave her side or her bed.

Hopefully someday soon that can be a reality.