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#when everything you touch turns to gold | muse
cod-dump · 2 months
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Nikpricegraves thoughts, special delivery!
Nik getting more grey in his hair, and neither Price or Graves wants to bring it up, because they don't know how Nik feels about it. They dom't want to make him feel self-conscious.
So they wait. And Nik finally brings it up, very casually (fronting like hell) musing aloud that he might color the grey so people don't think their evac pilot is too old.
And maaaaybe Price and Graves wanted their responses to be a liiiittle more restrained, a little more level-headed. But they weren't.
Price: You are not TOUCHING that silver--
Graves: Like HELL you're--absolutely not!
Price: Anyone lucky enough to have you picking him up has no right to complain about that!
Graves: And it's sexy as hell anyway!
Price: Exactly, you're fuckin gorgeous.
Nik: ... Thank you?
Nik was a very confident man. He was sure of himself, comfortable in his own skin and almost never doubted himself. But seeing the thin stripes of silver in his hair… he wasn’t too confident on it. The reality of him being old was setting in and he wasn’t very happy about it.
Nik never gave the thought of him getting old much thought considering he didn’t think he would get this far, especially not with his constant flirting with death. He never thought about how he would feel about growing grey, and now that it was here, highlighting his temples? Nik felt his heart squeeze, uncertainty making his chest tight.
Worse part was that neither his husband or boyfriend had mentioned anything about the grey, which just added to his uncertainty about it. He’s caught them whispering about it, both immediately cutting themselves off upon noticing him. He’s caught them staring, again no comments about it. Nik knows they had noticed it, of course they did. They notice everything new or different about him, most of the time even before he’s noticed it.
He didn’t like their silence and was choosing to assume the worst. But he kept quiet, just like how they were choosing to stay quiet. The topic of greying hair wouldn’t come up until one night while they ate dinner. He couldn’t help but stare at their own hair, how he would’ve noticed if John had started to grey (surprising he hadn’t by this point). The silver would’ve been noticeable amongst his dark brown hair, within his beard. It would be undeniably attractive.
Phil greying would been less noticeable considering his golden hair. There would’ve needed to be quite a few grey hairs before it was obvious and even then it would blend nicely with the gold strands. It would add to the American’s charm. Both would carry silver has crowns yet… Nik couldn’t determine that about himself. Couldn’t see himself with it, even as it took residence within his hair.
“I think I need to start investing in hair dye.”
The speed in which Phil turned his head to look at him made Nik fear he would break his neck. John just froze mid bite, eyes looking up to stare at him. Nik kept his usual level of smug confidence about him even though he wasn’t feeling anything remotely similar. Phil swallows his food, taking a deep swig of his water before he glares at him.
“Over my dead body.”
Nik blinked in surprise, his facade cracking.
“Nik, my love, if you do that you’d break my heart,” John added, staring intensely at him.
Nik looked between his partners before he cleared his throat, “Right-“
“Nikky, I’m serious,” Phil said firmly, “That silver is so fucking hot and if you dye it I’ll probably cry.”
“I second that,” John said very seriously.
Nik couldn’t help but laugh at their seriousness. Phil stood and walked behind him fingers going into his hair which of course caused Nik to lean back and practically melt. John stood as well and walked over.
“Should’ve known something was up when you hadn’t said anything. Big, bad Nikolai, insecure over some grey hairs.”
Nik huffs, closing his eyes as Phil continued to play with his hair, “I am not insecure.”
“You just said you wanted to dye it.”
Nik huffs, he could hear Phil’s smirk. He mustered up an unamused frown, which was immediately chased away by a well placed kiss from John. Nik was choosing to be annoyed in order to hide how relieved he felt about their approval. The two would probably pry that confession out of him later when it wouldn’t add onto their smugness over his unusual lack of confidence.
“You might want to prepare for when we return from leave, the boys are definitely going to say something when they notice.”
Nik snorts, “If they have a problem with their transport getting grey then they can cry about it.”
“Cry and complain, with bad jokes on the side.”
By the time they returned from leave, Nik would regain his rock solid confidence. And some jokes of his own because what is an old man without his jokes?
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lonely-lost-soul · 7 months
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Day One: Mammon
Day 1: Breeding Kink
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The Avatar of Greed was your first demon, just as you were his first human. Much to his other brother's frustration, he was your first pact and the first of his brothers you fell in love with. So he also considered himself your partner, which, in his mind, meant he had certain privileges involving you; mainly, Mammon felt he had a right to all your ‘firsts.’ Have them he did, first kiss, first oral experience, and of course, the first man inside you. Whenever his brothers argue with him, he never ceases to bring up that fact, even if it causes you to hit him on the back of the head. And Mammon was proud of that fact; it was his way to be greedy with you, to indulge in his sin without stowing you away in his dragon hoard. That was why when he found out you and Diavlao had been discussing the first human-demon hybrid in being born Devildom to improve human/devil relations, he almost lost his shit. 
“With the Demon Lord?” Mammon whined out, “How did this even come up!”
“He brought it up, Mammon, not me!” You argued, crossing your arms over your chest, huffing, “What did you even think I said to him? We just started dating!” 
“nuh-uh. This is not happening, treasure.”
“I know you did not just nuh-uh me.” You shot your partner a look, and he puffed out his cheeks. 
“Diavalo hasn’t even told Devildom you guys are official yet!” Mammon argued, sitting next to you on his pool table, plopping his head in your lap like a sad puppy. “And you wanna have a baby with him? HIM?”
“Mammon-”
“Like, what does he have that I don’t? I’m your first, ya’ know. I mean-”
“Mammon.” You carded your fingers through his white hair, and he ceased all talking to look into your eyes. “I’m not having a baby with Dia,” His eyes lit up like shiny gold coins, “I told him no. Especially because we just made ourselves official. If we said yes, we would’ve skipped like a thousand steps in a new relationship, plus-”
“And cause he’s totally lame, right, and not hot at all. Okay, maybe a little hot his tits are like so much bigger than yours.” Mammon rambled, reaching up and squeezing your breast for emphasis, and you shot him a dirty look. He smirked, “Honk,” he squeezed it teasingly, and you sighed at his antics. 
“No idiot. I told him no because I want to have a baby with you first.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Mammon jolted up, hand still on your boob, “You wanna have a baby with me.” You swore if he had a tail, it’d be wagging, “and not the Demon Lord? All mine?”
“You’re making it weird, Mammon…” you couldn’t hide the smile from spreading across your lips, “but yeah, I promised you, didn’t I? That you’d be the first to everything. What do you say,” mused watching as horns fizzled onto his forehead “Want to be the first to make me a mommy?”
“Fuck yeah, treasure.” Mammon flipped you over so your back was pressed against the cool pool table. His wings spread behind him as he pinned you against the table; you hummed pleasantly, laying your hands against his chest, nails tapping on the buttons. 
“Off puppy.” 
“Yes, ma’am!” Mammon barked, unbuttoning his top and tossing it aside, flexing his muscles, keeping an eye out for your reactions. It seemed optimistic as you eyed him hungrily, tongue sticking out of your bottom lip, “You too, treasure. Wanna see my pact mark.” He purred, leaning down to nip tenderly at your ear. He felt your chest move with a soft giggle, 
“Don’t you want to rip it off me?” You teased, and Mammon’s wings fluttered a few beats, tearing your top down the middle and letting your breasts bounce in your bra. It was a gorgeous black with gold accents on cups, just Mammon’s style. 
“God, look at you,” He practically pants, hand palming your breast through your bra, squeezing tenderly, “perfect for me. Perfect for my babies.” He licked his fangs as you shuddered under his touch, your legs squeezed around his toned waist. “Aw? Does that turn you on? Me talking about making you a mommy?” You flushed, looking away from him, and he tutted, pointing a painted nail under your chin, “Come on baby, tell me you want it.” 
“I want it.” You breathed, looking him dead in the eyes, “wanna be a mommy, have your babies.” And Mammon sucked in a breath through his fangs, 
“Fuck yeah, you do. That’s so hot.” Mammon grinned, pressing a kiss to the middle of your breasts right where your pact mark with him sat, and it caused you both to shudder. “Do my brothers know?” 
“No, only you. Don’t you think Levi would let me anywhere near you if I told him you’d be my first-” You groaned as Mammon’s hips ground against yours, clearly enjoying this secret between you, “Or even Asmo. Still, we would have the opposite problem, and he’d fight you for who could get me pregnant first.” You teased with a hitching breath, feeling Mammon’s hand unclip your bra with ease, moving his mouth to take a nipple in your mouth. You moan, hands grabbing onto his horns, and he visibly shuddered under your hands, groaning around your bud. 
“Just imagining these puppies even bigger, as they fill with milk, is making me so fucking hard.” Mammon grinned, sucking marks onto the swell of your breaths, causing you to moan sweetly and squirm. 
“Stop teasing me.” You argue, tugging on his horns and pulling him away from your breasts; he tossed his head back with a deep groan, arms and body visibility quivering.
“Stop the pulling,” He growled voice low and gravely, 
“Why? You gonna cum?” You purred, rolling your hips against his prevalent hard-on, causing him to moan again. 
“Stop being a brat,” He hissed, but you both knew he didn’t have the same bite that Lucifer or Satan did when commanding you. So you just smirked, sliding your hand down Mammon’s low-rise jeans and cupping his heaviness gently. “S-Shit treasure come o-n-” A simple touch, and you have the Avatar of Greed in the palm of your hand, literally. You could practically see the tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as you worked him out of his jeans, “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you.” He panted, kicking his pants to the side while sliding yours down and ripping your new panties to shreds. 
“Mammon! Those were new!” 
“You look better this way anyway.” Mammon mused, flicking your clit expertly with his fingers, causing you to twitch and suck in a breath through your teeth. “Shit baby, you’re so wet for me; you really wanna have my baby huh?” He slid his long fingers into you, and you moaned, your back arching off the table hotly. 
“Yes. Yes. Yes Mammon. Please fill me up; I want to feel you stretching me to my limit.” 
“Fuck yeah. Fuck baby,” He panted, sliding down his underwear messily, his cock springing free. You always loved his cock, it wasn’t overly large, but fuck was it thick and filled you up just perfectly.  “Lemme put it inside,”
“Do it.” You demanded, skipping the usual foreplay between the two of you; the atmosphere was too hot and heavy to skip to the main event. “Make me scream.” Mammon didn’t need any more encouragement as he slammed his entire length into you and screamed you did as nails dug into Mammon’s broad shoulders. His eyes were flared in greedy hunger, taking in the sigh of you taking his cock so well, relishing how your walls fluttered around him. 
“So tight, we’ll fix that right up,” Mammon groaned, consumed by lust. “Gonna pump you so full you’ll be dripping with me for days, and if none of my seed takes this time,” he slowly pumped his hips in and out of your body as the sound of skin on skin slapping filled the room. “We’ll fuck as many times a day it takes till you’re swollen with my litter,” He purred. Sticking his tongue out and licking a hot stripe up your neck, the room filled with your sounds of pleasure. “I know how much of a slut you are; how many of my babies do you want in you? Cause now that we’re getting started, I ain’t stopping.” He teased, hearing your whines pick up as you moved your hips in rhythm with his own. He could see the outline of his cock as it bulged inside you; he pressed down on his cock inside you, causing you both to moan loudly. “My little golden whore,” Mammon mused, kissing your lips and swallowing your moans with his mouth and tongue. Mammon felt the way your breathing began to hitch, “You close?” He watched you nod rapidly drool pooling out of your mouth, “Damn, I fucked you stupid, huh?” He snickered, and you moaned louder as he began to piston out of you at a much more aggressive rate. You could feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix, begging for entrance into your fertile womb.
“MAMMON!” 
“That’s it. Say my name as you cum,” He hissed, watching your pact light up in a golden yellow. Your walls clenched around him like a vice grip, legs locking him in place as you tossed your head back in gorgeous ecstasy. Seeing the sight alone had Mammon howling and biting into your neck as he spilled inside you, pump after pump of his seed filling your womb full as you babbled nonsense against his chest as he purred. “Good girl did so well for me,” He whispered, peppering kisses over your forehead. “You’re gonna make such a good Mommy.”
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steveshairychest · 1 year
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Eddie Munson is a name all artists know.
His work fills museums and galleries and decorates the walls of many homes. His most famous work, 'A Boy Kissed By The Sun', features a man staring over his own bare shoulder with a look of adoration, his lips pulled into a fond smile as he regards the viewer. His skin is kissed with freckles that are painted to look like small, glorious suns. Each brush stroke is careful, precise, and full of emotion that people have spent years trying to decipher.
This man stars in nearly every one of Munson's paintings; he's his muse. But the catch is Eddie doesn't know this man. He claims that the golden boy comes to him in his dreams, that he wakes some nights and feels as if he has lived a thousand lives with his muse. Some nights, he startles awake because it felt so real. He could still taste the honey on his tongue from the kiss that still lingered on his lips.
If you put all his paintings together, it looks as if he is retelling his life with the golden boy. There's scenes depicting the boy dancing in a kitchen, holding a guitar on a messy bed, smiling while sitting in the passenger seat of an old van, standing in front of a mirror with his hands ghosting over the scars at his sides. All of the paintings feel so intimate; like a peak into a life Eddie doesn't remember living.
His latest addition to his gallery has captured quite a crowd, it features the boy that is usually so beautiful and wrapped in sunlight, weilding a bat full of nails, a bat that is covered in blood just like the man and the ground around him. His wounds are angry and red and are hard to look at because it looks as if the man had pieces of himself eaten away. Eddie had awoken with a scream when he'd heard the boys cries fill his dreams; his own scars from an accident years ago aching and burning.
"It's achingly beautiful." A voice says next to him. They both stand in front of the latest art piece, their shoulders almost brushing. Eddie turns his gaze to the man beside him and he swears his heart stutters to a stop. He's seen those freckles in his dreams, he's tasted those lips and felt the heat from that golden skin. He must be dreaming.
"Although, it feels almost familiar." The man turns to fully face Eddie and the both of them just... stare. The air feels charged with something unspeakable, unknown, but also familiar. He's stared into those honey gold eyes every night in his dreams. He's lived a thousand lives with this man and instead of asking for his name, his story, his everything, all he can do is stare.
Eddie lifts a hand to reach out and touch but pulls back at the last minute, afraid that he'll disappear in a puff of smoke if he so much as breathes too hard.
"It's you."
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Eddie Munson x fem!reader [1.1K]
To say you were weird would be unkind, Eddie thought. Certainly hypocritical. But you were most definitely odd, a strange, little thing in the most fascinating of ways and Eddie Munson was absolutely enthralled by you. 
He wasn’t sure when it had happened, or even how, but he found you in the passenger seat of his van most mornings, riding with him into town so he could drop you off at work before he began his own shift at the record store. You’d merely been a new neighbour, moving into a trailer two spots down and you’d waved one morning, arms stacked with odd bits. A book, a hideously green cardigan, two balls of yarn, a potted plant that looked a little worse for wear and a jar full of coloured beads. 
It started with him staring, wide eyed and unsure, listening to you quietly tell him all about each dog in the trailer park - their breed, their name, their favourite treat. Honestly, Eddie wasn’t even sure if the names you’d told him were real or simply ones you’d christened them with yourself. Either way, he was smiling by the time he dropped you off outside the bookstore, sundress erring on the side of too short, cherry red and floaty and completely mismatched to the odd socks and chunky boots you wore. 
You jingled when you walked, too many bracelets and bangles stacked on each wrist, gold chains wrapped prettily around your neck, a pendant that had a bug trapped in amber hanging from it. You were like a little music box, Eddie had thought, always hearing you before seeing you. 
He found you awfully endearing, too pretty to put into words, everything you did was done softly, delicate, like the sleepy way you spoke, like the way you said his name, all gentle and musical. 
You had a thing for pushing a finger to his cheek when you wanted his attention, fingernails always painted lilac and on the hot summer days, when you were both too lazy to do much, he’d join you on your trailer roof, blankets and towels laid out to protect you both from the hot metal, stretched out and half undressed as Eddie let you colour in his tattoos, work tiny braids into his curls. 
So yeah. To say Eddie was smitten with you was an understatement. 
It’s why his mouth went dry and his jaw fell slack when he picked you up from work one evening, van idling outside Main Street as he waited on you climbing in. 
It was still too warm, despite the way the sky was turning all the prettiest shades of orange and pink, and you clambered into the front cab in your floatiest dress. A too short white thing, printed with tiny sunflowers and Eddie grinned at your big boots, one knee bruised, the other scraped. 
“Hey, pretty,” he greeted softly, watching fondly as you got settled, kicking your feet up onto the dash and looking over at him. 
Your lips were glossy, a pretty pink colour that matched the flush on Eddie’s cheeks ‘cause you were staring at him in a way that he’d never quite gotten used to. Unabashed, without any shame, like you thought he was as pretty as he thought you were. 
“Hi, Eddie,” you replied, still watching him, cheek pushed to the van chair. 
“You’re up to something,” Eddie mused, making no move to drive off. He liked these little moments with you, before he drove you both home and had to watch you walk away. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“That one,” Eddie grinned, poking a finger to the tip of your nose, every small touch of his unbearably affectionate. “See?”
You’d tilted your chin up, tried to nip at his hand, barely catching his pointer and you huffed when snorted, pulling away. The setting sun was turning him rosy, all tangerine shadows and bright gold light. His brown eyes were a whole other shade of honey, your new favourite colour, you’d once told him. 
“I have something for you,” you said as if that explained it, that nervous, shy look that was on your face. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling awfully unsure before holding your hand out and Eddie didn’t know whether he wanted to pull your poor, chewed lip from your teeth or accept your present. 
“You do?” Eddie blinked, leaning in a little more, curious, stomach lifting and dropping with excitement. 
“I made it for you,” you told him, breath hitching as he took it from your hand, the threaded bracelet that you hoped fit him. The braided strands matched the colours that were wrapped around your wrist, something that Eddie didn’t miss, a little detail that made his heart tumble in his chest. “Do you like it?”
Eddie looked a little dumbfounded, lips parted prettily as he blinked at you, holding the bracelet in his hands like it was made of gold dust. There was a tiny charm hanging from the end of it, a little bronzed bat that spun when he twisted the treads. 
“I love it, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, finally looking up at you to smile wide, that pretty, slow stretch of a smile that made his dimples appear. “Fuck, ‘course I like it, it’s sick.”
You lit up and Eddie melted. You were too much, too sweet, too lovely. You scrunched your nose at him, overwhelmed with the praise and you didn’t hesitate when he held out his arm to you.
“Help me put it on, yeah?” 
So you crawled onto the middle seat, knees pressed to the chair, old sheet music wrinkling under your shins and you guided Eddie’s hand to sit in your lap. If you both shivered at the touch of him against your bare thighs, neither of you acted as if you noticed. 
You took your time, making sure the threads were straight and the knot was tied securely but not too tight, the little bat you’d chosen sitting nicely against his wrist. You hummed a little tune as you did so, one Eddie didn’t recognise and he wouldn’t have been all that surprised to learn you’d made it up on the spot. 
But he smiled as you worked, head bent so you couldn’t see the way he was gazing at you like a lovesick fool. But maybe, he thought, you sensed it anyway. ‘Cause when you were done, you lifted his wrist to your face, turning him gently until you could press the sweetest, little kiss to the inside of his wrist, just above where his new present sat. 
He cleared his throat when you caught him blushing, the highs of his cheeks all rosy and he had to duck his head as he fumbled with the keys, stalling the van, once, twice, before he managed to pull away. 
You were both grinning the entire way home.
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runningfrom2am · 5 months
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CONGRATULATIONS ON 1K!!! I’d love to make a request from Venus. I’d like smth basses off the song, ‘daddy issues’ - the neighbourhood, with rafe x rougtledge! Reader. Smth a lil angst 😊 hopefully this is okay! And congrats on 1K again 🫶
ahh thank you!! this one was so fun but also heartbreaking- i am very conflicted so thank you for submitting this :)
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daddy issues (r.c)
pairing: rafe x routledge!reader
wc: 860
requests! (currently closed, but send stuff in if you’re okay with waiting a while!)
masterlists, navigation, 1k celebration!
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"what are you thinking about?" you asked rafe, feet swinging over the edge of the dock.
"whatever you're thinking about." he replied, a slight smirk on his face as he leaned back on his palms, his ankle brushing against yours over the water.
you giggled, taking another hit from the joint pinched between your thumb and forefinger. "i doubt that."
"why?"
"you don't know what i'm thinking about, that's why." 
"then tell me, i'll probably forget anyway." rafe nudged your shoulder gently with his own.
"okay," you muse, nodding a little as you passed him the joint. "i'm thinking about my dad."
he nodded as he took it, willing you to continue.
"and my brother. he's not handling it well."
"isn't your uncle still staying with you?" 
you turned on the dock and looked back to your house. "do you see any lights on in there?" you asked rhetorically, gesturing for him to look for himself.
"where did he go?" rafe asked, furrowing his brow.
"he's working out of state, said i could handle things well enough on my own..." you sighed, chewing on your lip as your eyes suddenly welled up with tears you were fighting back. "but i haven't seen john b in days, he won't talk to me when he is home and i just-" you cut yourself off, taking a shaky breath.
"hey, hey- you're alright..." rafe was quick to reassure you, extinguishing the joint before reaching up to wipe a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "have i ever told you you're so pretty when you cry?"
you laughed a little at this, quickly wiping your face as well. "no, but that's creepy." you giggled, moving to lean your head on his shoulder anyway.
"you know, if you were my little girl," rafe said then, resting his head against yours as you looked out over the water. "i wouldn't have left you behind. i would run away and hide with you, or whatever your dad is up to now, i guess, but it would still be us."
"thanks." you sniffled, wiping your face on the bunched-up sleeve of your sweater. "but you're really not doing much to beat the creep allegations."
rafe laughed, squeezing your side. "you know i'm not. better than anyone."
“matching daddy issues.” you sing, laughing as he kissed your temple.
“that’s why we get each other.”
"no, no! don't touch me!" you shouted, shoving your boyfriend away as he tried to grab your arms. "did you know?"
"know? know what? what's going on?" rafe asked, brow furrowed. you look him over, he seems genuinely confused. but that can't be true.
"that ward killed my dad! did you know?" you clarify, and he straightened up, shaking his head.
"no... no, no... my dad didn't kill anyone." he insisted.
you scoffed, shaking your head with eyes red as tears fell down your cheeks. "john b told me everything. he told me- he told me ward tried to kill him out in the middle of nowhere, the same way he killed our dad. over what, some stupid gold that you would only spend on buying what? another vacation home?"
"my dad wouldn't do that, baby, john b must be lashing out, like you said he-"
"no!" you cut him off with a shout. "no. you don't know him like i do. don't act like you do."
rafe stood frozen, staring at you with worry as your chest heaved with anger. "y/n, i don't want to fight with you, lets just go talk to john b and we'll clear this up."
it surprised him when you laughed, full of bitterness as you shook your head. "no! no. you clearly aren't listening. goodbye, rafe. tell ward to lock the doors tonight." you say, storming off. you made it to your car before your anger turned to shaking sobs, and you left quickly to go resume your journey of trying to track down your little brother again after what happened.
rafe didn't cry that night, but that pain was nothing compared to the tears he's shed tonight. he never got the chance to make it right before you took the boat with john b and his sister out into the storm. he's sure you were driving it, and he's sure you made them both put on lifejackets. you wouldn't have let them go alone, and now, he lost both you and his sister in one night. he's lost everything.
"rafe. get it together." ward says, grabbing him by the shoulder. "be a man. we've got stuff to deal with tomorrow." at that, he releases his grip on his son and pats him, pacing up the stairs toward his office.
rafe rubs his red-rimmed eyes, biting his nails as he stares into the darkness surrounding him in the foyer. alone, with his daddy issues and what is left of yours now that you are gone.
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taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn, @whtvrrafe, @r1vrsefx, @sandyworms, @urmooniee, @frxcless, @ari-nicole, @kitscutie, @lovelyxtom, @niicole-87, @dylanstilinskiposts 
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thexianzhoujade · 2 months
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「 worth your weight in gold | kai's 2024 birthday! 」 albedo & zhongli x gn!reader | hurt/comfort, insecure reader | birthday fanfiction. ↳ additional tags. reader with insecurities & needing reassurance, probably ooc albedo and zhongli?? reassurance + doubts (albedo), body insecurities (zhongli) ↳ happy birthday to me part two! zhongli's part was much more than i anticipated hshdfhhf
data has been uploaded! - send an ask to join the taglist; specify genshin, honkai or both! @lovingluxury, @dumbificat, @starryshinyskies, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @ainescribe, @soleillunne, @sangoqueenkoko
the jade's guidelines | genshin masterlist | bday m.list | previous work
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ALBEDO has an undeniable lack of human understanding. he stays cooped up at the summit of dragonspine, breathing air in that's sharp and stabs at his lungs with every intake. there's hardly any time for the chief alchemist of the knights of favonius to breach his lack of understanding - there's a much more important job for him to do.
unfortunately this in turn rubs off on you, his beloved partner; he cherishes you, treats you like a fragile gemstone every time he holds onto you as if you're the one made of chalk instead of himself. despite this, he's never been good at showing it. while you stay in the safety - and warmth - of the city of mondstadt, your boyfriend is much more content in the harsh climate that is dragonspine.
you are completely aware of albedo's situation, hell you knew when you dived head first into this relationship with the chalk prince himself but sometimes, just sometimes, the empty feeling would be a bitter taste in your mouth that you were unable to bring up to him. you didn't want him to think it was completely his fault - no, of course not. he'd sat you down and explained everything about rhinedottir, his master.
it's a rare sight for you to be seen venturing close to dragonspine, especially without the permission granted from your overprotective boyfriend but the only present you wanted among the numerous gifts you'd received for your birthday was spend the day with him. you had no choice but to just show up at his tiny camp tucked into the nook of the mountain, sheltered from the winds when you knew that sending a letter would just take too long.
albedo is more than surprised to see you when he returns from a walk and after the initial light scolding is over, his ocean blue eyes sparkling with worry as his gloved hands squeeze your hands tightly, he finally pulls you into his chest to hug you, breathing a short "happy birthday" into your hair.
"bedo," you mumble into his chest, cold fingertips brushing over the details of his clothing layers as he hums in response, encouraging you to continue, "do you love me?"
there's a brief silence that makes you nervous. perhaps this shouldn't have been the day you asked this. suddenly, albedo makes an amused noise - you assumed it to be amused from the crack of a smile that decorates his face as he pulls away to look you in the eye. gloved hands cup your cheeks, a warm touch to combat the bitter cold as he glances over every single detail of your face.
"every star will burn out in the night sky before my love for you dies, darling," he muses, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose and you feel his warm breath fan over your skin, "perhaps i need to say it more?"
you nod, a sheepish smile cracking on your face as you look away in embarrassment from all your doubts and needs for reassurances. albedo clicks his tongue, his fingers under his chin as he turns your face back towards him and this time, he presses his lips to yours as if washing away your fears.
"my darling sweetheart baby i know, i know the past haunts you i know let me kiss your fears away."
an archon in the disguise as a mere funeral parlour consultant, ZHONGLI has seen his fair share of souls and their unique personalities. he was indeed extremely grateful that you just happened to be one of those souls, beautiful and rich with a kind heart he'd never fail to love.
in his golden eyes that resembled the cor lapis of his country, every inch of you was perfect; beautiful, divine, worthy of worship from the most devoted. he'd never get enough of you, your scent, the way you spoke or the way you laughed. he could hear a million laughs - perhaps he had heard a million laughs, each as different as their owner - but yours was always his favourite.
it was melodic, soothing and could work as a siren's song to him, luring him into the depths of the vast ocean that sat on liyue's doorstep, unexplored yet not untouched. he would jump from the highest cliffs of nantianmen, feeling the breeze in his dark hair for the sake of that cherished laugh. he would pull the sun out from behind the clouds and over the horizon if it meant he could see the way your eyes sparkle in the golden light that basks over you.
zhongli could utter these things to you time and time again, hellbent on the way he feels about you but you'd always brush it off. you knew he was an archon or rather an ex-archon in his words and that he'd always have vast and expressive ways of saying the most simplest things, such was the habit of a man who had roamed teyvat for as long as your boyfriend had.
sometimes, looking in the mirror was too difficult. you wonder if your reflection felt the same when it saw you, eyes traipsing other curve and insecurity of your body that you felt just didn't sit right. maybe it was the way your teeth looked when you smiled too wide or the bridge of your nose or the hip dips you'd place your hands over every day just to see what your body looks like without them distracting your gaze.
warm amber eyes would sit and watch every single time. perched in a bamboo chair you'd tucked into the corner of your shared bedroom, a rich fabric blanket from inazuma draped over the arm of the chair as you stand before the floor length mirror. after too many months of watching your clear unhappiness and seeing you shrug off his devotion, zhongli finally approached you from behind.
your eyes watch the way your boyfriend approaches in the mirror's reflection, dark hands decorated with golden veins brushing against your hips as he holds you in place, his chest pressed to your back. you loved to see him without his gloves around the house, his long coat discarded somewhere else as you admire the way the dark fades as it travels up his arm.
zhongli makes a noise as he follows your gaze to his arms. how come you could love the things about him that he wasn't fond of but not your own special touches? your body had been through a hard life, travelled countless different paths until fate intertwined with his and brought you to him. it was going to be scarred, worn and used as you experienced life. it made you all the much more beautiful to him.
"i know what you're going to say..." you sigh, finally lifting your gaze back to his. he quirks a brow, a little amused that you could read his intentions well.
"do you?" he hums, pressing a kiss to your head as he leans forward, peering at your reflection over your shoulder. you click your tongue, looking away embarrassedly from the experienced man.
"i'm dragging myself down again." you mutter and he nods without a hesitation. his weathered hands squeeze your hips, a warm breath leaving his lips that you feel faintly on the back of your neck.
"i am more than happy to repeat my thoughts to you, dear," he clarifies as you close your eyes, a little too embarrassed to meet his eyes as he speaks in that soft timbre voice, "until you learn to listen to me. i'll kiss every imperfection you claim you have, trace every stretchmark and scar until you learn to love yourself too."
there's a silence except for the bustle of liyue harbour outside of your shared home, the population finally moving past the excitement of lantern rite as the annual holiday comes to an end. your breathing is gentle, relaxed and zhongli feels content with your reaction.
"you know... i've walked teyvat for centuries, experienced countless of events and met individuals beyond anyone's comprehension and yet," zhongli leans to press his cheek against yours, his arms snaking around your waist to hold you closer, "i breathed the same air as you, walked the same streets of liyue harbour as you, shared the same bed as you... and for that i am the most honoured man alive."
artists critique their own work, lingering on every minor detail but to the eye of the beholder, it's a masterpiece, a work of art to be framed and admired for centuries to come. we are those works of art, seen as beauty by everyone but ourselves.
"between seas, galaxies and moons i was lucky i stepped on the same land i dreamed under the same stars as you."
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹
© thexianzhoujade 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.
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shiyorin · 3 months
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Hello👋 I hope you're doing well) if the requests are still open, can you write something for the Emperor of Mankind? 🤭 A soft Yandere with the reader psyker eternal. He does not like when anyone other than Malcador and the Custodians communicate with her, even the primarchs saw her only fleetingly at celebrations. But the reader is completely satisfied with everything. She can do her favorite things and not worry about anything. Dream🥰
The description of the Emperor here is quite vague because I like the way he is portrayed through others's POV. But here we are.
You gazed into the dying embers of the fire, listening to the familiar sounds of your chamber settling into nightly slumber around you. Another day had drawn to a close within the confines of the Imperial Palace, but not for you.
Not yet.
You rose and drifted to the window, looking out upon the sprawling expanse of the Terra below. Lights in thousands of windows flickered like distant stars, whole hive districts darkened as the citizens within their live. All throughout the realm, lives wound down in preparation for the coming dawn.
All except you, it seemed. Not until he came.
As always, your thoughts turned inevitably to him. The gilded cage he had granted you so long ago, this place that served now as your one and onlyhome, however grand. A sanctuary from the cruel outside world, and yet, a prison nonetheless.
His sanctuary. His prison. His… everything.
Always he came to you here at night's deepest hour, even his Custodes can't come here. When the shadows within shadows held dominion and privacy was assured. That was when he would emerge like a wraith to steal what moments he could find in your company, before withdrawing back into the places from whence he came.
The routine had repeated for centuries unchanging. Long ago you had ceased to question its purpose or meaning. It simply was as immutable. Their tryst formed one more link in the chain binding your existence to his in servitude.
Tomorrow, as always, you would see him withdraw once more into isolation, leaving you to continue existing at the periphery, useful, beloved, and ultimately powerless. Another day would pass, and another, each one leading you gradually further from the life you had known outside these walls. From the dreams, ambitions, and connections of your former self.
Until at last even memory itself began to fade like mist beneath the dawn. Only he remained, constant as the Star to guide you remaining years. Your Emperor. Your Master of Mankind. Your God.
His coming disrupted your musings, as inevitable as the tides. You sensed the stirring in the aether that preceded his physical arrival, the subtle bending of probabilities and skein of fate. A shiver traced its way down your spine in premonition.
Turning, you beheld him emerging from a fold in reality itself. Golden light spilled through the rent as he stepped free, severing the passageway behind with a negligent wave. Clad as ever in gold, eyes gleaming like twin suns beneath his ornate armor, he commanded the room utterly.
A god made from a human. Destined to rule all, whether worshipped or reviled. Yours, eternally.
"My dearest." His voice enfolded you, smooth as fine wine yet bearing weight of aeons. "You await me still."
A statement, not a question. He knew as well as you the path each night would take, the steps they must dance through countless repetitions. And the ritual brought them comfort, as all such familiar routines do in a chaotic universe.
You inclined your head. "Always, my lord."
Crossing to your side, he lifted a hand to cradle your cheek, a lover's caress from one who spurned all other connection or weakness. For him there was only duty. Only for you.
You leaned into his touch with a soft sigh, closing your eyes the better to engrave this fleeting instant of intimacy upon your memories. Savoring each sensation as though it were their last, though repetition had dulled the keen edge of uncertainty long ago.
Your Emperor. Your constant. Your prison. Your everything.
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lesbianwriter · 9 months
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Villain made people trip over their feet and tangle their tongues with her dark hair, piercing eyes brown and streaked with gold like tiger’s eye, a smile that wars were fought for.
Everything about her was so perfect, so poetic, that Hero couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be in her skin. It made her wonder why Villain was so interested in her.
Unmarred skin, free of scars. Perfection in a human body. Nothing even near the rough pattern of sewed together patches that was Hero.
Yet here she was, being posed for a painting.
The ropes dug into her skin as Villain’s hands flew around her body, pushing and pulling her different directions, touching her hip, grazing her shoulders, drifting on her neck and she turned her this way and that to find the perfect position for the portrait.
Villain’s home was sparse when it came to paintings because she would only have masterpieces hung on her walls, and here she was, having Hero painted.
All her roughness, her scars and imperfections, her calloused fingertips and bitten nails…Villain was having it painted, and Hero bristled as the idea of it, thinking it was a taunt, but the confounding thing about it was that Villain seemed genuine—her entire odd fascination seemed real, and Hero couldn’t wrap her head around that. 
How could somebody think Hero was perfect?
How could Villain think she was perfect enough to be worthy of being called a masterpiece, when she was closer to an unfinished rough sketch than anything?
“Are you sure about this?” Hero questioned tersely, her muscles tense as Villain rearranged her limbs once more. The ropes squeezed into her uncomfortably, leaving diamond patterns indented into her skin, but it was the only way Villain could get her to stay still and pose for this.
“Yes, darling,” Villain hummed pleasantly, her voice warm as the fire that crackled in the fireplace, the warm light bouncing captivatingly off her hair and her eyes. “I want to get a nice, beautiful painting of you that I can look at when you aren’t near.”
“And are you going to kiss it when you’re lonely, too?” Hero muttered sarcastically, hoping to get under Villain’s skin.
Posing for a painting was not only confusing to Hero’s self-esteem, but her limbs were already aching; however, she was now Villain’s puppet. The ropes were her strings and Villain could move Hero any way she pleased.
Hero bit onto her tongue as Villain’s fingers stroked her jaw. It was infuriating, the affection—it was maddening how Hero couldn’t accept it, even if a part of her wanted to embrace it. She didn’t know how to do anything but deflect, her walls already up and ready to fight.
“Perhaps, if you’re ever gone too long.” Villain finally stepped back and observed Hero, a faint smirk on her lips as she clapped her hands together and leaned closer, her nose scrunching as she smiled. “Ah, perfect. You’re a vision, darling. Now, my favorite part.” She walked behind her easel on a velvet-cushioned stool, grabbing her paint brush with an odd amount of grace for such a mundane motion.
“Why are you doing this? I mean, I get that you’re painting me because you want to see me, but…why? Why me? What is it about me?” Hero asked stubbornly, her eyebrows creasing as she saw that Villain really wasn’t joking about this…or if she was, she was insanely dedicated to this cruel taunt. “I’m no one special.”
Villain was evil, but it was hard to believe she’d spend hours painting only for it to be a mean joke—her villainy had more cunning and efficiency than that. Meanwhile, Hero’s crimefighting was more rough and tumble.
They were polar opposites, yet Villain was…enamored.
“Look at it this way, you are special for the same reason that diamonds are more than carbon. There’s…more to it. You’re made of sharp edges, and I’m drawn to you, even if I may be cut. You’re just so fascinating, and if you’d let me, I’d do much more for you than this.” Villain mused, her eyes alight with passion as they bored into Hero’s eyes.
Nervously, Hero swallowed as her cheeks heated. Her instinct was to spit back venom, to deflect, to strike harder, but she could feel the sincerity oozing from Villain. There was a longing to her words, a kind that couldn’t be imitated. How someone had that tone for her, she didn’t know, but…it felt nice.
She hardly thought of herself as a diamond, but Villain’s words were…flattering?
Maybe she could pose for the painting and allow it to happen.
Just this once.
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positivelyruined · 2 months
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Ohhh, for the Tam prompts!!
“I miss you.”
let’s practice the idea of alternate timeline, but not alternate universe | send my muse prompts (Tamlin Edition, ACOTAR gets redeemed)
It had been six weeks since Feyre moved from the estate and into a small cottage by a nearby river. It shouldn’t bother him. He’d given her the freedom to settle anywhere on his land and Feyre was anything but domestic. Tamlin had noticed at once that the fine carpet, heavy curtains, and marble flooring in his home made her uncomfortable.
It was uncomfortable, but not completely unknown. Perhaps, she had not always lived in the poverty in which he’d found her; but this was a simple guess on his less-than-simple guest. He couldn’t read her mind, after all.
He paced the corridors of his chambers. The moonlight fell across his shoulders from the open windows and cast shadows across his feet. It made him appear much larger than he was and certainly much larger than he felt. Vulnerability was something he was particularly bad at. He had a poor way with words. More often than not, they streamed through his mind, but remained trapped on his tongue.
After a few more laps down the hall, he threw himself face first onto his bed. This was getting ridiculous. Surely, he couldn’t be attached to this tiny, feral human girl whose sharp tongue made him bite his own, whose impatience made him long to run, whose eyes twinkled with buried gold — daring him to find the treasure within.
Tamlin took the feather pillow from the front of bed and buried his scream into it.
No, no, no — no!
Not again. Not after what happened last time. He had sworn on every grave that he would find a way to defeat Amarantha without barring his heart to the wild, wicked ways of love. Yet, his heart betrayed him. It beat wildly in his chest, only quickening as the bright memories of Feyre’s shy smile and crinkled eyes when she first saw the gallery.
It was pure awe and before that moment, he’d never realized why humans were so divisive amongst the fae. Without the guarantee of tomorrow, everything they saw or touched was precious. Every moment was valued.
And Feyre wanted her moments in a small cabin, by a river.
He rolled over, rubbing his temples. She misses her family.
That…was not something he could understand. His family was his blood, but nothing more. Yet Feyre saw her blood as a bond. Despite their imperfections, everytime she spoke of them, her devotion was clear. Their brokenness bound them together.
Tamlin reached for another pillow and cemented it over his eyes as sunlight began creeping through the window. Yet, another sleepless night was crawling to a close. He crawled to his feet with a tired groan. Even immortals got miserable after a certain amount of missed sleep. She’d asked for privacy and so far he had managed to respect that.
Lucien had kept a close eye on the border of the land and he spent whatever time he had away from the border concealing the small shelter from the evil that so often wandered into the Spring Court.
The sun rose and left a pink and gold cast on the stone floor. Gracefully touched by color, it was another thing on the endless list of things that reminded him of her.
He rose from his bed, washing and dressing himself, and headed into the morning sun. His steps were brisk and he followed the garden path away from the house — largely lost in thought.
It was early spring. The mornings were still cold. His cheeks were flushed with a warm pink.
Before he knew it, he was standing at the door of a cabin which had once been stained a dark mahogany. The dark wood still shined, but it was the white paint of circular flower design that caught his eye. It wasn’t just the door, either. The window boxes, the fence, the stone path — all of it was covered by her handiwork.
You may paint anywhere you like.
His own voice echoed in his mind. There was a sharp pain in his chest. Tamlin flinched and turned away. Feyre was painting. Just not for him.
He breathed in the harsh, cold air, and forced himself to walk away. Step by step — each one more painful than the last.
The cabin door creaked open. Tamlin froze; but he didn’t dare to turn. He truly didn’t dare to hope.
“My high lord?” Feyre’s voice was hesitant and softly edged with sleep. “Is that you?”
Tamlin looked over his shoulder. His heart pounded in his chest.
“Feyre…” His voice was hoarse.
His deep green eyes met her tawny brown ones. Her gaze was soft, curious, and very sleepy. The sharp guard that she’d carried while in his home was beginning to leave her. Tamlin thought that he could fall into those eyes and disappear. They were quicksand. He was drowning.
“You look awful.” Feyre tilted her head. Her genuine bluntness began returning as she woke up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
He choked on his laughter, grimacing, at the ground. He should go. After all, he’d promised her privacy. “I suppose I probably do.”
He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his cloak and began walking away, quickly.
“Wait!” Feyre called after him. The door slammed open and her footsteps bounced on the new growth of grass.
Tamlin stopped and turned around. She ran straight into him. If he hadn’t been so surprised, it would never have happened. He was a trained warrior — steady on his feet; but sleep deprived warriors were no better than the average mercenary. They collided.
He fell to the ground, just barely managing to break her fall with his own body. The bright color in Tamlin’s cheeks flushed into a much deeper one as he found Feyre sitting on top of him. By the cauldron.
“My lord.” She whispered. Both her hands were braced on his chest. Her eyes glued to his.
“Feyre.” He breathed. Her curiosity drew him in.
He knew she was strong. If she wanted, she could stop this.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and tightened his hold on her slender body. Tamlin pressed his lips against hers — bringing warmth into the cold air.
She accepted him, smiling against his mouth, and wrapping her arms around his neck.
Tamlin barely remembered what smiling felt like, but it was natural when it came to her. He held onto that kiss for a moment, before pulling back, and pressing his forehead against hers.
“Feyre.” Her name was lyrics on his lips and a song worth singing.
“High lord?” She whispered.
“I missed you.” He swallowed, hard. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about his feelings. He had a hard time letting people inside his heart.
“I…missed you too.” Feyre whispered, tracing the lines of the golden mask on his face.
How he longed to rip it off — when she looked at him that way. Perhaps, there was hope. He bit his lip, looking up hesitantly. “Please. Call me Tamlin.”
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teabreakpancakes · 1 year
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Kinktober: Day Twenty-Six
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Unholy (Dom Andrew Kreiss x GN Reader)
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priest kink, spanking, semi-public sex, object insertion!
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The rules were written in gold, you simply had to follow.
You were always so innocent, he always envied you for that. The more he thought about you, the more that envy grew, distorting into greed and lust—if he couldn't possess what you had, he'd corrupt you until you both were one in the same.
Oh, but too bad his little lamb is incapable of following orders—but he supposes that he doesn't have the right to berate you, not when he's sinned as much as you have; it was unbecoming for him, a priest, to give in to his desires, especially if he was to corrupt a pure individual like you.
How could he resist when you were always oh so pliant for him, eager to please him with every single one of your actions. "Father" "Father!" "Father~" with each call of that title, he could feel his restraint thinning; dulcet tones often clouded his mind until all his thoughts were muddled, your sweet voice often kept him up at night in more ways than one.
And now, that he's alone with you in a confessional, perhaps you both will finally be... cleansed.
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Doe eyes stared up into his own, awaiting his next move. "F, Forgive me father, for I have sinned" they spoke quietly, unsure of themselves. Andrew hummed, thumbing his rosary, "Confess to me, my child" peering over them with interest.
"I, well, for the longest time, I've been conflicted regarding this matter" they began, shifting their weight to the balls of their feet as they fiddled with the sleeve of their coat. "I, have had some rather... odd emotions towards someone" they continued, no longer looking at him.
"And just what are these emotions my dear child?" he prodded, a glimmer of glee shining in his ruby eyes. They open their mouth, unable to reply before slowly closing it once more and swallowing. "W, Well, I feel all warm and fuzzy, a, and, I feel as if I need more of them in a particular way", and before the priest can ask anything more, the little lamb happens to mutter something, "I don't know what I need from you father, I'm with you right now but it's not enough", Oh he muses credulously, lips curling up slightly.
"Don't be so unsure of yourself, acceptance is the first step to forgiveness after all" and with those words, hope shines in your pretty eyes. "Father, what can I do to repent for my sin?" you asked, eager to hear his reply as you wrapped your smaller hands around his own.
"Come with me to the altar my child" he said, whisking you outside of the confessional, his large hands guiding you towards the extravagant altar.
The moonlight graces both of your figures, painting you both an ethereal portrait. His fingers ghost over your wrist, and with a soft smile, he asks,
"Will you tell me more about how you feel towards me?"
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"Hnn..!" you cry out, ass stinging from the impact of his hand coming down. Andrew can't help but admire the way it reddens, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin under his hands. It's almost poetic, how you spoke his title with such passion, he wasn't sure of it beforehand but now he's certain, you truly did love and lust after him.
He engraved everything, etching the curves of your body into his memory, how you whined and writhed under his touch, how your cute body was bent over the altar, displayed so beautifully, yet so sinfully.
He soothes your behind with his hand, humming gently as he does so. Andrew's imagination runs wild, thumbing at your hole. He turns you over so you're facing him, wanting to see your facial expressions.
Soft whimpers breach past your lips, gripping onto the fabric of his amice. His fingers are gentle as they dig deeper into you, pressing kisses against your temple; it's forbidden for him to love you and hold you but he can't bring himself to stop, not when you're moaning out "Father!" so lovingly.
He smiles when you pull him down for a kiss, whispering a soft "I love you" against your lips, even if it's considered a sin, he'll continue loving you to the very bitter end.
He takes out his fingers, chuckling at the way you whimper so cutely at the absence of his assault on your insides. He plays with the rosary in his hands, gazing into your eyes.
"I would like to try something but, if you don't like it, don't hesitate to voice it out" he says softly, brushing a lock of your hair away from your face. You nod softly, smiling up at him, and in that moment, Andrew realises that he no longer cares if he's committing a sin, the God he serves be damned if he can't love you.
Andrew swallows nervously, slowly pushing the rosary into your warmth. Your hole swallows them all, tightening around his fingers as he prods at every single sensitive spot you have, making sure to burrow the beads into those spots—breathy high pitched whines got louder and louder as he played with your insides.
To be quite frank, your voice was something that sounded much better than the choir's pieces, he'd choose listening to your sweet voice over their boring church music any day.
"A, Andrew" you drew out, pulling him into your embrace—he was a bit shocked but as soon as it came, it went away just as quickly. He placed his other arm beside your head, propping himself up; his ruby red eyes took in your facial expression, it was one akin to what those harlots had when they came to the so called "Clergymen" to repent for their sins, but yours was different, it was only for him to take in.
The beads dragged against your sensitive insides, drawing you near your orgasm. "I, It feels weird, my stomach is getting tighter" you whimpered, clawing at his shoulders.
"It's alright, it means you're close little one" he cooed, adding another finger before thrusting his fingers inside you even faster, he urged you to cum, nibbling on your ear.
With a loud moan, you came, dirtying both your garments and his own, you can't quite recall anything after that. When you came to, you were in Andrew's arms, in his own carriage. "Finally awake? dear, you wouldn't let me take the rosary out, especially with how you practically strangled my fingers" he teased, caressing your cheek as you laid against his chest.
You could still feel the beads rubbing against your walls—flushing in embarrassment, you pout, not paying him any attention as the priest cradled you in his arms.
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okay, I rewrote it @mirology
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thefairylights · 7 months
Text
Starting off Kinktober 2023 @vampirefest with a playlist! Sexy songs for sexy prompts of many types. No set ship so we vibe with every pairing. Whatever feels right, is right. ❤️🖤❤️
No more sunlight. The moon awaits us. ⚰️
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Now, on to your knees to click that link, my companion heart.
31 tracks for 31 days.
one: mack loren/if i didn’t know better
I take my time and study your face
Thinking of a different place for it to be while you keep
One hand on my waist, you grip my thigh
Heart starts to race
Like you could taste what I'm tryna hide
two: zolita/holy
I can fight but the devil wins
And I will fall like a saint who sins
Forgive me Father, I am weak
And it's not forgiveness that I seek
three: the marias/hush
Don't think you've made it under my skin
Could never get in
Forget about it
Don't talk so much
Your tongue is burning up
I've had enough
four: elley duhe/middle of the night
These burning flames, these crashing waves
Wash over me like a hurricane
I'll captivate, you're hypnotized
Feel powerful, but it's me again
Come, lay me down
'Cause I know this
'Cause I know this sound
five: saint mesa/lion
You burn everything you see
Gold are your fingers
Leaving traces everywhere you go
Diamonds in your skin
My blood flows
six: chloe adams/dirty thoughts
I'm frustrated
Do you really look good naked
And I know that it ain't that holy
But Lord I need this one night only
The more that I push 'em away
The more that you're stuck in my brain
The more I mentally undress
I confess
seven: king mala/she calls me daddy
She's a little bit psycho
But she follows
When I call in the middle of the night
She's got you wrapped around her finger
You try to linger
But she's already on her way to mine
eight: hey violet/unholy
Say your name while our tongues are tied
Getting shivers all down my spine
We're in bed, we're embedded in my mind
nine: hozier/eat your young
I'm starving, darling
Let me put my lips to something
Let me wrap my teeth around the world
Start carving, darling
I wanna smell the dinner cooking
I wanna feel the edges start to burn
ten: chandler leighton/when you say my name
Does it scare you
That I already know what you're into?
You can say less, I bet I can guess
That'll you say whatever to get me undressed
Double dare you, tell me two lies
Don't need no truths
'Cause I can see right through you
You're no good at pretend
I'm using your tricks that you use with your friends
eleven: dezi/sinner
Lead us not into temptation
Your touch is feeling like salvation
If you're down for misbehaving
If you're liking this sensation
Pin me on your wall like an icon
And I pray that you leave the lights on
twelve: banks/fuck with myself
You're in the corner waiting for my love
I put two walls behind you just to lean on
Kinda need 'em 'cause I stood you up
'Cause I fuck with myself more than anybody else
thirteen: dove cameron/breakfast
I'm sick, yeah, I'm sick
And honestly, I'm getting high off it
Do you wanna see a magic trick?
'Cause you don't know what you don't know
But I know
fourteen: lana del rey/freak
Flames so hot that they turn blue
Palms reflecting in your eyes, like an endless summer
That's the way I feel for you
If time stood still I'd take this moment
Make it last forever
fifteen: ari abdul/taste
I'm begging you, untie this noose
Want your hands 'round my neck
I'm begging you, come be my muse
You're all that I have left
sixteen: ag/terrible thing
Oh honey, you're so cold
I lose my self-control
seventeen: jesse joe stark/fire of love
Your kiss rips through the shadows
Lipstick poisons this black rose
Haunted and torn from the heavens
You pull the petals from my mouth
They fall and tenderly black out
Baby, it's been so lonely
eighteen: zaryah/deep dive
Deep dive into my lips
Heat of your breath takes me into your abyss
Hold tight, I'll fulfil every need
Head up, you got me down on my knees
nineteen: lana del rey/gods & monsters
In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an angel looking to get fucked hard
twenty: darren hayes/insatiable
Breathe in breathe out, there is no sound
We move together up and down
We levitate our bodies soar
Our feet don't even touch the floor
twenty-one: melanie martinez/high school sweethearts
If you can't handle a heart like mine
Don't waste your time with me
If you're not down to bleed, no, oh
If you can't handle the choking, the biting
The loving, the smothering
'Til you can't handle it no more, no more
Go home
twenty-two: ramsey/daddy
Baby, you're divine, I leave my body
Suckin' on your tongue, gold teeth, come find love
twenty-three: massive attack/paradise circus
Love is like a sin, my love
For the ones that feel it the most
Look at her with her eyes like a flame
She will love you like a fly will never love you again
twenty-four: aeseaes/desire
I'm an old
Desire
Sleeping in your skin
I'll take you over
And let you hide
And let you hide
twenty-five: natalia kills/problem
Sweat, dripping down your chest
Thinking 'bout your tattooed knuckles
On my thigh boy boy boy
Cold shower... you got no power to control
How I make you my toy toy toy
My hips rocking
As we keep lip locking
Got the neighbors screaming
Even louder louder
twenty-six: the pretty reckless/going to hell
Gettin' heavy with the devil, you can hear the wedding bells
twenty-seven: meg myers/desire
Baby, I wanna fuck you
I wanna feel you in my bones
Boy, I'm gonna love you
I'm gonna tear into your soul
twenty-eight: soap&skin/me and the devil
And I said hello Satan, ah
I believe it is time to go
Me and the devil walkin' side by side
twenty-nine: chymes/gity
You can trust in me, no, you don't have to hide
Have anything you want, just tell me what you like
Bring out the devil in you, it can't hide
I feel the fire trapped inside
thirty: banks/gimme
At the rock bottom baby crawl, crawl
I let you lick it from the ground, ground
'Cause I've been drippin' for your love, love
You can call me that bitch
thirty-one: nine inch nails/closer
I wanna fuck you like an animal
I wanna feel you from the inside
I wanna fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God
You just have to nod your beautiful head and say yes 🩸🩸🩸
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phoebe-delia · 5 months
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Hi Phoebe! If you're still accepting prompts, would "a single thread of gold tied me to you" from the song lyrics list be acceptable (and/or drarry soulmates)?
I love your writing, and I hope December is treating you well! 💜
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One single thread of gold tied me to you
Oh, sweet anon, thank you so much! Both for the prompt and for your kind words about my writing. My brain has been being mean to me lately about my writing, so this made me smile.
I love soulmate stuff so much but I'm not sure I've ever written it before! So. Here's my take on it. I wrote a little Victorian AU, because I LOVE Victorian AU!Drarry.
Draco nearly choked on his champagne and had a coughing fit when he saw Harry Potter again. It took everything he'd learned in his decade of decorum training not to simply spit out the large sip he'd just taken of champagne and spew it all over Lady Coatesworth-Haye's gown. Though if Draco hadn't been focusing his energy elsewhere at that moment, he might've had the passing thought that her gown couldn't be made worse for it.
Still, he managed to swallow while keeping one eye on the old woman and the other on Potter. The man moved easily through the ballroom, exchanging greetings with the party-goers. Potter had a charming smile for each of them, but Draco felt his confusion nearly outweigh his shock at seeing Potter continue determinedly through the crowd, as if on a mission.
"...wouldn't you agree?" Draco was pulled from his musings to look back at the haughty and wrinkled face of the woman in front of him.
Draco cleared his throat. "Yes, quite right, madame." He glanced around, relieved when he saw a server coming toward them with an empty tray. "If you will excuse me," he said, not waiting for a reply before walking off, setting his half-full champagne glass down on the passing tray.
Draco moved quickly but tried not to make his haste too obvious, lest the guests think the son of the hosts was trying to leave his parents' own party. He finally made his way outside to the balcony and braced himself on the railing. He breathed heavily, letting the cool night air fill his lungs while he tried to formulate a plan.
What on earth was Potter doing? Draco wanted to scream. He immediately regretted having left his champagne inside.
He had to get out of there, party be damned. He'd claim he'd fallen ill and then take his leave. "Forgive me, Mother," he muttered to himself, preparing to brave the crowd one last time and strategizing how he'd be able to escape without running into Potter.
He heard the door open, the noise of the party briefly spilling into the peaceful night before it shut again.
"Draco?"
The sound of his name, in that voice, brought tears to Draco's eyes. He forced them back, absolutely refusing to let himself cry. "Potter," he replied cooly, not turning around to greet him.
He heard Potter take a step toward him. "I've been looking for you."
Draco kept his expression neutral, turning his head slightly over his shoulder. "Well, you've found me."
"I was hoping to speak with you."
“I’m afraid I must decline."
"Might I inquire as to why?"
"I've fallen ill. You would do well to keep away from me, Potter."
Potter frowned and stepped closer into Draco's space. "You seem perfectly healthy to me." He pressed the back of his hand to Draco's forehead. Draco froze at Potter's light touch. Potter's hand left warmth in its wake when he lifted it from Draco's person.
"Ah," Potter said, nodding. "You are sick. But I believe we suffer from the same affliction."
Draco scoffed. "Oh, really?"
"Yes. Heartbreak is contagious."
Draco whipped around to face Potter fully, glaring at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Potter smiled at him a bit sadly. "We have to discuss this sooner or later, you understand."
Potter's hand moved closer to Draco's, but Draco yanked his hand away. "I see no reason why we should ever have to discuss this."
"I can give you three reasons."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Easily. First, I miss you terribly." Potter took a step forward, closing the distance between them.
Draco's heart skipped a beat. "What-"
"Second, you pine for me just as strongly."
"But—no, I—"
"And third," Potter placed his hand firmly over Draco's, and a thin, shimmering golden thread appeared and tied itself around their wrists, linking them together. "We belong together," he whispered.
Draco felt a tear slip down his cheek as he looked at their joined hands.
"And no matter how much you want to pretend we'll never work, or that society will never embrace us, it hasn't made me love you any less." Potter lifted his other hand to cup the back of Draco's neck. "Stop running from me. Stop running from yourself."
"Harry." It came out of Draco's chest like a wheeze; like it was the last gust of air from his lungs. His breath shuddered as a few more tears spilled. "Nothing's changed, you know that. My parents won't accept our soulmate bond, and they never will. Do you know the risk you took by simply coming here?" Draco turned his hand over to lace his fingers with Harry's.
"I had to see you. I was distraught, and hurt, and so angry. But I've thought it through, and I've got a plan." Harry's expression shifted to one of fierce determination. "Draco, come away with me. We can leave now, tonight."
"H-Harry," Draco breathed. "You're mad!"
"Mad for you, perhaps," Harry grinned at him. "Just picture it, Draco. We can escape and live a life of our own. I've got a friend a few towns away by boat. She can take us in while we find a permanent home.
"You've got your own vaults, now; out of your parents' control. And so have I, since my birthday last month. We might not have our titles, or our status, but we'll be comfortable." Harry met his eyes directly. "And we'll be free to love each other, openly. Without fear."
Harry wiped a tear from Draco's cheek. "I know the choice isn't easy. But can you honestly tell me that you would be happier here than with me? Would you truly rather marry someone you don't love in order to please your parents? Instead of the person chosen by the Gods to love you?"
Draco took a shuddering breath. "Harry," he began. "You were right; I've missed you like a part of me." He forced back more tears. "And then tonight, when you found me out here, I thought you were going to tell me you'd given up on me."
"No, my love," Harry shook his head. "Never."
Draco sniffed. "I've thought constantly about that day. About all the things I should have said and didn't. But I don't wish to waste any more time. The answer to your question is yes, Harry, of course. I love you." Draco crossed the short distance between them and pulled Harry into a kiss.
A few skipped heartbeats later, they pulled away, breathless and a bit teary. "Thank Merlin you said yes," Harry chuckled. "I don't know what I would've done."
"Of course I did. I'd follow you anywhere, Harry." Draco sealed his promise with a small kiss on Harry's lips. "Anywhere."
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perpetualcynicism · 6 months
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𝚃𝚘 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙰𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚜𝚝 𝙰 𝚂𝚎𝚊 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 — 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝚂𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎 #𝟹: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙾𝚏 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚎.
𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Existential contemplation. 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Existential thoughts, a sprinkling of nihilism. 𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑: 794 words. 𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: Gender-neutral reader, minor god!reader, reader is the god of sea foam, reader’s name is ‘Aphros’, reader has total mutism, third person narration, pre-established character dynamics and relationships. (Exposition dump incoming: regarding those already familiar with the fic, I’ll mention that I imagine Aphros’ use of sign language here as a result of them reconnecting somewhat with human society after the events of the fic, as this drabble is set slightly in the future, and upon doing so, discovering and learning sign language.) This is an extra scene from the fic ‘To Dance Amidst A Sea Of Flowers’ — read the whole thing here if you’re interested.
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[~2,100 A.A.W]
Nightfall in Liyue Harbour was rarely accompanied by silence. Night markets bustled with guests, and lanterns and newly-invented gas ‘street lamps’ took the place of stars, lining streets instead of constellations. The nightlife was so plentiful that the lights could be seen even from the mountain peaks of Huaguang Stone Forest as a gold shimmer on the horizon. 
Aphros remarked on this very sight as they and Xiao reached one such peak and came to a stop, staring over the silhouetted landscape. 
The city is so bright, they signed. 
“Is that good or bad?”
They shrugged. It is an observation, not an opinion. But if I were to give an opinion, it would be that it’s nicer to look at than to participate in. 
Xiao gave a hum of agreement and sat down on the grass.
“I prefer the stars,” he said after a pause. They nodded. A moment later, Aphros laid back on the grass; Xiao soon joined them. The green blades tickled their hands, cold and coarse. Xiao’s fingers were close enough to touch, should they wish to reach out. 
The stars were bright that night, brighter than the previous ones. Aphros had noticed that, as humans expanded their settlements and their roads and their gas-powered lights, the stars were growing dimmer. Only a few centuries ago, the nights had been like ink, Aphros recalled, with the moon as the only beacon. The constellations had been vivid spatters, like an artist had flicked white ink from their brushtip across the sky. Some of the constellations themselves had shifted since then, with old stars blinking out of existence and new ones shining in their stead. 
How curious was it, they thought, that over time, even the stars themselves could not remain forever? 
Aphros turned towards Xiao, meeting his eyes across the grass. With a bittersweet smile, they signed, It makes you realise how insignificant we all are, doesn’t it? 
He frowned. Aphros tilted their head back, scanning the dancing constellations with their eyes. 
Our lives, mortal and immortal alike, blink and vanish in the face of… They gestured up at the sky, in its dark, vast expanse of emptiness and stars. …everything. All we do and all we are… gone, just like that. Turned back into formless stardust and forgotten, as though we never existed at all. 
When you think about it, little moments such as these are so futile. They sighed a chuckle and looked over at Xiao again, their expression resigned with dry humour towards the acceptance of the inevitable nihilism of living. You know, sometimes I do wonder, what is the point? What does anything matter? Why should we even try, if all we do ultimately means so little?
Xiao looked away from them. He stared upwards at the sky and was silent for a long while. Aphros was beginning to wonder whether he had fallen asleep with his eyes open when at length he said, “I disagree.”
Aphros’ brows rose with intrigue: when it came to existential matters, Xiao had always deigned to keep silent and listen to whatever Aphros mused. He rarely voiced his own thoughts, much less provided ones contradiction with their own. 
They tilted their head, imploring him silently to continue. Xiao chewed on his lip. His fingers and hands moved in their own gestures as he struggled to express a matter large as this in words. Then he sighed, hands falling by his sides, shook his head, and after another pause, began to work his way through what he meant to say. 
“Though it may be true that our lives are barely noticeable in comparison to the ‘everything’ you speak of,” he began, speaking slowly, “it is this which makes them significant. The little moments you have dismissed are the ones which eternity can never claim.” He hesitated and looked at Aphros as if for guidance. They nodded: Go on. Xiao pursed his lips and heaved another sigh. “Existence can be replicated, but… individual lives cannot. The fleeting moments which those lives are comprised of are what make them more precious: I believe those moments are what separate ‘living’ from ‘existing’.”
Aphros’ eyes twinkled with their smile. That’s a very beautiful view, Xiao.
His expression softened with a smile of his own. “It is one you have taught me.” Feeling their face warm, Aphros looked back up at the sky. 
Silence soon crept into the empty spaces left by lack of conversation; and there it settled comfortably for a time, until Aphros asked, Have you ever considered writing poetry?
Xiao shook his head. “I do not know how to pen verses. Unlike yourself, I have no talent for such things.”
Aphros smiled at him again, secretly knowing. You may be more adept than you think.
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juniormint1125 · 1 year
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The Necklace
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THIS POST CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. PLEASE READ WITH THAT IN MIND.
So quite a while ago, a friend sent me this post about Stray Kids soft boyfriend habits. Completely unexpectedly, Hyunjin's hit me hard. He's not my bias, nor has he ever been a wrecker. But, I've been thinking about it for months with no explanation.
Thanks to @hwajin for the inspiration!
"ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ
it is such a random thing but he will help you remove your jewelery. if you were out with friends, or on a date with him, basically anywhere where you put thought and effort into your outfit, necklaces and earrings and bracelets accentuating your body - hyunjin will be next to you in the evening, fiddling with the opening of the chains around your neck, or taking one off your earrings off while you work on the other one. he wouldn’t know a reason if you asked him why he had that habit, but you couldn’t complain if you were honest, your heart melting at how attentive his actions felt..."
So I wrote this SHORT scenario to get it out of my head.
The Necklace
Hwang Hyunjin x reader
Summary: You're getting ready for a party when Hyunjin decides to help. A necklace, a tie, and a few commands later, you're definitely late for the party.
Word Count: 1,375
Genre: smut
Warnings/Contains: very light bondage, mild dominant/submissive dynamic
“Almost ready, Hyunnie!” You call to him from the bedroom. “I just need to put my jewelry on.”
You slip into your heels, then walk to the full length mirror that hangs beside your closet. As you lift your head to put on your earrings, you see Hyunjin’s reflection staring back at you.
“Hello love,” he whispers seductively. He traces a fingertip down your cheek to your shoulders where he brushes back your hair.
“You look beautiful,” he coos and places feather like kisses on the bare skin of your neck. You tremble.
“Allow me.” He reaches for the earring you’re holding, caressing your shoulder as he turns you to face him. You’re breathing heavily as he brings it to your ear. His touch is electrifying, heating up your skin with every second he’s close to you.
Your eyes flutter shut as he leans closer to put an earring in your other ear. The smell of his cologne intoxicates you, making your head spin. A hint of fresh citrus and mint dances over the heady musk of amber. He reaches for you with both hands, carefully admiring the sparkling gold earrings. He swallows hard.
“Necklace?” he asks.
You hand him a delicate gold chain. The pendant is a small golden paintbrush, the bristles made from black jade to symbolize creativity. It was a gift from Hyunjin for your first anniversary. He wanted you to see it and be reminded that you’re his muse, his inspiration for everything he creates. When he sees the necklace, he smiles, remembering the message behind it.
“Turn around,” he commands.
You willingly comply, watching him in the mirror as his hands clasp the necklace. Those hands are your downfall. They’re the perfect blend of masculine strength and feminine beauty. His slim, graceful wrists give way to lithe fingers whose length makes your core clench insatiably. As his hands move across your throat, the veins become more prominent. Your eyes follow the twisting path they take on the back of his hand and you imagine them twisting through the strands of your hair.
He runs his fingertips across your collar bone, down the center of your breasts. Your body shutters and a soft moan escapes your lips. He hums in reply; he revels in the noises you make when lust overtakes you.
“Does that feel good, my love?” You nod, watching him loosen the silk tie that’s been intricately wound around his neck. You know what he’s thinking.
“Hyunjin, we’ll be late,” you scold, only half heartedly.
“Just one touch, love. Please?” He bats his eyelashes and you know it’s futile to resist. You don’t want to anyway.
He brings the fabric in front of your eyes, and you close them in obedience; you know the routine like the back of your hand. You can feel his breath closing in, sparks of desire ricocheting off your skin. Once he’s tightened the blindfold, you hold out your hand and he leads you across the room. When the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, you know to stop.
“Good girl,” he purrs, running his fingertips down your arm. He slides the fabric of your dress up and over your hips. Cool air washes over your core and you tremble again. He lightly drums his fingertips up the insides of your thighs, until he reaches the band of your panties, then slides his hands beneath them. The contrast of the coarse lace against your smooth skin as he pulls them down causes you to moan.
“Ready love?” he asks.
You nod and he gently lays you back on the mattress. You can feel him hovering over you, probably rolling up his sleeves. You jump a little when his hands finally touch your skin. The palms are flush against your thighs, and he slides them leisurely up your legs, kneading your flesh as he goes.
“Spread your legs for me, love.” His voice is gentle, coaxing and encouraging you. You move your legs apart, exposing yourself to his desire.
“More,” he demands. His voice is firmer than before, and you imagine his eyes black with lust. You widen the distance between your thighs.
“More.”
You widen your legs again until the muscles are aching.
“Tsk tsk, my sweet love. You know better.” His voice drips like honey and the burning you feel in your core as he pries your legs even further apart is just as sweet.
You whimper when he drags one of his fingers over your clit.
He rewards you with his praise. “That’s better.”
He removes his hands from your body and leaves you laying there, completely uncovered and on full display. You know that he’s waiting to see if you stay in the position he’s put you in. Because if you move, then he gets to have his fun.
You try with everything in you to keep your legs where he left them. He’s quiet, certainly standing over you watching. And when you think you’re about to give up, you hear him groan.
“Such a good girl.”
His voice trembles. It’s nearly imperceptible, but you hear it. He wants to touch you and he’s tired of waiting.
You feel him coming closer, and you feel your wetness dripping in anticipation.
“So so lovely,” he comments.
He must be kneeling in front of you; what feels like his knees connect with the inside of your legs and exert the slightest bit of pressure, making sure they stay open. His fingertips tease over the insides of your thighs, drawing ever shrinking circles until there’s only one fingertip circling your clit. He varies the pressure of his circles, driving you mad.
His fingers stop. “Are you ready for me love?”
You nod feverishly, trying to even out your ragged breathing. His body moves closer to you until his mouth is right at your ear. His hands fidget with the necklace pendant.
“Shall we see?” he whispers.
You breathe a hushed yes and wait for his next move.
It seems to take him an eternity to drag his fingers along the inside of your thigh, but he finally reaches your sex. He leisurely traces a circle around the edge before plunging his finger inside. Your body arches as his knuckle slams against your clit.
“Fuck, Hyunjin,” you cry.
He laughs. It’s a mixture of tenderness and madness and your core clenches at the sound. His finger moves in and out slowly and you hum in satisfaction.
You feel the sweet stretch of your opening as another finger dives in to join the first. This time he twists his fingers side to side raising the heat that’s burning inside you.
With the thumb of his other hand, he applies pressure to your clit, increases the speed of both hands until you’re a writhing mess beneath him. Your breathing becomes erratic as you barrel closer to your orgasm. You bite your lip, stifling your moans.
“Louder please, my love,” he requests. “I want to hear those pretty noises you make when you cum.”
His assault on your clit is relentless and you’re finally able let go, allowing yourself to tumble into ecstasy. Your body jerks around his fingers, your wetness floods over his hand. He begins to slow his movements.
“Take the blindfold off,” he directs you.
Dizzied by the bliss of your orgasm, you manage to reach behind you and undo the knot he’s tied in the fabric. Before you take it off, you rub the smooth silk against your cheek, breathing his scent in deeply.
You open your eyes and he’s poised over top you smiling. “Did that feel good love?”
You nod ardently. He’s still barely moving his fingers inside you, but he soon brings them to a stop. He takes each finger out slowly as he gazes into your eyes. Finally, he brings his hand to his face and, one by one, inserts his fingers into his mouth, lewdly sucking your wetness from each digit.
“Mouthwatering,” he smirks.
Your face flushes red. It’s embarrassing how aroused his vulgar act makes you feel. He leans closer to you, his lips grazing your cheek. The act is intimate and tender. When his lips are floating just above yours, he whispers.
“I love it when you wear that necklace.”
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WAITING FOR A BUS
I'm a traveling man straight from a can, I'm a thousand miles away from my number one fan.
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Daemon Targaryen x Reader (MODERN)
Description: A new promotion at work prompts you to move into a small modest town with your boyfriend, Aemond Targaryen. There you meet a few friendly faces. It seems like life is going where it's supposed to. That is until you meet your new boss, Daemon Targaryen, who is your boyfriend's estranged uncle.
It doesn't help with the fact that you've been having dreams about him since birth.
masterlist | chapter ten
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He notices your absence — the empty spot behind his chair. You went to the bathroom a few minutes ago, should've been back by now. A dozen thoughts raised through his head. He stands up quietly, not bothering to excuse himself.
———
You were born in a ship, one sailing from the free-cities to Westeros. You could still feel the boat rocking under-feet, but you've never seen a boat or ship before. According to stories they were as large as dragons, as swift as a snake and they had sails made from kites — the one you were staring at was small.
A ship was a whale, and a boat was a worm, they were akin but not identical. It didn't matter to you — it floated, and it could bring you anywhere you desired. Chills ran down your body as your eyes landed upon Daemon. He wore a proud smile, showing you his boat.
It's been a year since the war started — a lot has changed since. His hands used to be as smooth as a babe's skin, but now they were hardened like leather. There was a fine stubble on his chin, a few discolorations on his face, a few more scars on his body, and wounds that were light-pink on his skin. His face was beautiful, but he was a god.
"Do you like it?" he leans on the small frame of the boat, and you nodded your head. Everything that he touches soon turns into gold in your eyes. "I built it when I was a young boy." he explained, a few expressions were painted on his face, but you could not decipher all of them. He smiles again, dusting the boat with his leather hands.
There were a few indentions on the boat's body, but you trusted him enough to board it. You felt strangely stiff — wrapped with a single shawl beside the cold spring wind. He places a hand on your lap, sitting parallel you. He was wearing his small-clothes, but he seemed undeterred by the winds.
"I wanted to escape my wife, I thought that this boat could bring me to the free-cities." he mused, and you give him a smile. It was nice to remember that he used to be a child too — that he wasn't born into this world a seasoned warrior. "And did it?" you inquired, he shakes his head immediately.
You smile again, finding his foolishness adorable.
"I would never know — they all stopped me before I could try." he responded with a childish chuckle, and he began paddling on the small lake. You stared at the floorboard, praying to the gods that the boat would float. "They shouldn't have, there aren't any oceans in the Vale." you tease, staring deep into his lavender eyes.
You loved him with all of your heart. "Darling, I would've clawed the very soil just to escape that bronze bitch." he cursed to himself before stopping his paddling. You raise an eyebrow — it was the first time he ever spoke about his first wife. He stares at you for a second, eyes softening and vacant of rage.
"If I had known that you would come after, I would have never agreed to any marriage. I would save myself for you." he gives you a soft smile. You giggle, wrapping the shawl around your head. "Do you love me?" you ask teasingly, and he nods his head — reaching for your soft palms. "More than the world," he whispered in return, pressing kisses on the back of your hand.
"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I've seen lights of green and purple, the sun falling and rising, but I would rather gaze upon you than any of them." he whispers, placing your palms close to his cheeks. "You know how to flatter me with your words, my lord." you laugh while leaning closer to his body.
There were fireflies behind you, the trees were glimmering with moonlight — and the fog made it seem like you were floating on clouds. "I love you. I know I should have said it sooner." you confess, pulling on his collar and bringing your lips to ignition. It was the perfect kiss. "I love you too," he replies breaking the kiss for a few seconds, before bringing your lips together again. He was truth in the sea of lies. The pomegranate that freed you.
He pulled back, eyes foggy with love.
———
His purple-pink eyes were part of you.
His hands were wrapped around your shoulder, slowly shaking you awake, eyes filled with concern. He didn't know you intimately, but he felt inclined to take care of you. "Are you okay?" he asks, mumbling your name along with a string of curses.
You opened your eyes.
Since the first time, you saw him — you knew.
Your hands reached for your head, holding it in place. The entire world was spinning, your ears were ringing and ten-thousand needles prickled your scalp. "What happened?" you managed to ask, numb from the flashback. You didn't dare stare at him — it was just a dream right? Another one of your false-nightmares that haunted your every living moment.
"You were gone for a while, so I checked the bathroom — you forgot to lock the door," he explained, hesitating for a short moment. You wanted to tell him about the 'dream' but he would never believe you. He'd think that you were crazy. "Yeah, sorry — I think I'm a little fatigued." you lied while massaging your head.
He didn't seem to believe you.
"You were talking about something, it could be a concussion — do you want to get that checked out? I'm a trained physician, I could check." he offered, and you couldn't help but laugh. "You are a soldier, an english major and a trained physician?" your eyes strained and you leaned into the wall again. He clicks his tongue, carefully helping your raise your head by an inch.
"Was a soldier, but believe me, ñuha mērī mēre." he chuckles carefully checking your head. He knows the exact reason why this is happening, but he also knew that you weren't going to believe him. You freeze for a second, hearing that familiar phrase. "ñuha mērī mēre?" you inquire and he responds with another laugh.
He ignores your question, choosing to help your stand up instead. "You're fine, but please return to the dinner table." he pleaded, but the ringing became worse — and there were a hundred-thousand needles prickling your scalp. You fall to your feet again, grasping your ears as you tried to block out the noise.
"I remember,"
next chapter>>
taglist: @namelesslosers @immyowndefender @ammo2022 @perihelioneclipse @gracielikegrapes @joliettes @thetrueblackheart
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restwellsoon · 9 months
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this is so cute! i hope you have a lot of fun writing! can i request daydreams with bakugou katsuki, and a praise kink, but you can decide if it's spicy or sweet bc i'll love either!
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As I've been telling everyone you sent something in for this event, thank you thank you thank you for your patience, Nonnie!
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Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader
/ Everything about Katsuki was hot as he gave in and sought out your full attention, taking a moment to break away from your hold to snake his arm around your waist. For the second time today, you found yourself beneath him.
Prompt: Praise kink, fluff
Warnings: praise kink, fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, a bit of nipple play
“It must be exhausting being a good girl,” Katsuki commented, his fingers carding absently through your hair. Some movie rerun was playing in the background, but it lost your attention hours ago; the exact moment was when he walked through the door. It was more interesting to watch his chest rise and fall, to hear his heart beat only for you.
There were the usual kisses and hellos and everything else that was involved in missing the person you loved. It was only natural that the first matter of business was dealt with in the bedroom.
And now that the initial rush of his homecoming was over, there was only the two of you in bed. A thin sheet was all that covered your longing.
“It’s easy,” you told him, “when I’m doing it for you.”
Your answer didn’t seem to please him as his bottom lip tilted to a frown. “I’m sure it’s not,” he said. “I’m not the easiest to love. This isn’t the easiest life to live.” The biggest house, the nicest clothes, the finest foods–he would give it to you all, and it still didn’t feel like enough.
Pulling yourself away from his chest, you asked him what was wrong. “I don’t think this conversation is going to where I thought it would,” you mused. 
Your eyes searched his for an answer, and he gave it in the squeeze of your hand. Katsuki’s lips brushed against your fingertips, nose grazing against your knuckles–this softer side was only for you as his features turned to honey-gold and ruby with the sunset that drifted in from the blinds.
“It’s not,” he said plainly. “This last mission just…” He trailed off, trying to search for the right words. He could show you how much he loved you every moment of the day, but saying it was something else entirely. You learned to be patient.
“It just had me thinking,” he finally admitted, “about us, about you.”
He pulled at his hair in frustration, “Fuck, it really is harder to say it than do it.”
Everything about Katsuki was hot as he gave in and sought out your full attention, taking a moment to break away from your hold to snake his arm around your waist. For the second time today, you found yourself beneath him.
You melted under his gaze, his touch as intense as his looks. A trail of his heat guided his touch as he tried once more between kisses. Katsuki was the persistent type.
“Stop being so good to me,” he said with a nip to your collar.
“So good for me.” 
“So–”
You couldn’t hear his last words, your breath hitched and back arching as his tongue swirled against your nipple. His free hand made sure the other wasn’t neglected, giving it a gentle pinch to prove it wasn’t forgotten. Your response to everything that he said was a contented sigh.
Before he went further, Katsuki said one last piece, “I know that everyone wants a love like this and someone like you, so thank you–for being a good girl and even when you’re a fucking brat. I’m so lucky to have you.”
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A Token of Sleep | event / Bakugou Katsuki's Masterlist / Rest's Main M.list
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