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hwajin · 1 month

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☆°. — ғɪғᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴘᴀsᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ | hhj

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x afab!reader

𝐰𝐜: 3.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, cumming inside

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is barely proof read AND inspired by the bathrobe look in paris but also hyunjin in milan 🫶 hope you like it <333

You could feel his gaze on you. On your figure, your body. On your whole. The clear sound of his 2B pencil dancing along the cheap, store-bought paper echoed quietly in contrast to the music playing somewhere in the back, from the radio, or one of your phones, or from outside your hotel room altogether — it didn’t much matter to you, for his gaze on your body, on your figure, on your whole was all that did.

You weren’t sure if he was aware that you were aware — his eyes on you, the pencil scratching against the paper; you knew you were the object for his current spurt of creativity. The object of his inspiration. The object of his works — his very own and personal muse. You knew, and the knowledge, the very thought alone, made you dizzy, made you lose track of the sentence you were reading in the tour guide provided by the hotel.

Milan was beautiful. You were working your way through page after page, taking in museums and cathedrals, art galleries you knew Hyunjin would die to see. One page, his gaze on you, long, intimate, longing. Another page, eyeing the ‘Pinacoteca di Brera’, putting in a bookmark to later show him, and you felt his eyes on you again. Unbudging. Persistent. He either was unsure of your anatomy, or simply enjoyed to stare.

“I can feel you staring, you know.”

You looked up, and your eyes momentarily locked with his own, dark ones. Sparking. Speaking, without words. His hair had dried a good bit ever since he’d stepped out the shower, the white bathrobe snug loosely around his naked body leaving only so much to imagination. You looked at him, smiling, teasing, and he stared back — aware, and smug. His eyes wandered down to his art again — faint strokes of your face adorning the page and you wondered what had moved Hyunjin to capture you in this very moment — it was mundane, the moment, and you didn’t look any bit different – or, better, for that matter – than you did any other day. You were reading a tour guide, lazy, tired, solemn — you wondered where he saw the beauty in that.

“I know. I don’t mind that you can feel it.”

A pang to your heart, and he looked up from his page again, after adding lines here and there which as though magically transformed into plasticity, into your eyes and nose and mouth. You were fascinated by his art. You grew bashful at his words. And you were enamored by his eyes, his face. His whole; the way he looked. Milan was beautiful — but suddenly you forgot all about the tour guide, about the trip here you had bought for his birthday. You forgot all about the sights and museums and art galleries, for he sat across from you, sight enough, creating the only art you ever wished to look at.

You were sure you blushed, your skin acquainting the same colour of the roses blooming on the table in a vase. You could smell them, their scent spreading all around and luring you into depths so captivating you wanted to exist in them for eternity.

Only now you noticed the red paint by your lover’s side, only after thorough inspection of him. He parted his eyes from your own with a grin and continued on his drawing — on your drawing, ultimately, because you knew he’d gift it to you after finishing touches —; his hands reached after the brush laying beside his paper, and with a dip into beforehand-prepared water he activated the red colour, and let it swim across white paper. You couldn't take your eyes off him. You couldn’t take your eyes off the way his hands controlled the paint on his canvas, how the pigment drowned and spread and melted against the grey lines of pencil. Taking everything in, swallowing details, yet enhancing the object of the art, enhancing features of your face. Your cheeks suddenly shone red now on the white paper — and maybe it had been his aim after all, to make you shy, to make you bashful. Reality materialised onto paper, into art. Love did, for every brushstroke, every further pigment of red paint on white canvas meant love, for every further gaze of his, for reference or his own enjoyment you weren’t sure, meant adoration.

It took Hyunjin far longer to finish the painting than he had intended it to. Not because he was struggling with it — drawing you in all shapes and forms was a second nature to him by now —, and not because of exterior reasons altogether. Yet he sat and painted, away and away, adding a line here, colour there, watching you go back to the tour guide; he was sure that it could not possibly take you so long to finish it. That you were spending far too much time on each page, that you were eyeing Hyunjin far too often after every other sentence you read. That it wouldn’t possibly take you so long to inspect sights and places — but that you and him were set on the same mission, seemingly, on the same, interior goal. Finishing the tour guide, completing the painting — meant ending the moment. Ending the tranquility, discarding, ultimately, from admiring the other in the golden light of the slowly setting sun, shadows of trees and buildings casting paintings on your faces. The moment would end, the sun would set, would stop drowning the ebony furniture in your hotel room in golden showers, snow-white bed sheets in warm rays.

You looked up; Hyunjin looked at you, inspecting, one second, another, before he went back to his painting, as concentrated as he had stared at you. You let your eyes wander to somewhere behind him — you looked out the western window, which blind’s didn't do well in saving you from the blinding sun, though you wouldn't have wanted them to, admired the sunset, the city that laid in it, the foreign neighbourhood, the white sky. Maybe Hyunjin caught beauty there — the rich sun on your face. Your sparking eyes, your gleaming expression. Almost sacred, solemn. Meant for only the two of you.

You caught glimpse of the broken clock on the wall behind him, showing fifteen minutes past four — it had been showing fifteen minutes past four for the past two hours now. Or for the past three? How much later was it now, ever since you had settled into the hotel room? The sun had long started to set behind the horizon, though it had stood at its highest spot when you had first entered the single bedroom for two; yet maybe no time had passed at all. Maybe in his presence love was eternal, unending.

You stood up. You had been looking at Hyunjin for far too long; had been only looking at him, inspected his every move, reciprocated his every long, fixed stare, shuddering beneath it simply. You had studied his ever-drying dark hair, his ever-parting bathrobe, his naked collarbones, his paint-laced fingers. The way he stared you down, the way he left you vulnerable and naked with as much as a gaze – and you felt touch starved. His eyes burned on your skin, though it wasn’t sensation enough to satisfy you – you needed more of him. You would always need more of him.

Hyunjin’s eyes followed your figure as you made your way over to him. Without a rush, walking slowly; you bore all the time the world had to offer in your palms, it felt. You walked slowly, yet the scent of the red roses you passed filled Hyunjin’s senses in the breeze your movements created. The floral sensation all around him, your nearing body, your leisure attire, your hazy eyes – he was convinced this moment alone, the sight of you, the golden sun as though casting a halo above your figure, drowning you in warmth and beauty and love, this moment alone was entirely enough to eradicate each and every of his needs, any wish he’s ever wished and any promise he’s ever made; for this moment alone, and your heaven-sent presence was enough to fulfill all. Needs, wishes, promises. If it was you he could look at for eternities, if it was your body he’d have the privilege of holding close for the end of times he would never dare to ask of anything else.

The red paint on Hyunjin’s paper slowly dried out as you finally stood before him. It wasn’t, Hyunjin thought, the roses on the table in a vase which sent their scent across the room, after all – it was you. You smelt of roses. You smelt of vanilla, of red paint, of smoke, of Milan, now that you stood before him, now that he looked up at you, from beneath glasern eyes. You smelt like you, and you smelt like him; traces of his scent and his touch and his promise on your skin, and Hyunjin basked in it.

You didn’t waste much time before you made moves to take a seat on his lap; and not only did Hyunjin realize your attempts momentarily, he also embraced you without as much as hesitation. He found himself drowning in the feeling of your weight on him, allowing you to swallow him whole, allowing you to let your eyes explore. You let them wander from his face to his neck, from his protruding collarbones to his pointy shoulders – the white bathrobe was almost mocking now, doing so little in covering the man that it was nothing but ironic.

And you felt his hands on you, your body. Secure, sure of their position on your hips. Tall fingers, spacey palms; you felt their entirety on your body, and your red heart picked up its’ speed at that.

And you touched him, too. Your hands, cool and soft, found home on his face, each palming a cheek, closing him in. Your thumbs caressed his flush skin, tickled near his eyes, reached towards his parted lips, his hungry lips. Hyunjin looked at you, let you touch him, his face. Let you look at him. Let you make him wait on the kiss he so badly needed, let you bask in him, for he enjoyed nothing more than that.

Your eyes met, and you weren’t sure who granted the first smile, but both your mouths turned upwards, curling into softening features. Roses, red paint, Milan outside the window; though this moment contained of only you and him, and the broken clock, fifteen minutes past four, timelessness. You showed your teeth, your eyes squinting with your smile, and Hyunjin’s were the same.

“Hi.”

A whisper against quiet music and honking cars, angry passengers outside, and Hyunjin reciprocated with a chuckle. Then, a whisper as soft as the prior one, “Hi.”; and he pulled you in. Or maybe he reached for you, longed for you. Or maybe you both moved only enough for your lips to connect, finally, in soft passion. Vigorously, though not in haste, not in roughness. Forcefully, rather, impatiently forceful as you let your tongue dart out of your mouth so it could explore his, and it didn’t take the man as much as a minute to welcome you in, to invite you into himself. And you let your tongue dance with his own, in a waltz, or something faster than that, something less rhythmic – something freer. Your hands stood ground on his body, fingers digging into his shoulder as his dug into your flesh, in covered flesh by your aching hips. Your mouths moved against one another sloppily, and teeth dragging across lips, tongues easing off the sting right after, wet, loud, swallowing any sound which slipped past your throats. Quiet, still timid, breathy sighs which tasted of chocolate and shaky moans which were barely audible against exterior noise. You saw stars behind your eyelids – if because you squeezed them shut so tight it hurt, or because Hyunjin’s touch on your body, the bite he had just placed on your lower lip, and the way he pulled away right after, only for a second, less than that, to admire you with a smile before diving back into you, you weren’t sure, but there were stars all the same. Stars, and Hyunjin, darkening Milan behind the hotel room windows. Fifteen minutes past four. Timelessness.

Hyunjin pulled you closer. Impatience, or simply the need to have you nearer, more flushed against his body than you already were. His hands lay strong on your body, and he pulled you in, your cores coming in contact, hot, ignited, searching for more than this. Than clothed touches, more than the faint feeling of his erection against your sex. More than his hands in your hair, entangling long, warm fingers there, more than his teeth bruising your lips. You’d always want more – and you were glad that Hyunjin was no different. For his hands wandered, and his lips with them, kissing and nibbling where his fingers danced upon – your neck, your shoulders, then, your chest, unbuttoning your shirt one by one, not without a kiss to your skin with every further act of undressing. One button, a kiss, a gaze up to you beneath his lashes, a faint smile, a smug grin at your scrunched brows and staggered breath. Another button, another kiss, and his gaze fell back to your chest, watching your ever-exposing body, so impatient in his seat yet so unrushed. Taking his time. Feeling your bosom rise and fall against his lips, hearing your breath, your sighs, your heartbeat. Feeling hot – your skin was burning, your body was, and Hyunjin with it.

Your shirt was discarded onto the floor. Long forgotten, along with your shorts; Hyunjin’s bathrobe lay leisurely around him, half-opened, only carelessly shoved off his body yet not having borne enough patience to fully free him from it. Though neither of you cared. You let the fabric hang off the chair you were sitting on, the softness of it the only thing touching your skins besides each other's skin. You were closer now, much closer than before, though you barely deemed it possible. You sat right atop Hyunjin’s erection, his right hand resting against your inner thigh – he wasn’t touching yet, only teasing to, and your body grew hotter yet, needier. Your hips searched for friction, your fingers dug into Hyunjin’s scalp with a force which made the man groan out in deep satisfaction, and you kissed him with a fervor enough to move oceans – and he drowned in it, gave into you, kissed you back as feverishly, as messily.

He touched you, too. Finally, eventually, and you muffled a loud moan at the unexpectedness of it. Two fingers against your clit as Hyunjin’s tongue entered your mouth, as he forced your tongue to push against his own – to which you obliged, gladly. You moaned into him as you reciprocated his kiss, grinded your hips into his touch, into his hand. He answered with a sigh, with fingers which increased their speed, with a bite against your lower lip. It ought to hurt by now, your lower lip, with the way he was nibbling at it, though you believed that your body was immune to feel pain in relation to your lover. So, he bit away, nibbled on the sweet spot of your neck, on the lobe of your ear only to moan right into it, to send shivers down the entirety of your body, and you let him. And there was no better feeling, you believed.

You disconnected your lips from his. There was a second where his mouth searched for yours, where his body hadn’t yet registered the emptiness your parting left, but then he looked at you, leaned back in his chair, eyes glassy, fingers circling around your clit slowly, mindlessly. As though it was a bodily reaction, an instinct. As though he wasn’t actively aware of his movements at all. His breath hitched in his throat, and he looked a mess – pupils blown out, eyes dark as night, hair disheveled, mouth red and puffed and bruising. There were faint love bites blooming on his neck already, ones that would turn a deep red, or a deep purple by the next morning. The sun had almost set behind the horizon, was casting its’ last, weak rays upon the planet – and those last, weak rays of golden light seemed all to land on the man beneath you. He shone, almost golden himself, chest and cheeks flushed red, and he was glowing. Glowing in the way he looked at you, glowing the smile he granted you, genuine, true. He waited on you, waited on a kiss, or on something else, something more, maybe. Yet he let you stare at him, let you admire him in the last, weak rays of sunshine that seemed to have been saved up for him, solely – and then you kissed him, unable to resist wide eyes and longing mouth, and he kissed you back. Touched you, and you let your hands wander down his body, not missing a single line on it, not missing an inch before your hand palmed his crotch. You could sit and kiss him forever, could bask in him and his body for eternity – but you were impatient, too, especially when it came to him, to your lover. When it was him, you lost control of yourself, of your body, of your soul. It belonged to him entirely, all of it.

He let you sink onto him. Hyunjin let you bury your face in the sweatiness of his neck, in its’ sensitivity, let you groan out into his ear as you felt him bottom out entirely. He let you adjust to him, and you let him hold you, against him, against his body, your heart against his own, chest to chest. You let him whisper sweet nothings, promises, and confessions, and entire worlds. You loved his never tiring tongue in moments of intimacy – he talked and talked and talked, words sweeter than honey could ever be, and sounds more sinful than anything you’d ever known.

You screamed out when he moved. Thrusting his hips into your own, up and deeper inside of you, and you struggled to keep your composure. Your arms snug tightly around his body, around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer – you melted into one as he kept moving into you, both hands keeping a steady position on your hips, to hold you in place, or to grant you stability, or to grant himself some. And the room erupted into a symphony of your voices, of your moans and grunts and sighs, whispers and whines of each other’s names. Your senses filled with everything that was him – his voice, deep and longing and loud in your ear, his hand bruising your flesh, groping at you so harshly you saw stars, his scent, his golden body, his mouth on your skin. Everything was him, his erection so very deep within you that it almost hurt, though not quite, his right hand which suddenly found its’ way to your clit again. Drawing figures eight there impatiently as his hips grew frantic, slowly losing rhythm.

Your body ignited. It was hot, it was wet and a mess, and it was fifteen minutes past four. The broken clock on the wall behind Hyunjin capturing you two in its’ timelessness, in its infinity. It had stopped solely for you, for your love, for your souls. Your eyes closed shut when Hyunjin bit against your neck, when his teeth grazed your skin just deep enough to not break it, to not draw blood, and you came against his body in shaking waves, with a broken moan which was swallowed by the man in an instant. You felt him fill you up as he groaned into the kiss, as he let his tongue enter your mouth in lazy manner, careless now of sloppiness, of the lack of coordination. He held you close, he thrusted into you tiredly, he let you hold him. He let you kiss him, just as tired, just as lazy, basking in him, in his taste, in his scent.

Milan was beautiful. Night began to drown the city in darkness, buildings and trees, cars and people and the world losing color, quieting down. But it was still fifteen minutes past four – and you sat in Hyunjin’s hold for an eternity longer, in hushed giggles and shy confessions, and loved each other throughout the entirety of the night.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

#hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin imagines #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids hyunjin smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios

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mayordoi · 8 months

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Happy birthday to the number one princess in the world!! 💖

~from her biggest fans :)

ramble of my scattered thoughts on the piece under cut as usual cuz i love talking 😋

This has been an idea I've been cookin for a while, and it was so cluttered and unlike any other ensemble piece I've made... and I decided I oughta do it anyway. I love Miku, I love Vocaloid, and I wanted to do something really ambitious and crazy for her anniversary. Crazy that she's turning her "canon" age this year TwT

I had the idea floating around since like, May...? And then finally started acting on it around June 18. I'm terrible with deadlines, obvious with how I can never make a silly birthday post in time, so I started wayyyy ahead to make sure I have some room to be lazy lol, especially with an idea as ambitious as this.

This was finished on July 12! So I had to sit on this for an annoying amount of time. Very difficult for someone like me who just wants to talk about everything I'm working on to the masses. But at the very least, that gave me the time to work on the draft for this post.

~~~

Here's some ~behind the scenes~ scribbles leading up to the finished piece!

Left is the chicken scratch plan i made in my handy dandy notebook (whenever things are getting real and ambitious, i always made a rough ROUGH plan in there. Usually I'd do a rough pass of the full thing, but this was too complicated for me to do traditionally. I majorly benefited from digital tools to make this possible). CyberDiva and CyberSongman were considered, but I ended up cutting them cuz I just didn't feel like drawing them sorry-- (just pretend they're off to the side. They gave Ruby and Clara the pizza lol). Right is the "final" completed sketch (before I decided to include Chika mid-way through coloring and VY1 and VY2 near the finish line). I started by drawing the main "groups" separated on a different canvas so I can plop them into the main canvas for easy rearranging and transforming. However I got lazy and ended up drawing everyone in the bottom right corner directly on the canvas since I liked seeing the big picture of everyone's positions. Y'know.

Almost excluded Chika! But I like her design so much that I just felt like including her last-minute. You win this time, Chika fans. VY1 and VY2 were very close to being cut! I added them when I began doing the banner and thought "eh why not". I figured their non-human designs would be pretty easy to include pushed back in the bg. Ik VY1 is more commonly associated with the fan design, but I referenced the hairpin cuz it was simpler and the fan looked very annoying to draw 😭

Sorry to the fans of many Vocaloids I had to cut because this composition was insane enough as is. I promise I wanted to include fellas like CUL, LUMi and Sachiko 😭 I will admit I was a little biased on who I wanted to include over others. Like, I don't normally care for Bruno and Clara, but I wanted to get some more international 'loids in the mix. Also wanted to stick in the realm of official designs and not fan-designs since, as much as I can appreciate those, are just a whole "wait who is that guy supposed to be" situation I didn't wanna deal with. I also did wanna include even more character references through the balloons, but they ended up being kind of ugly and overcomplicated the BG :,) (Oh, and while this was originally planned to be a Vocaloid-only piece, I did end up including Teto, Neru, and Haku 'cuz those are Miku's besties dude!!! They may not be Officially in the club but they're her girls and it would be criminal to not invite them to her birthday).

Anyway, this project marks the first time I've drawn a lot of Vocaloids. Lily, Piko, Rana, Yuki, Yukari, Miki, Maika, and many more lol. All of 'em I've heard or seen in passing, but now I actually drew them, and some have really cool and fun designs!! I got into a habit of drawing Merli after this since I just love her design for example. And I'll probably be drawing more lol!!

Oh and the last thing I'll add for now!! The cake is indeed made up of various song references!! I wanted to reference the "big four" producers, just absolute icons in Vocaloid history. The pink/black checkerboard is "World is Mine" (Ryo), the crescents on the side is "Rolling Girl" (Wowaka), the smiley faces is "Matryoshka" (Hachi), and the three hearts on the side is "The Vampire" (DECO*27, which is sort of a symbol of his whole Mannequin album tbh). I know "The Vampire" is a bit modern but I couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head. I'm a fake DECO fan I know 😔 "Matryoshka" was originally going to be referenced in the colors of the candles but believe me it looked like shit so I just went for something else last minute 😭

That's all I have to say!!! Hope you didn't mind the text wall if you made it here. I hope you like it as much as I do!!!! Happy freakin' birthday Miku!!!!

I have to deal with tagging all these characters now for my page,,, in the drafts my tags got cut off after a certain point so I think I'm massively breaching the tag limit 😭 um... I'll figure that out later...

not losing sleep that i can't tag everyone, even for page organization purposes because some characters have pretty generic names and some are a little hard to see in full yknow. If you're one of those people who tag every character in the art piece you reblog... I am very sorry.

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churipu · 3 months

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𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐨! 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 ๋࣭ ⭑ֶֶָָ֢֢☆

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cheating (but it's not u or him dw, it's someone else lol), cursing, non-sorcerer au.

note. i was reading a webtoon, and the male lead was a ballet dancer, then i saw gojo in him. i feel like gojo will do and enjoy doing ballet, you feel me? and just saying guys, my requests are not open :(( so if you sent in one, it might take a bit of time to get it done

ballerino! gojo who had to share an apartment with you because you're both broke fresh graduates — what more of a blessing for a fresh graduate if it's not a place half the price, with your own room? even if it meant living with a complete stranger who could actually be a serial killer.

"you must be y/n? i'm gojo satoru." he introduces himself, shoving a hand out for you to shake.

and you did, with your hand blotched with various colors of dry paint from your job— freelance artist — mumbling out apologies for being so dirty.

ballerino! gojo who was supposed to be in the same house with his long-term girlfriend since college, but she bailed out last minute. and when she found out about his new house mate — she wasn't happy the slightest bit.

"so you're the new house-mate?" she asks, eyeing you up and down menacingly as if you had tried to hit on the male.

gojo had to bring her away from the house. apologizing to you about it after he comes back home.

ballerino! gojo who usually does his warm up in the living room while watching netflix on the television, casually doing a split, hunching to the front, eyes on the television intently.

"you do ballet?"

gojo was startled to hear you, but he got over himself and nodded vigorously, "mhm."

"that's really cool."

ballerino! gojo who seemed miserable every time his girlfriend cancels out on their date through a phone call. like a one-sided relationship, except it's the part where he's actually starting to give up on her. but you said nothing about it, since it wasn't really your business in the first place. only focusing on your current client's job — jotting down shades of blue on the canvas.

"hey, you're good . . . is this what you do daily?" he sighs out, sitting on the couch you were leaning on after he ended the call with his girlfriend.

you nodded, "yeah, i draw for people."

"'ts amazing."

ballerino! gojo who went out one night to go on a date with his girlfriend, and is apparently trying to surprise her. but he came back an hour later with his tear stricken face — throwing down the bouquet of flowers he had gotten for his girlfriend earlier during the day.

the smile no longer on his face as he walks to his room, slamming the door shut before you could say anything to the male.

ballerino! gojo who acted like last night didn't happen and was casually doing a split in front of the television. shooting you a small smile when you emerged from your own room.

"are you . . . alright, gojo?" you question him, walking towards the kitchen to grab yourself a cup of cold water.

"sorry about last night." he mumbled out, head hanging low, pushing himself up — brushing his pink colored shirt and grey shorts.

"no worries. all of us have bad days." you brushed him off with a small tired smile, a few streaks of paint marking your cheeks, "how're you feeling?"

"good for someone who found out he has been getting cheated," he chuckled — scratching the back of his head, "you got a lil' something there," he points to your cheeks.

using your arm, you grazed your cheeks, "oh, i was up all night and fell asleep doing work."

ballerino! gojo who later in the day got so busy throwing everything that reminded him of his ex-girlfriend and whatever she had ever given him. doing it like he gets paid. hell, he even threw away a pair of ballet shoes that he still uses out of spite.

"what'cha doing?" you questioned, eyes focused on the canvas sitting on your lap.

"taking out the trash," he grunted tossing what seemed to be a pair of ballet shoes into a box.

"ballet shoes too? are y'quitting ballet?" the male chuckled and shook his head — and the moment you see a frame with a picture of him and his ex, you got an idea of it and said nothing else.

ballerino! gojo who for the next eight months, spends a lot of time with you in the house, doing all sorts of things. making breakfast for each other (taking turns depending on who wakes up earlier), cooking nights, baking nights, learning ballet — even learning how to draw. he forgot his ex pretty quickly.

"my toes hurt, how'd you even do this?" you seethed out in pain, curling your sore toes.

"practice."

"ha ha. very funny, gojo."

ballerino! gojo who got to know you better, and vice versa during those months. learning how you had a passion for drawing and how you've always wanted to be an artist — or how the last time you've been in a relationship was during the early days of college and broke up because your partner then said that they weren't ready for a relationship (shitty excuse).

"so they just broke it off like that? why start a relationship when they're not ready? that's just a stupid excuse," gojo muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"that's what i ask myself. but 't doesn't matter anymore." you laugh, sipping on a cup of hot chocolate, chewing on a mini marshmallow you threw in just before.

ballerino! gojo who that night asked you out for lunch the next day, and you accepted. it was only lunch after all.

"uh . . . if you're not busy tomorrow, i'd like to take you out for lunch . . ." he nervously chuckled, scratching his nape. his doe blue eyes looking everywhere but at you.

"sure!"

ballerino! gojo who actually did take you out to lunch, even paying for it. but everything went wrong when his ex was there at the same time, the male actually thought of burying himself six feet under when the girl approached you both.

"i knew there was something fishy between the two of you," she muttered out.

gojo was pissed. as hell. he didn't even bat an eyelash at the person he once adored, a deep frown on his face and he scorned, "get over yourself, we broke up a long time ago because you fucking cheated."

his ex-girlfriend was mortified, because she never remembered gojo being this hateful towards her — all the time they have been together, gojo was always nice and understanding. too nice and understanding, perhaps.

"maybe you cheated on me with them before i even did." she accuses and you immediately jumped in, since she was dragging you into her mess.

"woah, gojo and i never had anything going on. we only started getting to know each other?" you defended, eyebrows perched up at the audacity of this girl, "and mind you, gojo was miserable every time you decided to cancel on a date a few hours before, and through a call? that's low of you."

gojo shot you a smile, "hear that?"

oh, the girl was embarrassed to the roots. muttering out curses under her breath before stomping out of the place, fuming.

ballerino! gojo who apologized to you thoroughly during the whole lunch, in between chews, and even on the way home — for how his ex-girlfriend caused a scene with you.

even if you did tell him it was fine, he said it wasn't. and he wanted to make it up to you, by prepping a movie night. the notebook. one of your favorite movies, you were absolutely down.

supposedly focusing on your client's work, but the moment he puts on the movie — you'd find yourself on the couch beside him.

ballerino! gojo when it comes to the movie's "not supposed to dance in the streets" scene, stands up and shoves a hand to you, "do you want to dance with me?" he invited you as the male lead in the movie asked the female lead the same question.

you chuckled, "you know, i don't dance. gojo."

he raised a brow, "everyone does. and i thought we're close enough to be on first name basis y/n." the male teasingly said, grabbing your hand to tug you up.

"do you know how to slow dance? because i don't."

he smiled down at you, "i do ballet, sweetheart. slow dance is nothing to me — plus, i've learnt how to do slow dancing since . . . years ago. i've always dreamt of doing this with the person i like," it was the perfect setting. as the movie plays out a soft tune, the male pressed his hand on the hollow of your back, guiding you along.

you inhaled his cologne, "so is this like a confession, satoru?"

his chest vibrated as he mustered out a soft laugh, "maybe. if you don't want it to be a confession — think of it like i'm quoting a movie."

you did pend his confession in your mind that night, thinking of it like he's quoting the movie as you both danced the night away.

ballerino! gojo who acted like he didn't just confess his feelings to you last night, greeting you in the morning, and even went all out to make you breakfast after he did his usual ballet warm up.

"hi, sleepy. i made pancakes, but 'ts a little burnt . . ." he laughs, sipping what seemed to be tomato juice.

"thanks, 'toru. love you."

ballerino! gojo who immediately froze when you said that, and stares at you. but there you were, eyes shut and your mouth full of his pancakes, gojo was sure you didn't even realize what you were saying. but still, it made him happy.

"did you know what you just said?" he chortled.

fluttering your eyes open, you shake your head, "what did i say . . ?"

gojo brushed it off, but really — he couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

ballerino! gojo who returned home from a day out with a couple of friends to be greeted with a plate of food for him. you made it. with a small pink colored post-it note beside the plate.

hi 'toru, made this before i went out to meet my client. hope you like it, ps. i dropped a lot of pepper in it because the lid fell off :( pls throw it out if it's not edible, i'd feel terrible if you got sick cause of my mistake, i love you <33

gojo ate the plate clean, even if he felt the tingling spice in his throat. he didn't care at all — you made it for him, and he won't waste it. and plus, he didn't end up getting sick, so that's a positive.

when you came home that night, he was still awake waiting for you to thank you for the meal (and to ask you about the 'i love you' on the note).

"i know, i didn't answer your confession at all that night when we were dancing, yet. so?" you cheekily tell him, indirectly saying how you like him too.

ballerino! gojo who was ecstatic about it and kissed you right there. the male was so happy he could feel his whole body thumping in excitement.

"d'you know how long i wanted to do that? to kiss you?" he has a wide smile on his face, his large hands cupping both sides of your cheeks, squishing them lightly making your lips part.

ballerino! gojo who finally feels the love he deserves with you that he thought he'd never feel again. from the smallest things like you texting him whenever you were going to be busy so if you replied late you were sorry, or giving him a call (and leaving a voice note when he's not able to answer) to tell him and ask about his day whenever you both aren't together.

he feels like he's wanted and loved, "hi 'toru, i tried to call you but you might be in a dance routine right now so i'm just leaving this voice note for you. i'm not gonna be able to reply fast in the next couple of hours because i'm meeting a client right now, but i'll get to you once i'm done. make sure to take care of yourself and don't hurt yourself, i love you."

and you feel the same, getting the same feedback with the same excitement, "hi baby, sorry for not answering your call, i was in fact in a dance routine. i have a show coming up, i'm excited! i hope the meeting goes well for you, tell me all about it once we get home, please please? i can't wait to see you, i love you more!"

ballerino! gojo who shows you his ballet moves for his show, inviting you to watch him dance. and you, of course, agreed.

when the day comes, you are more excited than the male is. gojo didn't expect you to come, especially since he knew that you had a big client that needed their painting in a short amount of time. the male was used to his ex-girlfriend promising and ended up not coming, so he was a bit crestfallen at the thought of you not coming to see him.

but there you were, sat on the front row with a big smile on your face. waving at him when he walked in.

seeing him on stage, you felt so proud — unknowing to him, while watching him, your hand was tracing his every move. the tip of your pencil elegantly dancing along with him on top of your sketchbook.

ballerino! gojo who was surprised when you showed him a sketch of him doing his move. he felt so emotional at this new form of love. oh, to be loved by an artist.

"'m so proud of you 'toru. you were amazing up there," you tell him, holding his hand.

gojo wasted no time pulling you into his chest, hugging you, "thank you for coming," you didn't know why he was emotional — but honestly, you don't mind it so you ended up hugging the male back, patting his chest.

ballerino! gojo who now felt the love he has always wanted to feel. because he knew that this time he's not wasting his love on someone who doesn't appreciate him.

"'toru, look! my client gave me a tip, let's go get that pizza we were talking about!" you cheered, throwing yourself onto him, holding a few bills of cash.

the male chuckled, pressing a warm kiss onto the crown of your head, "my baby did so good, 'm so proud of you," he nuzzled his nose to yours, scrunching his face up.

he promised that he'd work hard for the both of you. hell, he was already thinking about marrying you a few months into your relationship, so don't be shocked when he actually does.

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unknownunidentified101 · 3 months

Text

RAFAYEL X READER

CHARACTERS || rafayel from love and deep space

WARNING || none

CONTEXT || in which your artistic boyfriend has a memory of a goldfish

“ hmm” Rafayel placed a finger to his chin. His eyes had been glaring at his canvas. He felt as if there was something missing, a colour was missing. The only element that could spice the painting up

Lifting up his paintbrush Rayafel felt his stomach rumbling abnormally. “ I should order lunch” Rafayel grumbled to himself

His hands grabbed the phone on the table next to him and his fingers tap for the code. ‘ huh what’s my password’ Rafayel was dumbfounded, tilting his head lightly before he tried a series of codes

Nothing seemed to work and as soon as Rafayel looked up again, he realised the colour he was missing. “ pink!” He thought, grabbing his tool immediately

His phone was placed down and he resumed painting, forgetting about eating lunch.

He did forget before he heard the sounds of a door unlocking not too long after

“ Rafayelllll” you call out, closing the door behind you. Rafayel forgets his painting, his eyes glow upon the mention of his name

Rafayel sprung upwards and sprinted towards you. When he saw you placing things in his kitchen, he changed his attitude almost immediately

“ there you are!” You notice Rafayel watching you

“ took you long enough. Do you know how long I waited for you to come?” Rafayel pretended to act annoyed, crossing his arms

“ sorry I had work—“

“ I waited days! Texted you and called you but you declined!” Rafayel scolded. Your eyes held concern in them

“ sorry I had work. And didn’t I visit yesterday?” You remembered clearly

“ so? it felt like several days! I missed you, you know! It’s lonely without you in this place” Rafayel opened his arms as an emphasis. “ sorry” you murmur again, dropping everything to walk to the man

“ how are you? Did you eat?” You wondered, hands stroking the man’s cheek very tenderly

“ oh that! I remember now, I was going to eat lunch but..” Rafayel trailed off, leaving you bewildered. “ I forgot the passcode to my phone” Rafayel pathetically answered

“ I knew you would forget! What did I say about skipping meals?” It’s your turn to scold the stubborn man while your hand retracted

“ okay I’m sorry” Rafayel scratched his neck

“ you even left the door open, I told you wanderers could appear if you don’t lock your doors” you rant more. Rafayel faked pouted. In truth he admired your mad face

“ okay. why don’t you live with me ? Then you don’t have to worry about all that. Then I can have you all to myself!” Rafayel declared, engulfing you into a tight embrace

You found yourself getting heated up to the cheeks before Rafayel parted to kiss your lips. “ consider it please?”

#love and deepspace #love and deep space character #rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love & deepspace #love & deepspace Rafayel #fluff #love and deepspace fanfic #rafayel love and deepspace #love #fanfic #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace X reader

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btsgotjams27 · 2 years

Text

busted | jjk

Your husband comes home with a new gift and you’re not happy with it.

✨ title: busted | ✨ pairing: biker!jungkook x f!reader ✨ word count: 851 | ✨ rating: m/18+, minors dni ✨ genre/au: fluff, light smut (?) | parents, married ✨ warnings: language, jungkook is having a quarter-life crisis, mentions deceased parent (jungkook’s), they have two small children, jokes about cheating, kissing, groping, fingering, breeding kink(?), reader is turned on by jungkook’s outfit, allusions to sex ✨ a/n: i can't believe jungkook is giving us writers such good content. ily bby. i apologize to @bngtnbrat & @gguksflowers b/c i didn't give you what you actually wanted LOL. i got lazy and didn't want to write smut. don't hate me.

"And where did you come from?" you asked, eyeing your husband from head to toe. "And what are you wearing?"

Jungkook jumped back, doe eyes widened, clutching his chest when you turned on the entryway light. "Holy shit, babe–you scared me." He was dressed in black, not unusual for him - but it wasn't his everyday outfit. He donned a moto-style canvas jacket, skinny jeans, and boots.

You stood there with a deadpan expression, arms crossed, waiting for him to answer. You wanted to see how he'd get out of this one.

He looked at his outfit, confused about why you were fussing over it. He was trying to play it cool and keep his seventeen thousand dollar Harley Davidson purchase a secret. "Why aren't you asleep?" He deflected, evading your questions, and he would never hear the end of it now.

You took a step closer to him, squinting at the orange letters etched in his jacket. "Why does it say Harley Davidson on there?" You already knew what Jungkook was up to, but you needed him to verbalize it.

The low rumbling of a motorcycle could be heard from outside when you checked in on your baby boys. Wondering who the hell bought a bike in your neighborhood. Was it your obnoxious neighbor, Taehyung? Did he finally bite the bullet and make the purchase?

When you peeked through the blinds, a person on an all-black motorcycle was sitting in your driveway. Someone must be at the wrong house, you thought. They pulled off the matte black helmet, lightly ruffling their long, dark, wavy locks - revealing it was not a random stranger but your husband.

Jungkook gently pushed himself off the bike and glanced at the darkened house in front of him. You quickly stepped away from the window, hoping he didn't see you. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and a deep sigh escaped. You told yourself that you wouldn't blow up on him.

Jungkook shrugged. "Just a jacket I bought," he said casually, brushing past you and setting down his backpack.

"Huh--" You turned to him. "Where's your helmet?"

Busted.

He stopped dead in his tracks, beating himself up because you caught him red-handed. Jungkook slowly turned to face you, guilt written all over his face. He knew he couldn't lie anymore. Scratching his temple while dodging your gaze, he muttered, "It's hidden in the bushes."

Taehyung left for the weekend and forgot to give Jungkook the code to his garage. That's where he's been storing his new purchase.

When the two of you started dating, he expressed that owning a motorcycle was a dream of his, but with getting married and having two small children under the age of five - it became a pipe dream. A van was more plausible, not a motorcycle. So Jungkook never brought it up again until his mother passed away. Then there was endless talk about buying his dream bike because life was too short to not buy things that made you happy.

It's not that you didn't want him to have one, you wanted him to have everything he could ever want, but again, the two of you were responsible for little humans now.

"Is that why you've been going out late at night? To ride your bike? Thought you were cheating on me." You were relieved when you discovered it was a bike, not another woman.

He lightly chuckled, holding his arms out for you, bringing you flush against his chest. "I could never cheat on you, baby. You're the only one I want, the only one I'd want to carry my babies," he grinned, peering down at you.

"Kook–don't," you whined when he groped your fleshy cheeks under your oversized shirt. "The kids are sleeping." He was shameless, really, and wanted to fuck you anytime, anywhere.

Was this his way of apologizing for the bike? Fucking you into oblivion?

He connected his mouth to yours, letting his warm tongue find yours. He smiled when he pulled away, causing you to whimper. "Then you gotta be quiet, don't you?"

You broke away from his embrace, playfully hitting him in the chest. "We need to talk about this, you know?" you grumbled. "You're not gonna get away with this."

He chuckled, leaning in and trailing kisses across your jaw, tugging you closer into his frame. "Not gonna get away with what? My bike or you?"

You mewled when his hand found its way into your underwear, lightly touching your already sensitive bud. "Your... bike," you stuttered, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. Jungkook's never been shy regarding affection; he'd always give you hugs and kisses, even with the kids around.

"Can we talk about it later?" he asked, giving open-mouth kisses along your neck, gripping your waist, pressing you against his hardened length.

You had to admit, you liked him in this outfit. Who knew you'd be so turned on by a stupid motorcycle jacket and skinny jeans? God--you're easy.

Jungkook started removing his jacket, but your hands stopped him. "This--stays on." He flashed a shit-eating grin. "Everything stays on."

✨ next ~ busted again

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #biker jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 10 days

Text

✧˚ · .Painting their portrait ✧˚ · .

Note: I hope everyone is doing well 💖 I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💖 If you want to commission me check my ko-fi and pinned post for prices. Thank you!

When he found out about your talent, he immediately bought you the most expensive equipment. Whether you like to paint on a canvas or on a graphic tablet, he will buy you only the best products.

He's very old-fashioned and wants a classic portrait. He'll arrange a proper setting to fit his taste. With a fireplace in the background, an expensive suit, and some other decoration that screams old money, he’ll sit with his legs crossed in his comfy chair while he looks at you. A soft smile would appear on his face, especially when you two locked eyes. You thought about painting that lovely smile and contouring those sweet dimples, but you know him better and chose to leave a stoic expression on his face. His soft side is for your eyes only.

He won’t mind sitting for hours because he'll have the greatest company. You two will gossip about the hottest tea at work, talk about his latest projects, and besides that, he'll have his romantic moments when he tells you how much he cherishes you.

The final result leaves him in awe.

"Darling, this is astonishing." He said, amber eyes studying every inch of the canvas and feeling an immense sense of pride washing over him. He couldn't take his eyes off your masterpiece.

"I knew you had it in you," he began after a short period of total silence. "Yet you managed to exceed my expectations."

You breathe a sigh of relief. Even if he was your boyfriend, it was hard to please him. He didn't coddle you, so when he praised you, you knew it was real.

He will hang that portrait with pride in his office, and he’ll tell everyone with pride that his partner made the incredible art.

With the corner of his eye, he noticed how you kept shifting your gaze from your notebook to him. Sometimes you'd stare longer at him, and sometimes your hand would go faster and then slower as if you were trying to remember something. Sometimes, you would scratch your head with the pencil and sighed in frustration.

Whatever you were doodling, it wasn't coming along as you wanted.

Not being able to control his curiosity anymore, he slowly approached your desk.

"Whatcha doing there?" he asked, looking over your shoulder, directly in the notebook. A wide smile appeared shortly.

You didn't hide the page in time, and Leon saw the sketches with his face. You drew him from three different angles. Even if you were in a hurry, you still captured his soft features—his genuine smile and his gentle gaze.

"I- uh-I..." you fumbled, hands going in random directions over the paper.

"You don't have to hide it. I think it looks good." He smirked and went back to his desk.

"Thanks. Listen, I was taking a break, and I felt a bit of inspiration coming in-"

"You don't have to excuse yourself." He chucked and turned to face you. In that moment, you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks great, given how fast you draw."

"And given how much you fidget,"

He chuckled.

"Seriously, man, lay off that coffee."

You both laughed, making some people turn their attention to you out of curiosity. A quick glance around, and you quiet down a bit.

"If you want to finish, I'll try my best to stand still."

"I would appreciate that."

You both smiled at each other. Time went by fast, and by the time you finished, the office was empty. None of you felt the time passing by as you got to know each other better. Leon loved his portraits and "stole" your notebook.

He loved everything you did. Every gesture, every tic, everything was just perfect for him.

What he cherished most was your talent when it came to art. Everything you touched turned into a masterpiece, something so beautiful that it can’t be described by a simple man. So, when you wanted to paint him, he looked at you in shock.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Why?" he chuckled.

"Because I want to. And because I want an excuse to stare at your picture for hours while you are away on missions."

He pulled you closer and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Alright. Make sure to highlight my good side."

"As if you have a bad one."

Despite loving how affectionate and supportive you were with him, he never understood why. He viewed himself as a rough, cranky man who got on everyone's nerve. For short, an asshole. But to you, he wasn't like that. Despite the hardships in his life, he still maintained a soft gaze.

Naturally, he wondered why you wanted him to be part of your beautiful portfolio. And more importantly, did he deserve to be part of it?

For the next couple of days, he waited for you to finish. He would peek in your room to see the progress, but you didn't let him. You wanted to surprise him.

When he came back from his mission, arriving in your comfy apartment, you shoved your art in front of his face.

"Do you like it?" you asked excitedly.

He reluctantly took the canvas and stared at it for a few seconds. It's not that he didn't like it. It's the fact that he didn't recognize himself. His scars weren’t so prominent, his eyes weren't so full of sadness and anger, and his lips were curved in a soft smile. His features were softer, friendlier, even.

“This… I know it’s me, but it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.”

"Why do you say that?”

“It feels like you retouched my face.”

“Hmm, no, this is how you look in real life. You're not as tough-looking as you think."

He loves it regardless, and he loves you even more.

His muse in this life was you. Every time he looked at you, every time he saw your pretty face, his mood would lighten up in a heartbeat. A catastrophe at the moment would turn into something insignificant, something he could overcome with ease.

What he loved most about you was your talent. He was amazed at the beautiful things you could create with your hands, unlike him. He found refuge in your art, staring at your finished and unfinished projects for hours.

"Mi dulzura, what masterpieces are you creating?"

"Thank you, mi rey. Wanna be part of them?"

He smiled. He approached you with light footsteps, rubbing your shoulders gently when he reached your back.

"I'd be honoured."

He was thrilled. Being fascinated by your talent, he wanted to ask you long ago, but he didn't want to overcrowd you as you had many projects and clients. He didn't want to put more pressure. He simply told you that he doesn't want anything fancy.

He waited every day for you to finish, barely containing himself from asking dozens of questions. You had to kick him out multiple times from your room because you wanted to surprise him.

"Luis," you called out, "it's done!"

He came in a hurry, and as expected, he loved the result. He wouldn't stop praising you for creating another masterpiece.

"This is...I have no words. It's simply stunning."

"Well, you are stunning," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I guess I really am your Prince Charming."

You chuckled and were ready to say something, but he caught your lips in a quick, gentle kiss.

From that moment on, he becomes your one and only muse. You'd paint him in various poses and various clothes, sometimes with you as well. He would sit near you, watching you do your magic without saying a word. He loves and respects what you do a lot.

#resident evil #albert wesker #leon kennedy #luis sera #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x reader #albert wesker x reader #luis serra x reader #jack krauser #jack krauser x reader #fluff #headcanons

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arabellasleopardcoat · 8 months

Note

Hi! Could I get sleepy + Aemond? I hope I filled my request right

Push and Pull (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You just love riling him up. Especially on his name day.

Warnings: Smut. Oral sex (M receiving) Degradation.

A/N: A little treat to get you by this week.

Aemond is not a morning person. You have come to realize it after a few months of marriage. Usually, he is up early, ready to fulfill his duties, but you can tell it’s hard for him to be alert when he wakes.

It’s endearing. Being married to someone so intimidating can be hard. Aemond seems not to need anyone or anything. Fireproof. But seeing him so vulnerable in sleep does funny things for you.

There is a strange feeling in your chest, as you watch him sleep. Something tight and possessive, yet warm. Perhaps not yet love, since you have been married only a few moons. But close to it.

It’s a rare thing, that you get to have him for yourself a whole morning. However, it is his name day, and he has been barred from his usual duties under threat of a feast in his name.

You had promised last night to wake him with a surprise, though. So, feeling very naughty, you shift from your position on his side, and start kissing a path down his neck.

“Hm.” You don’t make it to his collarbones before he stirs, blinking up at you with a bleary eye. You giggle, and keep kissing, this time down his chest.

He throws an arm over his face, groaning. It’s too early for his liking.

“What are you up to?”

“Something I read about.” You mutter, against his stomach. You nuzzle the skin there. Aemond has a ticklish spot just below his ribs, and you enjoy kissing it just to see him squirm.

He does so, fighting laughter. You congratulate yourself for knowing him so well, scratching your nails a little over the spot. He is the kind of man who takes himself way too seriously. It would break his cold, aloof persona if he were to giggle over tickles.

“Is it improper?” Aemond asks, tone mildly amused. One of his hands goes to brush your hair back. His motions are slow. He is not fully awake yet. Just risen Aemond is not comparable in any shape or form to fully awake Aemond. This version of your husband is much softer. For once, his mind is not racing.

“You know me.” You grin at him. “Everything I want to try with you is improper.”

Aemond smirks. You kiss lower, right over his navel. He watches you with a hooded eye.

“Don’t tell me this is a whore’s trick.” Aemond complains, sitting up a little. Despite his harsh words, and the way he is looking down at you, there is a curious glint on his face.

“Do not be disrespectful.” You suck a hickey over his hip, admiring your handiwork. His skin is so pale, it works as a perfect canvas. Often, you entertain yourself by trying to pull colors from him, be it either in the form of blushes from rage, shyness, or even arousal. It’s a bit cruel, perhaps, but he is just too easy to rile up.

Besides, it's for the best. You are supposed to be trying for a child. Riling up Aemond ensures he later spends that pent-up energy in the bedroom. So really, it's for the good of the realm.

“I am not being disrespectful. You are my wife. I do not want you to feel the need to debase yourself like that.”

Debase. As if. He had clearly been reading too much of the Seven Pointed Star and not enough literature. After all, nothing that could be done in bed was immoral if it helped perpetuate love.

Not willing to get into an argument about the merits of the clergy's opinion on what couples did in bed, you decide for the simpler explanation, hoping to get him to drop it through flattery.

“It’s your name day.” You lick a strip over his stomach before blowing cool air on it. He squirms, the sheet falling further down his hips.

“And you thought the best gift was lowering yourself to the same level as whores?” If you were not used to him already, you would be offended. Instead, by his breathy tone and the fact that he is doing nothing to stop you, you gather he is just as curious as you are about it.

You bite sharply on his hipbone, making him jolt.

“You either shut up or I make you.”

“I am just saying…” Aemond tries pacifying you, gently rubbing his thumb over the bridge of your nose. His tone is much softer now, no longer laced with annoyance.

“By the Seven, do you ever shut up?” You ask, exasperated. “It’s too early for your nagging.”

“You are my wife! I do not…”

Whatever he does or doesn’t is irrelevant because he goes deadly quiet when you give a kitten lick to his tip.

It’s an interesting experience, for sure. So far, your coupling has been limited to intercourse, with some aid from his hands or yours to prepare each other. It’s always rushed, a means to an end. Despite you claiming this was a name day present for him, it’s something you have been wanting to do for a while. You were curious about it.

Never before had you seen his manhood from this close. You stare, working up the courage to do more than just lick at him.

Aemond grips your chin, tilting your head up. He gives you a challenging look. He is not the kind of man to give reassuring words or coddle you. No. He is not going to help you out of a mess you've gotten yourself into. But Aemond knows exactly what buttons he needs to press, how to push and when to do so. You like that about him, you realize.

Being with him is exciting. Always a challenge. Aemond keeps your mind busy with smart, engaging conversation. He keeps your heart busy too, always managing to show he cares even if he won't tell you. It's only fair that he does the same to your body. Push your limits. Encourage you out of your comfort zone.

That thought it’s all the encouragement you need. You lean forward and take him inside your mouth, pulling a face at the feeling. Like your jaw is struggling to accommodate for the new position you are in. Aemond gasps. You look up at him, noticing he has closed his eye.

His hands fist the sheets. Curiously, you try to take more inside your mouth, wondering how much of him you can actually fit. You barely manage to make it halfway before your eyes start to tear up, and you are fighting not to gag.

Aemond brushes his hand on top of your hair, petting you clumsily.

“It’s so warm.” His voice comes out thicker than usual. By it, you gather that while he might know what the act entails, he has never felt it before.

You look up at him, giving him a teasing glance. He groans, before falling quiet. His eye is closed again, and the idea that the sight of your lips wrapped around him was too much for him to bear, warms your blood.

Slowly, you start to get into a rhythm. You explore him first, noting how his hips buck when your tongue brushes his underside, or when you suck at the tip. How there isn’t as much of a reaction as you would want when you suck and kiss the middle of his shaft. Then, when you realize what it’s that Aemond likes, you just go for it.

Bobbing your head up and down allows you to control the depth he is at, stroking the rest with your hands. But it’s also much more taxing on your neck and jaw. You encourage him to buck his hips with a soft touch to his thigh.

“Are you sure?”

You give him a small nod. Aemond lifts his hips slightly, thrusting into your mouth. His hand cradles your jaw, thumb rubbing against the bulge on your cheek.

“Good wives don’t offer this sort of thing.” He says, almost conversationally. Clearly, he had been using the time you had spent exploring to get used to the new feeling and get his control back. You don’t blame him for it. Were it you, you would have done the same. “But you are not a good wife, are you? You are a good little whore”

Despite yourself, you feel your cheeks starting to heat up. You know it’s all in good fun, of course, but the reason these things arouse you so much is the same reason why you like him taking charge. It makes you feel small in all the good ways.

You suck a little harder, feeling more embarrassed at the loud noises your motions cause.

Aemond grins.

“Dirty girl.” He says, as his thumb wipes a bit of the spit that has gathered on the corner of your mouth. “If I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner.”

You grin back, in triumph. So he had been thinking about it. You go back to sucking him, tenderly. Or as tenderly as one can do such an act.

“Too proud of being a little whore?” Aemond groans a little at the end of the phrase, when you take your chance to rub your tongue against his underside. “That's alright. As long as you are my whore. No one's else.” He grips at your hair, forcing you to make eye contact again. “Mine.”

You make a little mocking noise, rolling your eyes as best as you can. That's how marriage works, you want to say. Aemond, though, does not seem to think you are only teasing.

Roughly, he takes you off him and pushes you to lay on your back. He straddles your chest, careful of not putting too much weight on your chest. His hand remains fisted in your hair.

Aemond looms over you, giving you a glare.

“You are mine.” He says, as he starts to fuck into your mouth. This time, he is not holding back. Your hands curl around his hips and behind, trying to find something to hold on to. The muscles flex under your hands.

This position is slightly easier on your neck, but you lose all the control you thought you had. It's a bit frightening. But Aemond never tries pushing past what you can take, keeping his thrusts steady and superficial.

Embarrassingly, you find the act even more arousing than you did before. From here, you get to watch all the micro changes in Aemond's face. How his brows pinch together, how his cheeks flush. How his mouth goes slack the closest he is to his peak.

It's intoxicating. Normally, Aemond is a silent lover. He rarely makes a sound, except to talk to you. Now, though, he is giving small sighs and the occasional grunt. You wonder if he even is aware of the sounds he is making.

His hands push yours away. Aemond pins your hands against the mattress, reclining further into you. Softly, you curl your fingers around his. Your eyes meet his.

His pupil is nearly completely blown, making it look darker than it is. His face, his motions, all point to a specific emotion. Aemond is desperate. Desperate for you. And never in your life have you felt more powerful.

Struggling, he pulls back from you.

“I want… I…” His thumb taps at your lower lip, almost without realizing it. His expression is wrecked. You understand immediately.

“Do it.” You open your mouth, feeling very silly. His groan of appreciation it's all the encouragement you need, though.

“Close your eyes.” His voice comes out breathy, a very far cry from your usually controlled husband. You obey, despite wanting to watch.

You hear him jerk off, small punched out little moans making their way through his lips. How much you wish to see, hear. You can almost picture it, how his hands and hips give little twitches, how his mouth falls open and his eye closes.

You hear it before you feel it. His hand squeezes around yours, a grip so tight you worry he might hurt you. Aemond gives a soft grunt and something warm and sticky hits your face and tongue.

It’s salty and not exactly the nicest thing you have ever had, but you swallow regardless. Almost a reflex. You open your eyes to see Aemond scrambling off you and hurrying towards the chest where you keep your linens.

Wiping your face with your hand, you stare at him, unperturbed. Were this the first time you two were together, you would feel bad about it. Most people dislike being left alone after intimacy, but you know his abrupt departure will be justified.

See, the thing about Aemond is that he seems to have an allergy to affection. And vulnerability. Or so he likes making everyone think. He cares, in his own way. It’s just not especially romantic.

You are proven right when he comes back with a handkerchief and starts wiping at your face and hand.

“There. We didn’t stain anything else?” He eyes you distrustfully. You scowl. While you might not be as pristine and immaculate as he always is, you are a clean person. But he looks at you as if he expects you to rub his seed on the sheets.

“No?”

“Are you certain?” Aemond asks, with a devilish grin. He starts pushing your nightgown off your shoulders. Now he is certainly awake. “I better check. After all, you have a penchant for getting dirty.”

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goliathgastropod · 5 months

Note

Where did you learn to draw the pokemon pixel art style so well? Do you know any video tutorials, or could you do a small post with the techniques you use? If not, that's okay

I can assure you this post Will Not Be Small.

My interest in spriting started in I want to say 2012 or 2013 when I started binge watching pokemon fusion videos. mostly from creators like SuperSonicGX

Back In My Day we called completely original sprites scratch sprites, I still use that terminology and get confused when people don't these days. But that's just a side note. for resources and general tips I do have plenty!

The classic is, has been, and will always be the dragonfly cave spriting guide

this scorpion means everything to me.

When spriting in any style the first, most important rule is learning what limits you have. color, size, even specific palettes for some games.

For the first two generation pokemon games you had three separate sprite sizes, 40x40, 48x48, and 56x56, as seen here.

along side this requirement, these sprites also had four colors

white, also used for the background, black, a light tone, and a dark tone as seen with our friend Kingler here

the big rules to follow with spriting are remember to use space efficiently. Sometimes the whole canvas isn't needed to get the point of a sprite across!

techniques I personally use for spriting are used mostly during the sketching stage.

Such as blobbing in a silhouette and then filling it with rough color to get an idea of what to do, as seen here

helps immensely with the spriting process and means you can get sketches out very quickly.

I do want to make my own soft tutorials eventually, just timelapses to show off the process. But hopefully all this as is helps!

#pixel art

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newlynova · 3 months

Text

MDNI. in which, after three years of no contact, ex-boyfriend! rafe cameron seeks you out at a party. cw suggestive content, indication to fem receiving oral. 790.

“fuck,” rafe cameron drew in a long breath, allowing the familiar scent of your aching cunt to fill every inch of his lungs. it had been too long since he had last been with you, too long since he had been in this position. with the warmth of your thighs embracing the sides of his head and the gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp, a blanket of peace had been pulled over rafe’s body. for the first time in a long time, he was finally home.

“i’ve missed you.” he finally said, letting go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding as his blue eyes roamed over the naked canvas of your body.

rafe never got on his knees for anyone. never begged for someone’s attention. never worshipped the very ground a person walked on. unless he was doing it all for you. even three years later, after a traumatizing and messy breakup, rafe continued to seek out little aspects of you in every woman he had been with after.

for some women, it had been the way they did their make-up or styled their hair. for other women, it had been the way they covered their mouth with their hand when they laughed or how they chewed on the inner lining of their cheek when they were deep in thought. but, none of them were you. none of them could ever replace you in rafe’s heart.

so, when rafe had finally found you again— resting against the kitchen wall of the thorton mansion of all places, donned in a black slip dress that clung to every perfect curve of your body with a red solo cup in hand and your eyes transfixed on an old friend from high school, rafe knew then and there he would stop at nothing to get you back in his arms. after a few whiskey shots and a confidence boost from topper’s encouraging words, rafe interrupted your conversation with your old friend with a charming smile and dazzling eyes.

with a tongue dipped in honey, rafe was able to pull you back under his sweet spell with ease. and, it didn’t take much longer before he had convinced you to follow him into one of the many rooms throughout the thorton mansion. his touch had been as gentle as ever, wet open-mouthed kisses peppered across your skin as he guided you to the very edge of the bed after pressing the lock on the door handle.

and, with eager hands, rafe tugged down the satin fabric of your dress to explore your body further, the dress bundled to your middle as he hiked your legs over his shoulders and lapped messily at your cleavage with his tongue. as he slithered his way down your body, he whispered words of praise and worship in between kisses and gropes, your cunt fluttering around empty space as he reeled you in further and further under his spell.

“you’re so beautiful,” rafe whispered to you as he pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh, his nose pressed into your skin as he looked up at you with ravenous eyes. it took everything in him to stay in control, to not devour you whole. “missed this pretty body so much, baby. guessin’ you missed me too with how wet you’re gettin’ for me, barely even touched you yet.”

your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, the cold-conditioned air nipping away at your bare skin as you twirled rafe’s hair around your fingers. his hair had always been so soft and his scalp so sensitive to your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as you massaged his scalp. he had truly missed everything about you.

“missed you so much, rafey; ‘s been too long since i’ve been fucked properly,” your words sent a shock of arousal through rafe’s core, his cock throbbing and twitching beneath the tight confinements of his pants. his erection ached to break free from its restraints, ached to feel the familiar warmth and squish of your tight walls around him as he settled balls-deep into you. “need you so bad, rafey. need your cock in me right now, miss it so much. need you to fuck me good and hard.”

“mmmm, is that right?” rafe puckered his lips and blew a cool breath over your glossy folds, watching with an amused expression as your body twitched in reaction to the mild stimulation. your stomach tensed as rafe pressed a quick kiss to your needy clit, the wetness of your arousal smearing across his lips like a thin layer of lipgloss. “well, don’t worry, baby, i’ll give it to you— but, first, you’re gonna cum on my mouth, okay? missed your taste too much for us to just skip to the chase.”

#˚ ༘♡ 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #꒰ rafe cameron ꒱#rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #outerbanks smut #outerbanks x reader #x fem!reader #outerbanks imagine

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crow-raven-crow · 7 months

Note

I love everything you write feat Larissa Weems esp sub!Larissa, do you have plans to write more of that? If not I'd love to request some but everything is completely up to you, I just love the idea of her trusting someone enough to submit like that!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Larissa Weems x Shapeshifter f!reader words: ~2.7k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: texting, fluff, photos, voice messages, NSFW, sub!Larissa, dom!Reader, g!p Reader, shape shifted dick, oral sex, pinning, fingering, overstimulation, slight voyeurism, dumbification, marking, scratching, praise kink, slight degradation

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 see above

masterlist

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

a/n: i looooovvvee sub!Larissa and I think it's definately going to start showing more in some of the things I put out. i love the idea of her trusting someone like that. She's been through so much, so allowing herself to give her body to someone can mean more than what meets the eye.

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

You had left your shared questers a bit earlier this morning, with the hope of getting some extra work done to share a better weekend with Larissa. You hadn't been gone for long, only about 10 minutes until your class was to start for the day, when you saw an abundance of messaged being sent to your phone. It wasn't often that you found your phone blowing up with messages from your lover, but when it did it was always full of a night of fun.

You had gotten a few messaged from her while you were grading your last paper, and decided to look at all of them when you were finished. The constant flashing of your phone screen and the small buzzing against the desk did a good job in distracting you, however, and ultimately left you with the assignment nearly finished.

You grabbed your phone, quickly typed in your password, and opened your messages as the first small group of students had walked into your class. You looked up and gave them a small 'good morning' before throwing your focus back to your woman.

When you had looked back at your phone, there were more messages being thrown your way, photos stacked together of her in the most delicious lingerie you had seen her in to date. The dark colors contrasted her pale skin in a way that made your mouth water. As you scrolled through all of them, the air from your lungs stilled and your heart rate quickened. When you scrolled back to the bottom, there was one message from 15 seconds ago.

Riss: Like what you see? I've heard I can be quite the distraction..

Y/N: If I knew you were sending me these, I would've opened my messages much sooner.. Such a beauty for me, aren't you?

Your face paired with a deep blush and a smirk had made a home on your lips. You scrolled back to the photos, lost in the traces she always managed to capture you in, before being shocked back to reality as the school bell rang through the room.

Riss: Better get to work - I'd hate to be the reason you couldn't focus

Y/N: You should do the same, hmm? Focus for me, love. You might get rewarded at the end of today, so behave

With that you let out a sign as you stood, clicking your phone off and placing it into a drawer for safe keeping. You looked around the room, seeing your students all ready to learn, and smiled.

Throughout your lessons, your mind had wandered back to the photos that plagued your mind. There were moments where you had your students doing independent work at the end of your classes and you had caught yourself simply staring at your computer screen as you imagined everything you could do to her..

The way the lingerie hugged her body was enchanting, the lace highlighting every curve and the sheer fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.. Her skin was the mere empty canvas that you were sure to fill up with your art when you were able to capture her in your arms, pulling the fabric off her body as your cold fingertips left goosebumps along her skin, grabbing onto her hips as she arched into you with every mark.

You were once again snapped away from your desires when there were questions about the assignment being thrown your way. You stood from your desk, feeling the warmth that had pooled between your thighs, and went over to answer any questions or clear up any comments they had.

This was going to be a long day..

Your lunch break had come at an agonizingly slow pace - looking at the clock multiple times over the hours that had passed didn't help either. You were lucky to have your classroom alone, ushering the last student out of the room, before shutting and locking the door.

You basically ran back to your seat. Hearing your phone buzz in your desk drawer only made you riled up, especially because you knew each message was from your good girl..

You threw all focus out the window as you leaned back against your office chair, phone in hand. Your breathing had already picked up significantly, and you were waiting for your brain to absolutely short circuit at anything else she managed to come up with.

You had to stop yourself from drooling as you opened the app, a segment of photos allowing her sliver of control to unfold. There were groups of photos, all seemingly going together as she slowly had less clothing on in each one. The first was her taking off her coat and settling herself on the bed, photos being taken from the reflection of one of the mirrors or with her front camera. The next was her slipping off her dress, the pale skin becoming exposed within the walls of your shared bedroom.

The last nearly had you calling out for the rest of the day. The first photo in the group was a body shot of her in the lingerie she showed you this morning, followed by one with her hand between her thighs, then her fingers moving the fabric away to show how incredibly drenched she was, then her fingers running through her folds, and the last one showing her fingers knuckle deep in her cunt.

The last segment was sent three minutes ago..

Y/N: What did I say about behaving?

Riss: I took it as a suggestion

Y/N: One you didn't follow

Riss: Correct - and one I won't follow today

The last text from her made you groan, and you knew she wouldn't let up. The fact was proven as your own message was cut off from another one sent from her - a beautiful voice message full of her moans..

The sound of her made your your body curl forward in heat, electricity course through you, and make your whole body tingle. The want that settled itself between your legs only grew, and you couldn't wait for this work day to be over.

Y/N: You better not cum. You'll edge yourself until it's my fingers, my cock that fills you. Understood?

Riss: Yes, Y/n

Y/N: Good girl..

You were practically running through the halls after you cleared out your classroom, after you gathered all your things and locked your door like a madman. She sent you updates, proving to you that she didn't cum, proving that she could be a good girl for you..

And it only made your body ache and burn with immense need..

You barged into her office, dropping your things by the door and locking it behind you, before stalking over to your shared quarters. You could hear her muffled moans through the wood, but nothing could've prepared you for the sight you were about to see.

She was sprawled out onto the bed, her lingerie still on as one hand pumped her fingers in and out of her core at a slow pace. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, and you could barely see the tears that were threatening to fall from the amount of times she almost reached her peak. Her face and chest were flushed, a sheen of sweat covering her pale skin as her body trembled.

Suddenly, you were eternally thankful that it was the weekend.

“Y/N, I-“ She was cut off by her own moans, her fingers working at a quicker pace as her eyes filled with desperation. “Plea- Please.. I need you-“

“You have no right to beg for me, my love.” Your voice boomed as you treaded over to her, taking your shirt off before placing your body above her own as you grabbed her hands, removing her fingers from her core and pinning them above her head. “Couldn’t wait for me, couldn’t behave.. It’s going to be so sweet destroying you…”

Your gaze filtered between both of her eyes, finding unquenchable need swirling in them. You took her hand and saw the slick that covered her fingers, before looking back at her and taking them into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut at the taste of her, your tongue swirling around her digits as her eyes burned into your every move.

You released them from your mouth slowly, loving the way her entire focus was on you alone, and pinned it back with her other hand. You moved your head low, down to her ear, and your voice rang out low, full of lust and the need to take her. “I wonder just how much you can take, just how many times I can make my goddess cum, hmm?”

You were met back with whimpers leaving her throat and her back arching into your touch. You kissed along her jawline, stopping just above her lips, and whispered against them. “Color?”

“Gre- Green.. please-“

Your lips crashed into hers, your own need driving your actions as you swiped your tongue along her bottom lip. She gladly let you in, your tongues dancing together and translating the growing flame that traveled throughout your beings.

You kissed down her neck, meeting her pulse point and leaving a deep mark there, licking up the porcelain column right after. You were torturing her already; you could tell by the way her hips bucked and how ragged her breathing had gotten. “Absolutely delicious..”

You placed featherlight kisses down her body, your hands releasing your grip around her wrists and traveling underneath her to unclasp her bra, tossing it somewhere in the room right after. Your fingers traced over her breasts, squeezing the soft skin in the palms of your hands, feeling her nipples harden under your touch.

You licked over her right bud and rolled the other between your fingers, the action causing loud whimpers to leave the sapphire beauty. Her back arched, pushing her breasts into your touch, as your other hand scratched lightly along her side. You gave her other bud the same attention, pulling back after and adoring the marks that were left along her skin, adoring just how much she wished that you would dive into her, give her what she wants, what she needs..

It only urged you forward, even if it was at a torturous pace..

You kissed down her body, marking up the canvas that she provided you, and had to stop due to the overwhelming desire that the smell of her arousal had filled you with. You moved your hand down to her hips and tore away that separated you from her core. She was drenched, her own arousal flooding out of her.

“All this for me?”

"Yes- Yes, Y/n please.. I need-"

You cut her off before she could finished her sentence, your tongue running through her folds at an excruciatingly slow pace, putting pressure against her clit before you pulled away completely. You were met with protests, whimpers and whines from the blonde, only to be cut off by her moans as you did the same thing.

You loved toying with her

But as her hands met your shoulders, digging her nails into your skin, as her moans got louder and less filtered, you lost the rest of your resolve.

Your tongue moved in and out of her core, fucking her and collecting everything she had to offer as your hands locked onto her hips, keeping her from moving as you made her see stars. Her first orgasm came fast, her thighs flexing and threatening to close around your head.

You moved your tongue to circle her clit to build her up for the next one, pushing two fingers into her core and moaning as her walls clenched around them. You felt her back arch underneath you, hearing her moans grow higher in pitch made your own arousal flood between your thighs. "F-Fuck! Pleas- Pleaseplease- so good"

Her moans slurred her words together, and you knew she was nearing her second orgasm soon. You applied more pressure to her clit, curling your fingers in a way that had her falling over the edge all over again. You built her back down from her high, taking a moment to take off the rest of your clothes before kissing back up her body.

She grabbed your jaw and pulled you in for a passionate and heated kiss. You shifted the lower part of your body as you kissed her, your length rubbing against her core and making her break the kiss. "Y/n.. can you- could- Gods, fuck me- please.."

"Anything for you, my darling.."

You kissed her once more, translating more softness in the touch, as you moved a hand down and lined up your member with her core. Her eyes widened slightly as you teased her entrance, always forgetting just how much of you there was.

“You can take it, sweet thing.. Gods, you feel amazing around me..” You pushed inside of her, the overwhelming pleasure making your head fall and your eyes flutter shut. Fucking Larissa was always a pleasure, both of you understanding just how delicious it was to fill the other and feel everything, but with how she was acting today, it made fucking her senseless all the more better.

"I can- I can, y/n.. I want all of you.." Her nails scratched into your back as you continued to push into her.

“That’s my girl..” Your hips met hers, and you took the time of her adjusting to your length to move down to her ear and whisper out to her. “You look divine beneath me, taking all of me like a good little slut, absolutely beautiful taking my cock like the whore you are, hmm?”

She gave you the signal to move, and the sensations that coursed through your body were divine enough to nearly make you double over. Your thrusts got rougher, faster in pace, and you moaned low above Larissa at the feeling of her around you.

"Such a good girl for me, hmm?" You moaned loudly as she clenched around you at the praise you threw at her.

"Yes- your good girl, so good-" Her head was thrown back in pleasure, her brows furrowed closely, and her eyes half lidded in lust. She was close, the way her nails dug into your back and the way she urged you to go faster made that apparent. You felt your own high coming, building behind your navel and tightening, ready to snap.

"I-I'm close.. let- let me cum- please-" You loved the way she begged, her pleas falling from her lips so easily for you.

"Cum for me, love.. Let go - I got you.." You whispered low into her ear, your words being the allowance to send her over the edge and you to follow right after her.

The room filled with your high pitched moans and heavy breaths, a layer of sweat resting along the skin of you both at the actions you'd both been through. You gently pulled out of her and shifted back to your normal form, only to be met with whimpers from your lover beneath you.

"I know, baby.. I know, I'm sorry.." You planted kissed all around her face and gently rubbed your hands along her sides, in acts of reassurance. "Let me clean you up, hmm?"

You were back just as quickly, a glass of water and a wet, warm rag in hang. You moved her to sit up against the pillows, holding the water to her lips and allowing her to drink as much as she wanted. You placed it on your bedside table, and moved to softly clean her up, tossing the rag aside when you were all done.

You moved the covers back, moving her body under them, and covering you both right after. Pulling her into your arms was the greatest reward - the way she nuzzled into your neck and placed soft kisses along it only making your heart soar.

"I wasn't too much, was I? You're okay?" Your fingers traced along her sides and rubbed warm circled on her back. It was always important to you to make sure she truly enjoyed herself and everything that had taken place.

"It was amazing.. You're perfect, my dear.." Her voice rang out against your skin, her accent filling your ears and easing all your worries. You pulled her impossibly closer, your legs tangling together as your breaths traveled along each others skin.

Your hearts were happy there, and it reminded you both how everything about you two was much better than the photos.

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: i know i say this every time, but this one was so fun to write.

i've realized how much i adore sub!Larissa, and i've also seen shapshifter!Reader float around more recently

which made this absolute joy of a fic

i hope you enjoyed this, anon, because i definately enjoyed writing it

if you saw errors no you didnt <3

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @s-c-rambledegggs @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

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90sbee · 6 months

Text

Pull the rope, choke me with your love.

Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader 6k words (yeah, sorry not sorry). Also on a03

It feels like coming back to the surface, you think. Leon breathes loudly, panting. He kisses each boob once more, tenderly, resembling a “goodbye”. You look at his motions with half-lidded eyes, and you’re unable to move your gaze away when he detaches from your body, his hand re-emerging from your cunt with traces of your dried blood on his skin. You gasp but Leon barely notices it, rubbing the maroon strokes against his tactical pants swiftly, without any complaint, as if simply getting rid of paint after handling a canvas.

Both of you choose to delay the mission. Maybe it is because there is a confession that you can’t delay anymore.

I guess this is what happens when you get horny in your period. @navstuffs saw it first. @emilzke, you'd say you'd read something like this so, in case you feel like it! (No pressure tho, mean it!!) Content: Smut. Period sex. Everybody is a switch. (Sub!Leon my beloved). Sex with feelings bc the mutual pining is strong. There is some plot but like, it's mostly smut, ngl. No use of y/n, tons of pet names. Stupid banter, age difference. DI!Leon specifically since I don't think any other version works? Hints of size kink, as usual. Coming in pants. Dry humping (sorry not sorry there is no actual penetration in here. They do have a good time tho. Multiple good times). Warnings: +18 ONLY. Have I already mentioned blood? Yeah, it's not that bloody tho, I promise. Hair pulling, crying during sex (i promise Leon was enjoying it, tho, no dorks were hurt in the writing of this fic), mentions of choking but no actual choking in here. Biting, scratching? I'm not a native English speaker so, apologies for any mistakes.

Being around Leon always felt like pulling a rope, the material tense, and tense, until letting go of the rope would cause you two to be hurt.

Oh, but what a delightful way to go that would be.

Missions with him would be easy. Well, as easy as putting your life on the line can be. His presence was always a blessing, a protective wall of a man always up to keep you safe. And he did it, numerous times he received cuts, and got bruises on his skin, and once even let his bicep —that one that he would always touch obsessively since then— kiss a bullet, everything to keep you safe.

Even out of missions, Leon was there. He would remain close, check on you. “Gotta make sure my partner is alright,” he’d say, and the way he’d accentuate his words would get you dizzy at times.

The rope felt more like a red string now.

Caging you, his warm body on top of yours now, barely attempting to remain prude.

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” he had said, closing the distance between you two. The whole mission today had been a fiasco, even if Leon had been eyeing you more intensely than other times, stepping closer, more protective than usual. It had actually been his idea to turn back when it became glaringly obvious that infiltrating into the building would take more hours than you had planned. Retracing steps, radioing for back-up that would take until the very next morning to show up with more ammo, and finishing with the directions to a nearby safe house, which was sadly devoid of anything helpful to endure a fall night like this. “Don’t worry, they say body heat is actually the best heater,” he’d teased you, as you buttoned up your light jacket. But when he’d actually pushed you onto the ground and clumsily climbed on top of you, you knew he was serious. And though it wasn’t the first time you two had ended up so close, bodies tangling in each other, it was the first time he seemed so devoted to get that physical contact.

You let him have that. The night is not that chilly, the morning is not so far away. In the bleak, scarce space of the cabin, there aren’t many options. Sure, you could spend the night talking yourselves awake, back to back. Or maybe one of you could rest their head on the other’s lap as the other keeps a lazy guard.

But you choose to be close. Fucking close, breathing in each others’ faces. You know by now that the rope is about to cut, that you’re going to end up crossing the limits, but for now, there is no stopping. In the secluded safe house, you let Leon breathe close to your ear, pretend you don’t realize what he may need. After all, you followed him way too compliant today, no ifs or buts about delaying the mission, resting your head against his shoulder as he radioed for the damned helicopter, letting your hand graze his on the way to the cabin.

Maybe neither of you want to wait anymore for the rope to break on its own.

“You okay?”

He sighs then. Brows furrowed as he nods, his expression serious.

“Yeah,” his voice is raspy, a lingering exhaustion dripping from his words. “Just wished we could have finished with this already…”

Your hands swiftly move to his back, fingers rubbing softly over the thin material of his jacket. Leon melts a little at that, breathing against your face. A soft growl escapes his throat when your hands move higher, pressing against the muscles of his shoulders.

At that, he does seem to feel a bit flustered, looking to the side, towards the rusty cabin door. You attempt to hide the chuckle that leaves your mouth.

“What’s so funny?” He snarks, his cheeks already pinker.

“You’re literally a whore, Kennedy.”

“Jeez,” he raises his eyebrows, finally looks back at you. “You’re being an absolute darling tonight, huh… ” he muses, a smirk crossing his face.

“It’s your fault. You’re the one that decided to get on top of me, unprompted.”

“… C’mon. You know we didn’t bring any camping equipment for this crap… Just lemme take care of you.”

His explanation is, of course, true, but teasing him seems like a better pastime for this chilly night. “Well, still. I’m a lady with boundaries. Maybe I do not want a sweaty man on top of me.”

“Excuse me?” Leon licks his lips, his face leaning a little closer to yours now. “I’m not just a sweaty man, I’m your mission partner.”

“Yeah, my mission partner that decided to moan after I just massaged his back a little.”

“God, I did not moan,” he puffs out his cheeks, shaking his head.

“Well, maybe you should.”

A silence rings through the cabin as soon as you utter those words. Much to your surprise, but not regretting them. Leon stares at you, gaze unreadable as he tilts his head. You begin to feel a little nervous, your hands slowly abandoning his back.

Why would you even admit it that way? Too straightforward, too blunt. Yes, he is your mission partner, he’s got your back all these years but… What if it was just that? A good partner at work. Simply a kind man. The possibility of having confused his chivalry with affection makes you feel stupid.

You suddenly feel small under him, and you gulp, trying to squirm away from him.

“Wait, no. What did—what did you say?” He finally reacts, one of his hands cupping your cheek now.

“Nuthin’.”

“Didn’t sound like nuthin’ to me,” he presses.

Leon looks at you, and there is a new glimmer in his eyes. A certain hunger, encompassing his words and his presence. It invigorates you with a sort of bravery, and you nod, very slowly, your eyes not even leaving his. Your hands go back to their place, on his back, but this time under the jacket, under the grey t-shirt he is wearing. You observe his reaction, as a little prey seeing how much she can test the waters before death comes upon her.

His gaze moves away from your eyes, lower, until it reaches your lips. And then your hands ascend on the skin of his back, scratching slowly.

“F—fuck,” is the only thing he can manage out before his lips descend onto yours, kissing clumsily, biting the tender flesh with desperation.

The rope has fucking snapped now. You both know it. And it stings, but the burn is good, so fucking good, as his teeth bite harder, as if eager to make your lips bleed.

“Since… since when?” He demands, catching his breath.

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Since always,” you reply, kissing him once more, already missing the taste of his spit, the roughness of his mouth.

It’s as if oxygen was running out of the room, mind dizzy with him, his smell, his hands now attempting to reach under your t-shirt, but you move away, mouths parting for a moment. Leon stops, a question in his eyes. He knows you. He knows the way you react, can notice that he hasn’t overstepped anything, that your trembling figure is still comfortable under him.

“Just… you. Lemme… lemme touch you,” you try to explain, in a daze, hands now gripping his hips, and he groans against your ear. You take off his jacket, strong arms getting caressed while you do so. Leon breathes heavily as your fingers dance on his jaw, as your mouth licks his neck.

“Shit,” he lets out, every single pleasure point in his body reacting to your actions.

God, he has wanted you for so long. Trapped between his job and the impossibility to properly care for you, to have you in the way he actually desired you, he had promised himself to protect you. In and out of missions, a shadow always behind you. If he would have nothing else in his life, so be it. Just your presence would be enough. His heart is thumping, rattling loudly in his chest as the woman he’s adored for so long presses her affections on his skin.

He moans louder, hides his face against your shoulder. Lower, his cock twitches, rapidly filling up with desire.

“C’mon… Grind on me, Leon,” you murmur, words sweet as a spell.

God, if this was a dream he’d never want to wake up. And if he had somehow died, this was better than any Heaven he could have imagined.

“What are y—are you fucking serious?” He tries to inquire through heavy breaths, already losing his mind. It doesn’t even cross his mind if you would want to go further, if he could sink deep inside you, but rather, his brain is mush from just the idea of having you like this. Fuck it, your invitation sounds like a blessing to him.

“Please… You’re so good to me…” you add, needy.

He growls again, but in the way a wounded animal tries to scare its hunter away. He is fucking broken, deliriously split apart into a thousand pieces because of you. At your feet, drunk in your smell and your minx-like hands.

You move your pelvis, legs interlocking around his hips, the feel of your cargo pants against the hardness between his legs making you whine.

God damn. He is already hard anyway.

Leon obliges, as if enchanted by you, unable to refuse such a delicious proposal. Your hips move in tandem with his, and his hard cock aches in his pants, grinding slowly against your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” he whines out, as your fingers then graze the skin on his back once more, deliriously making him lose his mind. “Gonna kill me, huh?”

You bite his jaw once more, wetness pooling between your legs with every moment. It is funny, how hours before the dark cabin seemed to be a cold refuge, yet now it seems to ooze warmth, sweaty bodies full of desire.

And though this Heaven seems way more than a man like him could bargain for in a hundred lives of sainthood, Leon breathes heavily, suddenly aware that this might be wrong. It might be, since you’re younger than him, and he has been your mission partner and you two work together and mission partners cannot be involved and—

“No, we—we shouldn’t…” he stills himself then, voice heavy.

You look up at him, gentle eyes blessing him from underneath his body.

God. You look so beautiful and his heart is gonna jump out of his chest and he wants to continue but you will surely agree, right? You’re too young, too soft of a creature for someone so broken like him and—

“Why?” you caress his back slowly, tilting your head.

The openness of the question throws him off his mind.

“Well, we… I mean… I…”

“We can stop if you need it,” you quickly add, nodding. You want him, yeah, but most importantly, you respect him. It is the least he has earned, after all his loyalty throughout the years.

He gulps, and shakes his head.

“No, I do want it… I just—” Leon huffs, licking his lips, still in disbelief.

“Leon… I want you. Been waiting for this… Been craving you,” you try to explain it in devotion terms, a language you’ve both shared for a while. He seems more relaxed at this, and hides his face on the crook of your neck, his breathing steadier as you stroke his back.

“I promise… Promise it’s not just about…” he begins, but you nod.

“… I know. I mean… I imagined so,” you admit, belly heating up not just from his weight on top of yours.

A confession.

He stays quiet for a moment, arms flexing as he changes his position, lets himself fall a little closer to you. It’s clear he won’t ask for it again, but god, you do want to give it to him. Boner already needy, body too vulnerable to be left like this.

Once more, you do it for him. Move your hips gently, chasing the pressure he provides against your cunt. Leon then moans, kissing your neck.

“I… I can?” he asks, tentatively.

“Yes, please.”

He won’t ask more, no need to ask twice. Though his brain may be hazy and overwhelmed by your perfume, he knows nothing could compel him to stop this, not now that he knows you want him.

Your hands return to his back, scratching the skin harshly, noticing how his breath hitches.

“Oh, god,” he coos, closing his eyes. His pelvis dancing harder against yours, movements faster.

Leon finds your mouth once again, trying to kiss his shame away since he already feels so close. In between the fact that he hadn’t had sex in a long while and the fact that, heck, it’s you… He is trying his hardest to stretch the moment, to not ruin it already…

But you do notice it, of course. When you pull apart one of your hands goes to his jaw, forcing him to look at you.

“Leon.”

“Fuc—yeah?”

“Ask me… ask me for anything you want… You deserve to feel good.”

He fucking growls at that, so entranced by your words. His hips suddenly stopping for a moment, his heartbeat accelerating.

He has almost come.

“Pull my hair, please,” he breathes out after he is sure he can continue for a bit more.

Swiftly, your hand moves to his hair, grabbing a strand at the back, near his nape and pull hard.

“Oh, fuck,” his movements are faster now, cock rubbing too harshly against his underwear and his pants but he needs it, needs you so much. You pull his hair once more, your other hand clawing at his back as you also grind against him, the spot between your legs already dampened.

The sensation feels like too much and not enough at once. It hurts from how sensitive his member is, rubbing himself raw against your legs, but oh god. You offer him the hottest sight he has had the pleasure of witnessing in his life.

He presses his face against your neck once more, panting next to your ear, unaware that he is painting your skin with his own tears.

“Gonna come… Fuck, gonna come,” he cries out, moving faster and at some point you grind against him too, pressure becoming too much as you pull his hair and, fuck.

His elbows almost give up, unable to hold himself properly on top of you, but he avoids crushing you with all his weight still, as he rides out his orgasm, now tasting the salty tears he had spilt.

Leon breathes heavily… but he doesn’t want to stop.

Quickly, his mouth sinks on your neck, kissing and biting, causing moans to leave your throat.

“Le—Leon,” you pant, body sensitive and wetness already ruining your pants.

“Need to touch you… please? Need to taste you…” he begs, and one of his hands goes to your belt, buckle released as he nears your zipper…

You groan then, in frustration, and he frowns, gaze back on your eyes.

“What is it?”

“I’m… I’m on my period,” you admit, barely a whisper.

You look at him, shame crossing your features, the bitter reminder that your body may have ruined the moment that you have dreamed about for so long. “Sorry,” you add, voice timid.

“Hey, no, no apologies,” he immediately coos, his hand travelling to cup your cheek. He looks at you with an immense softness from his glistening eyes, full of love. Leon sighs before moving forward, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“Would you like to stop?” He asks, close to your mouth.

Your thoughts are hazy, body still churning from inside. It’s clear that you don’t want that option but you’re unsure on how to proceed under this situation.

Leon rests his forehead against you, his face awaiting for your reply. There is no rush in his tone, quite the opposite in fact. He looks at you as if willing to stare at you for his whole life, existence content with just the sight of you. That gives you more confidence, even with the threat of uncertainty on the horizon: you trust him. You trust him more than anyone else.

You shake your head.

“Good girl,” he praises you. “I’ll just make you feel good, take care of you, okay?”

His voice is raspy, but soft, resembling his touch. A little harsh, a little rough as he pulls the zipper down and wriggles your pants down. Yet the pads of his fingers are exquisitely tender, caressing your thighs. Your underwear sports a huge damp spot just in your gusset, but Leon seems blissfully willing to ignore it, even through your heavy breaths.

He moves lower, pulls your t-shirt up slowly, immediately kissing the flesh of your hips.

“Fuck,” you mutter, curving your back.

“Attagirl,” he moves to kiss the other hip, biting slowly.

You moan then, skin shivering under his motions, his touch.

“… You’re teasing.”

Leon chuckles, kissing near your navel as he rubs your sides and your arms.

“You know, I don’t hear you complaining, though.”

Ah, he is acting cocky now. You giggle, amused at his remark, while one of his hands rubs your inner thigh.

“Bet you’re so frustrated that you can’t touch more,” you shake your head, looking down at him.

“Who said I can’t touch more?” Leon says, raising his eyebrow.

“Wh—Oh,” you try to ask what he has in mind when he swiftly moves his hand straight to your cunt, rubbing your clit over your panties. “F—fuck.”

The sonofabitch… You close your eyes, body slowly tensing under his touch. Leon rubs a little faster for a moment, and you move your hips, breath hitching in your throat.

“This okay, baby?” he checks, motions slower and gentler.

“Yeah… Yeah,” you open your eyes, nodding. He looks up at you, places a kiss on your belly once more. Your hand moves to tangle in his hair, needing something to ground yourself before you get lost in him.

“I got you, I got you,” he says, gentle, so fucking gentle you could melt in his hands, as snow under a strong relentless midday sun. You sigh, trying not to overthink your situation, how at any point your body could embarrass you, end up staining your panties with blood or…

“You’re nervous,” Leon says, serious.

“I’m not,” but your voice is a little shaky.

He snarks. “Can’t make you come unless you relax… Do you trust me?” Leon moves closer, leaning forward, almost against your face once more though he never stops rubbing your clit. The motions make you delirious, contact too soft but so good… You mewl, dizzy.

“I do. I trust you.”

“Good,” he remarks, and he kisses you. You notice his hand moving from your panties to your back, his mouth biting your lips with delicacy as Leon unclasps your bra. You whine at that, but he keeps on kissing you, his presence overtly strong and reassuring on top of you. Yet he doesn’t feel overwhelming, but rather, comforting. Like a wall against which to rest, like a pouring rain after a dry summer.

You think you love him. You’re quite sure you did before, but when he moves his mouth lower, biting your jaw and licking your neck as his thumb gets lost under your panties, you’re certain that no man could ever own you in the way he does. Handling your body with the most utter softness, as if dealing with a piece of Heaven. His thumb dances between your legs, stopping just on your clit, and Leon starts circling it, again, and again, and again…

“Oh, shit,” you moan, your heartbeat racing. You can barely keep your eyes open, overwhelmed by his devotion. His touch is desperate, even more heightened by how much he licks your neck, kisses it.

“Doll, look at me,” his words are heavy and clingy.

“Ye—Yeah?” you feel so utterly broken already. Leon moves his thumb faster, the circles making you moan once more.

“Want to use my mouth, can I? Please?”

By now you don’t know what he means, but you immediately nod. Like you’d do during missions, when you would simply take a leap of faith, you let yourself jump with him, letting him guide you to wherever he deems more appropriate.

You already trust him with your life. What difference could this make?

“God… so gorgeous,” he beckons, more to himself than to you, smiling. He quickly moves your t-shirt and bra out of the way, before diving his mouth to your breasts. There, he licks, and kisses, tongue painting your nipples with his saliva, as if blessing your body with his sin, letting you shower in his desire.

“Fuck, Leon…”

He continues moving his thumb gently, and you’re about to moan when you feel his middle and ring finger dancing on your lips, toying with your entrance. “Shit” more of a complaint, your tone raspy. His thumb presses harder against your clit as the other couple of fingers keep the sweet motions, never diving inside you. The thought of him probably getting his fingers messed up with your blood crosses your mind, but then Leon bites your nipple, before lovingly pulling it between his teeth. His thumb is now moving faster, circles rougher on your most sensitive spot, as the other fingers keep teasing your opening.

Your moans are the loudest symphony filling up the room, mixed in with the way he whines, mouth obsessed with your breasts. You curl your back, your hips getting hazy and desperate as Leon increases the speed of his movements.

You wished you knew which good deed you committed in another life to be blessed in this way now. As careful as possible, you grab onto him, as your hips are now dancing against his thumb, chasing after his touch. You’re half-breathless by now. You scratch his back, his arms, sink your nails into his nape as he bites the other nipple, sucking it harshly.

“Gonna come, God….” you whine out, thighs trembling under him.

“Good… Please, come for me,” his tone is the farthest thing from a command, but it seems to drive you exactly there. The way he desires you, desires this so fucking intensely… The heat in your stomach sweeps away with everything as he licks around your nipple and his finger toys with your clit once more. You melt under his touch, coming obscenely loud for him.

And the worst thing is that he continues, his mouth hungry still, his fingers circling, rubbing up and down your abused flesh, until you cough under him, unable to whimper anymore.

“It’s… Need a pause,” you let out, barely able to utter words yet.

He doesn’t fucking care. A man used to dealing with death, and grim and pain. It’s not the first time that he’s felt the warmth of your blood, as he has patched you up after the most gruesome missions, as he has held your bloody hand after you cut it with a sharp glass at home. He doesn’t fucking care, but rather he feels relieved, the comfortable knowledge that, this time, the blood has nothing to do with you being hurt. This time your blood doesn’t feel like knives digging into his skin, him boiling with concern. It’s just a warm reminder that you’re safe, and alive, and that he is finally touching you in the place where’s imagined himself drowned with you a hundred times already.

This is real. Leon is not dreaming, not this time.

You breathe out, calmer, his gaze feeling like returning home.

You’re still catching your breath when he leans closer, kissing your forehead.

“You okay?” he mumbles out, concern in his tone.

“More than okay,” you smirk.

Leon chuckles, amused. He lets his body fall on top of yours, still in between your legs, and he searches for your hand: takes it in his, the thumb that so much pleasure had brought you now caressing your palm.

“Babe…” his voice is sultry, and as he moves your thighs open with his own, you immediately notice the hardness pressing against your leg. Still, the contact seems too much for him, and he whimpers against your neck, his actions devoid of any shame.

“Damn, Kennedy, again?” you tease under him, cheeky stare defying him as he looks at you.

“Mhmh,” he replies. “I understand if you don’t want me inside, but…”

You cut him off with a wheeze. “Fucking subtle you are.”

“Hey, you want me to be fucking explicit?”

“Sure, let’s hear it, big guy,” you hold his hand tighter, as if prompting him to attempt anything, but immediately his cheeks go a few shades pinker. “Ow, getting shy on me?”

“You’re being fucking cocky for someone who just had an orgasm. Maybe I should give you another one to see if you calm down,” he lets out, eyes deeply boring into yours.

“Is that the special treatment you give to the ladies you sleep with, huh?”

“No, just you,” he replies, gallant.

You can’t say you don’t want it. Leon kisses you again, his tongue licking your lips and you moan for him. He squeezes your hand as his other hand goes between your bodies, to his zipper. You can barely notice the belt unbuckled, the zipper falling down. He bites your lower lip and maneuvers his pelvis closer to yours.

Fuck it. He just wants you. Whatever the duration of that miracle is, he wants to enjoy it, to pleasure you again, to be as close as the moment allows it. Even if this was the last time in his life he has you, he would commit this sight —of you under him— to memory.

He loves you: wants to get you drunk on him, on his body. A silent conjuring, a way to win you over. Because God knows you have him wrapped around your finger, red string of yours choking him as he devours that notion, of being owned. A fucking dog on a leash, and even if that was just a mere strained rope, he’d paint it red with your blood, force all heavens and hells to make you two work, intertwined by the same unbreakable bond.

The cabin feels suffocating. Leon kisses your neck, murmurs praises against your skin. It is overwhelming, and gentle, and so much and he hasn’t even started yet. Sighing next to your cheek, he grabs your thigh, pulling your pants even lower, adjusting his covered boner just against your cunt, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Oh, God,” you let out, squeezing his hand even harder, since he hasn’t let go of you. It is an anchor as you experience this, as the cold breeze that enters the room kisses your nipples.

“You’re still with me? I can go gentle. Just want us to feel good, won’t ask for anything more,” he asks, moving his hips slowly against you, contact electrifying even if you’re both still wearing your underwear. You nod, eagerly, and he sinks his body closer once more. You grip onto his shoulders bringing him even closer as his hips slowly dance against you.

By now, all concerns, all fears are simply gone. In the humble little moment that you’re both sharing, there is no place for anything else apart from the devotion you hold for each other. Leon kisses you, needy, as his member rubs against your clothed clit, and his mouth seems to replicate his needs, with how delirious his tongue makes you feel.

“Fuck, Leon,” you mewl, mouths parting just to breathe once more. He smirks, his eager mouth kissing your jaw, your neck.

“You don’t know how long I have waited for… for this. For you,” and the way he says it gives you goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold air that enters the cabin.

“Leon…” you pull him closer, as close as he can be. His body is practically on top of yours, his member rubbing faster against you.

“Mine,” he asserts, remarking his words with another squeeze of his hand. The other one grabs your thigh, opens your legs more so he can lock himself even closer, grinding harder.

The air makes him dizzy, the sight of your willing body under him gets his heart wild. Fucking hell, he has already came in his pants once, is he gonna do it once more just from humping your cunt? Leon whines, the feel of your hard nipples against his t-shirt making him lose his mind. And when you touch his back again, just like earlier, he moans.

He doesn’t care what happens to this mission, doesn’t care what happens to the rest of the evils of this world as long as he can see your precious face like this, as much as he desires it. This thought pushes him forward, and he starts to move his hips faster.

“God, god, oh, shit, Le…” you whine out, his motions rough as he chases his own pleasure too. But it feels so good, even if it hurts a little, even if your soaked panties do nothing to protect your decency by now, even if period droplets are probably leaking out of your panties.

You don’t want it to ever stop. Desperate, you let your hand go from his grip and hold him against your body with abandon, fingers directly against his skin, keeping him there. Leon growls at this, understand your needs and humps you faster, biting your neck, half-breathless.

It’s such a stark contrast to the way you two always treat each other, both on the field and on your day to day. It as if now that the veil is gone, that everything has fucking snapped, there was a certain aggressiveness that needed to be let out, that was always under the surface, ramping up, eager to crawl out of you. But it’s also full of passion, as his teeth never mark you too much, and your nails don’t draw blood from his skin.

Maybe you two needed this: a love that was a little broken, a little violent. A tender purging of your sins.

A connection born out of loyalty, out of blood.

You moan loudly when his movements get messy, rhythm getting distracted.

“Please, hold it in for me?” you beg, unable to ignore the signals of his desire. “Just a little bit” you add, knowing that you just need his rough touch for a moment longer, your body still craving his magic.

Leon nods, panting.

“I’m gonna—gonna come soon,” he warns you, trying to not let his cock ruin the path of euphoria he wants you to walk.

“It’s okay, me too, Le.”

“…Fuck,” he whimpers, and you pull his hair once more, your legs hugging his hips.

His thoughts are all mush thanks to you, but he can still hear how the sweetest moans escape your mouth, so he keeps going. Too sensitive, too hard, underwear soaked, but he continues for you. At some point his member rubs against your clit, harshly, and it is too much for you.

You kiss him, moaning into his mouth as you come, panties gushing out your juices and even some more specks of blood. Your whole body spasming, unable to keep quiet.

God. His pretty angel, his pretty girl, the most deserving of eternal springs and of the most devoted love. Leon has always felt you owned him. Not trapped, but rather at peace with you. Fuck, he is certain now. You carry a fucking leash, tied around his neck and he has no choice but to follow you, stay beside you. Both a shadow and a lover, stupid smitten dog but he wants to guard you forever.

He has wanted to hung up the Moon for you since the moment he met you, so when he finally sees your blissed-out expression, the moonlight caressing your face, he feel like he deserves it.

Not just this. But you.

His cock is leaking precum, it aches, needs to let go. He pushes harder, knows that he can, because you let him, because you scratch his back and search for his mouth as he grinds harshly against you.

He comes. Hard, pouring his seed onto his boxers.

It’s as if he could die now.

Both of you sigh, slowly. Leon kisses the bitemarks on your neck, you press the pads of your fingers gently against all the scratches on his back. For a little moment, the world doesn’t breathe. Just lets the two lovers that have finally found each other revere in this contained breath.

All that needed to be said, to be done, to be pinched and purged and snapped, it’s finally out.

You caress Leon’s jaw, look at him through sleepy eyes.

“I think… Think mission partners don’t do that,” you say, voice raspy but a smile etched on your face.

Leon smiles as well, his heart overjoyed.

“Nope, they definitely don’t,” he replies, his eyes never leaving yours.

You chuckle.

“You’re okay?” You ask him, cupping his cheek and Leon closes his eyes, sighs.

“I should be asking you that, baby.”

You now have the decency to blush at the pet name. And when he opens his eyes, and kisses your palm, you feel like your chest could explode from holding so much light inside of it. Oh, he could call you anything and you’d just let him. He owns you. You’re pretty sure he does, that he painted his name with your blood on your cunt, a bloody and tender signature, marking you as his artwork, ruining you with his cum for anyone else.

“Is that pet name gonna stay?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” He asks, moving to stand up, but you giggle and pull him closer to you, your legs still holding him down. Leon wheezes.

“We can discuss pet names and the such after… a date. ‘Cos you owe me a date, Kennedy.”

“Oh, we’re really back to last names, now? Dang it,” he lets out, and you can only laugh.

He is a fucking dork. Always will be. Maybe what will be different from now onwards is that he will be yours.

That night you fall asleep in each other’s arms. Your underwear has been irreparably stained, his boxers as well, the zipper of his tactical pants does not zip up anymore. A constellation of lovebites, scratches and the remains of your period. All bloody and needy and most delicately violent.

Too rough. Too honeyed to survive you both.

Leon hugs you tightly in his arms, comfortably cuddling as if it isn’t the first time.

Maybe your bodies dreamed so much of this day that they both instinctively know how to position arms, how to tangle into each other as to breathe the other in.

Maybe no string was snapped tonight, but rather, you pulled it so much, that it sank deeper into your veins and just pulled you two impossibly closer.

If you've made it to the end, cookies for you! Also, may write more for this two, I liked the dynamic a lot. (I love soft dorky Leon, can you tell?)

#x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #nsft #mdni divider and #divider by #@/cafekitsune #support banner by #@/vase-of-lilies #mine #writer bee

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sarahs-secrets2 · 8 months

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what do you think phillip would be like with an s/o who’s a struggling (or successful) painter/artist? idk just a crazy idea I had (ngl it would be so cute if he got his s/o their own studio or sum 💀) love ur writing!

Whatever You Want ˋ♡ˊ

phillip graves x gn!reader (pet names, swearing)

this is very Home Depot husband-esque, hope you enjoy!! thank you sm!! :)

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

“You think I’d be any good at it?” He scratched the back of his head unsure. Since you were an artist, it was only natural he asked you for advice, your word was gospel to him.

“Of course baby,” placing a kiss on his lips for reassurance.

Phillip had always been good with his hands, in more ways than one. It's why you suggested he look into building, and woodworking while he was on his break.

Ever since you said that Phillip Graves had been in and out of the local hardware store nonstop. Luckily he had some time off due to his most recent stint of not being in the tank. The first couple of weeks you thought maybe he would drop it soon, move on to a new hobby. Little did you know what Phillip’s plans really were.

You were sitting staring at a basically blank canvas. The only thing somewhat visible were faint sketch marks that you had tried to erase one too many times. In the background there was a faint sound of a screwdriver, Phillip had taken over the spare room for the past month. His newfound hobby had become much more serious. Of course, you didn't mind as long as he wasn't making too much of a mess.

“Fuck,” mumbling under your breath, your brand-new set of pencils had just vanished. Not even 20 minutes ago they were on the kitchen table where you were working, and now… gone. “Honey!” you called out hoping you were loud enough he could hear.

“Hm?” Graves stuck his head out from the door, pushing the clear safety goggles onto the top of his head. “You need me?”

“Do you know where my pencils went?”

He smirked, not answering right away. “Maybe…” his voice trailed, eyes darting back into the spare room. “Give me a few more minutes,” and just like that, the door slammed shut and the sound of the screwdriver returned.

5 minutes later, Phillip stepped out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him. “You ready?”

Hesitantly, you got up and followed him into the room. Almost immediately you froze taking in the new appearance of the room. Saying it was a dream come true was an understatement. An entire furnished art studio had now taken up residency in your spare room.

“You did this?” you gestured to the brand-new studio in shock. Phillip smiled whilst stuffing his hands in his back pockets, obviously very proud of his work. The shelves were filled with your artwork from previous years that Phillip had saved. Against one of the walls, the perfect-sized desk sat already loaded with supplies (and your previously “lost pencils”). “For me?”

“Of course,” his smile was warm as he stepped closer, “I’d build you whatever you want darlin’,” his eyes glued to yours, hands dragging slowly up and down your arms. You knew he meant it, he had always been your biggest supporter.

“Thank you baby, this is…” your arms wrapped around his neck drawing him in. “This is everything, thank you,”

He whispered, leaning in for a kiss, “Anythin’ for you doll,”

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

i didn't proof read bc im sleepy!! ill do it in the morning!!

graves masterlist!!

#phillip graves #philip graves x reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #graves x reader #graves mw2 #cod mw2 #philip graves #phillip graves imagine #phillip graves cod #cod x reader #call of duty mw2 x reader #call of duty x reader

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pakhnokh · 1 year

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Today, House of Gentians is one year old 🥳🎊🎉

You won’t believe the story of how it began….

I was 7 months pregnant, and have been suffering from intense itching in my lower legs for a month. I googled it and saw that it’s a warning sign during pregnancy and can have dangerous consequences so I went to my obgyn and he referred me to take a blood test to check it.

Fortunately it was clear from that problem, but we didn’t know the reason for the itching. He did say that some women suffered from an allergic reaction like this but he suggested that I go to a dermatologist to be sure.

So finding an appointment to a dermatologist in my country right away is a nightmare, and by some miracle I found someone who had a place for me in a few days but in another city. So I took the buss and went there and the doctor was there with a student who was working with him. Anyways he was extremely nice to me and that’s something completely odd with the doctors here, that make you feel as if you’re annoying them. He was really nice, checked me thoroughly, looked at my scratching wounds with a magnifying glass and all the while was talking with great enthusiasm to that student. Later at my second appointment I realized that the reason for this was that he treated me like a case study to show how pro he is to that student cause when he was alone in the second time, he was a complete jerk to me.

Anyways, at that first appointment he decided with great certainty that what causes my itch is scabies. And as someone who considered this possibility and checked for signs of a bug infestation, especially since I have experience with other bugs, this seemed unlikely. And I’m like, telling him of all the reasons that don’t match, like the fact that my husband sleeps in the same bed and he doesn’t suffer from it and for me it’s been an experience of a month now. Surely a thing such as bug bites would affect him too, no? But he was so determined and told me “your husband gonna get it soon probably” so he gave me a prescription for creams and told me to wash all textiles in my house at a high degree, and everything that can’t be washed, to close in plastic bags and leave the house for 3 days. And like I said, as someone who already had experience with another bug infestation this was something that I already knew how to do even if at first it sounds like a pain in the ass.

So I got home, told my husband, who really opposed this idea, but I insisted on it, especially cause if the doctor was right and there IS an infestation, then we have to treat it immediately before baby is due. So I did everything the doctor said, we packed some clean stuff and moved to live with his parents for 3 days. Like I said, later we discovered that the doctor was wrong, because nothing helped and the itching continued till the moment I gave birth, proving my obgyn was right and it was, what’s called “pruritus of pregnancy”, a severe itch that is not dangerous, but can appear in some cases. I still carry those itching scars on my legs btw, even though they’re faint now 🤣🤣

Anyways what the hell does this embarrassing story have to do with House of Gentians? It was on the first day we lived with his parents and I was working on the exclusive art I make for my patrons. I was in the coloring and rendering stage and it’s really a work that makes you be really focused on details and etc… I was already so tired, but when evening came and I was done with the piece, which is still one of my favs btw:

I still wanted to draw, something quick and sketchy to “free my hand”. I just opened a new canvas and started sketching. At first I wanted to draw yllz seducing lwj, as if he was taken to cr after all and things got hot 👀🔥 But then I changed his teasing, smug expression to a sad one, and decided that it’s gonna be a Yiling Laozu who came back to Gusu with lwj and was put in LWJ’s mother’s house as his waifu 👀👀👀 and this idea had a dark side at first, with my horny mind thinking of yllz performing the duties of a spouse with lwj 👀👀👀👀 and it’s gonna be love/hate between them both.

I was really hurrying this sketch too, because my husband was calling me to our evening quality time of having toasts while watching a series on Netflix so I posted it quickly on Twitter and left. When I opened the app again that night I was really surprised to see all the excited comments on this simple sketch I did, but they really inspired me to go on, just like your comments inspire me till this very day ❤️

And just look at it now, each week I’m working on more 4 pages, it turned to be the longest comic I did in my entire 25 years of drawing (160 pages till this day and counting) and I already have the entire plot written with like 9-10 arcs planned overall 🤣 Drawing this consistently also helped improve my art, as I look at the first drawings compared to the most recent ones I can see the progress I made and hope to continue making!

So thank you all for the love and support and the wonderful comments that inspire me to give you more parts each week!

And as a b-day gift, I give you a sneak peek to a panel from page 110 that I kinda like how it turned out

#house of gentians #pakhnokh #mo dao su zhi #au #Wangxian

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diejager · 1 year

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Blood on your feet and hand

Cw: NSFW - SMUT, public sex, foot fetish, hand fetish, blood and gore, soft sex, unsafe sex, creampie, pregnancy kink? Petname (bunny, bun), murder.

Wc: 1.8k

Collection masterlist

When Ghostface first approached you with the surprise of trying something new, to let him test out a little idea that crossed his mind - or so he said. He wanted to scratch an itch that had been plaguing his mind like that half-dead mummy wrapped in toilet paper and gold, but this one wasn't annoying or disgusting, he needed to try it out, to figure out why it bothered him so much.

You worked on your generator with a toolbox as Jake saved Laurie from the hook, having lost Jeff early on, the first few minutes of Ghostface's hunt. The rapid rush of everything happening around you seemed to be the result of Danny's thrill and excitement for your surprise, stalking with impeccable stealth and downing survivor after survivor within his Night Shroud. Everyone, except you, was down to their last chance, being saved once by you and another by the other. Danny was ruthless in his hunt, he took you down once, wanting to see blood ooze from the gash he made on your back, having it paint your skin and clothes for when he moved with his plan.

Generators kept exploding or being locked by The Entity, She seemed to feel Ghostface's excitement and knew what he had in mind, wanting to help. Clawed hooks nicked your sleeves, insectoid legs locking the gens and blocking you from getting any progress done before they were lost. You had restarted the same machine thrice over after having it explode in your face and escaped Ghostface that ran towards you with adrenaline-pumped blood.

He had a high tendency of getting his hands dirty, wanting to cover the clear skin on your body like an artist painted his canvas, with ardor and ambition. He made you dance and scurry around him while he slashed, leaving shallow wounds to bleed until someone helped you heal.

A scream pierced the silence of the wood, followed by the explosion that resulted in The Entity taking them away. Then a scream was wrenched from Jake's throat, a low, pained groan as he was taken through the dark clouds by Her hands. Utter silence reigned over the map, wind wailing through the branches and open windows used to vault. Your body was on guard, muscles tight with anticipation and slight trepidation, and eyes whipping back and forth for a glimpse of his white mask and dark grey attire.

"Looking for me, bunny?" a raspy modulated voice spooked you.

You flinched as strong arms wrapped around you, locking your back to his chest, cool and blood-soaked. You struggled, knowing he loved the thrill of a chase, that he'd either go harder or be softer depending on his mood.

"You're playing with fire, bun."

You could hear the dark undertone of lust and want hidden in his threat, the hardness that poked your ass told you much more than his words did. He stepped forward, one foot at a time as he guided you to the barn and placed you over the dropped palette, facing his screaming mask.

"Is this about the surprise, Danny?" your voice sounded so weak, a step between shy and whiny when you peered up at him, hands in between his gloved ones.

He hummed, head tilting left in a feline-like manner, cunningly handsome.

"Take my gloves off."

As he ordered, you slowly peeled his gloves off, fingers touching the hardened callouses on his digits. You felt the rough scars of his time spent wielding the knife, over the lines of old wounds from the sharp edge of his trusty weapon. His hand grasped yours, stopping you from admiring him. Reaching for his mask, he pulled his hood down and tilted his mask up, letting you glaze over his piercing, hazel eyes under his dark brows (the dye went away a few weeks into the realm, giving him back his natural, dark brown hair), a sharp nose, full lips pulled into a soft smirk and stubbled jaw.

Your eyes followed his hand, slowly cupping you in his palm and bringing it to his warm lips, kissing the extremities of your fingers with adoration. He trailed down to your open palm and gave you a long and slow lick, from your wrist to the end of your fingers and brought your middle and index into his warm mouth.

Your surprised gasp spurred him on, and the twitch of your pink and clenching thighs urged his other hand to travel down your navel. His eyes gleamed, keeping them on you as he pulled your shoes and your pants off, leaving you bare with your panties facing him. You breathed harshly, feeling how soaked you were from his dilated pupils while he placed messy kisses down your inner thigh to your ankle.

He cupped the foot he was kissing and laced his fingers with the toes from your other foot, tongue going through the crack between your toes with surprising skill. You hadn't expected this to be the idea he had, that itch he wanted to scratch so bad; whether it was disgusting or unhygienic left your mind when he sucked on the curved pad of your foot, feeling a ticklish tingle spring up your leg and striking your tightening core.

His hums sent vibrations through your limb, thumb massaging your other foot lazily, seemingly free of any thought but your presence, squirming in his grasp and gasping his name.

"Love your fingers- they're so small, so clean, so fuckin' innocent, bun. I want to see them soaked in blood," he groaned, precum staining his briefs at the image of your hands and feet stained with his - your - victims. "I bet you could hold a knife in your foot, huh? Gonna step on someone's open wound and let it soak your toes."

You whimpered at his murderous wishes, still watching him move your limbs limply like a puppeteer playing with his strung doll, the smoldering breaths that hit your covered core, teasing you with his tongue and nimble digits touching your legs.

"Please."

Your moan was breathy, filled with need and want, enough for Ghostface to stop his worshiping. Your panties were off in seconds, cunt stuffed with two fingers, pumping at the beat of your panting pleas. The map seemingly shrunk around you, wrapping you in a world of silence with the only sounds being the wet squelch from his quick curls and pumps, your moans, and Danny's encouraging words.

You spammed around him, his lips swallowing your cries as you coated his hand with slick, legs clenching around his neck. He helped you ride out your climax before he pushed you down, unclasping his belts and shedding his pants in a frenzied hurry to fill you.

He entered with a grunt, eyes closed in the pleasure of your tight - although he stretched you out, you always stayed tight around his girth - and moist walls that hugged him snugly.

"Tight and warm, bun," he mumbled, staring at you with a dark, yet loving gaze. "'M going to pump you full."

You keened at his words, body rocking back into his pounding hips, legs wrapped around his narrow waist. Through the thick haze of pleasure, you caught the way he stared at you as if you hung the moon and the stars above your heads, a contrast to the way he acted publically. He was callous and bloodthirsty, survivors looked at him with fear, disgust, and anger for his show of blood and murderous lust; but you couldn't share their view on the man that was holding you with so much care and love. He slashed and hurt you, maimed you at times, but never killed you, and he always sought you out after a trial, wishing to know how you were if the phantom pain still lingered and persisted under your skin, if you were treated well for surviving - the sole survivor of The Ghostface.

You wondered why he looked at you with so much adoration, you weren't perfect, you weren't in pristine condition, and you weren't special, yet he took so much care of your being. You've always wanted to ask him, question why he chose you, but all your thoughts were drowned by the force of his deep thrust, hip canting up to hit your g-spot with his leaky head.

He gazed at you from the corner of his eyes, head tilted to mouth at your palm, tongue lapping the skin between your fingers and sucking on them shamelessly. Although his lower half shifted so sharply, rocking his girthy cock into your squelching cunt, his torso stayed unmoving, left hand too preoccupied with holding your hand to his face, teeth, mouth, and tongue mapping every inch of your hand

"Your cunt's so tight, bunny," he groaned, feeling you clench around him when he bit into the meat part of your palm. "Your hands are so soft- fuck- I want to bite them, mark them, bloody them- can I, bunny?"

He sounded beautiful when he begged for you, to let him do things you knew were morbid or dangerous, the thrill and delight it brought you overshadowed your concerns; even though you knew it shouldn't, you couldn't stop yourself.

"Yes, please, yes."

Spurred by your words, his eyes closed as he bit your palm, sinking his teeth into your flesh with a deep moan, piercing the protective layer of skin and drinking your blood. Your squeal made him suck hard, wanting to smear his lips with the life-giving liquid in your body.

You felt so good, coming from just a single bite, wrenching him of his own orgasm with stuttering and erratic pumps. He pressed his lips harder into your hand as he groaned, thrusting deeper into you before he crashed down from his high, the head of his cock spurting cum. His whole body shook from the intensity, it was a new feeling, the strong rush that came over him from indulging his little curiosity - his little fetish would be a better word.

"Fuck- the things you do to me, bunny," he pressed your navel in marvel.

You mewled, feeling warmth filling you steadily, the pressure of his cock and cum made you look somewhat bloated, round with the potency of being knocked up if pregnancy was possible inside the realm. You heaved loudly, lungs soaking in the cool air that passed through your gape mouth and eyes rolled back.

The implication of Ghostface's desire added to your growing list, his addicting display with his mouth on your feet and hands had your mind in a hazed cloud. Your toes were still curled and your body tensed with unwinding tingles from his bite, teeth marking your palm and licking the red drops. His lips looked beautiful in crimson - your blood - and teeth sinfully sharp, you wondered why you questioned how he had you wrapped around his thumb. Breathtaking and adoring in the same, looking at you with wonder and you, him.

"Seems like you feel the same, huh? Letting me play with your feet and mark your hand, this stay, alright, bun? I want to see my teeth in your left-hand next time. "

#x reader #dbd x you #dbd x reader #dbd smut #dbd fanfic #dbd ghostface #dbd ghostface x reader #dead by daylight ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface #ghostface x female reader #fem!reader #afab reader #feetish #danny jed olsen johnson #danny johnson

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kylobith · 30 days

Text

Little Town Tails

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Summary: After saving up for years, Halsin fulfils his dream and opens his veterinary practice in a quaint little town.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 1,441

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

Sunlight pierces through the cherry blossoms, dancing upon the cobblestone of the old arched bridge leading into Heawick. It is a quaint little town, tucked away between rolling hills dotted with hazel trees, a grove, and meandering streams. No modern architecture has defaced its landscape, leaving its traditional limestone facades to stand the test of time, which they did brilliantly.

After all, anybody lucky enough to settle down in Heawick can only fall in love with its old streets and picturesque shopfronts, and this urged most of the inhabitants to care for the outside of their homes almost as much as they did the inside. Those who are too old to tend to them can usually rely on the kindness of good-hearted neighbours, who do not hesitate to lend a hand for anything. Trimming the growing ivy without removing it, plucking juicy fruits from branches, cleaning windows; there is never a task too daunting when it comes to helping out.

It is early on a spring morning and the elderly man who lives nearest to the bridge has already been up and about for hours to water every planter lining up the road and hanging from the old lampposts with their flaky paint. Another project held captive in the neverending pile of documents and forms on Mayor Ravengard’s desk.

The bakery at the corner of the first crossing has long finished its first batches of pastries and bread, filling the air with mouthwatering scents. A few souls are already dragging their feet to its doors, still wiping the sleep out of their eyes as they seek some warm breakfast. On the opposite side of the street, a sweaty young man carries crates full of fruits and vegetables. He sets them up outside the greengrocer's shop, ensuring they are stable enough to sustain the shaking and bumping of passersby and customers.

Near the tiny park at the heart of the town, some owners walk their dogs, waving at neighbours and friends, wishing one another good morning when they have enough caffeine in their veins to wake them up. The barber reads his newspaper on one of the benches, seizing the opportunity to enjoy the first beautiful day of the season before going to work.

All is well in Heawick, as it always is. It is rarely eventful since so few people inhabit it.

‘Come here, Scratch. Good boy.’

While giving the white dog a loving pat between the ears, Halsin turns the sign on the door, officially opening his practice. He leans casually against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the world beyond his house, a triumphant surge coursing through his veins. So many years of hard labour and sacrifice, this seemingly small victory holds the weight of a lifetime’s worth of dedication and perseverance.

After perusing office space offers on every website known to man and visiting many a wretched place, having found this little corner of paradise to establish himself was nothing short of a miracle. And what a place it is!

Everything is ready for him to welcome his first furry patients. After renovating the place himself, he designed a welcoming surgery for owners and animals alike, creating an environment in which he would not mind staying for hours on end every day. Each nook and cranny has been sterilised for the animals’ well-being and he dedicated a corner for the comfort of his own dog, whom he expects to become his official assistant. Photographs of Scratch and the pets of friends from his hometown printed on canvas are the only decorations in the waiting room, ornamenting the otherwise dull, pastel-blue walls. At the welcome desk, a duck he whittled himself sits on top of the counter between two bowls of treats; one for the pets, one for the anxious owners.

Karlach, his newly hired assistant, insisted on having more decorations brought in, but Halsin was more than hesitant to indulge her. While the young woman certainly is enthusiastic enough for both of them, he can tell that if he does not put his foot down, the practice would have stuffed animals from floor to ceiling.

After giving the place yet another proud look, Halsin walked over to the reception, sneaking a treat to Scratch on the way. He sits behind the computer and plays old-timey folk music from his music library. He stretches his back and spins around on his chair, kicking his feet.

Now he just has to wait.

While one of his favourite songs plays, he browses the latest wildlife photographs on the National Geographic website, smiling at the wholesome snapshots and zooming on each of them to observe any detail capturing his attention. He is halfway through the second page and sipping his cold herbal tea when the door opens and the little bell tinkles. His eyes shoot up and he stands from his chair.

But it is no patient. It is merely Melly, the baker’s mother, who comes to bring him some fruit pastries wrapped up in a small lavender-coloured box topped with a bow. As soon as she catches a glimpse of him, her eyes illuminate and she gives him a wave.

‘Good morning, Halsin, dear!’ she chimes.

Grinning from ear to ear, he bypasses the desk and comes to shake the old lady’s hand. Curled up on his cushion, Scratch looks up, but ignores her arrival and goes back to sleep.

‘Good morning, Melly,’ he greets her back. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Oh, nothing, love, nothing at all! I came to see how you were faring on your first day.’

Halsin gazes around with a chuckle.

‘It has been quiet so far. In fact, you are the first person to walk in.’

‘Is that so? Ah, well, do not worry, dearie. The people in this town have been praying for a doctor and a veterinarian closer to home for decades. They will come.’

The thought warms up the man’s heart. Not that he has been worrying about the lack of patients so far, but he has come to wonder on multiple occasions about how long it would take for the first appointments to come in. He has bills to pay after all, and the renovation of what used to be a woodworker’s shop was not cheap, no matter how many things he did himself to save up on better equipment.

‘Would you like some tea, Melly?’

‘Oh, no, darling, thank you,’ she chuckles with a dismissing wave of her hand. The old woman hands him the lavender box. ‘I brought you this, thought you might need a little encouragement for your first day.’

‘How lovely of you, thank you!’

‘I will not linger, I fear that my old face would scare even the sickest hound away,’ she jokes while patting his shoulder. ‘Would you like me to take some of your business cards to display at the bakery? I’m sure that my son would not object.’

Melly does not even wait for him to respond before grabbing a quarter of the cards neatly stacked on the countertop. She shoves them in her cardigan’s pocket. The garment seems to have survived many decades, yet has retained its charm. Halsin always finds himself smiling at the sight of the ducks knitted around the waistline, complementing the beige diamond stitches all over it.

‘Do you need me to bring you lunch later, love?’

‘No, Melly, thank you. I have already planned my next few meals, but it is nice of you to offer.’

‘Very well,’ she smiles, patting his cheek. ‘You know where to find me if you need anything.’

‘I do. Thank you for everything.’

Out of courtesy, he accompanies her to the door, the pastry box seeming so tiny in his large palm, when it is a normal size in anybody else’s grasp. Before leaving, Melly turns to look at him, running a wrinkled finger underneath her chin.

‘Where is that eccentric assistant of yours? Is she not helping you today?’

‘Karlach? Oh, she is touring the neighbouring towns to leave calling cards in shops and town halls.’

‘Oh, good, good. What a tempest, this girl!’

Halsin laughs, scratching the back of his head.

‘She is, but I am sure that the animals will love her. I can already tell that she will love them first anyway.’

‘Well, as long as she works well…’

Without adding another word, Melly crosses the road, absent-mindedly waving at him while she looks around for cars. Once the old lady has returned to the bakery, Halsin takes a deep breath of countryside air and moves to close the door.

That is when he sees her.

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