skin carving


lit meme | 3/8 otps: neil josten & andrew minyard, all for the game trilogy

“Ninety percent of the time the very sight of you makes me want to commit murder. I think about carving the skin from your body and hanging it out as a warning to every other fool who thinks he can stand in my way.”

“What about the other ten?”

If fifteen year old James Potter was sketching Lily Evans’ initials on his schoolwork because he fancied her, you can bet your arse he was etching “L.E. + J.P.” onto every available surface when he was seventeen and in love with her.

Blood Purity

Request:  I NEED THIS OMG OKAY SO it’s George or Fred (I love George but either is fine) where you’re muggleborn and George flirts with you a lot in class cause he has a crush but umbrigde is not having it nah fam so she gives him detention for one of his many mini crimes and makes him write lines of “I will practice blood purity” and Reader is pisssedddddd when she finds out

Originally posted by mikeys-bitchh


You sit in your normal spot in DADA, at the table beside the Weasley twins’. Umbridge carries herself into the classroom and stops at her board. “Today we will be reading from the book. Pages 243-263. There will be no need to talk.” 
“Are we really doing this again, Professor? Miss (your last name) is more interesting and she’s dull as a rock,” George says with a small smirk. 
“These books are so predictable I can’t tell it apart from the Weasley twins,” you add, smirking slightly in George’s direction. 
“Brutal,” Fred mutters. 

“Quiet! If I hear another word from any of you, there will be consequences!” Umbridge squeaks. You roll your eyes and return to your reading. 
You feel a tap on your shoulder and look down to see a note slipped under your book. You quietly open the note and read. “Maybe you do have more personality than a rock.” 
“Sadly, you’re still predictable,” you write back, passing the note back to George. 

His mouth fell in fake shock and he placed his hand on his chest. 

“George Weasley!” Umbridge screeched. “Detention after class!” 

“Oh no,” George whispered sarcastically. Class was dismissed and everyone left except for George, who had to stay for detention. 

You were curled up in an armchair when George returned from detention. “That foul git!” he yelled. 
“George!” you yelled, getting his attention. You motioned him over and he sat on the arm of your chair. “What happened - wait, what’s on your hand?” You looked down to see a phrase etched into his hand. “I will practice blood purity.” 

You gasped. “Did she carve your skin?”
“She made me write that over and over and the pen did it to me,” he whispered. 
“She did fucking not,” you seethe. 
“She did.”  
You storm out of the room and find McGonagall. “What the hell? Do you know what Umbridge is doing in her detention?” you scream. 
“Miss (your last name), I suggest you calm down before I put you into detention myself.” 
“She makes you write lines and the pen etches into your skin. You write with your own blood,” you say as calmly as you can. 
“That is unacceptable. Thank you, (y/n), you may return to your common room.” 

You leave her office and make your way back to the Gryffindor common room. George is laying down on a couch, clutching his hand. “Hey, let’s get that cleaned up.” 
You help George up and to his bathroom after grabbing a first aid kit from your room. You mum knew you’d need it. “This is going to hurt,” you say, washing his hand out with alcohol. He flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “I know it hurts,” you whisper. 

You wrap his hand up and close your case. “I’m so sorry she did that.” 
“It was worth it, actually.” 
“You’re an actual idiot.” 
“You like an idiot. What will your parents say?” George gasps. 
“I do not,” you say, crossing your arms. 
“Guess I’m not an idiot then.” 
You blush. “Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade next trip?” you ask. 
“Absolutely,” George replies. 


endless list of favourite books: all for the game trilogy by nora sakavic

“ninety percent of the time the very sight of you makes me want to commit murder. i think about carving the skin from your body and hanging it out as a warning to every other fool who thinks he can stand in my way.”
“what about the other ten?”


Rating: T


Derek presses his fingers against his soulmark briefly, studying the familiar phrase in the mirror before tugging his shirt on. It’s an old habit, running his fingers across the mark on his ribs, touching it gently with unending fondness. Even though it’s been years since the phrase appeared, and even though he has long since memorized the curves and arches of the writing, Derek loves looking at the mark.

He was only five years old when the words burned themselves into his skin. No one really knows how the marks work, just that they appear when the youngest of the pair is born, spelling out the first words that the soulmates will say to each other. By the time the last letter finished carving Derek’s skin, he was in tears. His mother had held him through the tremors and promised that the pain would be worth it in the end. After all, having a soulmark was a gift, the universe’s way of helping him find the one person to make him whole. (In Derek’s opinion, if the universe has the power to match people up, than it probably had the power to make the process painless, but what did he know.)

When the pain ended and his mark was legible, Derek wondered what type of person his mate would be. After all, who started a conversation with a proposal? It always seemed so presumptuous that their meeting would begin with an offer of full commitment, but at the same time Derek has always loved the originality of the statement. In comparison with something like ‘hello’ or ‘can I help you,’ his words have always stood out (though his mother’s words are ‘can I help you’ and his father’s mark reads,‘for starters, you can get that monstrous thing out of my way,’ so maybe even simple marks have something unique about them).

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mélange | part 1

fandom: monsta x
member/reader: kihyun, female, minhyuk (mentioned)
genre/warning(s): smut, slight!degradation, spanking, toys: belt
length: 2K+
summary: in which your new neighbor next door has really loud sex and so you decide to have a competition because there is no way blondie is having better sex than you.


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Suga and spice and all things not nice (give me even more of that Nicotine Sweetness)


Trigger warning: gun play, knife play, blood play, bondage, degredation/praise kink (they are kinda mixed together at points), sensory play, overstimulation, squirting, daddy kink, pet names, collaring/choking, impregnation kink/cum play. This is not for the faint of heart, if this is not your cup of tea then please don’t read it.


You woke up to a cold bed, not a common occurrence for you. Yoongi was practically married to his bed and he wouldn’t leave it, unless his underground empire required it (anyway he one pretty good reason to stay wrapped up in the sheets already in his bed).

Just as you started to stir, you heard Yoongi’s raspy voice, “Good Morning Kitten~” As soon as you heard your pet name leave his lips, you knew that you wouldn’t be leaving this bed for the rest of the day.

You saw Yoongi rise from his chair before walking up to the foot of the bed, holding a few things behind his back. “Kitten, I hope you got lots of sleep because you’re going to need your energy. Daddy wants to play with his Kitten. Do you want to play with Daddy too, Kitten?” You nodded and that’s all Yoongi needed to step into action.

You slept naked, which allowed Yoongi to proceed to place a diamond encrusted collar around your neck. “A beautiful collar for his equally beautiful and obedient Kitten,” he said. The attached leash left laying between the valley of your breasts. He then repurposed some old black silk sheets into restraints, tying your four limbs to the bed posts.

Only when you were in the position Daddy wanted you in did he show you what he had hidden from you before, your two favourite toys, Suga, his engraved golden Colt hand gun and his equally impressive bowie knife.

“Daddy promised you last time that he would let you cum from Suga but first I want to use my other toy. Does that sound good Kitten?”

“It does Daddy~”

“Good, you’re such a good slut for Daddy.”

Yoongi took his time admiring the knife and your naked body before he even bothered to touch you. His heated stare and the completely vulnerability of your tied up state already making you wetter than you’d like to admit.

Yoongi started off by using his bowie knife, lightly tracing your lips, before leaning down to give you a kiss, in a rare display of romance, or his brand of romance anyway. The tip was then traced down your neck and collarbone.

Your Daddy then used the tip to break the skin, carving out a design on the skin, just below your left collarbone. The pressure was enough to draw blood but not enough to permanently scar your flawless skin. He watched in fascination as drops of crimson slowly ran down your heaving chest, the actions already causing you to drip onto your thighs.

Before the drops could hit your perky buds, Yoongi collected it on his finger and offered it to you. You immediately accepted it, using your tongue as you would on Suga or on your Daddy’s throbbing cock. Yoongi couldn’t help but groan, his Kitten being too much for his own good sometimes, but he loved his filthy Kitten and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yoongi then pulled on the leash, forcing your upper body into a more upright position and in the process choking you out in the most delicious way. This caused more droplets to fall. He let them fall to your hardened nipple this time before he took your pebbled nub into his mouth. His skillful tongue licked up all that dripped down, whilst simultaneously using it as an excuse to flick your nipple using the muscle. You would scream out in pleasure, if you had any air left in your lungs and just before you couldn’t take anymore, you were released, your upper body falling back into the sheets.

As you caught your breath back, Daddy Yoongi diligently disinfected the knife and your skin. You even found the slight sting of alcohol wipe to be strangely pleasureable, causing you to hiss in a similar way to when you would be spanked. To that he chuckled and leant in to whisper by your ear, “Is this too much for you Kitten? I hope not because I’ve only just gotten started.”

Yoongi then took a photo to show you his masterpiece, a small scratching of the name Suga into your skin, a temporary reminder of your favourite toy and your favourite kingpin. You would have brought up your own index finger to admire your Daddy’s work but your hands were tied, both of them. However, Yoongi did it for you. As he admired it he thought about how he loved to leave his marks on you, hickeys and a spanked bottom, but knife play was by far his favourite. He would never permanently scar you but he loved to just scratch the skin with his own tags for his very own special little Kitten.

“Kitten, I want you to close your eyes now.” When you closed them you heard, “You’re such a good little whore for Daddy. Make sure not to open them or Daddy will have to punish you.”

You then shivered as cold metal traced the skin from your index finger to your left shoulder. It was far to blunt to be Yoongi’s bowie knife, leaving only one other option, Daddy was using Suga on you.

He made sure to avoid his marking, letting it heal, as the barrel was traced down between the valley of your breasts, causing the leash to be pushed against one of your mounds. He then smacked both perked nipples with the side of the barrel, much like you did last time you were using Suga. It had turned Yoongi on now end and now that he had his Kitten all tied up, Daddy was going to have his fun with his perfect little slut.

Yoongi took his time tease each area, your torso, your other arm, your feet, your calves, only now just reaching your thighs. You were now absolutely soaked, a wet path already formed on the silk sheets, making them even blacker than black. You were struggling to not open your eyes or snap at Daddy because you were so riled up, but as much as Daddy was a tease, he could be merciful too.

“Open your eyes Baby and look between your legs, look at Daddy, look at what Daddy is going to do to you.”

You felt it before you saw it, Yoongi rubbing Suga against your neglected clit. God was your Daddy good. DAMN GOOD. You were already so turned on that you didn’t know how long you could last, not that your Daddy cared, he would always make you cum multiple times.

All it took was one firm tug on the leash and you were gone. Your body arching off the bed, as much as you could given the restraints. The pleasure leaving you breathless, wordless.

Yoongi lapped at your dripping essence as if it was a gourmet meal, and to him, it was. In your Daddy’s opinion, your pussy was a divine delicacy.

Even when he has lapped up all the cum you could offer, he still licked between your folds, Suga still being rubbed against your clit. It was starting to very on painful, but a pleasurable pain nevertheless. You would have closed your legs if you could, but Daddy wouldn’t subject you to something you couldn’t take and you had your safe word if you needed it. You just needed to get over the first aches of overstimulation and then you would feel even better than before.

Just as you were starting to like the clit stimulation (or put better, the overstimulation), Yoongi pulled away from you, tongue and gun. You could literally scream at him, Yoongi could be so frustrating sometimes, but as you said earlier, your Daddy could be merciful.

Yoongi smirked and rubbed Suga against your glistening lips, silently asking for permission before sliding it would inside you. This was a novel experience, whilst Suga had been a permanent fixture in your playtime, or at least the times you calmed Yoongi downed, you’d never actually been fucked by anything other that your Daddy’s cock or fingers. You had to say that shock of the cold metal against your warm velvet walls was strangely pleasent in the most masochistic of ways. The sensory shock had caused your walls to clamp, making Yoongi groan at the thought of your walls doing that around his throbbing cock.

When you had relaxed, Yoongi lent down and whispered against your lips, like you had done to him days earlier in his office. “Kitten, I said I’d used Suga to make you cum, and I’m going to do it again. I want you to cum as I fuck you with my gun and I want you to cum again when I fuck you. Do you think you can handle that, my slut?”

“Yes, Daddy.”


Suga was slowly pumped in and out of you, Yoongi taking great care of not being too harsh. Whilst he liked to be rough, he’d never want to harm you.

His other hand went down to rub at your abused clit. At least you could say that he never forgot to stimulate it.

Once you got used to the novel feeling, you had to say that you’ve never felt so good. Just thinking about the pure debauchery you’re engaging in, the purest of sins, made you unintentionally clench around Suga again. Yoongi smirked.

He lent in and whispered by your ear, his warm breath causing goosebumps, “Hmm, that’s it Kitten. Be a good little whore and cum for Daddy, cum over Suga.” And that’s all you needed.

If you thought the first orgasm was intense, this one was almost unbearable. The deep fire that spread from your loins had caused fireworks to spark in all the nerves of your body, short-circuiting your senses for a while. It had felt different though, not just more intense but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

When you locked eyes with Yoongi, you practically shivered. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, his gaze practically burning into your brain. You had thought you had seen him at his most lustful but you were wrong. This was him at his most lustful.

“Such a dirty slut. Daddy told you to cum on Suga, but not only did you do that, but you squirted all over his gun. You’ve made Daddy very horny, Kitten. You’ve been so good, very good, excellent. You’ve let Daddy have his wicked way with you, mark you. Can Daddy mark you in one more way, Kitten? Can Daddy fuck you full of his cum, and keep on doing so until you’re carrying his child? Would you like that Kitten?”

You were left speechless. You had never really thought about having kids but there was something about the pure filthiness of Yoongi fucking your pussy full of cum, with the possiblity of getting pregnant, especially if you got pregnant, that turned you on more than you’d like to admit.

You would nod but you felt Daddy’s speech warranted a verbal response. “Kitten would love that Daddy. Fuck me full of your cum, get me pregnant.”

And that’s how you got Yoongi slamming into your core. All his patience had gone out the window. Any bruising he’d help to look after later but now all he could think about was your tight walls milking him dry and planting his seed deep into you.

His balls were already so tight from all the previous playtime and you weren’t much better. If your hands were free, you would claw at his back, letting the pain explain how otherworldly all this felt like.

Your body started shaking, your thighs in particular. Your ability to stay still obliterated. You did however force Yoongi still. You’re velvet walls had a vice- like grip on his throbbing cock, forcing his member to stay in at full hilt and fill your pussy full of his seed.

Yoongi held you through your post-orgasmic bliss, cooing and praising you for how well you’ve done. When you had calmed down he cut the restraints with his bowie knife and removed your collar, allowing you to relax properly.

Before his member softened too much, he pulled out and plugged you up gently. “We don’t want this going to waste, do we Kitten?,” was his answer to your raised eyebrow. You both smiled.

As he laid beside you, petting your hair, Yoongi had a revision to make. Scratch what he said earlier, Yoongi’s favourite mark would be his child growing inside his Kitten.


Well done for making it to the end. I warned you that this wasn’t for the faint of heart. I hope that you liked it

Bambi x

Limbic Resonance (1/7)

Title: Limbic Resonance Part One: The Good, The Bad, The Dirty

Rated: T (later chapters may be rated M for violence and sexual situations

Summary: Seven people. Seven cities across the globe. They are no longer just them. Sense8!AU

Characters: Natsu, Lucy, Gray, Meredy, Gajeel, Yukino, Cobra/Erik

Pairings: Nalu, Kinabra, StingXYukinoXRogue; eventual others

Word Count: ~22K

AN: A very happy birthday to @not-just-any-fangirl! Maci’s a babe and I hope she has a very lovely rest of the day <3 She knew this was coming, but hopefully what’s inside will surprise her just a little ;)

Notes: I’ve made a few changes with Sense8 lore. Instead of everyone being born on the same day, people of the same cluster are a group of people who were supposed to meet in life, but were prevented from doing so. (On FF I’ll make a list of how everyone would have met!)

I’ll be posting this to FF in a bit, but please reblog this if you read it. This took me like four full days to write and I’d really appreciate it!

                 {if you wanna start a fight, you better throw the first punch}

He doubles over, clutching at his stomach as a spike of pain rips through him, tearing him apart from the inside. A fever burns at his skin, his hands trembling as he pants for breath. The bricks are cool against his burning skin, soothing him, and he curls closer, resting his temple against the rock, uncaring of the way it bites into his skin, drawing a thin cut across his bare arm. A gasp pulls from his throat as a second wave of agony  hits him, his skin rippling as it whips through him. Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes, running a shaking hand through his messy, red hair.

Tears burn at his eyes, but he holds them back, not allowing them to spill over despite the pain—despite feeling like he’s going to be ripped to pieces. He can’t quit now, not when he’s so close. He has to protect this cluster, his kids. He can’t have them.

The shadows can’t have them.

His hands clench into fists, palms shaking at his sides, and he hears a scream split the air: his scream, hoarse and throaty, strained from speaking, from calling for help. Dark eyes snap open, and he quivers as he looks down at the locket in his hands, polished gold glinting in the flickering light, darkness creeping closer, threatening to swallow him whole. His head aches, thoughts muddled together, blurring as he remembers his own birth, his second birth. He remembers his friends, his cluster—gonegonegone. The shadows took them away. All but one. They can’t have his children too, he won’t let them.

A hand latches onto his arm, familiar and warm, a scar on the man’s palm, one he’s known for years and years. He glances up, eyes locking with familiar dark eyes, shaggy, auburn hair pushed off his face. There’s a flash of worry in his eyes, something like terror that makes him wince. The scarred hand slips into his own, a reassuring squeeze grounding him, keeping him from floating away. The touch says I’m here, I’m here, and he wonders how long it’ll last.

A second presence settles on his other side, a shadow. He doesn’t look at it, doesn’t dare meet its eyes. He made that mistake once before, he won’t do it again. He ruined them all because of those eyes, because he wasn’t careful. It cost him his cluster.

“Take care of them,” he murmurs to his friend, pleading. He needs to make sure they’re okay, that the shadows won’t find them. He won’t let them end up like his own cluster—he won’t. He’d kill to keep them safe—his brats. Nothing’s going to hurt them, not the shadows and not Him.

White blinds his vision, his back arching against the wall—pain, then relief. And that’s when he sees them.

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Of you? Honestly. (M)

Jeon Jungkook. 2 732 words. Bad boy AU + High School AU.

Part 2

“Scared, _____?”

You’ve never quite liked your name until it’s rolling off his tongue. Even if they’re spoken with a hint of daunting. And you’ve never quite felt your heart beat this loud until you’ve backed up and feel your behind hit the teacher’s desk.

“Of you? Honestly.” You find a sort of boldness that might get you in trouble.

In trouble with the notorious bad boy of the school nonetheless.

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In physics, the law of conservation of energy states that energy can be neither created nor destroyed. But it can change.

I don’t claim to understand physics anymore than I ever understood you, but maybe that’s why I didn’t feel it when you died. Why my heart kept beating, out of sync without yours.

Maybe I get to have a reason for the ache you left in my chest. For the hollow spaces between my ribs, where your hands once lingered.

You exist, still. You must.

—  as a memory, as a ghost | p.d
carving your skin into something lovely and horrible

There are crucial moments of many wizards’ lives. Things people live and die for. The powers of these emotions, along with a small shove from Fate, give the magic that resides in a wizard’s soul the ability to mark their vessel, their body. A significant symbol or sign that shows what is so important that it shall mark and brand a body eternally.

When a storm wizard is marked, the ever living hum of energy that resides just under their skin rises, screaming to the point of white noise filling their head. A brief second of white hot pain burns, it burns so much they can’t breathe. Then, then they feel relief, warming over them like a pleasant summer storm, their breath a bit heavy but otherwise okay. Their marks typically occur on their thighs and hips, the jagged but soft lines swooping across their skin like the sketch of a new project. An experienced storm wizard can have these symbols etched into their skin so much that they trail down their legs, curling around knees and ankles.

When an ice wizard is marked, their typically chilly body heat becomes unbearably freezing, their whole body immobile. Some even say that this is the only time absolute zero can be reached. The feeling of invisible hands creep and glide up their back- even more impossibly cold- then, their entire body burns, it’s like frostbite decided to sink its jaws into the wizard’s body. When it subsides, and their body feels normal again, their shoulders will be marked, and the wizard can see the symbols with just a turn of their head. The marks will be sharp and brutal, just like the shards of ice, until understanding softens and melts the ice just a tad, rounding those edges. An ice wizard who has seen much and lived much, will have markings trailing down their arms, stopping and circling around the wrist.

A fire wizard seems to experience the exact opposite of what the typical ice wizard goes through. Their normal temperature- which others would describe as ‘furnace like’- is overheated to the point of complete and utter black-out pain. A focused area becomes almost impossibly hotter, like a branding. After, the blackened and raised lines that appear over their heart form the symbol. The lines will pale over time, and the ache may lessen as well. When more marks form, they will spread across the wizard’s chest, circling around and shaping into flames.

A death wizard when marked has probably the worst of it, second only to balance wizards. Their breath leaves their lungs, and the only sounds they can make are chilling death rattles. They clutch their throat, the foreign feeling of their own flesh rotting beneath their fingers making them panic. Their skin is intact, but there is a smokey grey cloud just at the base of their neck, cradled by their collarbones. With time, the vague shape will become a black lined symbol, they grey contained in the lines. With experience, a necromancer will have marks crawling up just underneath their chin, as well as behind the ears. Sometimes, the marks seem like bruises from hands that attempted to strangle the wizard.

The myth wizard feels an odd tingling that wasn’t there before- or always was, just too faint to notice. They are thrown headfirst into a vision that shows why their marking has begun, but those visions quickly turn into vivid nightmares- the sights trials that a wizard must overcome in order to truly earn their symbols. They wake up, feeling as if they were never asleep, and a symbol flashes and resides on their forehead. When they are more learned and experienced, more symbols and markings may show up, decorating their face. 

Y’know, it’s funny though. Those nightmare visions seem a lot like visions of the future that they can receive on occasion. 

A life wizard usually earns their marks through healing someone back from the brink of death. It’s gentle- the most soft and lovely feeling. Like soft, timid hands slowly running their fingers over the life wizard’s palms. For a moment, it is as if bandages were wrapped around their hands and fingers far too tightly, all circulation cut off. The moment passes though, and the markings in the center of their palms come into existence, the wizard having an odd feeling against their hand, as if they crushed a flower in it, but the flower itself is nonexistent. The markings will grow in time, rather than show up suddenly in the same manner as the first. They will curl around these fingers, stopping at the heel of the palm. When complete, when a life is fulfilled and content, the markings will bloom into wonderful colors, breathtaking beauty possessed by the wise wizard.

The balance wizard is the only wizard able to die during this trying time. You see, it’s very unusual for there to be balance wizards at all, and for there to be wizards strong enough for this, good enough, it’s rather scary. Even if there were a true balance classroom in Ravenwood, if people wanted to primarily help others and support them, they’d probably choose the path of life magic instead. This moment, where their skin is forever marked, it’s sacred in Krokotopia, the same sentiments carrying over for the typical balance wizard. It starts with a black out, and the unknowing eyes may think that the sorcerer had fainted. The balance wizard is facing Justice, feeling a blinded gaze sear through their skin like the lashes of a whip across their back, and they bow before her, as all beings should. When rejected, the wizard is promptly eviscerated from existence, leaving nothing more than memories. When accepted, the wizard comes back with a mark across their back and a slight tilt to their gaze that makes it unnerving to stare them straight in the eyes. They gain new marks with the same lash of divine energy bowling them over, but are no longer in danger of death through the marking. When asked about the experience, their eyes flash the same copper of Judgment’s blindfold, and they say nothing. 

Imagine the power of a wizard who has become so proficient in every school that they are marked in each way. Their entire body becomes the canvas for their own magic, and it is beautiful. 

Present for You

1.) RE: minho requests. I wouldn’t mind some intense teasing in foreplay with almost humiliating (I dunno how best to describe it sorry) dirty talk about how wet the person is and how badly they must want it until they are begging for it. ;) i love your writing so whatever you end up doing will be amazing and HOT

2.) Teresa’s eye catches your boyfriend Minho so to make sure he is marked as yours you ride the living day lights out of him and leave scratches along his back and hickeys on his shoulders and v-line and you have bruises on your hips. She goes to flirt with him the next day so you subtlety flash the love marks you left on him at her and kiss Minho more passionately than you have before and everyone in the Glade looks at you shocked as you proudly walk away leaving Minho dazed and lovestruck.

3.) Oooh, could I request Minho smut where he’s usually in charge and in control, but the reader finds out he has a huge weakness- he goes absolutely crazy when she rides him, like it’s his ultimate weakness, and of course she exploits this bc LBR who wouldn’t ;)

4.) Can you please do a minho one where you won’t let him touch you or talk and maybe his hands are tied up so his big biceps look all pretty above his head and he’s constantly tugging on the rope so they’re bulging omfg I need it please

This smut gave me hell and it’s so long i want to cry. I hope y’all love it and shoutout to the anon for helping me finish it. Request me things (but read the guideline post so I don’t have to delete it). 

The fire crackled and snapped in the relative quiet of the Glade. The sun had long since set and most of the Gladers were gathered around in small groups sharing the warming glow of the fire. It was so rare that you got a chance to sit out and enjoy the night with the rest of the group. Tonight was warm and the air tasted like the start of summer. You tried to shut out the rest of the conversations, resting your head on Minho’s chest with your eyes shut. This kind of soothing peace had descended over the groups and where there would usually be bickering and ruckus, there was only small talk and silence- like there was no where else to be but by the fire.

“Shut up, Thomas. Minho could kick your ass in two seconds flat.” A shrill voice across the fire chuckled, awakening you from your daze and breaking the beautiful peace.

“Thanks T.” Your pillow shook. The smoke nipped at your eyes as you peeled them open to sit up a little, flattening out your hair and shifting from the arm wrapped around your shoulders. Across the fire sat Teresa and she was staring intently at you, a small smile creeping on her lips. Nope. Not at you, at the guy snuggled up with you. Your head turned to face him, but his eyes were focused across the fire pit. Your stomach twitched. Oh, hell no.

Your hand shifted under the blanket wrapped around you both to land just above his knee, a gentle reminder of who he should be looking at. Minho’s head snapped to you, a small, cocky smirk still on his lips. “Hey.” He pulled you back against him warming your side once more.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He narrowed his at you before whispering, “What?”

You glanced back at the fire. Teresa’s smile had disappeared, but she wasn’t back in the guy’s conversation. She was staring directly at you, lips pouted.

“I have a present for you.” You smirked back at him. It was something you’d been thinking of for a while, but tonight you were feeling the effects of some Dutch courage- just one drink too many.

Minho raised an eyebrow, “A present?” And his smirk was back. “And what would that be?” His eyes wandered back to the fire.

“You’ll have to come to bed to find out.” Whispering so as to conceal your conversation from the groups sitting around you, you pulled your legs underneath you and moved to face him, letting his arm drop from your shoulders to your waist.

His eyes shut very deliberately before opening them slowly, he was smiling now. That rare, glistening smile he didn’t like to show people. “You drive a hard bargain, Y/N. Do I at least get a hint?” His fingers played with the seam of your shirt at your lower back letting his cold fingertips brush against the hot skin there, leaving shivers to run up your spine.

“No clues.”  You wound your arms around his neck and pulled yourself up until you could whisper in his ear, letting the blanket slip from your body. “But if you come now I might even throw in a lapdance.”

Minho’s hand curled into a fist, tightening around the material of your shirt. “We’re gone.” He muttered, whipping the blanket off himself before standing up and offering you a hand to your feet. “G’night.” He said quietly to the fire earning a small wave from Thomas. Gently he took your hand and together you made the short walk back to the homestead.

You pulled the chair from the corner of his room to the centre as the door banged shut. “Sit.” Minho took slow steps towards you holding your gaze before lowering himself to sit, his smirk still visible in the dim light. The slight buzz of alcohol still danced in your system creating a warm hum in your forehead as you reached for his shoulders and bent at the waist until you were at his eye-level.  You stayed that way for a moment reveling in the way his eyes darted from your eyes to your lips.

He broke first, stretching forwards to nuzzle his nose against yours, lips millimeters away in a delicious kind of purgatory. Your lips twitched, teasing his before your hand stroked over his jaw. His lips pressed against yours softly, but you pulled away all to soon and turned around.

Moving your hips to the melody inside of your head, you ran your hands up and over your body, eyes closed in dizzy tipsiness. You flicked your hair over one shoulder and glanced back at him, slipping your fingers under the hem of your shirt. Minho was slouched in the chair, eyes locked on your ass. You smiled a little, pulling your shirt over your head softly and discarding it on the ground. Slowly you backed up onto him, grinding your ass on his package while supporting yourself with a hand on either knee. “Damn, Y/N.” Minho breathed behind you curving his huge hands around your hips, guiding them against him.

“I didn’t say you could touch me.” You whispered back, pulling his hands from your hips. Minho sighed dramatically, the smile audible in his breath. All too soon you stood up and stepped away from him to unbuckled your belt, still rolling your hips. You slid your pants down slowly, bending at the waist and letting them pool at your ankles before glancing over your shoulder again. His eyes were still locked on your ass but his lips were parted a little, brow furrowed. Minho glanced up, caught your eye and motioned for you to come closer. Tediously slowly, you drew your hand up to hold onto his shoulder before stepping over his legs and straddling him. You lowered yourself onto his lap, and rolled your hips against his growing hardness.

Now eye-to-eye, you watched as Minho’s eyes licked over your skin before stopping at your bra. You felt his hands running from your knees over your thighs to rest on your ass. You stopped moving, glaring at him until he looked you in the eye. “Hands.” You said firmly.

Minho grinned, groaning and rolling his head backwards to rest on the backrest of the seat. All the same, he squeezed your ass hard before removing his hands. You rolled your hips down on him again, lowering your lips to meet his neck. You let your tongue flick against his skin before moving your lips up to his earlobe which you sucked into your mouth, biting it gently. Minho hissed underneath you, rocking his hips to meet yours. The increased friction against your clit caused your muscles to clench involuntarily; the feeling of rolling over his length -only three thin layers dividing you- was indescribable. Your hands wound down to unbutton his shirt as your lips caught his neck again, kissing his hot skin harder and sucking it into your mouth. He was going to be marked as yours before the night was through.

With his help, you navigated stripping him of his shirt before detaching yourself from his neck. Even in the dim light the bruise stood out next to his tanned skin. You ground against him harder, hands stroking down his skin, feeling out every contour of his muscles. After exploring him for a while, your hands stroked back to his neck. You were nose to nose, each gasping softly into the other’s mouth will every grind of your hips, small tingles coursing from your core feeling him hard against you. You leaned in and pulled his bottom lip between your teeth.

All of a sudden his hands were under your ass. You let go of his lip and stopped grinding again. “You’re really not getting this ‘no hands’ thing, are you?” You breathed into his open mouth.

Minho grinned against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your chest flush against his. His lips were on your neck, then trailed down to your chest before stopping in the valley between your breasts. “But I missed these too much,” he muttered, squeezing them over your bra.

You giggled as his hands met your ass again and he stood up, carrying you around his waist. It didn’t last long though as he threw you down on his mattress. You sat up on your elbows, admiring his body; the way his biceps bulged and retracted as he unbuckled his belt, the skin pulled taught over his tensing abs and of course his considerable arousal straining to be freed. All thoughts of Teresa had escaped your mind when he crawled between your legs, pawing at your bra with both palms before stroking over your thighs.

Above it all, the way he looked at you turned you on like crazy- it was like he had never seen something quite so special before, like every curve of your skin was carved by the Gods. You reached your hand along his waist, pulling his belt from his hips like a whip before edging his pants down with your heels. Minho shook them off, discarding them at the end of the bed before moving back to your lips to catch you in a passionate make-out session. This chest-to-chest exchange made your mind go blank. His hands were innocent -running through your hair and along your jaw- but his mouth told a different story in its clumsy, frantic kisses.

You pushed against his shoulder gently and flipped onto him, straddling his waist and pulling away from his lips first, as usual. Breathlessly you spoke,“Minho, I made a rule. No hands. Give them to me.” You took his hands and pinned them, wrist over wrist above his head. You wound his belt around them, binding them to the headboard before locking the belt in place and sitting up, staring down at his naked torso.

“Damn, Y/N.” He whispered, pulling at his ties. His biceps flared sending a short twitch to your clit.  His smile reassured you that everything was fine but you chewed on your lip, lightly rolling your hips over his hardness to fulfill the throbbing heat between your legs. The faint blur of alcohol in your system was dying out, and you were hit by a strange mix of nerves and arousal. This was so foreign for you- to have him at your mercy and be able to pleasure him (or not) in whatever way you pleased.

“Will you talk to me?” You bent down, kissing along his jaw until you found the other side of his neck from your first love bite. Kissing slowly, you alternated between suckling on his skin and massaging it with your tongue, trying to minimize the pain involved. Under your fingertips you could feel his heart speed up.

“Talking is not really my strong point.” He spoke huskily, his throat shaking under your lips.

“Pretty please?” You sat back and admired your new masterpiece before leaving hot wet kisses down his chest. “What do you want me to do?” You rocked on him, feeling your wetness soak through your panties. There was no way he couldn’t feel it through his boxers too. You sat up, trailing a hand behind your back before popping the clasp on your bra and slowly sliding its straps down your shoulders. “Hmm?”

You could see his eyes following your hand, brow furrowed. He pulled against his restraints again making the headboard shake, his hands twisting around the leather that bound them. Minho sighed and closed his eyes but his smile still remained. “Take it off.”

“But why would I take it off if you’re not even looking.” His eyes flickered open to your chest. “If I wanted to untie you -which I don’t- I’d want you to take this off-.” You flicked it onto the floor and pulled your hands up your body until they cupped your breasts. His face turned you on more than anything as his eyes flickered between your exposed chest and your face as he bucked his hips to get as much friction as possible in his restricted state. “-And then you could play with them.” You squeezed yourself hard, the sight causing him to shift against you roughly, a frustrated groan escaping his lips.

Ignoring the growing need to empale yourself on his dick, you swung your leg off him, now kneeling at his side. Your hand rolled over his boxers, feeling the impressive length of his hardness. “Fuck, Minho.” You breathed imagining how it would feel to be stretched open by him. Minho short breaths were loud, as were the almost constant rattles of him pulling against the headboard. You ducked your head and licked over the fabric, feeling his muscles clench under your hands. As they clasped around the waist band, you drew the cloth down his legs before throwing it to the floor to join your other clothes.

You eyes flicked back to his now bare hips, hands running over the V of his hips and feeling the angular shape leading down to his length. A light whimper broke the quiet, “Untie me, baby.”

Smiling, you dipped down to kiss along his hips licking along the hollow of his skin. “I don’t think you want me to. Tell me what you want.” You stopped as close to his cock as possible, letting it brush past your cheek before moving to his other hip.

“Suck it.” He gasped as your lips sucked on his skin leaving yet another dark bruise, this time on his hip. Your hands ran to his sides, locking him down from wriggling against you.

“You didn’t say what to suck.”

“Y/N.” He moaned, his head pressing back into the pillow. You moved to the other hip, face lower this time and much closer to him. Your lips locked around his skin again, sucking it lightly and letting your teeth graze over it. “Suck my dick.” He breathed, eyes closed.

For a second you were frozen. Just hearing him say something dirty was an immediate turn on, but it was so foreign it almost sounded like another language. Stretching your tongue out and licked him from base to tip. Minho’s groan was loud as you swirled your tongue around his tip before kissing it, hands fumbling to tie your hair back in a loose bun. When your hands were free, you made a loose fist around his base, pumping him a few times to wetten him before wrapping your lips around him. You sucked him lightly at first; teasing him in and out of your mouth while keeping your fist working on the part which you couldn’t reach with your hand. Increasing your speed, the familiar ache of your jaw was unnoticeable while you listened to him trying to stay quiet. He felt so much harder than usual, his arousal making your own all the more prevalent.

Underneath you Minho squirmed weakly, whimpering and pulling hard on the headboard. With your ass in the air and your lips on his cock, the power was definitely in your hands. “Baby, please untie me.” He said breathlessly, stomach muscles tensing in attractive waves with each pant.

You sat up, wiping the corners of your mouth. “Why?” Reaching your hand up to stroke down his biceps, the other stroking over his member.

Minho’s jaw was tight but he chuckled, squirming under you. “Because I want to feel you.”

“Not good enough.” You pecked his lips before crawling back to his dick, sucking it deep into your hot mouth, relishing in the sound of his hiss. As you pulled away, you ran your tongue down his shaft before flicking it over his tip.

“Fuck, Y/N. Stop.” His voice was firm this time.

You pulled away, grinning ear to ear. “Do you need a minute to compose yourself?” You teased, turning back to his face.

His cheeks were flushed and his hair was unusually matted as he sighed, nodding. “Why won’t you let me touch you?” He whined, relaxing his arms above his head. You were now hit with the realization of just how wet you were. Your clit was throbbing powerfully and your heart was almost as loud and fast as his.

You tilted your head to the side, sliding your panties down your legs before throwing them on his bedside table. You’d leave them there as a souvenir. “I can do that myself- do you want to watch?” You smirked trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Minho groaned in frustration, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling as you ran your hands over your chest again, flicking over hardened nipples. His eyes drifted back to you soon enough- this time you spread your legs. “I could make you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Untie me.”

As you ran a hand down to brush over your clit -sensitive from being ignored for so long- you could  see his eyes widen. “Talk dirty to me and I’ll think about it.” You gasped as the first wave of pleasure hit you. You were so wet, it would be embarrassing but for the way Minho was looking at you.

He growled. “God, Y/N. Please let me do that for you.” The tone of anger in his voice was so sexy, a kind of passion which was so rarely spoken. You shook your head slowly, having a little trouble processing his words while your clit felt so sensitive under your fingertips. The coiling sensation in your abdomen was a sure signal that you could make yourself come anytime you wanted, but making him squirm was so much more rewarding than that. Your fingers were covered in your own wetness as you drew soft circles around your clit, gasping with every shock of sensation which rolled through your veins. Minho’s head fell back in the pillow, trying so hard not to watch you. He closed his eyes. “Untie me so that I can fuck your sweet, tight little pussy until you’re shaking.”

Your mouth literally dropped open, your hand stopped moving. His dark eyes fell back to you. “Was that better?” He smirked, “Y/N, you’re literally dripping wet.” Minho bit his lip as you watched his eyes fall to your core. His voice was quiet but strong and unyeilding. “You must want me so badly. Let me do it. If you don’t want to untie me, come here and sit on my face.”

Blinking, you whispered, “What did you just say?” Your fingers pressed firmly on your clit causing an override of hot pleasure causing you to arch up, toes curling against the sheets.

“Stop touching yourself and sit on my face.” Minho growled, rattling the headboard again. Your head tilted to the side, hand trailing away from your core at the proposition. Slowly you smiled, setting yourself back on your knees.

You shook your head and Minho groaned. “Nah, but I will ride you.” You whispered, straddling him once more and leaning down to brush your lips against his. As your lips met over and over again, tongues flickering over each others, you ground down lightly on him causing your wetness to coat his length. You each moaned into the other’s mouths before you sat up. It felt too frantic- the swelling within you was intense and demanding- but you weren’t about to stop.

You raised yourself off the bedsheets, palming his length to line his tip at your entrance. “You ready?” You breathed, watching him from above. His jaw was tight, but his eyes never left you.

“Untie me and I will be.” He grunted. Sighing, you sat yourself on his cock, feeling every inch push deeper and deeper inside you until you were sure you couldn’t take anymore. He was so big, it didn’t so much hurt as feel like a fine stretching. Your nails were digging into his chest, chewing on your lips and trying to keep your impending climax at bay for now.

His groan was short and quiet, his chest heaving underneath your hands. All of a sudden you longed for his hands on you, or perhaps for his lips to worship any part of your skin. Slowly you pulled yourself up, sinking back down onto him again. This time it was easier, hot tingles of pleasure making your muscles tense uncontrollably, but you didn’t want to ride too fast and give him the satisfaction of seeing you climax. “Baby, you feel so good.” You whimpered, riding him gently at first, quietly accommodating his length in you. “If I untie you, will you make me come?” Your leant forwards, hands wrapping around the belt buckle which bound him, breasts hovering over his face.

Even in the dim light you could see his eyes wondering from your chest to his ties. “Y/N.” He sighed, “I can make you come until you can’t breath. I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow if you let me touch you.” Your walls tightened around his cock causing a loud whimper to slip from your mouth as you pawed over the buckle before undoing it fast.

Minho pulled his wrists free in a flash, sitting up and running his hands roughly down to your ass, grabbing it hard. He pulled you up and down on his dick faster than before, fingers pressing hard into your skin as you cried out in animalistic noises at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. The coil in your stomach was shifting violently as you hugged around his neck, hands running through his short hair. “I’m going to…” You whimpered down to him, as his hands moved to your hips. The rhythmic sound of slapping skin fell in rhythm with your panting breaths. His fingers dug in painfully hard, but it send shockwaves to your heat as he bounced you on his cock, bucking up to meet you.

He groaned loudly, half-smiling up at you. “You gonna come for me, Y/N?” Your fingers dug into the back of his neck hard, feeling that climbing in your stomach reaching higher and higher as he plowed into you, your mouth gasping in shaky breaths.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod.” You panted, pressing your foreheads together until you couldn’t talk anymore, feeling that overwhelming white hot coil about to crash down. You shook softly, breathing into his mouth until his pounding made your stomach flip. Harsh waves of pleasure cut through you, shaking you to the core as you bounced on his dick. From your mouth slipped a long string of “Ohmigod,” met only by his groan from feeling you tighten around him. Your eyes squeezed shut, shaking hard against him as you settled from your high.

Minho’s thrusting slowed and finally stopped as he supported your trembling frame, switching positions to lie you on your back. Through your whimpers, he kissed against your lips softly, still inside of you. As you composed yourself, you smiled up at him, hands still wrapped around his neck. “Do you need a minute?” He whispered, proudly smirking down at you.

You shook your head slowly, as his hands trailed up to cup your breasts. Coming down from your high felt a little painful. Your thigh muscles ached and your hips felt bruised and tender, but that all disappeared when Minho drew himself out of you, thrusting back in slowly. “I think I might. Goddammit you’re so tight after you come.” He reached down and hiked your thigh further up his hip, stretching you open a little further to accommodate him.

His thrusts were slow and passionate, burying himself to the hilt and watching your face as you gasped under him. “So are you going to let me make you come again or are you going to tie me up?” Minho breathed against your mouth.

You had fully recovered by now, but your core felt numb and swollen. Still, you relished in the slow thrusts he gave you, stroking your hand over his jaw. “I don’t think I can come again, but you can fuck me for real, now.” You teased.

Your smile soon turned into a harsh moan as he slid himself into you hard. “What were you saying?” He chuckled, stomach muscles rippling in the dull light with every hard drive into you. The way his lower stomach brushed over your clit when he was deep made your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Fuck.” You whimpered as he ducked his head, kissing along your neck as he picked up speed, groaning himself now. Your wetness made a delicious slapping sound with every thrust, and his panting moans sent hot pangs of pleasure to your sensitive clit. It was so hot being skin on skin with him. Through the pangs, you could feel that spiral in your stomach start to resurface. “Minho, I think I can.”

Minho responded with faster thrusts, driving into you at an incomprehensible pace. You swore loudly, arching up to his chest, raking your nails down his back just to cling onto something. His lightening quick pace fast tracked your climax until you were panting hard underneath him. He could feel you tightening around his cock and although he wanted so badly to bury himself and spit his seed into you, he kept his focus clear, determined to make you come again. He didn’t have to wait long as you clung tighter to him, your core feeling a numb kind of ecstasy at his speed. “Don’t stop…” You whispered, before falling silent. Your eyes locked into his as you hit the white plateau before the crash.

“Come for me.” He breathed into your mouth. You trembled under him, before feeling the pressure in your stomach flood everywhere all at once. Eyes squeezed shut, the electric pangs shot through you, wave after wave of uncontrollable pleasure as Minho buried himself to the hilt, twitching deep into you as his hand covered your mouth to quieten the animalistic sounds coming from it. His own groan was just as loud though, as he pressed his forehead harder against yours.

It felt as if minutes had gone past -certainly long enough for you to quieten yourself- before he slid out of you, leaving you tight and leaking a delicious mix of both your liquids. He pushed himself from you, taking his hand away from your mouth and leaning on his side. “I gave you bruises.” Minho’s fingers traced lightly over your hips. He sounded worried. You sat up still shaking inside from the pangs of pleasure. Sure enough, there were small, dark blotched over your waist where his fingers had pressed in, but they definitely didn’t hurt. Not yet, at least.

You giggled softly, throwing your head back to the pillow. “I don’t want to worry you, but you have a couple too.”

The events of last night rolled over and over in your head. The constant thoughts of Minho’s length filling you and of his lips on your neck made you irritable, distracted and above all, horny. The wetness between your legs had grown steadily throughout the day and intensified every time your hand brushed semi-deliberately over your bra. You had thought about returning to the homestead and killing the ache yourself, but thought better of it. Best just wait for him and let him claim you in every way you had deprived him of last night.

From across the Glade you could see the small group forming where the runners usually returned. Finally. You sauntered over to the group where your man stood a forehead taller than everyone else. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead which did little but turn you on even more. His mouth was stretched out in his rare grin, but it wasn’t aimed at you this time. It was aimed at Teresa. Oh hell no. Now wasn’t the time to talk about her, now was the time to claim your property in the crudest way. In his running shirt the dark purple blotches on his neck were completely visible, so why weren’t they bothering her? Weren’t they markers enough of your ownership?

You approached from his back, wrapping your hands around his waist as you crossed to his front. Minho’s eyes flickered down to you and his smile widened further. You bit your lip, blushing a little as you ran your hand up his chest to his collar. His skin was burning hot under your palm and you knew exactly what he was thinking about. You pulled his collar down and he bend down to you, hands snaking around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. “I missed you.” He breathed for only you to hear. Your lips met with vigor, mouths opening on contact desperate to taste each other. Your lips locked and relocked, brushing against each other while your eyes flittered shut. As your tongues played, your hands rolled down to the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath it to feel his tight stomach muscles. His shirt rode up with your wrists, exposing the love marks over his V-line. To the sound of gasps and whispers from the small group around you, you pulled away and stepped back from him.

“I’m going to go hide in the showers. Prize if you find me?” You challenged loud enough for the group to hear before stepping out of his grasp and strutting towards the showers past Teresa whose eyes followed you the whole way.

Thomas slapped Minho’s shoulder, but he was frozen in a daze. “Jesus Christ- she’s a keeper. C’mon, go get your girl.” Thomas laughed and hollered with the rest of the guys.

Minho shook his head softly, trying to hide his beaming smile before following in your tracks past Teresa and heading towards the showers.

Women of the Zodiac

Aries women are boiling inside with the power of a thousand volcanoes. Their energy is powerful, with the unique ability to turn dirt into diamonds. Their love is honeyed, decadent and a necessity, for there is nothing quite like it in the entire universe. There’s fire behind their eyes, probably the same fire that warms up the stars. 

Taurus women are the smell after the rain. They come into your life exactly at the right time to show you there’s beauty even in sad moments. Their joyfulness and adorable persona has the power to lift spirits and maybe even bring back the dead, shattered pieces of oneself. Their intelligence shines as if it was being filtered through a multi-coloured vitralium. 

Gemini women are the first sip of champagne - crisp, numbing and voluptuous. They are real crystals in a pile of fake jewels. They are sweet, tender and their love is ever-lasting. Their eyes are miniature galaxies that hold the entire universe in its place. Meeting them gives you a feeling of ease, as if everything fell into its place the moment they walked through the door. 

Cancer women are the moment just before sunrise, the feeling of happiness and hope that engulfs someone as they look out the window and witness the beauty of nature. They are great conversationalists and can paint you in the most wonderful of words, all while seeing behind your veils and smoke screens. They are technicolour creatures in a world of neutral shades. 

Leo women are a luscious garden in the middle of the desert. Just like an oasis, their life-giving energy will encircle and cure everyone who’s brave enough to explore it. Their suave movements have the power to seduce and even kill, tenderly. Their eyes are jasper crystals and their skin smells like burnt incense. 

Virgo women are like lightning - precise, luminous and oh-so-beautiful. They light up the entire sky with their vivid imagination and seductive personality. They are quiet, swift and light as a breeze gently caressing your face. Their style is regal, as they are probably the most ceremonious sign of the zodiac. 

Libra women are a cup of lavender tea, warming you up from the inside. Their flavour is syrupy and their eyes burn in amber-like colours. Their touch is gentle, as if they have feathers and their love, all-encapsulating, is the singularity that generated the Big Bang, creating the entire universe and a million other universes, all tied together with a lilac satin ribbon. 

Scorpio women are the sound of wood burning in a completely white mansion by the beach. They bring serenity and jubilance, dancing before your eyes like nobody’s watching. They are the moment you get home and feel immediate comfort. They are walking barefoot on freshly cut grass. Their skin is carefully carved from the luxuriest marble, while their spirit is domesticated and welcoming. 

Sagittarius women are the blue hour after the sunset, when the sky is a watercolour painting of purples and blues. They complete the day, putting on one of the finest shows you could ever experience. They are magnetic, dreamy and born poets. Looking at them is like looking at a statue by Michelangelo, everything, to the tiniest detail, is breath-taking. Their royal spirit shines through, indifferent to their appearance, as if under their skin there’s an ever-burning fire. 

Capricorn women are dark, clear nights, snuggling under the most magnificent sky. The constellations on their bodies shine with the power of quasars, their minds, brilliant and sharp, cut you like razor blades. Their velvety touch is almost mystical, making you wonder how can someone like them exist in reality. But they do, defying every law known to men, living their life at the limit between reality and dreams.

Aquarius women are the first bite into a luscious dessert. They are like the forbidden fruit you bite into, because they are so attractive you have no other choice. Being cursed by them would be a privilege. Meeting them is like shaking hands with a cloud, you try to capture them, scared they’d be lost from you forever, but you never will. When the time is right, they’ll appear in front of your eyes and you’ll embrace them, finally understanding the answer to all the questions ever asked. 

Pisces women are the smell of hyacinths, revealing the re-birth of nature. They are the sweetest, most delicate creatures to roam the Earth, but also the mightiest, most fragrant. Catching a glimpse of their dreamy demeanour is similar to the feeling of falling in love for the first time. Their eyes, always watery and deep as the ocean, carry with them the innocence of just being born into the world. You see yourself as new in their eyes. 

P.S.// Happy International Women’s Day to all my followers, whether they’re women, gender fluid or men in touch with their femininity. You’re all wonderful and deserve a wonderful spring! <3