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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months

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Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself.

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac.

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services.

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself.

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface.

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation.

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true)

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier.

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work.

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful.

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me?

Yes, he can hear you.

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep.

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail.

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train.

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think.

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room.

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway.

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively.

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in.

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him?

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse.

— Where do you want me to start, sir?

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry.

— The living room. If it’s not too much.

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker.

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless.

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch?

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it.

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes.

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit.

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left.

— Alright. Anything else?

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway.

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself.

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you.

And he only knew you for an hour tops.

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours?

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits.

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service.

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember.

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body.

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died.

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad.

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be.

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face.

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself.

— What is it, liebling?

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss.

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him.

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow.

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already.

He might not even let you go after.

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment.

— Alright. I will do it right away then.

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless.

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside.

— I will divide everything into categories, alright?

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces.

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is.

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely.

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate.

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours.

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #konig x reader #yandere konig #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig #konig x you #konig cod

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

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Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

#könig x reader #könig x female reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 x reader #yandere könig #könig imagine

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 6 months

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Dad!Cod Scenarios

I had thoughts on these racked up in my brain about CoD characters having kids and what type of parents they'd be in a scenario or drabble manner.

Tag list: @puff0o0, @simp4konig, @blingblong55, @azereus, @rustic-guitar-notes, @shadofireshinobi, @anonymuslydumb, @skeletalgoats, @icarustypicalfall, @ghosts-cyphera,@connorsui is at it again, making me blush over her words, AHHHHH I LOVE HER. Did I tag almost everyone I know here? Yes, yes I did 😭

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

(Implied?? Wife!Reader, Parent!Reader. Not really specified, so gender neutral!Reader)

❥ Dad!John Price is the type of dad who'd fondly tell your kids about how you met, tell them stories about his time in the army, his experiences with their uncles and aunts from 141. Enjoying how their little faces express something great, admiring how cool their dad was for being so brave to constantly and willingly put his life on the line in the means of saving people. They tried telling him that they want to follow in his footsteps but that is a big no no. The last thing he wants is them willingly throwing themselves in danger and the risk was far too much.

❥ Dad!Johnny MacTavish is the type of dad to make his kids laugh by blowing raspberries on whatever body part his kids are ticklish on, he enjoys hearing their laughter and giggles. Definitely is the man who grew up with quite a big family so he'd love to have a full house if you were up to having it with him. He's such a family man to the bone, knows how things work around and mostly knows what to say and do when it comes to the kids.

❥ Dad!Kyle Garrick is the type of dad to dance with his kids, letting them have their little feet on top of his, letting them pick the music and guiding the little one. Having them smile and look up at him, his little one thinking it was just the best thing in the world to spend quality time with their dad. Swaying them around while they call him giggling, letting out squeals after he spins them. (I NEED GIRL DAD!GAZ 🥺😭)

❥ Dad!Simon Riley is the type of dad who absolutely HATES it when his kids cry, always doing his best to console them, depending on what made them upset. Being the one to patch them up when it's because of a "boo-boo", god forbid it's because of another person, he'd either make that kid piss themselves or that adult will NEVER see the light of day again. Because of that, the little one always finds themselves looking for their dad's comfort.

❥ Dad!Gary Sanderson who is the type of dad who finds so many ways to make his kid feel appreciated, whether that'd be through letting them help out and make them feel needed, thanking them and returning the favor for handmade gifts on days like Father's day or Valentine's day. The little one is always so eagerly awaiting for their dad to come home, knowing he'd be bearing so meaningful gift that goes in the memory box.

❥ Dad!Alejandro Vargas who is the type of dad who's strict but also not at the same time. Safe to say he did not have fun when Soap taught his kid to curse in Spanish when he first met the kid, that was probably Alejandro's fault for teaching Soap Spanish curses anyway. That kid is going to be loved I tell you, Alejandro has taken them to work just so they can see what he does and safe to say they loved being around everyone that Alejandro works with. (More likely that they still do this together however Alejandro is VERY strict since it's dangerous for the kid to even be out there)

❥ Dad!Rodolfo Parra who is the type of dad whose domestic, he has many memorabilias and scrapbooks of his kid's milestones, even kept the teeth that fell out. Always finding ways to spend time with the kids, whether it'd be through something as simple but meaningful as teaching them Spanish or taking them out to eat. His kids love and adore him, finding that the best time they spend with him is when he lets them talk about their day, listening in and validating their thoughts.

❥ Dad!König who is the type of dad who finds himself absolutely terrified that he's responsible for such a tiny thing. He's extremely protective of them, seeing his little kid whimper and point at something that caused them pain (even if it was by their own accord), König finds himself comforting the little one by soothing their crying and kicking whatever inanimate object it was just to make them feel better. He already hurt himself once or twice doing that and it did make his kid laugh, anything that makes them happy right?

❥ Dad!Kim Hong-Jin who is the type of dad whose a bit irresponsible at times, he tends to roughhouse with his kid a lot. There's definitely a lot of physical and playful activities with him in the means of spending time. He doesn't mean anything by it, just quality time, his kid is one of the reasons behind him stopping his gambling addiction. He wanted to set an example for them. The last thing he wants is for his kid to remember him by something negative so he does his best to spend time with them a lot despite him getting deployed.

Sidenote: I wrote this at 1 am and it was fun but my eyes hurt now, I have plans to go out tomorrow with a friend. Now regarding your guys' requests, ISTG I'm not ignoring you guys, I'm just not in the right headspace to write them except for a few I'm currently working on.

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kentopedia · 9 months

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dating port mafia boss dazai

contents: f!reader, implied violence, mostly dazai spoiling you so much, dazai is very soft in this, one litte nsfw scene !!

note: this reeks of self indulgence :,) my current obsession is pmboss!dazai being so sweet & gentle to his s/o

it goes without saying that if you're in the port mafia when you start dating dazai, he’ll probably want you to take less work in the field.

bc his main goal is keeping you safe, and he constantly worries about you when you're going on dangerous missions !!

though, sometimes you miss being in all the action. so, dazai will send you on missions with chuuya or akutagawa from time to time

he still worries, but he has no doubt they can keep you safe!!

he hates being nervous about whether or not you’ll come back to him, but he never wants you to feel like you're a prisoner in your own home.

if you want to go with him, anywhere or anytime, to any meeting, you just have to ask!

bc he trusts you completely <3 and he also knows you can take care of yourself.

if you want to work in other parts of the mafia, whether that be in training, intelligence, or behind the scenes work, dazai doesn’t care

he pretends to be uncompromising on some issues, but you can convince him of anything with a pretty smile.

but, if you're not in the port mafia, he (unfortunately) will make sure you have a bodyguard with you almost everywhere.

you insist its not necessary, but he knows he's made a lot of enemies that would love to use him against you. :(

though dazai has his moments of insanity (lol), he doesn't want to drive you away from him.

if you say its too much, he'll figure out something else. another way to keep you safe.

eventually, you come live with him, so that takes care of that.

dazai spoils you senseless !!

if he's ever late for a mission, he always comes back with something for you.

sometimes its flowers, sometimes its something even more elaborate

loves loves loves giving you jewelry

but everything he buys is very thoughtful!

he doesn't buy you expensive gifts just to flaunt money

its more that there isn't a price tag on things to him. if he sees something he thinks you'll like, it'll be yours, no matter the cost <3

"i'm home!" you said cheerfully, dropping your bag off by the door as you shouted to dazai through the penthouse.

the sound echoed back, and dazai didn't respond.

with a yawn, you headed towards your bedroom, stretching your muscles as you walked. the weather had been miserable that week, and between the heat and the rain, you were feeling more tired than ever.

what you longed for was a nice hot shower and a night in dazai's arms.

"osamu?" you said again, but the apartment remained quiet. there was no one in your bedroom when you opened the door.

you sighed, disappointed that he wasn't home to lay with you as you took a nap. though, your attention was quickly diverted by the newest addition to your bed.

a soft brown teddy bear, the same color as dazai's eyes, held a card, and a dark velvet box, paired with a bouquet of fresh flowers on your nightstand.

the note was short, but it was enough, and you couldn't help but smile as you read it.

i have to go out of the city for tonight. i'll be back in the morning. sorry i can't be with you, my darling. here's a little apology gift. i love you. - osamu

as usual, the gift was anything but small.

you flipped open the delicate box to reveal a gold necklace, a deep ruby dangling from the chain in the shape of a heart.

for a moment, you did nothing more than stare at the glittering gem that was edged by smaller diamonds, and you swelled with more love than your chest could handle.

carefully, you set the box down, wondering what you ever did to deserve something so beautiful. as much as you wanted to wear it immediately, you'd wait until osamu was back so he could help you put it on.

instead, you placed the card and the necklace by the flowers, and climbed into bed with the stuffed animal. as you nestled deeper into the comforter, curling your arms around the bear, you realized dazai had sprayed it with his cologne before he left.

dazai isn't the best about telling you how he feels. he is so much better at showing it.

if it isn't obvious, he loves buying you gifts! he has so much money as the port mafia boss, and he has no idea what to do with it. why not spend it on you!!

if you see an outfit in the store window that you like, dazai will have it tailored to your precise measurements. (which he has memorized, of course).

he loves shopping for you.

when he buys you pretty dresses, lingerie, and so on, all the other women in the store are swooning over him.

he knows exactly what you like and don't.

even if he thinks you'd look so beautiful in something, he knows your sense of style.

dazai doesn't want you to ever feel obligated to wear something just bc he picked it out for you.

of course, dazai always gives you his card to go shopping

and to get your nails done! he's obsessed with how pretty your hands look after getting a fresh set <3

he's loves them whatever color/design you think looks best. but i'd be lying if i said he wasn't obsessed with red nails.

dazai really loves the way they looked wrapped around his-

you rested your head on dazai's shoulder, letting your hands gently splay across his knee, your fingertips moving in a listless, delicate pattern.

though a film played before you, it was forgotten quickly, dazai's breath catching as he exhaled a laugh. "what are you doing?" he asked, and you smiled innocently, drifting your hand further up his thigh.

"nothing."

he blinked at you with wide brown eyes and swallowed, his throat bobbing as you reached his hip. you wrapped a delicate finger around his zipper, pulling it down slowly.

"nothing, hm?" he countered.

you turned to face him, sweeter now, as you tugged at his waistband. though dazai feigned disinterest for a moment, you felt him twitch beneath the thin layer of clothing.

his focus drifted down to your much softer hand, perfectly manicured and smaller than his own. he seemed fascinated, for a moment, by the way your fingers were moving. "your nails look pretty, love."

"i know.” you grinned. dazai's hips shifted, and you lowered his waistband, pressing a line of kisses up his neck slowly, teasing him.

you freed his cock, aching and hard, from his pants, and wrapped your hand around him. dazai let out a small gasp, though he watched as you lazily stroked him, the action perfected from experience.

"you're so pretty, 'samu." you watched his face turn red as he tried hard not to fall apart under your touch.

it was reassuring, really, to know that the most powerful man in the city was wrapped around your finger.

"not as pretty as you, baby," he said, but the word came out strained, raspy as you tightened your fist, running your teeth across the taut vein in his neck.

you laughed and moved onto his lap, kicking the remote off the couch before straddling him. his eyes melted into hearts as he stared up at you, begging for a kiss.

"you’ve been so busy this week,” you frowned. “i wanna make you feel good."

dazai jerked into you, breathing stifled as you brush your thumb over the tip. "you always do." his smile was affectionate, but his touch was desperate, digging into your sides. he was already searching for some sort of release.

"so impatient," you said, but you indulged him with a kiss anyway, his hands fisting in your hair as your tongue met his.

he breathed into you mouth, hot and heavy. "fuck," dazai hissed, lifting your hips to slip off your pajama shorts. "it's hard not to be when you're so fucking perfect, sweetheart. i need to be inside you."

dazai loves loves loves taking you out to expensive restaurants <3

he's not a big fan of crowds, though, so he'll rent out the entire place instead, just to get a private room for the two of you.

and if you don't feel like going out, but you want a nice meal, he'll hire a chef for the evening. one that specializes in whatever type of food you want

dazai's not the best cook, but he’ll do often, just because it makes you happy

he gets so much better over time, though.

whatever you want, he'll make it for you! and if he can't, he'll definitely find someone who can.

but! back to dazai letting you use his account to buy anything.

when you go to any shop associated with the mafia, everything is on the house

bc if the boss is going to funnel money into their pockets, the least they could do is give his girl some gifts !!

"is this... going to be all for you today, miss?" the cashier said, looking at the stack of clothing skeptically. he rang up price tag after price tag, watching as the numbers grew exponentially on the screen.

you nodded, smiling politely as he read off the total, a number that no average person would be able to spend reasonably in one go.

but dazai said you could get whatever you wanted for your birthday, and you hadn't let yourself indulge in a shopping spree for a while. so you'd picked up anything that suited you nicely and decided not to worry.

"how will you be paying today?"

you handed over the card, and the cashier read the name, glancing up at you with skeptical eyes.

"dazai osamu?"

you smiled sweetly. "it's my boyfriend's card."

though, the name had caught the attention of an older salesman across the room, and he was to the cashier in two swift steps, knocking him on the back of the head.

"dumbass," the older man swiped the card from the cashier before he could swipe the payment. "don't you know who she is?"

it took the man three more times of reading dazai's name across the plastic for it to click.

"i'm so sorry," he said, wide eyes suddenly anxious. "i had no idea you were—"

"it's okay. don't worry." you smiled, shrugging. "i won't tell him."

you meant it as a joke, but that only seemed to make the younger cashier more nervous.

"we'll take care of everything for you." the elderly salesman said, holding out the card to return it. "it's on us."

"really?" you pinched your eyebrows together, concerned. the bill was steep. it seemed unfair to let them take such a hit to profits. "at least let me pay for some of it.”

"no, don't worry about it. the boss said it was your birthday, so whatever you want, its yours."

for a moment, you weren't sure what to say. though, realizing that this store was just one of the many in yokohama that partnerned with dazai, you finally succumbed to a smile, and accepted their kindness.

you took dazai's card back and slipped it into your purse. "thank you so much.” you said sincerely, turning to leave with a small wave as you gathered up the bags and bags of clothes. "it was nice to meet you. i'll come back soon!"

though they said nothing, they both stared back at you with wide eyes, as most people did when they found out you were the one that had captured dazai's heart.

when dazai finds out how much you love to read, he clears out an entire floor of the port mafia headquarters to make you a library

its done far too elaborately, with classical decorations, a very intricate chandelier, and a view that looks over the entire city

there are special editions, original copies of your favorite books, books in languages you can't even read and so on

he went a little overboard, but he was just so excited to show you :(

"osamu." you stare, blinking at the vast room, not really sure what to say other than his name.

"what?" he's pouting instantly, wondering if he made a mistake, and you didn't like to read as much as he thought. "do you not like it?"

you don't think your heart has ever felt so full before, and you manage a shaky smile, wondering how it didn't split your face in two. "this is too much. you did all this for me?"

and he seems surprised you would even ask such a silly question, because why wouldn't he give you something you've always wanted? "if it makes you feel better, i'll tell you i did it for myself."

you laugh, and then you're launching yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck in a warm embrace. you nearly cry, because even though he spoils you far too much, this is the most thoughtful gift you've ever received.

"thank you." you whisper, kissing him all over his face, and he smiles, his cheeks warm from your affection.

dazai leads you to a shelf after that, pointing out a few novels that have his name scribbled in the front cover, all with varying states of penmanship.

he's collected all his favorite books there for you, hopeful you'll read them first.

dazai places you next to him in every mafia meeting

if you're going to be his partner, you're also going to be his equal <3

and he knows that you can keep everyone in the mafia in line. he trusts you to be in charge when he's not there

bc everyone in the mafia likes you more than dazai anyway! (except maybe akutagawa)

and yes, dazai is the sweetest to you <3 but certainly not to everyone else

he disposes of people that bother you... far too quickly

the man at the store made you uncomfortable? he doesn't live in the city anymore. someone was too handsy? they'll lose a few fingers.

but if someone in the mafia says even one unkind word to you, you'll never see them again.

"sweetheart, what's wrong?"

you sniffed, wiping the tears from your eyes as his hands snuck around your waist. he pulled you closer towards him, sliding next to you on the bed.

"it's nothing." you swallowed, but your eyes were still glassy no matter how hard you tried to stop crying. "i shouldn't get so worked up about things people say."

"hey," he coaxed your hands away from your face, tilting your chin up. "if it's upsetting you, it's a big deal to me, my love."

you said nothing for a moment, but dazai remained patient, smiling softly at you as he stroked your cheek.

never able to resist the gentleness that he showered only you in, you sighed. "some people just said…” you trailed off, almost not wanting to tell him. it seemed embarrassing, in some way, to say something lewd about yourself, even if you were merely repeating the words.

“said what?”

you chewed the inside of your lip before sighing, knowing dazai wouldn’t let the issue rest until you told him.

“they just said that you only kept me around to fuck me.” you dropped your gaze to your hands for a moment, letting them rest limply in your lap. “that i was just some stupid bitch you’d leave behind soon.”

you watched the smile slowly fall from his lips, his eyes hardening with a fury that wasn't directed at you.

"you know that's not true." he held your hands tightly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "tell me that you know that."

you managed something of a smile. "i know. i really do know how much you love me. doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt my feelings.”

he nodded, somewhat satisfied as the cloudiness began to clear from your face. "who was it? if you don't know they're name, just describe them." his expression was icy, dangerous, even if his hands were soft.

"osamu, i told you it doesn't matter—" you frowned, looking away before he interrupted.

“it does fucking matter." his words came out sharp. "those men work for me, and i'm not going to let them treat you like that. they've got no business being here if they can't respect you."

at the end of the day, dazai's reputation remains very much intact. he will always be feared in the city, despite exposing himself as a man who's so so in love

but everyone in the mafia is secretly pleased to see him a little happier, even if its just around you.

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stars-and-inkpots · 8 months

Text

Reverence | Gale x Reader | (18+)

You take the opportunity to show Gale just how beautiful he is, and you have the perfect way to make sure he understands it.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Mild sexual content, mostly implied sexual content, praise kink, touch-starved, body worship, fluff (at the begining), kissing (lots)

Notes: I am determined to help provide more Gale content because I don't think there is enough. This might get a part 2 if people are interested.

Part 2

Ao3 Link: Reverence

Word Count: 1,338

The city is a welcome respite from the harsh wilderness you’ve been travelling through for the past several weeks. Well, perhaps a welcome change for some of you; Halsin was far less excited to be within the city walls, but complained only once. While the city was stifling to him, he understood the appeal for the rest of you. Lae’zel, on the other hand, despised the crowds and made this more than clear on multiple occasions.

But everyone was content with the decision to rent some real rooms at the Elfsong Tavern- the entire upper floor, in fact. Gale was particularly pleased with this; and while everyone had their own rooms, he was very content to remain in yours.

Being in camp with everyone always there all the time did not give the two of you many opportunities to spend time together uninterrupted. Now, as you lay on the bed beside him while he reads through one of the many new books he picked up today, you can almost pretend that everything is normal and the world is safe. At least for the moment.

Gale’s fingers card through your hair. Occasionally, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of your head. You wrap your arms a little tighter around him. Everything feels so domestic that your face flushes and your heart aches. Given the circumstances of… well, everything that's happened to you so far, you hadn’t devoted much time to thinking about the future. But as you feel Gale’s chest rise and fall with each breath, hear him chuckle to himself while he scans the book with rapt attention, you can’t think of any other way you would want to spend the rest of your life. The realisation is both daunting and a comfort.

You find yourself staring at Gale. He’s too busy with the book to notice, so you have time to really take in the beauty of this man, and there really is so much of it.

His hair, still slightly damp from his earlier bath, has grown slightly since you met him. You notice that the small braid you had put in his hair one night still remains, still miraculously perfect. When you reach out to hold it between your fingers, you can feel traces of magic within the strands and realise that Gale had enchanted it somehow, ensuring it would stay. It’s such a fond gesture: that he would go through the effort if only to maintain it- to keep a reminder of you with him all the time.

The only indication that he’s noticed your discovery is the slight smile on his face and the pink that dusts his cheeks; he almost looks embarrassed. Gods, you love him.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper. His blush deepens and his eyes finally part from the book to find yours.

“Thank you,” Gale answers, but his voice is soft and you wonder if he really believes you.

“I mean it, Gale. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting; and not only in looks. You are intelligent beyond words, your skill with magic is unbelievable.” He looks away from you, the book almost entirely forgotten in his hand.

“Alright, now you’re only flattering me.”

“Calling it flattery implies I mean none of it. Gale, and I mean every word.” You take his face between your palms, turning him to look at you again. There’s a sadness in his eyes, one that makes your chest tighten. You need him to understand how much he means to you. “And surely you are not one to call me a liar, are you?”

“Of course not, my love. I would never dream of it,” he answers, and kisses you.

“So, you believe me then,” you ask, like you’re testing him.

Gale gives you a look, a strained, conflicted sort of look. This man is stubborn to a fault, but this is not something you are going to let up on just yet.

“Your eyes are the prettiest I’ve ever seen, like the forest in autumn.” You pepper kisses across his face, moving to straddle his hips. You run your fingers through his hair, smiling fondly at the grey hairs that are present throughout. “Your jaw, your cheekbones, your nose, it’s like the gods sculpted them themselves.” With each new thing you list, you press several kisses to it. You can feel the warmth of his face when your lips brush over his cheeks.

Your hands move to hold his hips while you move yourself further down, kissing his neck as you do so. You only barely hear him suck in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop you- Gods, he doesn’t want to stop you. When you leave a final kiss at the top of his chest, your hand moves to the edge of his shirt, giving it a small tug. “May I?” You ask, and Gale doesn’t trust himself to answer so he nods. You pull the fabric up, and he helps you take it off of him completely. Your hands find his hips again while your lips return to now exposed skin.

“I will never get enough of your hips, love,” you say, tightening your grip on them ever slightly. “All of you, so soft, yet so strong.” His stomach is soft, but you can feel the muscles tense under your palm when you drag your hand across. You keep kissing him; his chest, his stomach, his hips. You can hear how his breaths are becoming shorter- can hear him sigh so softly. He’s always so responsive to you: a trait you absolutely love.

Your fingers tease the waistline of his pants, and you finally hear him speak for the first time in minutes. His voice is unsteady, already wrecked from just this alone.

“Please,” he begs breathlessly. You don’t hesitate.

You leave his underwear for now; you still have a point to prove.

You continue to kiss down his chest, and then across his thighs. You indulge him, leaving a collection of blossoming purples across his inner thighs. The last is rewarded with a whimper, and his fingers curl through your hair. He’s almost shaking, his pupils blown wide when he looks down at you.

“Please,” he repeats. You smile, and if Gale knows you, which he does very well, he knows it means you’re going to drag this out and tease him for as long as you can.

“Soon, my dear, I just need you to do something for me first.” You move yourself back up so you’re straddling his hips again. “Say you’re beautiful.” You’re back to kissing just below his jaw. Gale lets out a shaky breath, but hesitates. “All you have to do is admit it, then I’ll give you what you want.”

“This is hardly fair.” Gale does his best to sound annoyed, but you can feel him beneath you. You know how much of a hold you have on this man.

You kiss him; a deep and passionate kiss that promises more, but you pull away before he can deepen it.

“Say it,” you ask again. “I’ll wait as long as it takes, love.”

Your hands are all over him: his shoulders, his face, brushing his hair back, tracing the curve of his jaw. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Gale can barely focus enough to string a single thought together. All he can think about is you. You and your hands and lips all over him, kissing each and every part of him. He’s never really considered himself beautiful, though many might think him vain. But the way you’re touching him, holding him, telling him how perfect he is in hushed whispers against the side of his neck, it’s enough to convince him that maybe you’re right.

“I’m beautiful,” he relents, voice soft but still needy. He feels you smile against him.

“Good boy,” you answer, and he moans at the praise. “Now to make sure you don’t forget that anytime soon.”

#gale x reader #baldurs gate gale #gale x tav #baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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joelsgreys · 10 months

Text

Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe.

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod.

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.

#to hell and back #to hell and back fic #joel miller #joel miller comfort #soft joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller series #Joel miller story #joel miller fic #Joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #Spotify

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pastelpinkkadan · 6 days

Text

My most blunt, controversial ACOTAR opinions. Nothing is safe, nothing is sacred. Mind the tags for your own peace of mind please.

P.S.: Absolutely not directed at any other blog/person specifically. Just general fandom/shippers.

Elriel/Gw*nriel:

Gwyn is not that important of a character. She is a secondary character whose main purpose in the story was to be Nesta’s friend. She has no connection to any overarching plot. She could literally never be seen again in the books and all the main plot points would still work.

People have inflated Gwyn’s character and importance solely because they ship her with Azriel. And they ship her with Azriel because 1. She is the only other single female character (besides Elain) that he has interacted with. 2. Gwyn is enough of a blank slate for people to project/self insert themselves into and thereby romance themselves with Azriel 3. Gwyn has only been shown in a positive light, with only positive personality traits (good friend and can wield a sword) so there’s no REAL controversy on her character/personality. Because there’s not enough to actually have any controversy.

If Gwyn was actually that important, Emerie would also be as important, if not more so. But 90% of time Emerie is forgotten by the fandom. Even to the point that the theory of an Illyrian plot is somehow given to Az and Gwyn, rather than Emerie. The two people that, arguably, have the least skin in the game concerning that theory. And the reason Emerie is this pushed out of her own potential story line is because she isn’t shipped with Azriel or another Fae male.

If there was no Bonus Chapter Gw*nriel would not exist. Or at the VERY least, it would be acknowledged as the crackship that it is. Because outside of the BC, there is nothing in the main ACOSF to accurately ship them to the degree that the fandom does. Elriel, however, still has several books where canon scenes have taken place. The BC is absolutely not needed to show that Elriel have feelings for each other, we already knew.

“Well Elain gave by TruthTeller, so Elriel isn’t end game!” Is one of the stupidest reaches I’ve seen. TruthTeller was always, OBVIOUSLY, meant to be something lent to Elain for the war. It wasn’t a permanent gift, and Az didn’t say it was. He said he wouldn’t use it TODAY, implying he would expect to use it again in the future. Imagine -

“Well Gwyn gave back the books Nesta recommended to her, so they obviously aren’t friends.”

Thats what y’all sound like. It’s just purposely misinterpreting things in a scene that obviously aren’t there for the sake of your ship. It’s disingenuous and not at all the win you think it is.

You cannot call Azriel an incel/fuck boy for Elain and then ship him with Gwyn in the same breath. If he’s all those things with Elain, he’ll be the same for Gwyn. She is not magically going to make him “better” or a gentleman. Actually, he’s already a gentleman. He just didn’t have sexual thoughts about Gwyn and y’all can’t stand it.

Same vein, but if Azriel had had those sexual thoughts in the BC about anyone else besides Elain there would have been no issue/debate.

If a Gw*nriel book did somehow happen, it would 1000% be for fan service/peer pressure. No previous books have set it up, even the main story in ACOSF. Elriel has been setting up since book 2. It makes sense. Anyone who says it doesn’t just doesn’t want it to happen, mostly because they don’t like Elain. And that’s also mostly because they can’t see themselves in Elain, so they lash out.

Saying Elriels are delusional is the wildest thing, because Elriels have the most canon scenes spread throughout the books, Elain and Azriel have interacted with each other positively the most and the longest, and they are the only potential couple that actually bluntly like each other. They exist outside of misinterpreted bonus chapters and “what if” theories with no real backing.

Elain:

Whether anyone wants to admit it or not, part of the Elain hate IS misogyny. The amount of hate this character receives, compared to what she has actually done in the series, is entirely undeserving. She has received the same level of hate, if not more, than Tamlin, any of the ACOTAR villains, and Nesta, who is still a very controversial character. And for what? Liking Azriel, and not wielding a sword while doing it, apparently.

Elain liking flowers does not determine who she’ll end up with. For fucks sake we didn’t know Nesta liked to read smut or was great dancer until her book. And neither of those things determined her partner. It’s just what she likes. Same with Elain.

Nessian/ACOSF

The idea that Nesta will leave Cassian and make her own court is stupid.

Being anti-ACOSF but Pro-Nesta is a streeeeeetch, because all of Nesta’s actual good character development came from ACOSF. Like, did you like that she was angry and unhealed before? Because that’s where she would still be without all that happened in ACOSF.

People don’t understand the intervention that HAD to happen with Nesta in ACOSF. And I would even venture to say that most people against it have never HAD to have a real intervention with someone to that level. The level of, go to rehab/therapy or you are not allowed to be in my house/take up my resources. Because you will not get better on your own, you will only hurt yourself or others and I won’t enable you anymore. It’s a difficult decision that but often it is NECESSARY. Speaking as someone with several addict family members.

El*cien/Lucien:

All the theories about an El*cien plot line are completely focused on Lucien, and ignore everything built up with Elain. It’s always about Lucien figuring out his heritage, becoming some High Lord of one of the courts, or something with the Band of Exiles. Elain doesn’t have to be involved for any of that to happen. She’s pushed to the side in her own romantic story line. Nothing about her Seer powers, or the fact that she’s apparently been gaining spy abilities, or her place at the Night Court.

Lucien fans make me hate Lucien more than Lucien ever could.

The poor Lulu mindset can die.

While we’re at it, the theory that Elain likes Lucien so much that she avoids him is also stupid. That makes no sense. She loses her boldness around. She got better WHEN HE LEFT. All of Elain’s most powerful moments are when Lucien isn’t around. And that says something.

People cling to 1st book Lucien so much, but he has not been that way SINCE book 1.

Tamlin:

Tamlin already got a redemption arc when he brought Rhys back to life. He doesn’t need another one, and he certainly doesn’t need a full book.

The Tamlin/Elain ship is stupid and only benefits Tamlin, not Elain. Once again placing Elain to the side of her own romance, much like El*cien.

ACOTAR:

If you hate everyone in the IC, you don’t actually like ACOTAR. They’re the majority of the books, including half of ACOSF. And it’s actually really stupid to hate the IC and still pretend you’re an ACOTAR fan. Because, again, the IC is the MAJORITY of ACOTAR. Please read something you actually like.

If you hate the entire main story and main characters of ACOTAR, but like one or two characters, you don’t like ACOTAR. You see yourself in a character, and want the story to reflect what YOU want to happen to that character (ie, yourself), and can’t handle that it didn’t. You don’t actually like the ACOTAR series. Again, maybe it’s time to read something else.

3 Acherons x 3 Bat Boys isn’t cliche. It’s a pattern. It’s a literary motif. It’s a theme. It is a pattern that SJM has naturally set up, the fact that you can see and assume that Elriel would be apart of that just means you can recognize basic literary devices in a fantasy novel. Which is the POINT.

I have no intention of debating anything. I’m just stating my opinions on my blog, like everyone else gets to do. So take that as you will.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

#acotar #acosf #elriel #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #anti gw*nriel #anti el*cien #pro nessian #nessian #pro inner circle #pro ACOSF #pro acotar #pro elain archeron #elriel supremacy

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mamamittens · 1 year

Text

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (pt. 7)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

Featuring: Thatch nearly not being yandere before sliding right into it. And Reader showing that they've got both layers and a fair bit of madness. I kept the implied backstory vague as shit, so feel free to project or assume things, I'm kind of curious what you guys will come up with, ngl.

Warnings: platonic yandere behavior and manipulation. If yandere content or anything of that vein makes you uncomfortable, please do block "oh sweet child of mine" as well as any relevant tags for "one piece yandere". Do not tolerate coercion or this manipulative behavior in real like.

Have fun and stay safe!

Word Count: 2,119

There was something to be said about how vast the ocean was. Sometimes, you’d just… look out at the waves and get lost in the ebb and flow of the tides. It was difficult and chaotic at times, sure, but never not beautiful. On the Grand Line, the weather was notably more erratic than anywhere else. You considered yourself lucky that there had only been a small storm while you’d been on board the Moby Dick so far. And due to the vast size of the vessel, even large storms were unlikely to dump you onto the floor.

It had been almost two months since you’d been taken by Marco. By now, the crew was relatively certain you wouldn’t try and make a run for it on your own so you were mostly allowed to run around at your leisure. Meal times were still strictly enforced, as was bed time funnily enough, but outside of that they seemed to want you to integrate at your own pace. You supposed that even your great reluctance was preferred to swinging an ax at Whitebeard’s head—what the actual fuck Ace?!

You sat on the railing, looking out at the ocean.

You felt… not quite homesick but something close. You missed doing drills with the other ensigns. Running gopher for your commanding officer. You even missed Williams, for all that he was an ass. He was somehow the most tolerable one of the many partners you’d had. You spun the fabric around your wrist, thinking about how hard you worked to better your skills as a marine.

It wasn’t all about fighting after all. Procedure and bureaucratic red tape was a massive part of the job. Unless you had a very high rank, you couldn’t just go wherever you wanted and do whatever. You had to transfer home bases, file paperwork, ensure arrangements for payment were made, and a whole host of other things. And though everyone expected to move around a fair bit, there was a sense of comradery in the marines. You all had to suffer the same dorky uniform and insufferable training.

Everyone was working towards the same thing. More or less. And there was an expectation that you would be doing your best to help others.

But here you were. On a pirate ship seemingly fighting as a one-man-army to not be officially recruited as one of them. To stay a marine. Even if you didn’t feel like one very much these days…

“You look like you’re having a lot of deep thoughts there.” You jerked, head swiveling around to find Twin-Blade clambering up the railing to sit next to you. He left a decent amount of space, thankfully. He settled down and looked at you, grimacing a little with a soft laugh. “Look… I know we got off on the wrong foot—hey! Hear me out now! I just… I just wanted to officially apologize for the tea. Most of the time, new recruits are so wound up they don’t sleep the first night and it’s a rough start for everyone. Considering what I’d heard, I thought you’d need a good nights sleep more than most. I should have asked you though. So… I’m sorry.”

You stared at Twin-Blade for a long moment.

“…Bit more than just a night of sleep.” You commented dryly, causing Twin-Blade to wince.

“Y-Yeah… the tea really shouldn’t have worked that much though. You probably did need the extra hours but that doesn’t make it right.” Twin-Blade apologized again. You gave a soft smile before looking back out at the sea.

“Thanks, Twin-Blade.” You sighed, resolving to not tease him so much from now on.

“Is it me?” You paused, looking back at him as he spoke, his eyes serious. “Have you not joined because of me?”

“No. It’s not because of you. Or at least not all because of you.” You explained stretching until your back popped satisfyingly. “I’m still a marine you know. You can’t be a marine and a pirate. Kinda conflicting job titles there.” You gave him a side glance.

“Why do you still want to be a marine? We’re not exactly like other pirate crews out there. We’re a bit rough around the edges, sure, but we don’t do the whole ‘pillaging’ thing. And we have a lot of power and status. What are you losing by joining?” He asked like he couldn’t imagine a world where his crew wasn’t the best option.

Part of this you excused as all of them being just a little bit batshit crazy. And weird. That too.

“I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t ask to be rescued or recruited. What other reason do I need?” You pushed back and he pouted.

“But we’d love to have you here with us. We have such a big family that anything you wanted to learn or do would be feasible. You’d never be alone. C’mon, isn’t there anything tempting with us?” He pleaded, unable to wrap his head around your persistent but quiet refusal.

You supposed that for most people, the reasons to not join would be few. Most pirates don’t have a lot of options. Unless you’re clever or strong or lucky it’s a tough way to make a living. Ruthless and cruel at times without even the thin veneer of bureaucracy to hide behind.

A fat raindrop fell onto your nose, breaking you from your thoughts.

You sighed wistfully.

“…I think you forget what it’s like to be small. If you ever knew to begin with.” You watched the sky darken to a soft gray as rain began to fall, your eyes fixed on the dwindling blue horizon. “Nothing to hold onto but a choice—shit as it is—to do something. To one day not be so small after all. All I’ve got are my choices, Twin-Blade. There’s nothing left to go back to. And I know I’m not the only one. Maybe as a marine I could keep someone else from having to make a shit choice too. That’s not something anyone on this ship can give me, though. Might not even be something I can give myself. But what else can I do but try?” You lifted up your legs and turned around, hopping off the railing.

Leaving Twin-Blade behind.

--*--

Thatch thought about your words for several minutes as the rain poured, showing no signs of stopping or getting worse.

He… actually did know what it was like to be small. He didn’t like to think about it often—if at all. But he remembered. It made him desperate. Cling to every bright spot in his life like it would leave him if he looked away. The idea that you felt small even now made his chest ache.

He wanted you here because Marco wanted you here and because Oyaji accepted your presence. That was all he needed really. Hell, Oyaji’s word was all he needed for Ace, and Ace was a feral little bastard man trying to commit murder daily.

Joining Oyaji’s side made him grow in a lot of ways from that small boy he used to be.

Thatch grinned, resolutely setting his shoulders as he hopped off the railing and headed back inside.

You didn’t feel like you had any real choices in your life. Any connections or anchors aside from your ‘shit choice’. So Thatch would just have to show you how free life is on board the Moby Dick.

Thatch slammed open Marco’s office door.

“We need to throw a party!” Marco gave him a dry look as he picked his pen back up to finish paperwork. “We need to show them how to live a little!”

Marco perked up the moment you were mentioned, naturally.

“Did someone say ‘party’?” Ace ducked his head under Thatch’s arm with a wide grin.

“Yes!”

“No, yoi.” Marco grumbled, cutting out the fun Thatch and Ace were starting to have. “You’ve got a mission the day after tomorrow and you can’t go with a hangover.”

Thatch frowned.

“I have a mission?” This was the first he’d heard of it.

“A small supply run for medical. Oyaji’s meds are almost out. The island we stopped at didn’t have any. I’d go but someone needs to bully him into taking what’s left.” Thatch grimaced but didn’t protest any further. “We can throw a party when you get back.”

Thatch grinned, brightening up instantly.

“Yes!”

--*--

You made goofy kissy noises at Stefan as you played with his ears. The dog amicably withstanding your teasing as he laid over your lap on the main deck. Whitebeard watched on with an amused stare as you ignored his existence. The Yonko pirate would, occasionally, try and talk to you or draw you into a conversation, but you’d been dodging him fairly well so far.

“…My child—”

“Sea king starboard!” Your head whipped up as you gently shoved Stefan off your lap. Instantly, looking towards the area that had been called out.

Whitebeard glared at the sea, his weapon at the ready.

“Go below deck—” Your eyes widened as the sea king raised it’s head over the railing. It resembled an eel in form with large black eyes. Baby blue scales with vivid pink frills running down it’s spine.

“Baby! Look at you~!” You cried out, darting to the railing to hold out your hand. “What are you doing all the way out here~?” You cooed, rubbing your hand on the shocked creature’s chin. The scales were hard as a rock but undeniably warm and softer than an adult’s scales.

You heard several very startled calls of your name but ignored them.

The sea king opened it’s mouth just barely, a low buzzing sound emitting from it as it lowered it’s head to look at you. You were smiling so wide it almost hurt, admiring it’s beautiful scales.

“D-Do you know them?!”

You laughed loudly.

“Ahah~! Not at all, but who wouldn’t want to know a precious baby like you~?” you rubbed your nail under the ridge of it’s jaw, the buzzing sound intensifying as you laughed, absolutely delighted. “You’re so pretty, baby! Look at this cute baby blue! And the pink ruffles! Ah! You look fancy~!” you praised it gleefully.

The buzzing warbled in shared delight.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing~? But where is your pod, baby? It’s not safe to swim alone like this!” You cried out, standing on the railing to cradle the massive sea king’s chin. The sound it made vibrated your bones, a deep rumbling call.

“Not safe for who?!”

“Holy shit is that more?!”

You leaned your head back to see several more sea kings just barely poking their head out of the water. You waved excitedly with one arm.

“Hiiii~! Are you cuties going to come up too?”

“Please don’t!”

“Oyaji, stop them!”

You pouted, glaring over your shoulder.

“You’re being rude!” The pirate gaped at you.

“I-I’m being rude?! Those are sea kings!”

“Duh? And I want to pet them and give them love, damnit! Stop! Being! Rude!” You enunciated firmly, ignoring Whitebeard as he laughed. You turned to the shy sea kings, “Ignore them! I’d love to see you~!”

The sea king in your arms buzzed again, withdrawing to sink into the water until it was eye level with you. Pretty black eyes blinking slowly as the pink frills fluttered, lights like an aurora going down it’s spine. You gasped in delight as it opened it’s maw wide. Rows and rows of needle like teeth on full display. It was big enough to probably eat Whitebeard whole, but the only thing you could think of was how impressive the baby sea king was.

“Mmmaaooo~! Mmmmmaaaaooo~!” You stared in awe as it closed it’s mouth and brushed it’s nose against your front, buzzing long and low one last time for good measure before sinking beneath the waves for good.

“Mao? What a cute name, ahah~!” You laughed, spinning on your heel with a skip in your step. “Mao’s so cute~! I can’t wait to see him again!”

Whitebeard fell back into his seat with a laugh.

“Gurarararara! I’m glad you had fun, my child! We don’t run into sea king’s often, but I’m sure you’ll see plenty more soon enough.”

“Ack! O-Oyaji! No!”

You huffed.

“Don’t get it twisted, Whitebeard! I’m still not joining just because that’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to a sea king!”

Whitebeard just laughed again as his children despaired the prospect of encountering more sea kings willingly.

You didn’t get the drama. Sea kings were just darling, in your eyes. More darling than any of the pirates on this ship at least!

#one piece yandere #yandere whitebeard crew #whitebeard crew #yandere thatch #reader insert #oh sweet child of mine #platonic yandere #reader sees all animals as babies #and somehow they all like that #thankfully for reader or they'd be eaten by now #zero impulse control around animals

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k-marzolf · 10 months

Text

brave.

—roommate au, implied sexual abuse, angst/fluff, soft!Billy, fem!reader—

The first time you encounter Frank.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate (I’ve been awful at tagging, I apologize. My brain is tired, mostly lol)

Masterlist

Listening to this as I wrote if you’re curious;

“Sweet pea, are you hiding behind the sofa like a damn cat?” Billy asked, crouching down and peeking at you hiding between the wall and the sofa. He squeezed in between the wall and the sofa, crouching next to you, looking down at you. “What is it?” He asked in a low voice, stroking your head.

Frank stood in the penthouse, talking animatedly to Curtis, loudly. And at that moment, you almost went underneath the sofa. “Billyyy, tell him to go away.” You whined, clutching his leg as the rain outside intensified, drowning out Frank’s laughter a little.

Fuck, you were cute.

He slid down the wall, sitting down next to you, both of you sitting side by side behind the sofa. The voices seemed far away here, and you felt safe behind the couch, hidden from them. “What don’t you like about Frankie?” He asked calmly, stroking the top of your hand.

His fingers laced with yours, as you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. “He’s loud, and tough, and—“ you paused, trying to find the words. You began to panic, fear clawing at your insides.

Billy seemed to understand. Something had happened to you. He had figured. He brought your hand up to his mouth kissing your pulse point on your wrist. His touch grounded you, soothing the panic. “You trust me, don’t you?” Billy asked against your wrist, beard scratching your skin.

It made your heart skip a beat, always having had a crush on Billy. It was hard not to. He treated you so well. His face looked sharper in the dark behind the sofa. “Yes,” you murmured, scooting closer to his warmth and safety.

You did. Karen had introduced you when you were struggling on your own, and he’d offered to let you live with him. You’d been afraid of Billy at one point too, until you’d freaked out over the electricity going out during a storm, and he’d held you that night in his bed, like a child afraid of a storm, stroking your head, whispering soft reassurances in your ear. You had clung to him.

“I got you, sweet pea. Zeus is just being an asshole.” He said warmly into your ear.

You had giggled, still clutching his nightshirt; “You’re gonna get your ass kicked for that.” You teased him.

“Zeus, god of thunder, verses a hardened Marine. I’ll be fine. I got this.” Billy said, smirking in the dark, pulling on your hair.

You laughed again, snuggling closer, and that was when trust slowly started to build. The next night you’d found yourself disappointed that the electricity was back up, that you had to sleep in your own bed.

Since escaping your grandfather, you’d closed yourself off to people, men in general, and hadn’t realized until that night just how starved for affection and contact you were. It was like a dam breaking loose. You didn’t know how to reach out and ask for what you needed.

Until you one night Billy had brushed your hand in passing, and you’d let out an involuntary whine. He didn’t say anything, just smiled, lacing his fingers with yours, giving you what you’d been craving.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t bring someone over that would hurt you. Frankie’s a good guy.” Billy said smoothly, mouth lingering on your wrist, making you feel warm inside, Frank’s voice fading away into the background.

“Really?” You asked softly, wishing he’d kiss your mouth.

“Really.” Billy confirmed. “He even let Lisa put makeup on him over the fourth, with pearls and clip on earrings.” He said, smirking.

“I’m gonna kill you, Russo.” Frank growled.

You giggled and kissed Billy’s cheek tentatively, and his cheek dimpled in a smile. You really had the best roommate.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #Spotify

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the-hydra-sys · 4 months

Text

Pinned Post / Introduction!

We are Hydra.

Sideblogs:

@the-hydra-sys-spam - Spam, mostly reblogs

@hydra-creates - Requests for templates, userboxes, banners, writing snippets, sketches, etc etc

@michaels-multiverse - Michael rambling about science and source

@tales-from-systok, @tales-from-syscord, @tales-from-sysblr - Askblogs all about people's experiences with system spaces. Positive and negative submissions welcome!

@demonized-infodumps - A blog for rants, rambles, infodumps, and just general community around demonized and stigmatized disorders. A judgement free space.

Discord: the_hydra_sys

Collective Pronouns: Xe/xem and they/them. While most alters are okay with one of these, we prefer you use each specific alter's name/pronouns to talk about/to them unless referring to us as a collective.

Find us on TikTok

Read our system dictionary (google doc)

See Plague's anti-endo community blog masterpost

Join our system-centric discord

[Discord contains a 16+ RAMCOA sector and a sector for systems of colour. Singlets are allowed, but there is a seperate category without them for those that want a system-only space.]

Feel free to send asks, we like answering them!

Sometimes we post about stuff from communities we aren't in, please correct us if we say something wrong, and let us know if we're misusing your community's tags.

Blocklist of narc abuse believers. People w/NPD you are safe here.

Tags, DNI, Alter Info & Sysboxes under the cut.

Tags

#[alter name or emoji] blogs = [alter] is fronting, and they are the one who created a post

#[alter name or emoji] reblogs = [alter] reblogged this post

#[alter name or emoji] opinions = [alter]'s opinions may not align with the rest of the system

#[alter name or emoji] likes = posts [alter] likes

#[alter name or emoji] replies = posts [alter] replies to

#hydra blogs = blogs from our system

#hydra reblogs = reblogs from our system

#hydra opinions = collective opinions

#hydra likes = collective likes

#hydra replies = posts we collectively reply to, typically from our inbox

All posts should have some of these tags. If you see us reblog a post with no tags, or create a post with no tags, it's probably Echo forgetting again. If a post is tagged with 'blurry' or 'anon' in place of the alter name, then it's a blurry alter or an alter who wishes to remain anonymous.

DNI

Racists.

Zionists, nazis, etc.

Misogynists, sexists, etc.

Homophobes, biphobes, lesbophobes, etc.

Arophobes, acephobes, aphobes.

Transphobes, transmisogynysts, transandrophobes.

Anti-furry, anti-therian.

RCTA, DCTA, NCTA, and other transIDs.

Endogenic systems.*

Anyone who uses the word "sysmed." (Pro)endo or not.

Those who say littles can consent to sex/romance.

If you are under the age of 15, please interact with care. Our blog is SFW, however some topics may be heavy and some alters may vent. Please skip these posts if you wish to interact with us as a younger person.

*We are anti-endo, pro-belief, endo-critical and anti-fakeclaiming. If they say they are endogenic, we will simply not interact.

*This DNI does not apply to our syscourse posts.

Fluid Opinions

If you don't agree with these, you can still interact, and we're open to discussion about these.

Transfemme alters in AFAB bodies and transmasc alters in AMAB bodies can exist, but they should clarify that they aren't bodily transfemme/transmasc. The way we see it is that if an AFAB system can't have transfemme alters, then doesn't that imply all of their male alters are trans? Does that mean AFAB systems can't have cis male alters?

Alter Information

In our system, frequent fronters change rapidly, but we'll list our alters most likely to front. Others may sign off from time to time, and you may hear about an alter once but never again - this is to be expected, our alter count is high and constantly fluctuating.

So, with that in mind:

Serpent Hill Fronters

The Nightmare Gang

If we get more frequent fronters, I'll add them!

All sysboxes from sysboxes on tumblr!

Made by Echo

Later edits by: Angeldust, Lexi, Orion

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cringevalue · 5 months

Text

so stupid - steddie

(ao3)

wc: 1,631

tags: allergic reactions, panic attacks, ptsd, comfort, implied sexual content

- - -

“Can I, pretty please, get a kiss?” Eddie asks, turning Steve around by his shirt.

“Right now?” Steve’s voice is distorted by whatever food he hasn’t yet swallowed.

Eddie gives a soft smile and a nod, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. He pulls the pretty boy into his own body and closes the gap between their lips. Steve is familiar, safe, and… extra sweet right now. What is this taste again? It reminds him of his childhood, something about summer.

“Taste so damn good,” Eddie mumbles as he pulls away for a breath before going right back in for another kiss. He pokes his tongue at the soft fruit in Steve’s mouth, attempting to carve out a bit for himself, disguising it simply as a very passionate kiss.

When they finally pull away from each other, Eddie has half of the fruit in his mouth, and Steve has the other half. They stare at each other for a minute as they chew their pieces of the fruit before swallowing.

Steve chuckles. “You’re so weird.”

“You love weird.”

Steve wouldn’t have loved Eddie’s kind of weird three years ago, and it’s still strange to think about how much he loves it now. After everything that happened in the Upside Down, Steve can’t help but love Eddie’s kind of weird – the ‘freaky’, but harmless weird. Let’s be clear for a moment, shall we? Steve has loved ‘weird’ since he started spending more time with the younger boys, especially Dustin. However, the younger boys weren’t standing-on-top-of-tables weird, or flirting-with-their-bullies weird, and he never has and never will describe them as ‘freaky’. Eddie, on the other hand, was – and mostly still is – all of those things. Granted, Steve hasn’t seen him stand on top of a table in at least three months (that’s a record), but Eddie still flirts with the people who see him as some sort of harmful being.

Eddie blares Death Metal in Steve’s car on the way home from grocery shopping. Eddie jumps on the couch when he’s full of energy, despite being far too big to be doing that. Eddie has a tattoo of a razor blade on his wrist. Eddie got both his eyebrows pierced, only to take the jewelry out and let the holes close up three days later, opting to just get a septum instead. Eddie found a dead raccoon in Steve’s backyard and begged Steve to let him keep it, and now there are raccoon bones in various places of the house – the skull sits on a shelf in their bathroom.

All in all, Eddie is a freak.

And Steve loves freaks.

“I love you,” Steve says softly, eyes grazing on Eddie’s face, taking in the scars above and below his eyebrows, the dimple in his chin, the way a strand of his hair curls up under his eye, so close to poking it, and he doesn’t even seem to notice – he even notices the mosquito bite near the boy’s hairline. Weird. They haven’t been outside since this morning. A mosquito must’ve gotten in through the window or something.

Eddie is looking at Steve in the same way, eyes grazing over his boyfriend’s moles, the subtle dip in the tip of his nose, and his unusually messy hair. “I love you too,” he whispers.

Steve grins and pulls Eddie in for another kiss so aggressively that Eddie has to grab the counter behind Steve to ensure he doesn’t knock them both over.

As they kiss, Eddie moves one hand to scratch at his neck, not pulling away from Steve’s face. He doesn’t get his hand back to the counter before getting the itch again.

They eventually pull away from each other and Steve leads Eddie to their bedroom, laying him down on their bed. He climbs on top of his beautiful, handsome, stunning, oddly angelic boy, grabbing his face and kissing him again.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Steve mumbles against Eddie’s lip and Eddie just happily hums in response, still scratching at his neck. His hand moves back and forth between his left cheek, his neck, and his left shoulder as Steve moves down and sucks a hickey into his boyfriend’s stomach. “Take your shirt off, baby.”

Eddie happily obliges, lifting the shirt over his head and suddenly realizing how itchy his chest is. He knows something is wrong when Steve freezes for a few seconds before yelling, “What the fuck is that?”

Steve quickly moves into a more practical position to get a better look at Eddie’s condition, and Eddie looks down to see what’s wrong.

Hives.

He has hives covering almost the entire left side of his chest, seeming to bleed into the right side and down to his ribs.

“What were you eating when I kissed you?” Eddie asks, not seeming super concerned.

“Watermelon,” Steve says, but it sounds more like a question.

“God damn you, Stevie.”

“What?”

“Go get me a fucking Benadryl,” Eddie points toward the hallway, chuckling a bit.

Steve jumps up, clearly panicking. Is Eddie going to die? Did he just kill his boyfriend? Eddie ate the watermelon from his mouth though. Did Eddie kill himself?

He races back with a bottle of Benadryl, a glass of lemonade, and a bag of frozen corn, making Eddie laugh.

“What?” Steve asks, pushing Eddie back against the headboard, laying the bag of corn on his chest, and pulling the scratching fingers away from the hives. He opens the bottle and hands a couple capsules to his boyfriend, along with the glass of lemonade. “You’re having an allergic reaction, right? I don’t want it to get worse and-”

“Relax, Stevie,” Eddie says after he swallows the capsule. “Take a deep breath. Another one. Good. Now, listen to me, Steve. I am fine. Yes, this is an allergic reaction. Yes, it can get worse. But here’s the thing: this will not be the big thing that finally takes me out. It’s just hives, I will be okay. I’m not going into anaphylactic shock or anything.”

“But anaphylaxis causes hives.”

“Steve, look at me! Do I look like I’m walking up to Death’s doorstep right now?”

“No,” Steve mumbles, seeming unsure.

“No! I’m alive and well and covered in hives. It doesn’t get any worse than hives growing all over my body, not for me.”

“Okay…”

Steve looks like he’s trying to hold back tears right now, so Eddie stretches his arms out. “Come here, Stevie.”

Steve climbs into the bed and into Eddie’s arm, resting his head on his boyfriend’s hive-infested chest. “I love you,” he says, letting out a sob.

“Oh, my sweet boy. Too innocent for this cruel world, aren’t you? I love you too, sweet thing. I’m not going anywhere. Nowhere. You’re stuck with me, baby.” Eddie rubs Steve’s back, kissing the top of his head.

“It’s just so scary,” Steve cries. “Ever since that trip to the Upside Down, I’ve been so worried. I wake up every morning and my first thought is ‘Where is Eddie?’. And lately, you’ve been snoring right next to me.” He laughs and sniffles. “But I’m scared of anything dangerous happening to you, I’m scared that anything could take you and I’m never gonna hear your voice again.”

“Baby girl,” Eddie coos and Steve laughs again, “I’m not going anywhere. Nothing is going to take me out just yet, not until you’re already gone. I won’t let you feel that kind of pain ever again, you hear me?”

Steve nods. “I hear you.”

“Good girl.” That makes Steve laugh again. “No damn watermelon is gonna kill me. Now that’s just stupid, isn’t it?”

“So stupid.”

“So stupid.” Eddie kisses Steve’s head again. “You’re going to keep waking up to that beautiful snoring-” Steve laughs. “-you’re going to keep hearing this ethereal voice, and you’re going to keep kissing these divine lips. Every day for the rest of your life, I’ll be there. Got it?”

“Got it.” Steve moves to kiss Eddie, but Eddie puts a finger over Steve’s lips.

“Ah-ah, no. You’ve already made your mark.” He gestures to the fading hives. “Go brush your teeth.”

Steve sighs dramatically, but gets up and walks to the bathroom. Eddie follows him in and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, watching him brush his teeth. Eddie rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder and stares at him in the mirror. “Divine,” he mumbles.

“Me or you?” Steve asks with the toothbrush in his mouth.

Eddie pulls away with a dramatic eye roll. “Me, obviously! I mean, look at you! Do you look divine, Stevie?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?! Stevie Elizabeth Harrington! You are the definition of divine! You’re like- You’re like my own personal god. My deity. I worship you. You don’t just look divine, Steve, you sound divine, smell divine, act divine-”

“I do not act divine.”

“-taste divine, feel divine. Everything about you is just… divinity, babe. You’re divine.”

“Okay.”

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Say it.”

Steve spits the toothpaste and rinses his mouth out. “Say what?”

“Say you’re divine.”

“I’m not saying I’m divine.”

“Are you?”

“You’re gonna be offended if I say no, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

Steve sighs. “I’m divine.”

Eddie grins and kisses Steve’s jaw. “That’s a good Stevie. Let’s get back to what we took my shirt off for, yeah?”

Steve smiles and turns around in Eddie’s arms. “I would love that.” He kisses him.

Eddie’s lips taste like watermelon. They’ve never tasted like watermelon before. This is odd.

Eddie’s hair is rough in Steve’s hands. It’s always rough. This is right.

Steve’s cheeks are sticky with tears. He almost never cries. This is odd.

Steve’s lips taste like mint. They almost always taste like mint. This is right.

#eddie munson #stranger things #ao3 #steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

Text

In the mood for a Fic...

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1. Hi! Me again jsjs, for the next ITMF I need fics where people realize how young WWX still is, like not about how young MXY's body is (but if you have of those even better 'cause I love that idea too) but that he wasn't older than 21/22 when he died and for him he's still barely out of adolescence (considering the last of it he spent fighting instead of properly growing out of it). Bonus points if they realize he's closer in age to the juniors than his brother, his husband or the rest of his generation @jiangclaritybell

Help, My Dad Is Fucking Someone My Age!! by sweetlolixo (T, 3k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Crack, Fluff, Romance)

The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide) (link in #11) has a scene where lwy thinking about how young wwx died when he's talking to a young girl.

All Technicalities by DummyDipl0d0cus (M, 4k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Rated M Just To Be Safe, Overprotective JC, Post-Canon)

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2. Hello beloved mods. I'm in the mood for fics where Lan Sizhui, as the eligible bachelor and Best Boy he is, starts receiving marriage requests, while Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are very Parental about it.

A Civil Combpaign Series by Ariaste (T/M, 31k, ZhuiLing, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, the difficulty of arranging your own marriage, overly subtle courting or overly oblivious courtee?, awkward teenagers, Teenage Drama, Humor,companion fic, WWX POV, Feelings, Fluff, WangXian's Weird Flirting)

Lan Sizhui's Got a Crush! by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 46k, LSZ/OFC, Junior Quartet, Humor, Fluff and Crack, Case Fic, G��sū Lán Juniors Dynamics, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Body Horror, Mild Gore, Post-Canon) is more about lsz and his friends but there is a whole chapter of wangxian trying to give relationship advice

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3. I'm itmf some evil jgy fics who gets what he deserves no redemption arc and obv wangxian get their happy ending but way less trauma jc friendly pls :)

i would like to suggest the 'bad person meng yao' and 'meng yao bashing' tags for some (sadly not all) fics that fit the prompt.

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

To Mourn the Young Man by Iamnotawriter (T, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, BAMF WWX, Most people live, but not the bad guys, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal)

Friends, Sabers, and Other Essentials for Solving a Conspiracy by MeridianGrimm for Lisa_Telramor ( T, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mystery, Smart NHS, WWX doesn't stay dead, LWJ gets a new friend, Happy Ending, Fix-It, To be clear the WangXian is mostly background, This fic is about friendship) (link in #4) kinda fits?

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4. Hiii!! I'm itmf nhs centric fics I would like it if they are fix it/time travel fix it/fix it of sorts type of fics thank you!!

💖 The Path by Seastar98 (Not rated, 279k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, fix-it of sorts, CQL verse, golden core reveal, angst w/ happy ending, BAMF NHS)

This Time Around by KouriArashi (T, 83k, JGY & NHS, NHS & WWX, JGY & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Class Issues, Past Child Abuse, Moral Ambiguity, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

Third Sun by PhantomWriter (T, 57k, NHS & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF NHS, Protective NHS, Protective NMJ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, LWJ is a Wēn)

Unexpected Salvation series by clipper782 (M, 162k, NHS/JGY, time travel fix-it of sorts, past incest, murder, psychology, love/hate, friends to enemies to friends to lovers, crack treated seriously, demonic cultivator NHS)

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5. itmf Wei Wuxian being unused to Mo Xuanyu's body: he stumbles, is shorter than he is used to, isn't used to his strength, etc. Bonus points if there is angst where WWX has panic attacks or disgust about being in someone else's skin. Thank you!

the soft animal by cafecliche (T, 5k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, [PODFIC] the soft animal by flamingwell)

your own heart beating by varnes (G, 1k, wangxian, body dysphoria)

mine? by Anonymous (Not rated, <1k, wangxian, body dysphoria, post-canon)

If only we could never think nor feel by Alianita (M, 1k, wangxian, slight angst, body dysphoria, feels)

unsettled by cryptenhope (G, 1k, wangxian, post-canon, established relationship, body dysphoria, hurt/comfort)

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6. hello! do you know of any 'The Wife is First' AUs for wangxian?? that would be lovely!

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7. Hey! Are there any lwj/wwx/mianmian smut fics? I'm looking for one that i came across but i can't remember any details about it.

Time by WithBroomBefore (M, 30k, WangXianMian, Time Travel, Fix-It, Canonical Character Death - WWX, WWX Lives, JYL Lives, Polyamory, Ghost WWX, for a little bit, Grief/Mourning, Eventual Happy Ending, Trans LWJ, bisexual LWJ, Bisexual WWX, POV Multiple, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death)

winged cupid painted blind by isabilightwood (E, 6k, WangXian, XianMian, Modern AU, and they were ROOMMATES, wwx & lqy are strickly friends with benefits, and lwj & lqy don’t do anything with each other, endgame wangxian, background endgame qingmian, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Accidental Voyeurism, Explicit Consent, Threesome, Fingering, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Getting Together, Light Angst, Fluff, Bottom LWJ)

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8. this is pretty specific but i'm itmf fics that in some way have creative variety in wwx's demonic cultivation powers! i see a lot of standard control-fierce-corpses-and-ghosts type of stuff in fics, but i recently reread the books and there's a moment where wwx gets a skeleton to crawl out of the ground and whisper to him that the juniors were kidnapped (without even using chenqing i think?), and (inspired by that) i'd love to read something where the author just goes ham with the interesting alternative techniques lol.

can be a focus of the fic or just a one-off mention, anything goes! preferably no character bashing or hard nsfw. thank you!

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) along with having a ghost companion, there's also a brief scene where WWX is spotted asking directions from a skeleton's hand that came up from the ground.

The envy of the world by vulnerable_bead (E, 48k, WangXian, Case Fic, Fluff and Smut, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant, WangXian as teacher(s), WangXian as musicians, Spell-weaving) remember the Power Stunt WWX used in the Yueyang Chang graveyard, where he dramatically punched the ground to dynamite-fish for corpses? vulnerable_bead does: “The boys felt the earth under their feet vibrate slightly, painfully, as if some telluric current had radiated from him, sending a message all the way to the bedrock that a man stronger than the mountains had arrived and he would brook no resistance.“

Re #8 note that The envy of the world does contain hard NSFW sex scenes, although not graphic violence.

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire) (link in #14) WWX works a *lot* of inventive, sustained, and gruesomely detailed blood magic, including long-distance life support and a chilling application of Painted Eyes—and then there’s the climax, wherein he invokes the terrifying power of Higher Mathematics.

blossoms at the roadside by bleuett (T, 13k, wangxian, alternate universe, different first meeting, getting together, tenderness, gardens & gardening, happy ending, hand feeding) Wei ying uses resentful energy to heal plants 💚

all the bonds of nature by luckymarrow (E, 68k, wangxian, MXY & WWX, LWJ & MXY & WWX, modern w/ magic, romantic comedy, roommates to lovers, pining, necromancy, ethical necromancer WWX, music teacher LWJ, fluff & smut, ghosts, urban fantasy, light angst, kink negotiation, praise kink, BDSM, developing relationship, dom LWJ) Wei ying is an ethical necromancer using resentful energy from dead animals and also putting them to rest.

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9. Hi I love your blog and hope you might help me with finding fic we’re Lan Zhan is the dead one . It can be cannon or non cannon or morden Au just were Wei Ying is the one who has to grieve and care for Lan Yuan . @cfox86

Over the Rotted Bridge by vailkagami (T, 314k, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ dies, Wei Wuxian doesn't die, neither do (most of) the wens, JYL also lives, Original Character(s), outside pov, YLLZ WWX, Canon Divergence, CQL Verse, Illustrated, Grief/Mourning, Non-Consensual Resurrection, mute LWJ, Hurt LWJ, Slow Burn, canonical death of a child (mentioned), Survivor Guilt, PTSD) is very good I highly recommend it

Turnabout and Start Again by runningondreams (T, 34k, WIP, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Role Reversal, Soulmates, Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, SuicideI, mprisonment, Violence, Minor Character Death, Mild Gore, Pining, Identity Issues, Getting Together, Happy Ending) I recommend "Turnabout and Start Again" by runningondreams on ao3. unfortunately it hasn't updated since 2020 so I understand if you don't actually recc it. but the 11 chapters is does have are really good!

the passing of seasons by tennssi (G, 12k, WangXian, Character Study, Canon Divergence, Family, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Moving On, Eventual Happy Ending)

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10. Hi! It's me again haha -//- Do you have any recs for long xiyao with a happy ending? I've been reading the top kudos ones on ao3 and consulting Google, but so far not much luck (┬┬﹏┬┬) @thepurplewombat

The Halo You're Wearing, It's Not Yours To Keep by poemwithnorhyme (E, 54k, XiYao, JGY/WX, JGY/WRH, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort)

An Atypical Courtship by KouriArashi (M, 48k, XiYao, WangXian, Romance, Slow Build, Developing Relationship, Prostitution, Class Issues, Light Angst, Political Shenanigans, Asexual Relationship, Asexual LXC, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed)

Last of Our Kind by Shiome (E, 103k, XiYao, Post-Canon Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Temporary Amnesia, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Case Fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Third Person, Pining, Sexual Content, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Power Bottom MY, Action & Romance)

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11. hello :) thank you for everything you're doing !! for your next im in the mood, i wanted to ask if you know of any canon compliant fic that follows lan wangjis pov throughout all (or even part) of mdzs/cql. thank you so much x

The Hospitality of the Qishan Wen by treemaidengeek (T, 14k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV LWJ, Traumatized LWJ, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, WWX is a chaos gremlin, LWJ Has Feelings, Hurt LWJ)

well-met by warlight by wukuiyuxin (Not rated, 2k, wangxian, WIP, Old English Style Poetry, Epic Poetry, [Podfic] well-met by warlight by Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart), Tumblr gifset) Lan Wangji’s account of meeting, loving, losing, and mourning Wei Ying and raising A-Yuan—in mock-Norse epic verse / see also #11 on this post.

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12. I need fics in wich Harry Potter somehow ends up in mdzs and with one Character there. Until now Ive only read one with Harry x Sizhui and that one wasn’t updated in a while. Thanks in advance

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13. I‘m in the mood for canon era fics where WangXian are living out some BDSM/BDSM adjacent kinks. Bonus points if there are no lengthy contract discussions or constant asking for safewords. Aftercare highly appreciated.

mercy, tear it down. by orange_crushed (E, 31k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Dual Cultivation, Light BDSM, In Which Wangxian Fumble Towards An Understanding of D/S Dynamics, Porn with Feelings, Recovery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Wangxian-Typical CNC Play, Aftercare, Slight Feminization (ie Wei Ying Keeps Saying 'Wife'), True Love, Past LWJ/Other)

old wounds by BloodRedCarnation (E, 23k, LWJ/MXY/WWX, wangxian, PWP, kink negotiation, age difference, powerdynamics, threesome, established wangxian, both top & bottom sub&dom LWJ, post-canon, fix-it of sorts)

at your feet by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 2k, wangxian, post-canon, sub LWJ, sexual tension, explicit sexual content, hairpulling)

the mortifying ordeal of being loved by attackofthezee (noxlunate) (T, 1k, wangxian, post-canon, established relationship, birthday fluff, praise kink, dom/sub undertones)

Closer than my hands have been by Spodumene (E, 5k, wangxian, post-canon, established relationship, rough sex, dom/sub undertones, consensual non-con, hairpulling, facefucking, bondage, spanking, cock slapping, jealousy, top drop)

i'll be your warmth here by mistergoblin (E, 1k, wangxian, canon divergence, PWP, dom/sub elements, sub & bottom LWJ, orgasm delay/denial, bondage, spanking, happy ending)

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14. IITMF: Post-canon case fics my beloved 🥺

love lies beyond words by acrosticacrumpet (G, 4k, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation, not a completed reconciliation but the beginning of one, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Self-Worth Issues, painful conversations with a tasteful smidgeon of, Cuddling & Snuggling)

just as the stories say by TheDameJudiWench (T, 11k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Medical Procedures, some gore, brief mention of a farm animal dying, Yunmeng brothers feelings, Family Dynamics, Attempted Murder, Injury Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Established Relationship, brief mention of vomiting, Happy Ending, Found Family, POV Outsider, Guilt, Revenge, Mention of Suicide (not main character), Grief/Mourning, Forgiveness, Whump, Near Death Experiences)

in your skin by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Horror, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Consensual Body Modification, kinda?, ?Reflections over death and self-worth, mentions of canon suicide, Near Death Experiences, [Podfic] in your skin by flamingwell)

shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Night hunts, Curses, Intimacy, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, shadows in the sunrise: podfic by victorianotte)

JC and WWX's Get Along Sweater series by newamsterdam (T, 29k, JC & WWX, bg wangxian, post-canon, trapped in a closet, cultivation as a plot device, JC & WWX reconciliation, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, emotional tension, ghosts, action/adventure, brotherly love, complicated relationships)

🧡 climbing up that coastal shelf by Sour_Idealist (T, 15k, JC & WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Mutually Unrequited Forgiveness, Yunmeng Brothers Reconciliation, Family History, Generational Trauma, Discussion of Canonical Abuse, Awkward Attempts at Communication, [Podfic] climbing up that coastal shelf by RevolutionaryJo)

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, ...then sexual intimacy, [Podfic] build me no shrines by flamingwell)

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending, [Podfic] With Absolute Splendor by kisahawklin, [PODFIC] With Absolute Splendor by Gwogobo)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

the soft animal by cafecliche (T, 5k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, [PODFIC] the soft animal by flamingwell) (link in #5)

grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon, [Podfic] Grow by jellyfishfire)

Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic, VSfic (E, 30k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Pining, Getting Together, Time Travel, Hurt wwx, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Depression and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gratuitous use of empathy, Wearing Down Every Bone [Podfic] by Rionaa)

The envy of the world by vulnerable_bead (E, 48k, WangXian, Case Fic, Fluff and Smut, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant, WangXian as teacher(s), WangXian as musicians, Spell-weaving) (link in #8) LWJ and WWX supervise LSZ, LJY, and OC Lan Juniors on a village investigation; poetic fairytale prose; a casefic of unfurling complexity with an intelligent, subtle, and tragic antagonist; mysterious uncharted musical magic; a climactic confrontation that deserves to be animated. And then there’s the famous Windowsill Papapa Scene.

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15. itmf canon compliant/divergent (not modern) politic heavy fics? Court life, politics and diplomacy, secrets and plot twists as people wait to play their hand, etc.

Between the Candle and the Sun by Legume_Shadow (T, 304k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, LingZhen, XiCheng, XuanLi, Angst, Friendship, Slow Burn, Falling In Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, MM is a Badass, WN is a Badass, Protective WQ, Most people live, Ensemble Cast, Action/Adventure) is a Royal AU more focused on plot, including politics, but is primarily a junior-pairings fic (with secondary Wangxian)

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16. In the mood for fics where wangxian adopt another kid(s) post-canon

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, [PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

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17. Fics where WWX is actually respected; as a scholar/genius/cultivator. @utxqia

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 528k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, WangXian, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh)

~*~

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archivalofsins · 7 months

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Huh, I haven't really seen any debate around voting Mikoto Innocent or Guilty. Even though his verdict has been steadily declining since the release of Double. It's really interesting. Mostly because I don't know if this is a common thing, even for those who are more active in the fandom tag than I am or if I'm just that disconnected from the discussion.

Either way here are some objective facts regarding his case that I feel may be going overlooked presently.

John stating that we can't punish them.

This is objectively false, and it's implied to be false during the second trial commencement notice by Jackalope who states,

Jackalope never says Milgram cannot punish the other. In fact, Jackalope alludes to the idea that the only reason the other has not been restrained as of now is because he's just not out currently. Something that would be rectified if Mikoto was voted Guilty again to John's own admission in the voice drama.

So, stating that since we can't punish him, we shouldn't punish Mikoto is just blatantly untrue. The implication since trial two started has been hey if you keep punishing this guy, we're going to have to do something about this other personality. We were unaware of it at first, which is a mistake on our part, but we'll do something about it after this according to what is necessary based on the judgements you've made.

Can't do anything about it now though. So, regardless of which of them one personally believes committed the murder they both can still be punished for it. Then under this framing voting Mikoto forgiven would technically be voting for this other personality to remain unrestrained the same as he was first trial. I don't think this fact has gone over consistent voters' heads.

Innocent for Mikoto would mean him being out more but there's no guarantee it would equate to John vanishing entirely. Because as John has consistently stated he would do anything to defend himself. If Milgram restrains him due to a second Guilty verdict, he will not be able to do anything to defend himself.

It's more beneficial for him to say it was him, but the rules here haven't accounted for them so right now Milgram is just wrongfully punishing a completely innocent individual for nothing. Because few people would want to punish a person for a crime they simply did not commit and again Innocent equates to him remaining unrestrained which allows him to continue to do what he wants to do anyhow which is protect himself by any means if necessary.

That is literally one of their shared motivations. Protecting themselves either from physical or mental harm or just defending their social reputation.

"Come to know me as an honest man, eat your words, gulp them down."

Unlike Mikoto who seems to be far more interested in not looking like the bad guy. John's entire focus is on doing whatever is necessary to keep Mikoto safe. Even if that means making themselves into the bad guy in a last-ditch effort to get an Innocent verdict. Based on an idea that the audience has been shown is not the case from the beginning of the second trial. That John cannot be punished and ergo finding Mikoto Guilty is pointless and cruel.

This is just simply not true and more attentive viewers would probably recognize that faster than casual observers would.

Yet that leads into problem two

One of them is still Innocent though regardless.

Regardless of if one of them committed genuine murder or not the other is still an uninvolved or unwilling party. This concept can be circumvented by claiming that both committed the murders together. However, this doesn't seem to be the case.

It's still difficult for people to justify finding someone guilty if that means a completely uninvolved party must go down with that individual. A lot of people wouldn't find that idea fair.

Most people don't want to kill a civilian just to take down one bad guy. It's a natural reflex/response to want to extend forgiveness or attempt to deescalate a situation when that sort of thing occurs.

The situation was just really bad all around.

Now, I'm going to put my pettiness at Amane's trial aside for a moment. I hear you work abuse is bad. Mikoto's boss was bad and probably still is bad.

However, we never see Mikoto or John kill their boss. Unlike some people who very much did kill the root cause of their problems-

Sorry, sorry- It was just right there. I'm so sorry I'll try to stop.

In fact the one person we see them attack in MeMe for certain is someone who looks to be around the same age as him and is a coworker at best,

Or at worse some random uninvolved fucking party. This could just be some fucking guy who happened to be walking here for all we fucking know. Because Double doesn't follow up on this. This guy was just here one trial and gone the next.

So, given everything that happened with Mu's trials. I feel like I personally have every reason to be cautious about this. Mu being framed as the bullied in After Pain to go to the bully in It's Not My Fault. Even though I want Mikoto to be Innocent this round-

I'd really like to avoid the whole After Pain to It's Not My Fault turnaround they're clearly setting him up to have trial three. Because trial three is an all or nothing game. You fuck up trial three and that could mean you're done, done. Even more so given that Mikoto would literally only have one innocent verdict and one guilty verdict unlike the prisoners that have been Innocent twice in a row.

So, maybe just maybe we should talk about this full ass other human being we see in his first trial music video. Because it's not John. Like the dude is clearly wearing different clothes from both Mikoto and John. So- who the hell is this?

Even if he were just dreaming about killing this guy. That still doesn't tell us who the hell this guy is!

Like wild- Who fucking is this?! He doesn't seem old enough to be the boss of anything let alone Mikoto's boss. Who is this person? The situation is still bad and if you hate abuse of any kind I can fully understand why you'd vote him innocent. Just be careful because Milgram has a habit of making people look like victims to simply turn around and show you how they've turned others into victims.

I'm just saying best to prepare for that possibility. Because this is what not preparing for it looks like,

Something that only gets funnier when you take into account they took down Amane's innocent verdict from the seventies day one to this,

Like girl nobody wanted to help you- That's fucking sad!

When she was on trial and this Guilty, I was like man there's really no way to turn a verdict around huh? But no, she was just that hated like daily for three months. There was a way to turn it around ya'll really could have.

Instead, thousands of people woke up daily for three months and chose violence. I am truly flabbergasted it is impressive it ended that high. Fuck Kotoko may not even be as Guilty as her.

Yes, the situation was bad. All the prisoners' situations were bad to some extent. Everyone's situation can be bad. However, a bad situation doesn't excuse worse choices. It's important that while recognizing someone's life is shit that one also takes into account, they did not have to make other people's lives shit in response. It's important to recognize showing empathy towards others, and extending forgiveness is not an endorsement of what those people do after or did before that moment.

It's recognizing they made a mistake and affording them the opportunity to make up for it at one's own discretion. Sometimes in order to be able to give someone true forgiveness someone has to recognize that person may never change, that person may never be the person you need them to be or want them to be and be okay with that. If your forgiveness comes with conditions, it's not forgiveness. It's just an agreement.

So, it's important to me personally that everyone at least tries to accept that regardless of verdict the prisoners may just get worse. Because to be blunt about it being nice to someone doesn't guarantee they'll be nice to you in return and not everyone meets cruelty with cruelty. People aren't defined by the words they speak but the choices and actions they commit to.

Pretty words only go so far. At the point someone is left to clean up the messes, pick up the pieces, and try to live in the wake of the destruction someone else caused they become well acquainted with the phrase actions speak louder than words.

Until someone has reached the point that they've said with complete sincerity,

"Sorry, you're sorry? What does that do for me?"

It's hard for me to believe people understand what an apology is for and who it hurts just as well as helps. This is why it's difficult for me to think others understand what they're saying when they say we're extending Forgiveness not trying to prove guilt or innocence. Because saying it that way can come off as claiming that forgiving someone is easier than condemning them for what they did, that it's less objective and based more on one's personal feelings than Guilty and Innocent is.

When it's so much heavier of a thing. Forgiveness is sometimes the only thing a person has left to choose when the world has been endlessly cruel to them. The only thing that people have personal agency over. The choice whether they forgive someone for how they have wronged them is treated as something easier than just objectively admitting someone's behavior is bad.

Forgiveness isn't meant to be easy it's not supposed to make you feel good. It's hard and even if you forgive someone it doesn't mean they're going to stop behaving in the way that hurt you before. Because giving someone forgiveness comes with recognizing that they may hurt you again, they may mess up again, and it could be worse than the last time simply because they're a person and that's what people do whether they intend to or not.

So, forgiveness simply based on the idea that the situation was bad, and they won't do it again now isn't forgiveness to me. Because it doesn't account for the fact that life will continue to be hard, things will probably get difficult again, these people may not know how to healthily cope, it discounts the idea that people will offend again they will make mistakes again and that doesn't make them any less deserving of forgiveness within reason than anyone else.

Because people are bundles of mistakes waiting to happen but that doesn't mean when those mistakes inevitably do happen it's okay to rub anyone's nose in it. Because the mistake of your enemy today can just as easily become your mistake tomorrow. Regardless of how good or bad your life is going.

All that to say Mikoto's situation is incredibly complicated for numerous reasons. Not all mentioned here. However, for the time being I'm glad his Innocent verdict is pretty secure despite its consistent decline.

#milgram #kayano mikoto #mikoto kayano

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