#This has been on repeat all day I regret NOTHING | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachypinkygloss · 5 months

Text

places i know — jjk

i know places - lykke li, les matins - angèle

ᥫ᭡ summary: in which jungkook's heart beats for you, but he prefers to dismiss his feelings and to blame himself for getting hurt.

ᥫ᭡ genre: friends with benefits, university au, angst, smut.

ᥫ᭡ word count: 3.7k

ᥫ᭡ warnings: alcohol consumption, long and messy hair jk 🫶🏻, he's introverted & she's extroverted, opposites attract type of shit, unreciprocated love, unprotected sex, unprotected oral sex, praising, blowjob, clit stimulation.

a.n.: yeah so... i came up with this last minute. begging for feedback again 🙏🏻 because your girl is paranoid and thinks everything she writes is shit 🥹 (to be confirmed or denied, idk) i won't update for a while, pls take care of yourselves, guys. kisses x

The way between his last course of the day — his class situated in block E, literally the farthest part of the university, still not renovated since the creation of the school — and his car is familiar, repetitive.

It doesn't bother Jungkook, though. Not all that much, at least. It's part of his daily life and he prefers things to be consistent, always predictable. He likes having a routine, something he can rely on — something secured, a feeling of certainty.

And the way to his car is all that. Expect for one detail in his life that is almost too unpredictable, even more than the rain. He simply can't tell when it's about to happen because if he were to predict it, he'd have to let down all his little habits.

He'd have to set the notifications of his phone on, remove 'night time' mode in case he ever receives an unexpected text from an unpredictable person. Have to ask questions more often, questions that are direct and that the answers don't leave him overthinking all night, turning sides back and forth in his bed.

Have to stop putting on his headphones while exiting the university building to hear your steps on the wet cement, rushing to him from behind, already grinning to yourself, knowing he doesn't suspect your presence.

A few repeated taps on his back makes him tense his shoulders, and makes him turn his head back to see who's after him. You may be sudden, but he always knows it's you. You're the only person in his life that would message him at 3 a.m., proposing to meet up and then canceling at the last minute to only interpellate him on his way back home.

He's a bit sour about this, but he won't tell you.

It's your silly escapades that fill most of his days and nights, though. It's that little giggle that leaves your lips before saying 'let's go to the movie theatre' without knowing what films are playing, just because it's funnier like that, because it's unexpected. It creates unforgettable memories, develops stronger feelings.

He reaches for his phone in the pocket of his hoodie, pressing pause, slipping his headphones off and letting them hang around his neck. There's a smile on your lips, one he remembers kissing more than once, both drunk and sober. Most of the time drunk.

"You're ready?" A toothy smile, one of the best, the only one he always wants to see, always misses.

Again, nothing has been prepared, but being unplanned is your habit. Maybe a fear of being chained to a routine, something Jungkook is attached too, though it doesn't matter.

There's something about you, about your wild nature that has him obsessed over you. Opposites attract, but he doesn't feel like your opposite, he feels like he's complementary to you. Like a puzzle piece. Like partners.

He continues his way to his car as you follow him to it, stepping backwards to keep facing him, sometimes turning around, feeling the wind passing through your hair.

Jungkook looks ahead, only glancing at you when he feels your insistent gaze on him. He can't ignore you. Not because you take a lot of space, but because he wants to answer you, wants to hear what you have to say and he knows he's going to regret later for not questioning you.

"I didn't know when you were coming," he opts for, choosing something lighter than what he has on his heart, a feeling he's not sure he wants to acknowledge himself; when are you going to stop playing with me?

"Tuh-tuh-tuh." You stop in front of him, forcing him to halt his walk as well. "Don't ask me when," you say, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. "Ask me why, ask me where."

Jungkook chuckles, the proud lopsided smile on your face amusing him. How easy it is for you to deviate from the conversation, avoid something you don't want to give an answer to. Something you don't want to touch on. Almost too easy-peasy.

He doesn't catch onto it yet again, leaving the lead to you, letting you use your impeccable charm on him.

"Where?" He sighs.

"That's the best part!" You cheer, "Okay, you know that place I talked to you about?"

"Yeah," he confirms, a bit unsure, but memories and words of yours are fast at coming back into his mind. "Your secret spot?"

He cuts his question there because what you said isn't something he really wants to say out loud — wanna show you that place, feels majestic, you'll like it. Wanna kiss you under that big, big tree, sit on your lap, cuddle you, ride your cock.

It was cheeky when you said it, but he was giggling along with you, sparkling eyes looking into each other, vodka rolling on your tongues.

You were beautiful that night in your blue dress, fitting well with the colour of your hair and skin, making your eyes pop out more. And so are you now, wearing a cute top with that long skirt, Doc Martens at your feet.

That night, you were sexy. A wet dream, an erotic fantasy. Today, you're cute and casual, looking like the girlfriend he wished he had.

"Yup," you nod your head, "My secret spot," you repeat, smiling softly.

He doesn't respond with anything so it's silent for a short moment, the breeze making your hair twirl around your head. He tells himself, right now, that the world is yours. It's as if you were controlling everything; the wind, the weather, his heart.

"Come on, Kook," you insist, "I'm gonna tell you where to go."

The moon is shining brightly from where he is. Away from the city, from all the flashing lights and the roaring of cars. It's peacefully quiet. He likes it.

You're also on your back, looking at the night sky and the clouds. Pointing at one star, saying it's someone's puppy. You hope it's resting in peace, he tells you of course, don't worry. You smile, again. He loves it.

You pick out a flower; it's purple, maybe rather violet. A really soft violet.

You turn on your side, leaning on your elbow, staring at Jungkook — a smirk tugging at your lips. You extend your arm to wipe some of his hair away from his face, tucking the stem of the flower behind his ear. He doesn't stop you and closes his eyes as your fingers brush over his skin.

You replace his bangs, Jungkook's eyelids fluttering as you do so and for the first time, very first time, he's the one who destabilizes you.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, looking at you, noticing how your eyes instantly glance up at him when the compliment slips past his lips. Maybe it's the way you slightly raise your eyebrows, no sight of a smile on your face, rather a look of surprise, a look of 'nobody's words make my stomach twist as much as yours do'.

For you, it's the way that you know he means it, really thought about it before, told himself hundreds of times in his head. Fuck, this girl's beauty is unbelievable.

The grass underneath you is starting to feel cold. The sun is gone and you cruelly miss its light on your skin, heating you up as well as Jungkook's arms around you do, too.

"You, too," you say back. No 'thank you', but he'll go with that. He guesses it felt too intimate and he understands that. Well, he tries to, at least.

He brings a hand up to the back of your neck, the tip of his fingers feel cold against your skin, a shiver running up your spine and making the hair on your arms stand up. He pulls you down and presses his lips down on yours.

It's not hot, it's not messy or sloppy. It's warm, passionate and coordinated. God, he's so cheesy.

He's fucking in love.

You break the kiss, grinning when he looks at you with wide, sparkling eyes. You lift up the right sleeve of his hoodie over his forearm, revealing the couple of tattoos decorating his skin, a bit dispersed and distanced from each other. Jungkook's told you about his desire of filling up his sleeve and colouring some of his tattoos as well.

You point to an empty spot, raising your gaze up to him while saying, "I see a lily there. A tiger lily."

He looks down to his arm, then up to you. "Do you?" He questions.

"Yes," you bob your head, whispering softly. "Bright and orange," you add on, tracing the form of the flower on his arm. He watches your finger brush his skin delicately with a lot of care. "With the petals open."

"It'd be really pretty," he approves, his words making you smile.

You then take his hand in yours and bring his arm up, passing it around your shoulders. He says nothing when you lay your face down on his chest. He only tilts his head downward, smiling back at you.

Your breathing is calm and regular, sometimes letting out a heavier exhale. You trust him, he realizes, and it makes his heart swell, hurts him a little because this isn't enough of a reason.

Enough of a reason to acknowledge his feelings — acknowledge how fucking boring his life is without you and how he wants to spend each moment with you.

But he can't ask that from you, can't demand you to reciprocate his feelings. So he only hopes and wishes, hurting when he's not around you. Goes back to his routine that he so wants to give up on just to be with you, a wild soul who dreams of liberty.

"You didn't tell me why."

You giggle, not because you find it funny, but because you're happy he remembered and cares enough to ask you. Of course he cares, it's you.

"Why I brought you here?" You say while rising up from his chest, connecting your eyes to his.

"Yeah," he confirms with a short nod of his head.

"You're the only one I told about," you answer, "And I don't think there's anybody else I want to share this moment with," you tell him in a soft tone, one that you solely use to say the truth. "I just knew you'd like this place as much as I do, and I want you to come here whenever you feel like it. It's our spot."

'What's mine is yours'.

It can be platonic, it can be friendly, but fuck, there's nothing platonic in the way that you look at him with stars in your eyes, wanting to give him to the world just because it'd feel like the right thing.

You seem so serene while telling him this, and Jungkook can't ignore the 'what if's' that are forming in his head. What if we come here daily until the snow comes and covers the grass? What if we carve our initials on that tree?

What if this secret means more to him than it means to you?

And then it hurts again.

He loves you.

Loves you in a way nobody else ever will because what he has, what he feels, is unique. Everybody's feelings are different, that's why you'll never find someone like Jungkook, that's why if you want him, you need to claim him.

But you probably never will. It's not your kind, not something you're willing to do. 'Don't want to sacrifice what we have', you once said. 'Girlfriend, boyfriend — what does it mean?' you responded when Jungkook jokingly called you "the perfect girlfriend" with too much alcohol in his blood.

Fucking ruined the mood. Why so fucking mean... when he knows you, knows the best parts of you that are down to earth, lovely and sweet, so many qualities in one single person.

But you're entitled to your stupid values.

And he continues to love you as he asks where to go now and you answer all too pouty that you want to go home, his home.

You insist on having vodka, knowing where he hides it, the top cabinet where you can't reach. Have to beg him with puppy eyes to let you have a glass. A tiny glass.

He tells you that you sure as hell gonna have a tiny one. You smile, thanking him. He drinks with you because there's no way he's letting you break his heart absolutely sober.

He loves you maybe more — well aware that he's going to regret it — when your sloppy tongues meet in a heated kiss, impatient hands slipping under each other's clothes.

He grabs a tit, earning a moan, you take a fist full of hair, eliciting a groan. The way to his bedroom feels far, far away, but he knows you're going to reach it, you have to.

Your body is one of the few things Jungkook's familiar with. He knows the way to your pussy, knows where to hit and touch. Knows also the way to your heart, just there in your rib cage, under your sternum.

He fucking knows, but you won't let him and so he keeps his hands away from that part of your body.

The sheets are just an excuse for being his for the night.

Just for the night, leaving before the sun rises.

Whatever.

He moans as he lets you engulf his cock in your mouth, flat on your stomach between his thighs, one leg bent at the knee. He knows to be patient, not push you to do something you don't want to, but it's hard, really hard when your mouth feels like literal heaven.

His head keeps rolling back on his shoulders, hitting the headboard behind him, raising it back up to watch your lips slide smoothly over his length. His fists clench on either side of his body, mouth ajar to let out heavy breaths that you can hear from where you are.

There are times he doesn't really hold himself back, times where the bed isn't just an excuse anymore, but tonight, he feels a bit restricted. He doesn't quite know why, even though the answer's right in front of him. But Jungkook prefers hiding his head in the sand.

"Ah, fuck," he says breathlessly already, frowning as he concentrates on the feeling of your tongue on his cock, sucking him like you fucking mean it. "Baby..."

Another moan, elongated and whiney, a clear indication that you have an impact on him. You affect him — oh, you do so much.

Hesitantly, he grips your hair, not too tight, not pulling, just clenching his fist around it. It's enough to show you that he isn't indifferent to your touch. You know that, but you tend to forget it, tend to go see someone different, searching for something you'll never find in anyone else than Jungkook.

He whimpers as your nose touches his pubic hair, the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat. He fucking shakes, fucking whines while you swallow around him, sucking the soul out of him.

You're greedy; you take everything, you don't share. Ask for more, come back over and over again. But you take, you don't give. Don't even pay back.

Do you realize it? Would be debatable. Jungkook's heart isn't strong enough to have that conversation, though.

You moan around his cock, a response to his little whines, happy you can procure him this kind of pleasure. You bob your head over his length, making a mess, saliva spilling at the corners of your mouth.

You cup his balls and Jungkook reacts instantly. "Oh, yeah- yeah, like that," he approves, hooded eyes staring at the way his member appears and disappears between your lips as you bounce your head up and down.

If he doesn't stop you, he'll cum very soon, and that's not something that he wants. Not in your mouth, not anywhere. He knows the moment he cums is the moment you also leave.

So there's some tenderness in his voice when he instructs you to come lay beside him, your back to his chest. He thinks this is his favourite position, at least with you. Fucking you is the only way he can get that close to you. He can forget about cuddles, but you'll let him fuck you in spoon because sure, it's a great position. Warm and sensual.

"You feel so good- oh, god," he shakily says under his breath, his lips beside your ear. He's completely nestled inside you, his soft breath caressing your neck — a kiss is given to your shoulder, another to your jaw.

When he starts to move, it's slow and steady, but his moans tells you how it takes a lot out of him to not move faster, not ruin your pussy, not fuck you totally dumb on his bed the way he always does so good when he has way too much alcohol in his system.

He lifts up your thigh, making a bit more space for him, his other hand sneaking between your legs to reach your throbbing clit. His dark bangs fall into his eyes, some strands sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You whine when his middle finger finds your bud of nerves, drawing atrociously slow circles on it, adding just the right pressure to make you want more, beg for more.

"Do you feel me, baby? Feel my cock in your tight little pussy?" He hums in your ear, turning you crazy from the husky tone of his voice. You flutter your eyes as you turn your head, glancing at Jungkook's face, his own eyes not knowing where to look — your lonely lips, your perky nipples, his hard dick stretching out your hole.

"Yeah, feel you so deep in me, Kook," you reply back, and fuck do you really feel him.

It's like your first time, still feeling him days after your encounter. He's big, that's a fact, but he knows how to use it, and you got to experience it. You're lucky you're the only girl he wants to be inside of.

He groans when you clench and unclench around him, his cock completely covered in your wetness, sliding in you so smoothly, nothing restraining him at all — apart from his own intrusive thoughts.

He shifts his hand higher on your thigh, parting your legs wider from each other, now beginning to rock his hips against your ass. His head taps over your sweet spot repeatedly and you let him know by moaning out loud, babbling littles 'right here, Kook. Fuck, right here'.

You reach behind you to pass your fingers through Jungkook's soft black hair, his pink lips smooching the side of your throat, cherishing your skin in warm kisses. You place your other hand on top of his that is operating between your legs, doing quick circle motions over your puffy clit.

He drives his engorged cock in your wet pussy back and forth, totally out of breath, but refusing to stop, at least not until he has you spasming around his girth. You arch your back, frowning your brows as you feel the knot at the pit of your stomach tighten.

"Shit, you close, baby? I feel you sucking me in like crazy," he chuckles, a bit too lost in his own lust, loving how he feels so connected to you right now. You seriously can't be closer to each other than that.

You nod, and he says that he is, too. You whimper, almost feeling him in your guts, cock entering and exiting your quivering hole at a rapid pace that rips your breath out of your lungs.

"Gonna make you feel good," he promises. "Cum around me, sweetheart. Fucking cream my cock," Jungkook encourages and it doesn't take you much more to reach your high, thigh shaking in his hold.

And when it hits you, it hits you hard. You cry out his name, a sound he never wants to forget, limbs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Your velvety walls close around him tightly just the way he loves it, just the way it makes him come closer to the edge as well.

His hips jerk up, his skin slapping against your ass. "Ah, fuck, yeah," he rasps out, wetting his dried lips, "Good job, shit... Gonna cum," he praises and warns you at the same time, your orgasm being the cause of his own.

Jungkook steadies his hips and he fills you up, emptying himself inside your cunt. He shoots his hot cum in you in long, thick ropes, cock twitching. You moan with him, liking the familiar sensation of his release painting your walls white.

"Christ," he chokes out, laying his damp forehead on your shoulders, his chest heaving up and down rapidly.

When he pulls out, you immediately turn around to face him. You don't say much, just the usual to not make it awkward. He appreciates it, won't admit he wants to chat till 3 a.m., though.

The next morning is somewhat gentle, but it has a bitter taste. Your side of the bed is empty, the only remaining trace of your body being your perfume. And the soiled sheets underneath him.

He would have liked that all of this was only a dream, but no, it was yesterday. His eyes are puffy from the night of sleep he had, or maybe from tears.

He wonders where you are, when exactly you left. He misses the touch of your hands on his back, your fingers passing through his hair.

Those are the kind of mornings he hates. The awful and aching truth eventually coming back to him because he forgot the night before when he was with you.

And then the cycle repeats.

He goes back to class, puts his headphones back on, and turns on night mode. Clears his mind off of you — well, he tries to. He goes back to the places he knows, avoiding you religiously until he can't say no anymore.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut

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4st4rion · 5 months

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some close proximity

ao3 link

just over 1k; astarion is in a bad mood, u make him feel better, kissing ensues. second person pov (astarion x you) and fully gender neutral. mild act 3 spoilers!

Astarion has been in a bad mood all day, and, frankly, you're fucking sick of it.

You don't confront him in front of everyone, because you're not an asshole, but you wait until it's just the two of you left in your rooms at the Elfsong, everyone else gone to have dinner and drink downstairs.

He's about to leave, too, but you stop him with a hand on his arm.

"Astarion," you say, hoping it comes off as gently as possible.

He whips around, brows furrowed together in an angry expression.

"What?"

You raise your eyebrows at him. He's really in a bad mood if he's being this short with his own lover.

"Astarion," you repeat, firmly this time. "What's going on with you today?"

A hundred emotions war over his face — first it's the anger at being called out, then denial that anything is wrong, then guilt and regret for snapping at you, and his eyes avoid your own as he heaves a dramatic sigh.

"Nothing," he lies, in that near-hysterical pitch he has when he's worked up. "We're only lingering in my ex-master's hunting grounds, staying at the tavern I used to hunt," he says. "How could I possibly be anything but ecstatic to hang around?"

You frown.

"Is that what it is?" you ask, ignoring the part of you that wants to get defensive about his tone with you. "Astarion, you're safe with us," you remind him, taking his hand and holding it intently. "None of us would let any harm come to you."

He flinches like he's going to pull his hand away, but decides not to.

"How do you know?" he mutters, still not looking at you. "Cazador himself could come find us any night."

"He'd be a fool to," you hum. "You're surrounded by allies, and you're no longer under his control."

You squeeze his hand.

"Cazador is probably cowering right now, afraid of his own death, knowing we're in the city," you say, and that almost gets Astarion to smirk.

"I'm sure he's shitting himself," Astarion says sarcastically, but you roll with it.

"And pissing, too," you add. "He's running out of pants from how often he's shitting and pissing himself."

That, stupid as it is, makes Astarion laugh.

He glances at you, then scoffs, still smiling.

"I hate that you make me feel better," he admits, winding his fingers around yours. "Little shit."

You smile back.

"I'm your little shit, though," you say, before you can consider whether you should or not, and he goes still.

"Are you?" he asks, softly. Cautiously.

"A little shit?" you ask, giving you both the chance to escape this conversation, but he only laughs one amused huff.

"No," he says. "Are you? Mine?"

The look in his eyes is dangerous; you want to pull him into a kiss and never stop, give him anything and everything, let the world melt around you in favor of giving yourself to him, body and mind and soul.

"Maybe," you say, trying to sound coy but sounding nervous, instead.

The hand that isn't in yours comes to up pet you, his thumb running over your cheekbone and your lower lip before he leans in to kiss you. It's as intoxicating as ever, and you let yourself relax as the two of you kiss over and over in your shared room.

Your free hand holds him at his hip, first, then at his waist, pulling him in until the two of you are flush together. He won't stop kissing you, stealing your breath away and swallowing anything you may have to say about the situation.

"Are you mine?" he asks again, once you're flustered and weak in the knees.

You swallow thickly.

"Might be," you admit, but it's not what he wants to hear — his hands leave you to guide you by your hips, back until your legs meet your comfortable daybed and you tumble down onto the mattress.

He climbs on top of you, and you'd compare him to a predator if he wasn't giggling quietly to himself as he bullies between your legs. You can't help but laugh, too, because it's a little ridiculous, isn't it? You've been together, been something, since you helped the tieflings at Emerald Grove, fighting side by side and barely ever apart — it should be easy enough to admit that you're his.

He pulls your shirt off of you and sets to laying kisses down your neck and chest, paying extra attention just under your ear until you know there's going to be a lovebite worried into your skin.

"Bastard," you mutter, but he only laughs again.

"Everyone already knows we're together," he reasons. "I might as well mark you."

His words send something hot creeping under your skin. You'd like that, you think — being marked as belonging to someone. How different is a lovebite from a wedding ring, when you think about it? Or a collar, or a scar? It's a symbol of ownership, isn't it?

"Don't tempt me to do the same," you threaten, even though that thought sends something even hotter through you. He'd look good with a ring of bruises bitten around his neck, outlines of your teeth indented in his skin.

He bites at your neck, not drawing blood but not gently, and it startles a quiet noise out of you.

"Tell me you are mine," he says this time, and you can't deny it any longer.

"I'm yours," you sigh, as his teeth make themselves at home in your neck.

"Only mine," he growls, and you laugh. You've certainly been getting hit on a lot lately, yeah; between the Emperor shooting his shot and having to stop Halsin from confessing his feelings, it's no surprise he's feeling possessive.

"Only yours," you purr. You drape your arms over his shoulders and pull him closer, arching against him to press your body up to his and baring your neck for him. "I haven't thought of anyone but you since we met," you admit, your voice as low and sultry as you can manage.

He whines against you and takes your offering, biting into your neck with his fangs and drawing blood. It doesn't happen every time you have sex, and it doesn't always lead to sex, but sex and feeding are entwined enough that one tends to tangle into the other. Not that you mind, far from it — his bite becomes pleasantly numb as he drinks from you and the mild lightheadedness only adds to how dreamy it is every time you get intimate with him.

"You mean everything to me," you say, slow and sleepy-sounding, everything getting further and further away as he drinks. "You are everything to me."

He makes another desperate noise into your veins and pulls up, away. His mouth seals over the same spot to suck the last trickles of blood that ooze up and he licks to help the wound begin to heal, his tongue especially familiar here.

As soon as he trusts your skin not to split back open, he's moving up to kiss you again. You'd be more disturbed by the taste of your own blood on his tongue if you weren't used to it by now.

"You are mine," he shudders between kisses. "Just as I am yours," he adds, his voice full of fake confidence.

"You are," you immediately affirm, wanting him to know it's true and it's mutual.

"Not like I was his," he hisses. “In a different way."

You nod against him.

"A better way," you agree, and he nods, too, kissing you even harder.

You stay that way for a good, long while, tangled together on the bed. Time and place melt away; the only things that exist or have ever existed are the two of you, here, now, together, and the quiet sounds of love between your mouths.

It's good.

It's perfect.

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #tavstarion

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sabohime · 4 months

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♡ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

multi x fem!reader

♡ . eek my first post!! some simple headcannons for you guys! enjoy :) nothing explicit (for now 😈) but! there are references to dicksucking!

♡ . includes: law, sabo, sanji

LAW

Law is constantly on edge. It hurts seeing your captain so stressed all the time.

So, being the dutiful crewmate you are, you decide to…provide him with a little ‘relaxant’. It’s not your fault he’ll have to work for it…

“Y/n-ya, what are you-“ “It’s hot, Captain!”

Law blushes at that. You can barely see it through the Tang’s dim lighting and his tanned skin, but from the way his eyes widen and his breath hitches, you can tell your plan is working.

Why is he harping about your wardrobe? Well, your typical Heart Pirates boiler suit had been traded in for a tight tank and skimpy shorts. How old were these? With the way your thighs were pinched by the elastic of your shorts, and the way your breasts practically fell out of your top, Law was certain you had dug deep in your closet to fish these clothes out.

“Y/n-ya. Seriously,” his tattooed hand rests on your shoulder now, dangerously close to the thin strap of your tank top. “We have uniforms for a reason.”

“Are you really gonna make me change, Captain?” you pout. You watch his brow furrow, and you know you’ve got him now.

“I think I’ll have fun ripping this off of you, Y/n-ya,” he grunts, hot breath now in your ear. His hands wander down to your shorts, palming your ass and taking notice of your lack of panties. “Even more dress code violations? I might just have to punish you tonight, Y/n-ya.”

You gulp. Law says Room and suddenly you’re in his bedroom.

“Regretting your decision, Y/n-ya?”

SABO

Once again, Dragon’s given him far too much paperwork.

As his secretary, it’s your job to provide him with some repose from his workload.

So…What better to let him take another load out on you? Maybe you should snag a pillow from your desk chair next time…

“Chief, I brought you the tea you asked for. A splash of milk and extra sugar,” you say, repeating his order sweetly and perfectly from years of practice. When you cross the threshold to his office, you find your chief of staff with his vest off, cravat undone and on the table, and his shirt partly unbuttoned.

The sight of his scarred, muscular chest makes you gulp. It’s okay Y/n, you can do this, you assure yourself.

“Thank you, Y/n-chan. You’re so kind, helping me out,” Sabo says, his cheeks rosy and smile innocent. You think him the perfect caricature of a schoolboy.

“It’s nothing, chief. I am your secretary after all. It’s my job,” you grin, placing the tea on his desk in front of him. You make sure to lean over and give him an eyeful of cleavage, just in case he might be interested.

“Is it your job to tease me as well?”

You freeze. You didn’t actually think he’d take the bait. Shit.

“Don’t be shy now, Y/n-chan. I’ve already gotten a nice view of your tits. And your skirt could be pulled down a tad, I suppose. You’re hardly professional these days,” you listen, face hot, sweat beginning to run down your back. At least he wasn’t scolding you— that was evident in the fact he said ‘tits’, and the generally teasing lilt in his usually silky smooth voice. It’s gotten deeper because he’s so tired, and it’s starting to make you clench your thighs.

“I-uh, I’m sorry, chief. I- I figured…” you scramble, trying to think of some excuse to remedy this situation. “I figured you might want a, uh, distraction. Right! A distraction from work!”

“Oh really?” the blond grins, pushing his chair away from his desk and moving his hands to unbutton his trousers. “Dragon-san has been giving me so much paperwork. It’s the least you could do, right Y/n-chan?”

You watch in awe as he takes himself out of his boxers.

“Now, Y/n-chan…How much of a distraction can you be?”

SANJI

Sanji gets hard just from smelling women’s perfume. So seducing him is easier than…really anything.

So, one night you can’t sleep. And the chef in the kitchen preparing recipes seems like a wonderful target for your affections.

“Sanji-kun, what’re you making?”

Sanji jumps from his place stirring on the counter, surprised at the sound of your beautiful voice.

“Oh my! Has an angel descended down on me to try my humble cooking?” the man swirls around you with hearts in his eyes, eventually bending down on one knee to kiss your knuckles. “It’s nothing special, my dear Y/n-swan. Simply practicing recipes for fruit tarts.”

You cup his cheek. A trickle of blood comes down his nose, but he pulls away from your touch to quickly wipe it away.

“Sounds yummy, Sanji. Could I try one?”

“Of course, mellorine!” Sanji keens. You smile at how cute he is. The blond grabs a fruit tart, which happens to be your favorite fruit, and brings it over to you.

He sits it on a plate in front of you, waiting like a lapdog as he anticipates praise for his cooking. However you don’t move to pick up the tart.

“Y/n…swan?”

“Feed it to me, Sanji-kun?” you say seductively, leaning over the kitchen island so your breasts pop over your crossed arms. Immediately Sanji is staring, but you don’t scold him this time. This was your goal.

“Of- of course, anything for my Y/n-swan,” Sanji stutters. He brings the small tart to your lips, and as you reach the last bite, you grab his wrist.

You decide to be extra bold, and lick a stripe up his finger. Your mouth detaches with a pop, and Sanji looks like he might pass out.

“That was good, Sanji-kun. Do you have any other special treats for me?”

#♡ sabohime.writes #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece headcanons #law x reader #law x female reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #sabo x reader #sabo x female reader #sabo x you #sabo the revolutionary x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x fem reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n

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onyourowndaisymae · 6 months

Text

"is... is that my sweater?"

satan notes the lethargic way you look up from your book, watching heavy eyelids lead a slow blink. whatever dusty tome lies in your hands has clearly lured you halfway to dreamland-- and from the looks of it, your cozy attire and the crackle of the nearby fireplace didn't seem to help much, either.

"huh?"

"are you wearing my sweater?" he asks, softer this time.

you let your head fall down to your own chest. you stare at the familiar green sweater on your body for a few moments before lifting your head.

"huh?" you repeat, too tired to comprehend the question for a long moment. then, "... oh. yeah."

a warm chuckle rumbles in his chest as he comes closer. satan had been looking for his sweater all day-- left only in a black undershirt, because it was more about the principle of finding it than needing it-- but he had been wholly unaware he'd left it in your room earlier that day. he couldn't bring himself to regret it, though. you look quite cozy cuddled up on the library sofa like that, swaddled in a blanket and his scent, lost in some book like a vision from an old painting. how he wishes he'd been a little quieter entering the library-- maybe he could have snapped a photo of you like this for himself.

as your lover, satan knows he should probably escort you to bed for a proper rest. but a selfish part of him wants to bask in this scene longer, to let the storm that rages in him find solace at this little slice of heaven. it's odd for a demon to crave peace like this. you've domesticated him in that way-- like a feral cat off the street finding comfort in a stranger's apartment, you've lulled him into a sense of contentness he didn't think he'd find in this lifetime.

oh, what a wonder you are.

"do you mind a little company?"

you nod, sleepily, yawning through what was intended to be a verbal response, but satan's at your side before you make yourself try again. his hand finds your shoulder and coaxes you to sit up. with a little adjusting, he slides into the space behind you and urges you to lean back into his chest. his legs stay on either side of you-- it's warm, comforting, doing nothing to help you stay awake. but it doesn't seem like satan minds your drowsiness.

his eyes fall to the nearly discarded book in your hands. emerald eyes scan over the words. they're familiar, causing a curious itch in his brain that lingers for a few seconds before his epiphany.

"is this... that book i read last week?"

"mhmm. i wanted--" another yawn, "-- to understand what you were talking about, but... i got sleepy."

he understands now. his sweater on your warm body, the library couch, the low fire nearby-- you're indulging in a small taste of his world.

what did he do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?

"i can read it to you, if you'd like," he murmurs, low and quiet. if you wanted the full experience, he'd give it to you-- complete with a nap in his arms. it's selfish, though. he really just wants an excuse to admire you up close, to lose himself in thought about how much he truly, deeply adores you. sometimes the sensation is so overwhelming that it shows on his face in flushed cheeks and soft eyes-- and that is a little too embarrassing to be caught with by anyone, but especially by you.

when you snuggle into his chest, he begins to read from the top of the page where you left off. it doesn't take long for your breathing to even out, your body to grow still and heavy in his grasp. he slides the bookmark between old pages where you originally left off. satan predicts you'll forget most everything he read to you by the time you wake up.

his mind wanders to the soundtrack of your peaceful breathing. he's grateful for lazy days like this. being able to bask in your presence is a gift. to know that you yourself were creating a similar experience by hiding away in one of his favorite reading spots, well... he's lucky you're asleep, as the flush on his cheeks only grows hotter at the thought.

maybe he'll let you borrow his things more often.

#sleepy :3 #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me satan #obey me x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me drabble #obey me imagines #obey me fluff #obey me x mc #otome

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taegularities · 3 months

Text

entertainer (teaser) | jjk (m)

Summary: Growing singer Jeon Jungkook is as charismatic as he is self-absored – that is, until he meets you. Caught in a web of secrets, he finds a riddle in you he urges to solve; even ready to turn the spotlight towards you until nothing remains… but regret.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: strangers to lovers (or something); angst, bits of fluff, smut ➳ warnings: do not fall for this jk i repeat do not f– 🚨 he's kinda hot though; (not so) silent yearning, flirting, sexual tension, he is so attracted to her :'), mystery, oc is a big question mark, full jk pov!, dark past(s), crying, fear, confrontation and fighting, cocky kook, secrets and revelations, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, teasing, drunk shenanigans, sooo much lust, big dick jk, etc.), more warnings on drop day once the fic is finished!! not much for the teaser itself, though <3 ➳ wc: 1.8k :') (around 20k for the full thing) ➳ a/n: scratches head. this has been a long time coming and i'm beyond curious how y'all will like it :') very new and experimental, so let's see how it goes!! as always, drop a message to lmk what you think of this lil glimpse, i'll be waiting with dangling feet hehe!! <3

➳ give the Entertainer playlist a first listen! 🖤

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

“Why are you the textbook definition of a fuckboy, honestly.”

“Fuckbo—”

“Nevermind.”

If he wasn’t well acquainted with this little game, he would’ve missed your subtle, nearly veiled intent to tease. But he’s done that a million times before — hence, catches the faint twitch of your gorgeous lips immediately.

You’re enjoying this. So he should join… right?

Yet.

You’re not being entirely insincere. In fact, he hates how he picks up on the note of truth in your velvety voice.

Trimmed nails scratch the back of his head, and he barely notices once the two of you halt in front of another piece of work. Distracted, he doesn’t bear the art any mind, instead asking, “You really think of me like that?”

You shrug a shoulder. Nonchalance a constant feature, but so natural, even somewhat gentle, that he can’t help but feel drawn to you. “A little.”

“Well, shit.”

“Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the art.”

“Sure.”

Reluctantly, he glances to the canvas. It’s a mess of hues; a random arrangement of spontaneous emotions. Resembles the masterpieces he used to create in Microsoft Paint, back when his legs would still dangle off the chair.

“So,” he starts, nodding towards the painting, “what do you see in this?”

You hesitate. Or maybe it’s not hesitation — more like… a thinking pause. Sometimes, when Jungkook notices a whirring mind, he sees a steaming brain through a skull. Working at full blast.

But somehow, he only recognises a tranquil ocean as he observes you gather your thoughts. Everything about you is tender, but wrapped in dark mystery.

How much mental training does it require to become this inscrutable?

When you finally speak, you’re saying similarly odd things.

“I see… colours.” Right. Stating the obvious. Jungkook chuckles, delivering a head tilt. “And am wondering how the painter got to create this at all. I mean, this looks so meaningless at first, doesn’t it?”

“But it’s not, yeah?”

“We’re fast to think that. Most of the time, there must be a trigger, or a thought on something, no matter how small. Something might have been bothering him. This is—” A hand gestures towards the painting. “Such a chaotic mind.”

Interesting…

“Is this what you usually think about all day?” Jungkook wonders.

You scoff. “I’m just a person, too. I think about a lot of random things.”

“Ahhh. Like what?”

“Like… seeing all the green in this exhibition made me realise how that colour makes me cry.”

Jungkook takes a haphazard look around. Now that you say it — there’s no hint of a nature theme, but the abundance of green is striking. It’s as calm as you. No wonder you’d immerse yourself in a showcase such as this.

You continue, as if tracing and reading his mind like an open novel, “It’s soothing, right? And unique. These earthly things sometimes make me feel like not all of us are deserving of seeing such beauty. Like it should be reserved for those who've earned it.”

Earned it? How?

Jungkook can’t see your thoughts as clearly as you’re apparently capable of doing, but he has an inkling of what you might mean. Truly dazzling souls merit the stunning bloom of the world, right?

And then…

If that’s what it is.

He wonders — do you think he deserves to see the colour green? Or is it already over if he has to ask? Perhaps, should he be perceiving it as grey right now? He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how you think of him — doesn’t know anything about you at all. You’re a tough nut to crack.

“Hmm… that’s a way to think about it,” he says.

“Only because it’s the same for people. And I’ve had this thought about humans a lot… I…” You hesitate, blink, and then grant him your gaze. “I knew someone who was the colour green. Not everyone deserved them, either.”

Someone…

Poetic minds carry a certain pain in their eyes.

He’s been seeing it in yours. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. So he doesn’t. Yet.

Instead, he asks, “What else are you thinking about?”

“Uhmmm,” you voice, straightening your back a little, as if waking up from a dream — a nightmare? “I’ve been thinking about trying that, too. Painting, I mean. It doesn’t have to mean anything or be good. Just a great way to capture something that resonates with what I feel.”

Every word you’ve uttered today was otherworldly. You didn’t talk like this when you were at the meeting, or in his office. Your soul is somewhat free-floating here, and he doesn’t understand why.

And it’s a behaviour he usually strays away from. The vulnerable ones can be dangerous.

But somehow… you’re too strong of a magnet.

One who shrugs all the puzzles away — and he sighs in despair. Maybe it’s not time to find out what you feel just yet. What resonates with you — even though he’s dying to hear it.

He inquires, “Are you always this much of an open book?”

“No. Not at all.” Of course not. Rhetoric question — he knows this much. “But I like thinking out loud sometimes.”

“I’m glad to be a sounding board then.”

“Hah. Well, I was also thinking how I appreciate that I met you here.” Pause. Oh? What a surprise. Strokes his ego, though. And then, out of the blue again, “You wanna go to the museum restaurant?”

Jungkook has barely inhaled half of the exhibition yet. But just for today, he couldn’t care less.

Perhaps this is enough for now, visiting the overpriced restaurant, watching you from afar as you inspect your nails calmly. You’re not busy on your phone like the rest of the crowd — entertained by the same media that he’s part of.

Maybe he can be a bigger part of their lives one day — be the one flitting over their screens, the one they adore. The one they worship.

But you don’t seem to indulge in those mind-numbing devices for now. You might be an addition to his team, but privately, you float in your own world. Distracted by the thoughts you won’t disclose.

Your hands retreat, arms crossing on the table and lips curling into a smile once he strolls back to you. Satisfied, he informs you, “One cake to go with the coffee. As the lady suggested.”

“Oh. One?” you ask, “Don’t you want one?”

“I do.”

“So…” You stall, and he waits until it clicks, your head tilting in understanding. “Are we sharing?”

Jungkook lifts a thumb, pointing over his shoulder, back to the register, “Those chocolate cakes are sweet as hell. I’ve got a sweet tooth, but believe that it’ll be enough for us two.”

You laugh — a candied, disarming chuckle before you breathe an, “Alright.”

Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to feel any skip of his heart; yet, you stir something else in his mind. While he does avoid them, it’s still always people like you who intrigue him the most — those who veil themselves in a coat of secrets.

He sighs.

“That was fast,” you note, eyes at a point behind him.

And he understands when the waitress arrives a couple moments later, serving two perfectly prepared cappuccinos and a mouth-watering chocolate fudge piece.

You thank her with a gentle smile, and tuck a hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your dangling silver earring.

And he watches.

Watches as you nod towards him, urging him, “Start then.”

Observes your smile as he signals you to start instead. And he gazes at you as your delicate digits reach for the fork, tearing off a piece, wrapping your lips around the utensil.

And then… oh God.

He feels his guts twist; hears all background noise fade; blood rushing away from his head.

All the way through his body as you slowly relish the sweetness and then drag the wet tip of your tongue over the fork. Licking away the leftover chocolate.

Jungkook swears it happens in slow motion. And witnessing your elegance in snail’s pace… makes him sick.

When your eyelashes flutter, gape lifting to meet his, the sound around him comes alive again — as does he. He averts his stare from your mouth, covered in the same colour as the coffee, but you notice.

You catch him looking. And it makes you… smile? Shit.

But you don’t boast your effect; only digress as you say, “Well… tastes as fancy as it looks. Try.”

You’re as relaxed with him as you can be. But you always are; with everyone. He craves that bit that’s only reserved for him — and maybe he’s too zealous too fast. He hasn’t known you for long.

Making you smile must be an achievement, though, right? If only… you didn’t think of him like…

He nods, and then leans over the table ever-so-slightly. His knees brush against yours, a soft but deliberate move. He places an elbow on the table, grasping the fork, close to you. If he lifted his hand, he could touch your cheek.

He wishes he could.

His eyes meet yours through his bangs, the cake’s taste irrelevant to your presence. And when his ego doesn’t let him live, he finally asks, almost as if insulted, “Do you actually perceive me as a fuckboy?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows, and then giggle before questioning back, “Jungkook… that’s bothering you this much? Mmmh. How would you like to be perceived?”

“Just. As a decent guy who wants to get to know you. And I know you know.” You blink, but he doesn’t buy it. So he elaborates, “I’ve been trying to make clear that I find you interesting. And somewhat attractive.”

People usually display a flicker of glimmer in their eyes upon hearing such praise. But you don’t budge; in fact, your eyes remain the same, if not a little darker. Why?

Yet, you cock an eyebrow, sporting a teasing, playful tone, “Somewhat, hm?”

He shakes his head, clicks his tongue.

“You’re pretty and I think you know,” he blurts, “and I don’t want to screw up right away.”

Is it the habit of never failing; getting what he wants? The urge to solve an enigma? The chance to dive into you until you’re bared to him? Why are you so interesting to him?

You’re just a person.

Maybe it’s just the unsettling need to discover what you’re hiding — it won’t let him rest. There’s something about you that screams to him to unravel.

He doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t know if you’re even from the same world as him — even though you seem to have crossed his realm before.

No matter what it is; Jungkook only understands for now that he wants to take off your layers.

Wants you to be the colour green for him.

wrote most of it now and while sick, so it might change hehe! but i hope it's okay so far, and it shall only get better!! i'm so so excited for this, like i've been working on it and putting thought into it since october, so i hope it's worth the wait <3

as always, send your thoughts, questions, complaints lol lemme know what you think or i might perish sniff. super curious to know!! also, here's the taglistttt 🤍 love and appreciate you all <3

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook

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darknights04 · 1 year

Text

Sensing You

Pairings: Ominis Gaunt x reader

Summary: You and Ominis have been friends for as long as you've been at Hogwarts. He's felt more for you for almost just as long. He's never thought about telling you, but that was until the new fifth year put you in great danger.

Warnings: Spoils for Hogwarts Legacy (obviously), pain, cruciatus curse, unedited, not proof read. Reader is not mc

Masterlist

When it came to you, Ominis was no stranger to the idea of the long game. You, Ominis, Sebastian, and Anne had been friends for as long as you could all remember. Ominis has had a crush on you for almost just as long. It was worst this year. With Anne staying home all your attention was turned to the two boys. Usually you would turn to Anne some days and have girl time between the two of you. Now, Ominis had nothing but time to grow more and more infatuated with you.

Ever since the new fifth year beat him in a duel, Sebastian had been mostly with them, giving you and Ominis even more time alone together. It was driving him crazy. Every time you laughed in the way that he loved, rested your chin on his shoulder to look at what we was doing, leaned your arm against his to whisper something during class. He had to hold himself back so he didn’t just grab you and slam his lips onto yours. One of the only parts of you he has yet to be able to identify. As children you would play games, Ominis feeling all of his friends’ faces and guess who was who, so he knew the general idea of what your face looked like. But your lips was a mystery to him. A mystery he badly wanted solved.

Today, you were sitting with Ominis in a corridor near the slytherin common room. You had spent most of the day trying to cheer him up after Sebastian repeatedly would bother him about Salazar Slytherin’s Sciptorium. You knew that he wanted nothing to do with dark magic after the hold it has had no his family for generations. Sure, Ominis had been exaggerating his hurt feelings just a bit, but if all it took was a little pouting to get you this close to him, then you best believe he was about to win an oscar for this performance.

“He just doesn’t understand how dangerous it is!” he complained with a dramitic sigh, smiling internally due to the hand you had running soothing circles across his back.

“He’s just trying to do anything he can to help Anne,” you replied, wanting to defend him.

“I know. I don’t like seeing Anne suffer either, same as you. But I know where this path leads, and it’s never a good place.”

Ominis’s internal smile fell as he heard you greet the new student Sebastian had befriended.

“What are you doing here?” He asked them with a small scoff.

That scoff, of course, resulting in a small smack on the shoulder from you, muttering a small “Manners,” in his ear. Ominis rolled his eyes, but the smile he had inside, reserve just for you, came back once more.

“Do you have a moment?” the new student spoke up.

Ominis didn’t want to, but he heard them out. After lying about Sebastian showing them the undercroft, Ominis has been wary about this student. Even so, he was feeling at ease due to your presence, and in turn agreed to show them where Salazar’s Scriptorum was located.

“I hope we don’t regret this,” he said with a sigh as he revealed how to access the door.

“We’ve just been sitting outside of it?” you asked with a chuckle, noticing you didn’t have to even move to be at the door.

Ominis shrugged, his internal smile showing through just a bit on the outside. “It was the first place I thought of.”

“First place you thought of to go and complain about the scriptorium?”

“Precisely.”

Before any of you knew it, Sebastian and his new friend had opened the door, ushering each other inside.

“I just hope we’re ready for this,” Ominis continued to sigh.

“We’ll be fine,” you tried to reassure.

“We?” Ominis had repeated. “You’re not coming.”

“What? Ominis you can’t possibly expect me to stay behind.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“If you’re going, I’m going,” was all you said, standing your ground.

“Y/n…” he had tried to coax. You didn’t say anything, hands finding their way to your hips. Ominis sighed. He knew you were stubborn, so he also knew there was no talking you out of this. “Fine.”

Your stubborn glare quickly faded into a cheek to cheek grin as you almost skipped next to Ominis, linking your arms together before making your way into the door, following behind Sebastian and the fifth-year who had already found their way inside.

Not that you would ever admit it, but hearing Ominis speak Parsetounge did something to you. Yes, the language often ties a witch or wizard to dark magic, and for Ominis it serves only as a reminder to his family, but that doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate how attractive it was when he spoke it.

“It worked!” the fifth year spoke as the door opened. “Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed.”

“It’s nothing,” he brushed off, retreating back towards you and linking your arms once more.

“Truly,” you agreed. “It’s fascinating.”

If you weren’t near positive that Ominis would never think about you in a romantic way whatsoever, you would have sword you saw a small tinge of red grace his cheeks at your comment. But it was probably just the lighting.

Once the door was open, the other two were fast to start figuring out the puzzles and the maze in order to get through the scriptorium. You and Ominis had stayed behind. Ominis wanted nothing to do with this, his job was just to open the door. You were curious about the area, yes, but Ominis was more important. You wanted to make sure he was okay. Usually throughout the days he would have plenty of distraction from his family and their legacy. But now? In the heart of Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium? All that surrounded him were reminders.

As the doors opened one by one, you all moved further and further until you reached a black door.

“Looks troubling,” was all Sebastian had said.

Ominis scoffed. “This whole place is troubling.”

As the other two went into the strange room, you didn’t budge. As Ominis was stopped from the firm grasp you still had on him, he turned towards you confused.

“I don’t like the looks of this room,” you whispered. “I have a bad feeling about it.”

“So do I,” he responded,his hand finding the top of yours to comfort you. “But for my aunt’s sake, we cannot stop now.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “We’ll be okay.”

As soon as you stepped into the new room, the door closed behind you.

“The gate!” Sebastian called out, “We’re locked in… again.”

“Then Salazar Slytherin is not yet finished with us,” Ominis sneered. At this point, you began to panic. There was no clear way out. You began to lose even more hope when you looked in the corner and noticed-

“A skeleton,” the new student pointed out. “And Noctora’s last journal entry. She mentions being trapped here. Trapped by… and unforgivable curse.”

Your eyes widened. The incantation “crucio” etched into the floor suddenly making sense.

“No,” you said in a slight panic. “No there has to be some other way out of here. Another puzzle? Another brazier to light?”

“What?” Ominis asked, confused. “What are you talking about? What is it?”

“They know what we need to do,” Sebastian said plainly. “One of us needs to cast crucio.”

Sebastian turned to his friend by the door, discussing the curse with them while Ominis began to pace.

“Ominis,” you called to him. “Ominis relax, we will figure something out.”

“No,” he said simply. “No this all could have been avoided. I could have refused, we could have just gone to dinner. I could have protested more to you joining.”

“Ominis none of this is your fault.”

“Yes it is! Don’t you see? I put you in danger.”

“I chose to be here.”

“But you had doubts, and I assured you that it would be alright.”

“And we are alright. We’ll find a way around this.”

Before anything else could be said, they heard the new fifth year shout out “Crucio!” in Sebastian’s direction. The two of you looked towards the pair with wide eyes, about to call out towards Sebastion until… nothing happened.

“Did you do the movement wrong?” Sebastian asked.

“No,” they responded, shaking their head. “No, I think that I just couldn’t mean it. I care for you, Sebastian.”

“You have to try,” he urged.

“I can’t.”

“Cast it on me,” you spoke up suddenly, taking a step towards the pair.

“No!” Ominis had interjected quickly.

“They can’t cast it on Sebastian,” you began to explain.

“You can’t-”

“We don’t have the same connection so they could-”

“Not you!”

“Ominis,” you sighed, quieting your voice as you pulled him aside. “I will be fine.”

“I’ve felt the cruciatus curse before so I-”

“Shouldn’t have to go through it again. Let me do this, please.”

Ominis didn’t say anything more. You took his silence as a sign of agreement, so you approached the door.

“You ready?” Sebastian had asked you.

You nodded. “Ready.”

Ominis braced for the moment that the spell left their wand. He knew what to expect, but he’d never heard the sound of excruciating pain from you. That was something he was not curious to find out.

Ominis listened as the screams left your throat, as you fell to your knees on the ground. He expected this. He expected the screams to last for several seconds. But this was too long. If they had just cast the curse and left it at that, the pain would have subsided by now. This was prolonged for too long.

“Stop!” he yelled over the screams. “That’s enough!”

He waited for what felt like eternity for the screams to stop. For any sign that you were no longer in pain. But when your screams had cut off abruptly, it did not give him the relief he was waiting for.

“Y/n?” he asked into the silence. “Y/n are you okay?” Never had there ever been a moment in his life that Ominis had wished more that he could see what was happening around him. When you didn’t respond, he began to walk towards the door, calling Sebastian’s name instead. “What’s happened? Are they okay?”

When Sebastian didn’t respond either, Ominous really began to panic. “Answer me, Sebastian!”

“They fainted,” the student told him flatly.

“What?” he hissed, rushing to where he last heard your voice, hands failing about to try and find any sign of you. When his hand landed on your shoulder, he let out a small breath of relief, almost as if he expected you to have disappeared entirely. “I’m taking them to the hospital wing,” he then announced, following down your arm to find the bend of your knees, intending to pick you up.

“No!” Sebastian protested. “You can’t.”

“And why not?”

“They’ll know we were using unforgivables,” the fifth-year stated.

“What if we need you to open another door?” Sebastian commented at the same time.

“Glad to see you both care so deeply about their safety,” Ominis scoffed.

“You can’t carry them and use your wand to lead you both,” Sebastian continued, looking for another excuse to keep the boy there. “Let’s find the end of this tunnel and then we’ll take them there together, deal?”

Ominis sighed, head faced towards the floor. He didn’t want to delay getting you the help you needed, but Sebastian was right. He could crash you both into a wall and injure you further. As much as he hated to admit it, your health was in their hands now.

“Just hurry up, will you?” he muttered quietly.

---

When you finally awoke from your unconscious state, Ominis was asleep next to you. Looking around you noticed you were no longer in the dungeons, but instead in the hospital wing under watchful eyes. Well, not that Ominis could very well be included in that.

As you turned to look at the boy next to you, you moved as quietly as possible. Lacking his sight, Ominis seemed to have much higher hearing abilities than anyone else you knew, so you knew that any sudden noise would be enough to wake him. Your theory was proved correct as he stirred awake at the small ruffle of the sheet.

You watched as he opened his mouth, but no sound came out as if he changed his mind on speaking up. Instead, you saw his hand slowly reach out towards you, as if to confirm you were there.

“I’m awake,” you told him with a smile.

Ominis let out a small breath of relief. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” you nodded. “I didn’t expect it to last that long.”

“It shouldn’t have,” he said, almost with a sneer. “That new student had to curse on you for longer than it needed to be. All we needed was for it to hit you, they made it linger. They’re lucky I don’t go straight to professor Black and have them expelled.”

Ominis’s thoughts stopped in their tracks when he felt you lay your hand on top of his.

“I’m alright,” you assured him again. “Lay with me.”

“I- What?”

“Please? I don’t want to think about any of this anymore.”

Ominis sat still in thought for a moment, stammering slightly to himself before standing from his chair, feeling around the bed to make sure you were out of the way before laying down beside you. You layed your head onto his chest and exhaled deeply with a contented sigh. Ominis smiled gently to himself, his nose falling into your hair as he inhaled your scent. He decided then and there that it didn’t matter that he could never see you. Every other sense he had t otake you in was just fine for him. Your voice was enough to bring a small smile to your face, your laugh even more so. Your smell felt like home to him. He could tell you were in a room just by the smell of your shampoo. He could pinpoint which brand it was in a shop just with a small whiff alone. The touch of you skin never failed to comfort him in times of distress. The soft, delicate touch of your hand on his would always bring a smile to his lips. Your taste.. He was yet to be abpe to experiance. The only one of his available senses that has yet to experience you. The rest thought you were perfect, he could only imagine that would be the same.

That is, assuming he ever decides to do anything about his feelings for you.

For now, however, this was enough for him.

Part Two

#ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #gaunt #slytherin #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #crucio #second person pov #x reader #fanfiction #dark magic #mc #angst

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elliespectacular · 2 months

Note

Hi! I'm sure you probably get asked this a lot given your long-time standing with the YTP community, but I was curious if you had any beginner tips for a newer YTPers hoping to learn the trade? I've been on and off editing videos for a couple years now using whatever free-ish programs I can work with until I have a steady income, but I'd love to hear any suggestions you may have about editing videos YTP style in general as well! So far sentence-mixing has been my favorite part of the process. Been a huge fan of your channel since I was a little kid, my older bro introduced me with the 'Lord of Da Things' video ages ago. To this day I can't watch The Fellowship of the Ring without falling out in laughter. It makes me so happy to see that you're still doing your thing, all these years later too. Take care and have an awesome day!

Tips for beginners:

Make any* joke that pops into your head. Did you laugh out loud at any point while editing the joke? Keep it in. No? Cut it.

Make "random" edits, like edits where you don't have a specific goal. Reverse stuff for the hell of it, make cuts in unintuitive spots, throw in some effects you've never tried before. Experiment and get inspired by what happens!

YTP is as low-stakes as it gets. Sometimes it can be rewarding to challenge yourself a little bit and make a joke more complex than usual, but there's nothing wrong with cutting some corners**. It can add to the charm in a way.

Post what you make and don't get too bogged-down by whether it's "good" or whatever. Show it to people, find out what makes them laugh, what they find interesting, and think about why those things connect with people.

For sentence-mixing, it's handy to have a transcript of the source video handy so you can ctrl+f for words/phrases/syllables

*Don't do anything distasteful or make people say things you'd be ashamed to repeat. I'm not gonna stop you or anything, but don't do anything you think you might eventually regret.

**Shortcuts can be things like reusing a piece of sentence-mixing or an animation you've already done, or repeating a joke that applies in multiple contexts. If you use AI in the current year I *will* wag my finger and nod disapprovingly.

#ytp #youtube poop #ask

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storiesforthemoonchild · 2 months

Text

Edits | Ona Batlle x Reader

this request, enjoy :)

Ona is in her own world, tucked away in her little cubby in the changing room. The hand draped around her neck moves slightly, rubbing against her skin absently. Her bottom lip tucks tightly between her teeth momentarily before her jaw goes slack, she repeats the cycle every few seconds. Her eyes are focused on the phone screen, pupils dilated amorously at the video playing.

Training would start soon and she knew better than to be doing this here with the risk of being caught too high, but it just happened. She couldn’t bring herself to just scroll past the fan made video, and it’s just impossible for her to only watch one. That’s how she ended up scrolling through the tag of your name the last ten minutes. Each video causes her head to spin a bit more than the last.

“Ay,” she jumps, nearly dropping her phone at Patri’s loud voice interrupting her. “Jesus, what is that look? Are you ill?”

“You scared me. Don’t just walk up to people like that and no, I feel fine,” Ona mumbles out the last part, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson.

Patri, always suspicious, looks her over before setting her sights on the phone in Ona’s hand. Without warning she grabs the device and moves out of the defender's reach. The pure shock at the action makes Ona freeze in her spot, unsure what to do next as she sees the girl focus on the screen. An unease setting in when Patri looks repeatedly between her and the phone several times before bursting into laughter. “What is this?”

Ona is grateful for the fact that the room is empty minus a few fellow stragglers getting ready for training. She finally regains motion in her legs and strides towards her teasing teammate, “nothing, give me the phone back.”

Ona’s attempt to grab the device is fruitless as Patri pulls it out of her reach, “you like?”

“No, it just popped up. Now give it back, we need to get to training,” Ona huffs, sighing in relief when she finally relinquishes the phone. She’s quick to exit out of the app and tuck her phone securely back in her bag.

Ona doesn’t wait to hear what the midfielder has to say as she sprints off to training. She sees you first and as much as she wants to cozy up beside you like usual the embarrassment still lingers. She settles for sliding in beside Kiera for the morning meeting as she quickly regrets it when she sees Patri make her way out heading straight towards you.

Patri looks right into Ona’s nervous eyes with a smirk as she bumps your shoulder playfully, making you laugh. Ona tries to pay attention as Jonatan gives his instructions for the day, but her eyes glance in the direction of you and Patri more than she cares to admit. A mix of nerves and jealousy surges through her each time she sees you chuckling at something Patri whispered.

“Are you alright? You look fuming,” Kiera asks Ona as warmups get set to begin.

“I’m fine,” Ona smiles, looking at Kiera and trying to pretend she doesn’t see you approaching.

When you reach the two women in discussion you sling an arm around Ona’s shoulder, “hey, you feeling okay? Patri said you weren’t feeling well in the change room.”

Ona feels her heart racing at the concern etched in your features, “sí, all better,” she brushes off, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Ona couldn’t resist falling into your embrace and it would be more weird if she didn’t. The two of you were close and had been since you played together at ManU. Ona is unsure when her attraction began, but she was sure it was something about seeing you with her childhood club crest on your chest that altered her brain.

“I thought you were mad at me. We didn’t have our morning meeting cuddles,” you pout, looking her way with sad eyes.

“Gross,” Kiera mumbles, jogging off after feeling out of place in the conversation.

Ona squeezes you tighter in apology, “never, my head was just a bit eh?”

Before you can respond and question her further Mariona is by your side, “chica, you look good today. What have you been doing?”

A combination of her shamelessly roaming her eyes over your body, and the cute English falling from her mouth makes you blush, “Thanks Mario,” you chuckle as you feel Ona squeeze harshly at your waist. You look in the girl's direction, frowning when you see the daggers she’s shooting Mariona’s way.

“With me?” She questions, gesturing towards the football at her feet. You once again feel the harsh squeeze at your waist.

“Next time, I’ve got to talk to Oni about something,” you say apologetically. Mariona shrugs, sending you a wink and a teasing smirk in Ona’s direction that you see her roll her eyes at. “What was that?” You laugh.

“What?”

You squeeze her shoulder harshly like she did to you and she groans, pulling away, “why were you trying to rip her apart with your eyes?”

“She shouldn’t be looking at you like that,” Ona’s response is short, but direct as she distracts herself by dribbling the ball. “Why did you blush, you like her?”

You laugh at the very blatant jealousy, “Ona I don’t think she meant it like that, and no I don’t like her it was just cute.” She rolls her eyes, kicking the ball in your direction. “Would you be mad if she did?”

“No,” again her response is quick and you can’t help but laugh. “It’s not funny. Plus, she is not single,” she says it like she’s trying to convince you it’s a bad idea.

“Okay Oni,” you laugh. The rest of training Ona is stuck to your side like velcro. You couldn’t make a single move without the girl by your side. You knew something was up when Lucy, Pina, and all the kids made their way over to you full of compliments.

While flattering you knew it was some inside joke that you were clearly not a part of. Ona however seemed very aware and in on whatever was happening, sending menacing glares in each girl’s direction. Ona made sure to remind you which ones were in a relationship, and why the ones that weren’t still were not the best option. ‘She’s too young, too annoying, your Spanish needs work, you two couldn’t communicate well.’ All very valid reasons, but you couldn’t help but tease her.

“I don’t know, she’s kind of cute and maybe my Spanish will improve as we get to know each other.”

Ona’s arms are crossed and her gaze is one of annoyance, “no, I will teach you.”

“Yeah, but she will buy me flowers and teach me. It’s different,” you wave her off. Another eye roll is sent your way before you see Ona take in a deep sigh spotting something behind you. You turn your head to see Patri coming your way.

“Hola, have lunch with me?” Again it’s the cuteness of the proposal that makes you bashful.

Before you get a chance to respond, Ona is stepping up to speak for you, “no, she is busy… we are busy!” She makes sure to emphasize the ‘we’ as she wraps an arm around you. A soft giggle escaping your mouth at the teasing smirk from Patri.

“Okay seriously what is happening?” You chuckle out, looking between the two women in front of you.

Patri sighs like she’s been holding something in forever and you start to straighten yourself up in case it’s serious. “I seen this… video of-” Ona slaps a hand against her mouth, effectively silencing her.

“Patri, por favor,” she pleads, before switching to Catalan completely losing you in the conversation. You tilt your head in confusion as they both look your way and Ona drops her hand from the girl's mouth.

“Maybe some other time amor,” Patri winks before heading off with the same teasing smirk in place. Ona groans, a frustrated hand sliding down her face.

“So what was that? No fair when you speak Catalan you know I don’t understand,” you pout.

“Patri caught me watching a… fan edit of you this morning,” you struggle to piece together the mumbled Spanglish briefly but you get it. A smile breaks across your face, eyes twinkling in delight at the rose colored cheeks in front of you. “That’s why they’ve all been so flirty and trying to rile me up all day. I mean no- I don’t know. You do look beautiful. I am sure they all mean things they say. I would, but yeah. I’m sorry, it is weird,” Ona rushes out, a look of relief and embarrassment flashing in her eyes.

You soften at her distraught state, shrugging as you ask, “did I look good in the videos?” Ona lets her eyes flicker back towards yours, calming at the soft look on your face she nods with certainty. “Good enough that you would be willing to take me out?”

“Sí,” Ona nearly shouts, gaining a few curious looks from the team. “I mean sure if you wanted,” she tries to play it off casually.

You tap your chin in thought, watching as Ona nervously tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “You made me wait five years to finally get a date. I shouldn’t say yes so easily.”

“Qué?” Ona’s eyes widened. You roll your eyes, Ona was so oblivious it pained you. Ever since your time together at ManU you had been dropping hints. While you could’ve chosen to be a bit more direct you weren’t entirely sure she was actually interested. Plus there were times she was seeing other people and you’d completely give up hope.

When you both came to Barcelona it felt like everything intensified on both sides, but still she made no actual move. You had officially made up your mind that the two of you were simply just going to be friends. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask since we were back in Manchester.”

“Oh?” Ona tries to look calm but you can nearly hear the drumming of her heart. “It is too late?”

“I never said that,” you laugh, quickly coming to your senses. “You’ll just have to work harder.”

A smug look comes to her face, the one you’ve come to adore. The defender's confidence is one of your favorite things about her. “Be ready tonight. I will pick you up at 7,” Ona sneaks a quick peck to your cheek before rushing off towards the building.

“She finally asked?” You flinch at the sudden voice, too busy holding your burning cheek where she kissed you.

You turn, seeing Keira standing beside you. She was one of the few people you’d actually confided in about your little dilemma with Ona over the years, “yeah she finally did,” you whisper dreamily.

A fake gag falls from her mouth, “you are going to be even more insufferable now.”

You can’t even deny it. You want to run around the pitch in excitement, but you contain yourself. Choosing to play it cool until you were alone. Who knew a little fan edit and some teasing was all it took to put things in motion.

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #barca femeni x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine

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nariism · 5 months

Text

across the violet sky — lyney

"you look beautiful in the moonlight."

synopsis. all that fretting was over nothing, because he's looking at you now and the only thing he can think of saying is...

wc. ~1.5k

— for @rintosei smooch 🫶🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

"You did what?"

Lyney flinches at his twin's harsh tone, the words seething out through her grit teeth. He pauses in his rummaging, deflating with his hands hovering over the open box.

You had originally agreed on helping them set up for their next show, even going so far as to personally arrange for all the props to be transported to the Opera Epiclese. But you're nowhere to be found now, leaving the magician sweating under the cold gaze of his dear sister.

"Lyney—" She sighs, fingers pinching at the bridge of her nose. And he knows he's messed up big time to elicit such a powerful emotion from her. "How could you do that? Y/N has been nothing but amazing in helping us through all of this."

It was true that you had been supportive to a fault ever since you first stumbled into a performance way back when. Since then, you'd always looked at the pair with stars in your eyes, perhaps hoping that one day your beloved would pull you onto the stage despite his repeated worries about props misfiring or sabotage.

He had never worried about that sort of thing until he was framed. He'd be damned if you were to be injured during one of his shows.

So he banished you to the audience, swore to himself that he would never endanger you by pulling you into the spotlight of the stage. And he upheld that promise to himself, until you finally broke him down with such honeyed smiles and even sweeter words.

Because he was weak when it came to those he loved, he caved in just to see the joy shining in your eyes. He didn't have time to regret his decision—not when you were already leaping into his arms with a chanting prayer of thanks on your tongue.

And now...

"I know, I know..." he huffs in frustration, resuming in busying his hands with the contents of the box. "But what was I supposed to do? I owed Father's friends a huge favour and this—"

"Are you really choosing Father's approval over your relationship?"

He stops again, eyes cast solely on the props in his hands. One of the associates of the House demanded that his child be put into the show as an assistant. You were visibly hurt when he had informed you of the last minute change, and hadn't heard from you since.

While he would have normally chased after you in such a moment, he was too preoccupied with preparing everything for the changes made to the performance to worry about where you'd gone or the extent of how upset you were.

"What would you have me do?"

Lynette saunters over to her brother's side, crouching down beside him. Her hand gently guides his own down to place the props back into their spots.

"Making sure they're okay would be a good place to start."

The magician makes a face, lip jutted out in a half-pout as he considers it. Yes, he would be distracted if you were on his mind this way after all. It would be better to clear the air before the show started. His sister was always the more level-headed of the two of them—the soft yet stern voice of reason when he was being careless.

"You're right," he concedes. Lynette was always right.

He doesn't find you at your home.

After knocking at the front door until his knuckles hurt, he deems that you must not be here. Clutching the bouquet of Rainbow Roses carefully to his chest, he makes his way to his next destination: the Fountain of Lucine.

With nearly everyone tucking away for the night, there's hardly a peep in the plaza. He approaches slowly, watching your figure come into focus.

Ah, of course you'd be here. You always came here when you needed to think.

There were a thousand things he wanted to tell you. He'd practiced on the way here: how to apologize, how to grovel for forgiveness even though you were so kind that he was sure you'd accept it in a heartbeat.

Still, you were the love of his life. He seldom expressed his vulnerability to you, but he truly did feel horrible for bailing you out of the show last minute—especially when you seemed so excited to finally be a part of it.

"Sweetest," he calls you. You don't respond, instead opting to quietly swish your bare feet around in the shallows of the fountain. His heart plummets at your lack of interest, so he takes a cautious step forward. "It's late. You'll catch a cold sitting out here."

Again, you're silent. He swallows, trying to think of a way to get you to even look his way.

Lyney has always been good with words—talented at misdirection and deceit. But he has no reason to be like that with you, to be dishonest or closed off or misleading. It leaves him tripping over his own tongue.

He loves you with all his heart, yet he doesn't even know how to talk to you without making a fool of himself.

His whole life has been about buttering up an audience, making a spectacle of words and dance and magic. But you're real. How does he handle that?

Slowly, he sheds his coat before draping it over your shoulders. He sits beside you facing away from the running water, the paper holding his beautiful bouquet together rustling with each movement.

The noise makes you look his way, eyes curious as ever. It was what he adored so much about you.

For a second, he sees the undeniable softening of your expression—a small but unmistakable smile gracing your face before it vanishes again.

"You'll catch a cold," you scold.

"That's okay."

Your gaze flickers between his eyes and his lips. He can feel the heavy tension melting away with every shameless glance up and down, smugness firing through his veins when he realizes you've missed him despite your avoidance.

"I'm sorry I made such a big deal about all this," you whisper, tearing your attention back to the way the water ripples with each movement.

Lyney reaches over quickly, hand swiftly turning you to look at him again by the cheek. "Don't apologize," he argues. "I was being stupid."

You nod, mouth opening then closing as you wait for him to continue.

He doesn't. He can't.

The whole walk here he had planned out exactly what he wanted to say, all the ways he wanted to tell you that he only gets so protective because his work can be dangerous. There were a million ways he planned to apologize, a dozen scenarios where he imagined you would walk out of his life for being so careless with your feelings.

But all that fretting was over nothing, because he's looking at you now and the only thing he can think of saying is...

"You look so beautiful in the moonlight."

You blink at him in surprise, instinctively burying your face into the warmth of his palm as you lean forward. There's a knowing in the way you look at him, as if able to read the words in his heart that he can't seem to get out.

"You're not trying to butter me up, are you?" You ask teasingly, an attempt to relieve his racing mind.

"Just being honest," he laughs. Another silence fills the air before he continues, "I'm really sorry. Next time, I promise to drag you onto the stage with me."

You stifle a giggle, pulling away to watch your feet prod at the surface of the water. "It's alright. I know I'm not exactly cut out to be a star."

The magician shuffles closer to you until your shoulders are bumping, then he places the bouquet of Rainbow Roses in your lap.

"You are a star," he mumbles. "The brightest star in the sky."

Dancing in the moonlight, bathing in it so beautifully. Lynette would hurl at him admitting something so corny, though.

"Really?" You ask with a laugh in your breath.

"Really really."

You hum softly, hand settling over his. Your bodies are turned opposite ways but he can imagine the smile spreading across your face, the warmth of it. You were always poor at hiding when he flustered you.

The soft sound of streaming water fills the comfortable silence. It's a stark contrast to the applause he's grown so accustomed to but he would choose this a million times over.

Your hand squeezes his. He realizes, then—you're a star no matter which spotlight you're under, whether it be under the weight of a thousand eyes or just for him under the quiet moon.

("Stop gagging! It wasn't that cheesy!"

"A star?" Lynette pales further, placing her head into her hands. "A... A star?"

"Oh, quit with the dramatics already!"

"I have a lovesick idiot for a brother... I'm going to throw up."

"Lynette!")

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fic #genshin drabbles #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #lyney x gender neutral reader #lyney x gn reader

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solarmorrigan · 10 months

Text

I have a lot of thoughts about Steve who craves physical affection, who thinks of his worth in terms of what he can do for other people, and who got very drunk at high school parties. This is one of them

CW for heavily implied past dubcon (not between Eddie and Steve). Please take care

Eddie has never seen Steve drunk.

At least – not up close. There had been a few high school parties back in the day where Eddie had passed by the “Keg Stand King,” but since he’s come to know Steve personally (intimately), Steve has barely touched alcohol.

He’s told Eddie the story of being drugged against his will and how he doesn’t want to repeat the feeling of losing control, and how he doesn’t like not being able to drive if he needs to, and how the hangover would probably just trigger a migraine anyway – and, really, he just doesn’t drink much anymore.

Yet tonight had been a special occasion: Robin’s birthday. She herself isn’t much for alcohol (for at least some reasons that match up with Steve’s), but drinking, she said, feels like a part of the birthday experience. She’d somehow gotten Steve to match her beer for beer, for “emotional support,” and it hadn’t taken long for the both of them to become entirely inebriated.

Time has apparently greatly eroded Steve’s tolerance.

Eddie had distantly expected him to be kind of a bitchy drunk—and he had become a bit cattier, for sure—but mostly he’d just become affectionate. There had been hugs for nearly everyone, and he’d spent the latter half of the party slowly migrating into Eddie’s lap, plying him with constant kisses on the cheek and giggling ridiculously at nearly everything Eddie had said.

It had been sort of adorable (not that Eddie will tell him that; no, he’s going to sit on that information until it benefits him).

It’s a little less fun now that he’s trying to cart Steve up to his room and into bed. Steve is a bit wobbly, and a lot heavy, and is much more interested in trying to cling to Eddie like a koala and bury his face in Eddie’s neck than he is in actually walking anywhere.

“Y’know, we could cuddle to your heart’s content if you’d just let me get you to bed,” Eddie points out when he and Steve have stalled out partway down the hall, leaning against the closed door to the bathroom.

Steve hums vaguely, tightening the grip he has on Eddie’s t-shirt. “But you’re out here,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

A shiver travels down Eddie’s spine at the feeling of Steve’s warm breath ghosting across his throat, but it doesn’t go much further than a gentle, dying flutter in his gut. As affectionate as Steve has been, as hungry for contact as he’s acted all night, there’s been nothing sexual about it. It’s been all hugs and sweet kisses, not heated embraces and sloppy make outs.

Besides– Steve’s drunk. Eddie’s not going to take advantage.

He wedges a hand between himself and Steve and gently pushes Steve back.

“I’m coming to bed with you, you colossal dork,” Eddie says.

Steve blinks at Eddie, slightly unfocused. “Oh.” He finally heaves up and away from the wall, grabbing Eddie’s hand to tug him along as he weaves unsteadily down the hall. “Well why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, all affection. “Where else would I be going?”

Steve stops when they get to his room, apparently pondering the answer.

“Away?” he finally volunteers, half-questioning, as if he’s hoping he’s wrong.

“No, baby,” Eddie assures him immediately, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “I’m staying. Gotta make sure you don’t choke on your tongue after you pass out, anyway.”

“’m not that drunk,” Steve says; he rolls his eyes and then immediately seems to regret it, reaching out for Eddie’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Uh huh,” Eddie drawls. “Okay, time for bed, big boy.”

Grumbling, Steve releases Eddie to shuffle over to the bed, where he flops down on his back with a sigh, jeans and all.

“Alright, not exactly what I meant, but I can work with this,” Eddie says, kneeling on the bed by Steve’s hip.

They’d managed to ditch their shoes in the entryway, but they’re otherwise fully dressed, and Steve is going to be uncomfortable if he tries to spend the whole night in his belt and jeans.

Steve squirms a bit when Eddie reaches for his belt buckle, as if he’s not quite sure whether to move away or not.

“Eddie…” he groans – an exasperated sort of groan, rather than the usual way he groans Eddie’s name when he’s squirming on the bed.

“Just hold still,” Eddie shushes him with a quick pat to the hip.

He gets as far as pulling the tongue of the belt through the buckle before Steve’s hands shoot out and grab Eddie by the wrists. His grip is surprisingly strong, considering how uncoordinated he’d been tonight, and Eddie stills immediately.

“Steve?” Eddie looks up to see Steve staring down at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive; hell, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he might say Steve looks… sort of frightened.

“Not– not tonight,” Steve says, enunciating carefully, and Eddie’s confusion only increases.

He doesn’t want his belt off tonight? Is that what he’s worked up about?

In the wake of Eddie’s baffled lack of response, Steve only grows more insistent, tugging Eddie’s hands away from his waist.

“Not while I’m–” Steve breaks off, licking his lips nervously. He shakes his head and adds quietly, “Please.”

Brows furrowed, Eddie stares at Steve a second longer. “Not while you’re…?” Then the penny drops, and Eddie jerks away from Steve so quickly that Steve barely has time to let go. “Oh shit, no. That’s not– no, I’m not– Steve, fuck, no, that’s not what I’m doing.”

Steve stares up at Eddie, the anxiety he’s a little too drunk to mask still lingering in his eyes.

“I promise, I was only trying to get your belt and pants off so you’d be more comfortable. For sleeping!” Eddie says quickly. “But you can keep them on if you want. Hell, put on more layers. Do you want a jacket?”

Distantly, Eddie realizes he’s rambling and tries to stop; it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“I– I know I was kissing you,” Steve says, then glances away with a grimace, seeming a bit more sober now. “Practically throwing myself at you. ’m sorry, I just–”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be,” Eddie says firmly. “Even if you were throwing yourself at me—even though you weren’t; like, I can tell the difference between cuddly you and horny you, okay?—but even if you had been, you can still say no. You can always say no. But I swear, Steve, I was only trying to get you comfy, that’s all.”

For a moment, Steve just breathes, processing Eddie’s words as carefully as his sloshed brain will allow.

“Are you still going to stay?” he finally asks. “Even though I don’t want to have sex?”

“Of course,” Eddie blurts, some dizzying combination of baffled, anxious, and incensed. “I’m only gonna leave if you tell me to.”

And even then, he’d only go as far as the couch downstairs (just in case).

Slowly, Steve nods, then reaches for his belt to pull it off in a series of determined, clumsy movements. He drops it on the floor when he’s done but makes no move to remove his jeans.

Eddie, following suit, resigns himself to an uncomfortable night. He strips off his jewelry and his own belt but leaves his pants on.

All the lights go out, save for a small, dim lamp on Steve’s desk, and then Eddie crawls on top of the covers with Steve, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed—a gift from Claudia—up over both of them.

A little of the churning, anxious mess in Eddie’s chest eases when Steve immediately plasters himself to his side, resting his head on Eddie’s chest (and Eddie just knows there’s going to be drool there come morning, but he can’t bear to move him). All the same, even as he hears Steve’s breathing even out into sleep, Eddie can’t get his mind to rest.

What has he done to give Steve the impression that he’d try to fuck him when he’s too drunk to really say yes? What has he done to make him think he’d leave if Steve doesn’t put out?

Nothing.

Genuinely and truly, Eddie can’t think of anything. There have been plenty of times they’ve hung out, even shared a bed, and they haven’t had sex. Sure, they’re active, but they do actually do other things together.

There have been other nights where sex has seemed like a sure thing, only to be halted by an apologetic look from Steve and the start of a migraine. There have been times Eddie’s called it off because his anxiety has reared up and bit him in the ass. There’s never been anger over it.

That leaves two options: it’s either an imagined scenario stirred up by anxiety and insecurity and alcohol, or… it’s based on a different experience, in a different time and place.

All things considered, Eddie has a terrible, sinking feeling that he knows which one it is.

#is Eddie's attitude a little more socially aware than is warranted by the time period? maybe 🤷#sometimes it's just like that #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #cw past dubcon #cw past noncon #let me know if there are other/better tags to add!

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box-milk · 14 days

Text

I'm not looking for forgiveness

Pairings~ Maria Leon x older sister! Reader

Genre ~ Angst

Warnings~ mentions pass substance abuse and character death, short and all over the place.

Disclaimer~ I'm not sure if mapi has any siblings as I'm still new to the football world but for the sake of this we'll pretend she doesn't .

"Mapi please listen to me".

"Y/n believe me when I say I don't want anything to do with you after what you put our family through for 3 years."

The disconnection tone, as well as a lifetime of regret, rang in your ear. You knew your sister's anger was warranted for the lifetime of trauma you put her through.

Mapi was just a teenager when she watched you throw your life away to drugs and alcohol and despite her age, she was the only one in your corner when your parents' inevitability gave up on you. Almost debilitated trying to keep you a float while also pursuing foot.

Even after her big break with FC barcelona, Mapi poured her heart and soul into helping you overcome your obsession, going as far as to pay for therapy, rehad sessions and support programs despite her parents fair warning which she soon regretted when she found out that money was been invested to fuel your addiction.

Completely gutted, she confronted you, but high off your ass you just disregarded her efforts laughing in her face, repeating the ditty as everyone else.

"You can't help someone that doesn't want it mapi."

And that was enough for her to complete leave you to your own demise while painful she had no choice but to harden her heart when it came to you.

°•°•°°•°•°•°°°•°

You're well aware of your sister's feelings, hell your family's feelings towards you, but seeing your sister at least was something that you had to do. You owed her that, at least. So you waited patiently in the parking lot of camp nou waiting for your sister to be done with training.

You sat a while in the blazing sun until you saw the heavily tattooed defender making her way over to her car, which you sat in front of when she's see you her smile immediately melts and her face hardens.

"I told you I dont want to speak to you cause if you're looking for cash for your next fix, forget it."

You shiver lightly at the cold tone, but you knew you deserved it. "I don't need money, maria, it's just something really important i have to tell you."

"Well, save it cause I really don't care."

"I'm dying, maria." You said softly, hoping there was a better way to say it, but when you saw that she would have left without hearing you out, you settled for the raw truth.

"What?"

"I'm dying, and I don't want money or anything just to let you know"

You've never seen so many emotions flash on mapi's face before, and you knew immediately which one it would settle on and braced yourself for what's to come.

"What do you expect you do drugs for half your life and wasted the help I tried to give when nobody else would. Did you think this wouldn't happen?This is your karma y/n, and I hope you take it well cause I've run out of sympathy to give."

The harsh words stung yes, but you took it with a smile and that only added fuel to an already burning fire mapi continued to berate you, and you did nothing but take it on the chin reaching into your backpack pulling out a crumble envelope waiting for her to get everything off her chest.

When you felt it safe to extended your hand with the envelope, hoping she'd take it, which she did before crumbing it up and tossing it to the ground but pushing your body down aswell.

"I hate you with my entire being y/n, and I'm glad I'll permanently be rid of you. Have a good what's left of your pathetic life."

You pick yourself up shakily, watching as mapi's car quickly left the lot before picking up the letter and straightening it out, willing yourself not to cry cause in your heart you knew mapi was right. This is your karma.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Ingrid eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she gathered the mail the next day and saw the crumpled looking envelope she wanted to question her girlfriend about it, but she was out with alexia for the day.

So besides herself, she gently opened the envelope to see a letter written gracefully in cursive before reading and coming to two conclusions. mapi has a sister, and that sister is dying.

When mapi came home that afternoon, she found her girlfriend sitting while reading from a piece of paper that was quickly pushed to her chest wordlessly when ingrid realised she was back.

The shorter of the two brought the paper within eyesight in confusion before she recognised the handwriting and scoff but reading regardless.

Dear Maria,

I understand that I haven't been the best person in the world to our family and to you specifically, but I just needed you to know how sorry I am. I've been sorry for a while now long before I knew what my faith was. I spent months trying to figure out how I would prove to you how sorry I am, but I saw the life you built for yourself and figured it was best if I stayed away knowing how poisonous I can be. I'm sorry map's I really am I wish I would have taken the time when I had it to let you know but that's not the case. I'm in no way asking for your forgiveness. I don't deserve it. I just wanted you to know that you're 100% free of me and you'll do great things my little star and I'm forever thankful and proud of you.

A loving goodbye,

Y/n Leon."

○●○●○●○●○

An: this was sloppy but I kinda like it.

#woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #mapi león #maria leon #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon angst

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chastiefoul · 1 year

Text

he said something hurtful

characters: childe & zhongli genre: hurt and comfort wc: 1.4k

Childe

it’s been such a stressful day for the eleventh fatui harbinger. all these paperwork but no place to let out his pent up frustration to; battles. he’s been stuck to the duty for too many days now and when he said it was not going to get to him, perhaps that was overconfidence.

“here, i made you tea hope it helps you to relax a little,” you said as you put the glass on his desk at a reasonable distance away from his work. he hummed a lazy response as gratitude. you’d learnt not to take these gestures to heart since he’s palpably stressed and you all of people knew that childe is the most loving man you’ve ever been with. “anything else i can do for you?” you asked, genuinely wanted to assist him in any way you could. he just shook his head, “it’s fine,” he said curtly.

“massages? back rubs? need me to get anything from somewhere?” you tried again, seeing his not so good expression at a particular part of the paper he’s looking at, wanting to at least ease him a little.

“gods, (y/n),” he said with the most exasperated tone that it made you a little nervous. “can you be quiet for a second? what the hell do you think you can do for me?”

you gasped quietly at the outburst and childe regretted the words as soon as it came out from his mouth. “(y/n), baby i’m sorry i didn’t mean th-“ but you quickly cut him off, wanting to get out of the room as soon you can. “i’ll just leave,” you whimpered, voice clearly holding back tears. at this childe’s heart twinged with even more guilt, he swiftly chased you and brought you close to his chest. “i’m sorry, that was stupid and horrible of me, sorry (y/n),” he repeated the apologies as he rubbed circles on your back. you held back a sob yet to no avail tears still fell to his shoulder. “i just wanted to help,” you mumbled. “i know and you do, my baby always does the best things for me,” he kept you in his hold as he planted kisses on your forehead. “i always worry over you, childe. if i bother you i wish you could’ve just tell me nicely.”

“i’m sorry, i took out my frustration on you, ‘m sorry baby. won’t happen again, i promise. please don’t leave.” childe’s hold on you got tighter, he wished he could turn back time and hit his past-self for running his mouth like that when you’ve been nothing but kind to him. he brought your face close to his, wiping your tears with his thumbs. you looked at him, the apparent raw regret painted all over his face. “stay? please?”

“mhm, but none of that again, okay? ever,” you warned him. “promise. sorry again, you’re too good to me.” he continued embracing you.

Zhongli

you had promised zhongli to assist him with his work, he asked you to bring over a document from clerk zhao 9 a.m. sharp as it is was a very important task to do. he told you that a few days prior about it saying that he would have no time to do it himself thus asking for your help since there’s nobody in the world he trusted more than you. and of course you were more than happy to do it if it helped him even just a little.

the said day was approaching. you felt that your body was slightly sluggish the night before as you prepared to go to bed yet you thought nothing of it and assumed would get better if you just slept it off, but you were wrong. you woke up feeling extremely sick along with a terrible headache. but that wasn’t your biggest concern, you looked over the clock and its hour hands clearly showed: 9.30 a.m.

with your best ability at your current condition—which was very limited, you quickly forced yourself up and rushed to do the task zhongli has entrusted you in. you were struggling as you arrive at feiyun slope area that even clerk zhao showed concern and asked if you were okay which to you answer that you were just fine, when in fact you were clearly not. yet your bigger worry that minute was getting that document to zhongli as he said that it’s a very important matter and you must not be late. however with such a sick body, you arrived at the wangsheng funeral parlor a little over ten a.m.

you burst open his office, “zhongli, i’m so sor-“

“where were you?” he cut you off rather rudely, and he does not do that. “sorry, i-“ you tried again.

“i had told you that this is a very important matter, yet here you are being carelessly tardy.” his usual gentle tone was nowhere to be found, you found yourself in a very bad state, it took everything out of you to just even stand up right that second and he couldn’t see that. even clerk zhao immediately noticed it. you were not even going to make excuse, you just wanted him to listen. “zhongli, please listen-“

“this was such a mistake. i regret relying on you.” he swiftly took the paper on your hand, his back turned and faced you as he sort out his business on his desk. it wasn’t until he heard a sniffle that he had realized what he just said. mistake. regret.

“dear, i-“

you were already started to leave his office, one of your hand was on the wall supporting your own weight as you felt extremely weak and fatigued from all the running around a sick person should not be doing.

“(y/n), wait please i—you’re very warm!” he claimed loudly as his hand touched your arm. “sweetheart, do you have a fever?” he reached out a hand to feel your forehead but you swatted it away. “it’s nothing, just get back to your work.” you attempted to release yourself, but zhongli had another idea on mind as the former god of rock suddenly carried you to a room where there’s a bed as he lied you there and tucked you in a blanket. you who barely any strength just let him did whatever as you turned your back on him the moment your body touched the bed. the wound from his words still fresh on your mind as you cried. you knew that it was your fault that you’re late, however zhongli acted way out of line. his tone and harsh words were very unfamiliar to you.

zhongli looked at your back as he was eaten away by guilt. if only he could just listen. to think he was very adamant to not listen to you when all you wanted to do was to explain yourself and he said that crap instead which he didn’t mean at all.

he truly meant it when he said he would entrust even his life to you.

zhongli was late on realizing the severe damage he just caused over the harsh words he spouted in the heat of the moment. whatever the reason, he should have not done that, not to anyone, especially not to the love of his life. but in reality was he did.

“love, i apologize.” he knelt beside the bed. when that met no response he continued, “that was very foolish of me. i didn’t know what i was talking about. you’re my whole world, i rely on you the most. how very stupid that i could even have the nerve to say that when i do nothing but lean on you everyday in my life.” his voice heavy with remorse as he hesitantly rubbed your arm, trying to soothe you. “to think i just made my sick lover running around like that... i apologize.”

“i wasn’t trying to make excuses, zhongli. i did not choose to be sick.” your voice was meek, zhongli’s chest squeezed in pain, how could he make you say things like this. “of course not, even with your condition you still did your best for me and i reacted like that, i really deserve your anger.”

he saw that tears still ran across your face and it broke his heart. “dear, please, what i don’t deserve is your tears.” he gently turned you to face him, wiping your tears with his fingertip. you slowly stopped crying as zhongli kept whispering apologies and sweet words. “why don’t you get some rest first? we’ll talk again after you feel better,” zhongli said softly. you who had no complaint over that only nodded, getting the sleep you’ve desperately needed.

seconds before you fell into your slumber you could feel a kiss on your forehead. “(y/n), i love you very much.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #childe x reader #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #childe angst #zhongli angst

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Hurt Me*

Summary: The third part to Teach Me*

You and Harry have struck a deal. You'll help him explore some of his favorite kinks and in return, he'll practice each one on you.

A rather...bloody sweet deal, if you do say so yourself.

Word Count: 5.5k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you can handle!*

“So…should we start with pegging?”

You blink at him from the hallway. “I…I just walked through the door.”

He laughs, leaning back on his mattress, hands first. “Sorry. Thought we’d just jump right into it.”

“I can see that,” you snort as you walk further into his bedroom. “Did you get the stuff?”

His head jerks toward his nightstand where you find the aforementioned items you’d requested he gather.

And seeing the giant bottle of lube beside his bed is somehow both exhilarating…and startling.

You haven’t changed your mind about the agreement. You’d thought maybe you might, after the heated moment at the restaurant had passed.

But now, here you are, two days later. Still just as eager as you’d been the other night.

And you’re pleased to see that Harry apparently is, too.

He waits patiently for you to slip off your shoes and make your way for him, his eyes following each move you make.

You aren’t sure why you feel so…nervous. None of this is really all that new to you, but Harry has always had this talent for putting you on edge.

Even when he doesn’t mean to.

Like now.

“Okay,” you declare once you’ve reached him, and his eyebrow raises. “I have a list.”

The side of his mouth curls up. “A list?”

“A list,” you repeat with a determined nod. “A checklist. Of things we might wanna try.”

He chuckles as you reach into your back pocket to retrieve your small notepad. “Of course you have a fucking list.”

“Shush.” You flip it open and clear your throat. “All right. There’s edging, overstimulation, bondage, spanking, breath play, thigh riding, blood kinks—oh, and knife kinks. Also pegging, of course, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he interjects, smirking as he sits up. “I’m sorry…do you mean to tell me that you, the girl who cried when she got a papercut…have a knife kink?”

You give him a cool stare. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His tongue swipes across his lip as he studies you. “Interesting.”

“…why?”

He shrugs, glancing around the bedroom to hide his amusement. “Nothing. Just…learning some things about you.”

Your eyes narrow. “Well, this isn’t about me, is it? This is about you and what you might like.”

He looks back, fingers tapping against the mattress in thought. “Well…I guess there’s only one way to find out, now, isn’t there?”

With a coy smile, you nod again. “I guess so.”

For a moment, you simply stare at each other. Him sitting below you on the bed and you standing in front of his legs, waiting.

You imagine it’s up to you to get the ball rolling, but despite your eager anticipation, you can’t help wondering what happens if this ruins your friendship with him.

That’s that last thing you could ever want. And sure, he seems more than willing to take this step with you.

But what if he regrets it?

What if he regrets you?

“Bee,” he murmurs, and you refocus your attention in time to see his large hands coming out to latch onto your hips and guide you between his parting thighs. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

He reaches up to tap his finger against the side of your temple. “Overthink.”

Your expression falls flat as you playfully roll your eyes and duck away from his hand. “I’m not, I’m just…planning.”

“Okay, then walk me through your plan,” he instructs. “Out loud. Tell me what you wanna do.”

You glance down at the notepad in your hand, running through each suggestion. “Uh…I don’t know. I’m not sure where to start. I don’t wanna just…jump into something heavy before you’re ready.”

“I am ready,” he insists, palms wrapping around the backs of your legs. “Whatever you wanna do, however you wanna do it. Promise.”

And you appreciate his eager anticipation, but you can’t rush something like this. Because you'd never forgive yourself for introducing him to something he wasn’t prepared to handle. Or for hurting him or scaring him.

You sigh as you look down at the hopeful glimmer in his eye. “We need to start slow, Har. Like I said. Okay, we’ll get there, we just…we need to ease into it.”

He smiles. “Then ease me. Start slow, start fast. I don’t fucking care, just start.”

And you can’t help but laugh as you toss the notebook aside to give him your full attention. “Fine. Let’s go over some rules.”

His response is to groan dramatically and flop down onto his back, lids squeezed shut.

“Come on,” you insist, reaching out to tug on his shirt and attempt to wrangle him back upright. “Harry—”

“You’re killing me, Bee,” he huffs as he lets you pull on him. “I don’t need rules, I just need you—”

“Shush,” you say for a second time once he’s straightened up, and his eyes roll. “Okay, first things first…we need an official safe word. A system, kind of. To make sure everything goes smoothly, and we feel okay.”

You can tell he wants to argue, but even he knows that this is important. So, he nods once. “Okay. You pick.”

You momentarily gnaw on the inside of your cheek. “Okay, how about…I don’t know. Watermelon? Lot of people pick a fruit, I don’t know why.”

His brow raises. “Fine. Watermelon. Can we start now?”

This time, you groan. “Harry, stop. This is serious. I need to make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

“I will be,” he mumbles, hands outstretching for your thighs once again, squeezing them as if to accentuate his point. “I will be if it’s with you. I promise, Bee. But you’re killing me here. Been thinking about this for two fucking days. M’bout to explode.”

“Really? The blue ball argument? That’s what you’re going with?” you tease as he smirks.

“No. Don’t have blue balls. Was fucking my fist the second I got home from the restaurant,” he tells you, and for some reason, the image makes your skin heat up. “It’s the idea of you that kills me. Can’t fucking stand it, so just…end my suffering. Please.”

You hesitate, teeth pulling on the flesh of your bottom lip. He’s too fucking good at this. “You have to promise that you’ll say watermelon whenever you need to stop or talk or slow down. Okay?”

His response is to lift a hand between your bodies and thrust his pinky toward you. “Promise.”

You wrap yours around his and squeeze. “Good…and I mean it, Har. The second you feel uncomfortable—”

“Yes, yes, I got it, I promise,” he interrupts, a slight edge to his tone.

Your expression falls flat but even you feel a little impatient. “Fine, well…tell me how you wanna start. Tell me what you wanna try. Or what you need me to explain.”

He turns to look toward the pad of paper now tossed askew across the floor. “You had thigh riding on there, right?”

You nod, heart beating a little faster.

He looks back. “…do you wanna ride my thigh, Bee?” he whispers, focus dropping to your throat when he notices you swallow.

Truthfully, you wanna do everything with him. There’s nothing on that list you’d shy away from, and just imagining his face alongside some of your darkest fantasies—

Your breath hitches.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, thumbs stroking across the skin of your legs as if to coax the answer out of you. “Come on. Know I need to hear you say it.”

And you appreciate this desire for verbal consent. It’s something you know you’ll need from him, too. But this…habit of his to make you all flustered is so infuriatingly…him that it drives you nuts.

“I wanna do…whatever you want me to do,” you tell him honestly, palms cupping his cheeks as you guide his head back. “Wanna do everything. All of it. You. Me. Us.”

And he smiles almost drunkenly at the callback, undone by your touch as your fingers slip through the curls atop his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You dip down, nose brushing his. “Just tell me what to do…and I’ll do it.”

You saw a glimpse of his need for control the other night. Even saw it that day in your bedroom.

Now? Now you’re putting that control in his hands, just to see if he knows what to do with it.

He might need a little help from time to time, but you have a feeling he’ll be able to handle having this sort of power over you.

And you can’t fucking wait.

The grip he has on your legs grows tighter as he whispers, “Ride my thigh.”

You smile, lips gently ghosting over his.

“Ride my fucking thigh, Bee,” he repeats, even more lasciviously than he had before. “Right now. Can’t wait another goddamn minute.”

Then, before you can even reply, he’s tugging on you until you both go toppling down onto the mattress.

You laugh but he doesn’t. He’s too far gone to think about anything else but you and what you’ve promised him.

You feel his palm slip around the back of your neck as he quickly guides your mouth to his.

And you can’t help the way your heart lurches at the taste of him. It’s only been two days yet somehow…you don’t think you’ve been able to breathe until right now. With his kiss.

The room echoes with pants and eager whines as you settle onto your knees, one on either side of his hips.

And you kind of like being on top of him like this, getting to look down and see him all laid out for you.

You’d both agreed to hold off on actually fucking each other until Harry felt more comfortable. He’d tried to argue he was already more than comfortable, but fucking your best friend crosses a completely different line.

And you aren’t sure you’re ready yet.

But this…you could do this forever. Kiss him, and touch him, and grind on him as he groans.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you squirm over his waist, desperate for a little friction.

And the sound he makes—pure, unadulterated desire—nearly has you coming right then and there.

“Okay,” you breathe, leaning back to see him. “Okay, I gotta…gotta take my shorts off—”

“Yes,” he nearly sighs, seemingly turned on by the very idea. “Yes, take them off. Please, for the love of God, take off your shorts.”

You smirk as you climb off his lap to undo the button, and as you do, he pushes up onto his elbows to watch.

And he watches. In that relentlessly focused way that almost makes you go shy. Soft, green eyes somehow sharp as they rake over every inch of your body. Watching your fingers pull the zipper down before the fabric drops to the floor and pools at your ankles.

Once yours are off, it’s time for his. He doesn’t ask for your help, instead quickly standing to rid himself of his own jeans until only his boxers are left.

He then crawls back toward the headboard, large hands motioning for you to follow as you take a deep breath and oblige.

He pats his left thigh, palm smacking against the tattooed tiger ink on his skin. “This one, right here. Come on.”

And you have to smile at the rather lewd idea.

Again, his attention never leaves you as you swing yourself back onto his lap, a knee on either side of his stretched leg.

Your underwear is still on, a choice made only out of hesitation on what he’d prefer. And you suppose you’re long past that, but you don’t want to assume.

He eyes the covering over your cunt as if mesmerized, and you go still a few inches above him, unsure whether or not to lower yourself just yet.

His hands levitate toward your waist, magnetized to your body. Then, he glances up. “Can I…fuck, wanna feel you, Bee.”

You nod quickly, lip between your teeth as he trails those nimble fingers across your skin and toward the band on your hips.

Then…they slip inside.

He’s felt you before. This isn’t new nor is it foreign.

But it’s everything.

A whimper rips from your throat the moment he glides through, a motion made exceedingly easier by the collection of arousal already waiting for him.

His jaw drops ever-so-slightly, as if overcome with lust while his head falls back against the wall.

When he drags his touch back up to your clit, you grasp onto his shoulders, throat going dry.

“There it is,” he murmurs, awestruck. “So fucking good, Bee…s’fucking heaven. You know that? Have to fucking know…could touch you forever.”

And you don’t doubt he means it as he continues to tease you, spreading you open just so before traveling down to dip the tip of his finger inside.

Your forehead finds his as you fist the material of his shirt to brace yourself. “Harry…”

“What?” His other hand slides beneath your underwear to squeeze your ass and help roll you against his fingers. “What? Say it.”

But you can’t speak. He’s not even doing anything, just…touching you to touch you and it feels like everything you’ve ever been missing.

God damn him for being this good on his third try.

His lips move for your neck, teeth zealously grazing a vein just below your ear. And you keen, nails scratching down his chest and strong arms as you work to memorize the feel of his body.

He’s so…beautiful. He’s always been cute. You knew this, but now…now you’re forced to see him and his body in a different light.

He’s strong, and sturdy, and so fucking sexy. If he asked you to spend the evening just…licking up every inch of his skin…you just might.

And you’d be okay with that.

Once a second finger is added, you just about lose it. Clenching around him pitifully as the sounds below you nearly drive you mad.

He takes a deep breath against your collarbone, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel. “Shit, Bee…what are you doing to me?”

You imagine this is more of a rhetorical question, and you wouldn’t be able to answer even if it weren’t.

Suddenly, you whimper, and instantly his touch curls, as if subconsciously affected by the sound.

Then…he pulls out, and you practically wilt as you bury yourself in his arms and try to breathe.

His chest vibrates with a chuckle as his palm smooths up from your ass to your spine, stroking soothingly. “Sorry, just can’t wait any longer.”

And despite the now empty feeling, you nod your understanding and lean back to help him slip your underwear off.

After a bit of struggle, and a few shared laughs, you readjust back onto your knees to settle over his leg.

Again, his eyes glue to the sight before him, watching with near amazement as you lower yourself down.

The second the contact is made, you both turn into incoherent puddles of obsession. It’s like medicine. The way you coat his skin, grinding against it with ease as his fingers now dig into your hips to help guide you.

His jaw goes slack while slumps against the headboard, overcome with longing at the feel. “Fucking shit—”

“Har,” you whisper, nails now in his hair, scratching down his scalp as he groans again.

He nods his chin at you, focus sluggish. “Go on, it’s okay. Keep going, m’right here.”

And you do. You roll your cunt over his thigh repeatedly, desperate for the stimulation. And it’s nothing compared to his fingers, or even your own, but you love it, nonetheless. Love the way he feels beneath you. Love the way his tattoo glistens, illuminated by the soft light of the lamp.

You love…

Your head shakes, clearing the thought before it can form as you return your attention to his face.

He looks so happy. So unbelievably thrilled with what you’re doing to him, and your heart soars.

Most of the men you’ve been with only think about what you can do for them. What giving you pleasure will do to them. What they deserve from you.

And sure, Harry has been a selfish, narcissistic ass for the entirety of your friendship.

But not now. Not here.

No, here…it’s about you. It’s about the other person. Hell, this whole thing started because he wanted to make sure he was good enough for Tina. That he could provide her with everything she deserved. It wasn’t about what she was going to give him in return.

Just like it’s not about the intricate and kinky ways you plan to get him off. He wants to learn what gets you off. Wants to learn what makes you tick.

So watching you soak his thigh as you use him to come is what he really wants.

Your lips roll into your mouth, an attempt at swallowing the rush of adoration for him.

However, he notices. Because of course he notices, and immediately, he reaches up to press his fingers into your cheeks and pop your lips free.

“Don’t,” he warns, frowning a bit as he studies you. “Don’t do that, it scares me.”

Your brows pull together as you work in a deep breath. “Wh…what? Why?”

“’Cause I don’t know what it means,” he says. “I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong, or if you don’t like it, or if you want to stop.”

You almost smile at the way he’s beginning to understand why you were so apprehensive before. Because communication is key, and your chest gets tight at the sound of unease in his voice.

You tug on his curls, head shaking quickly. “I don’t want to stop, Har…god, I don’t wanna stop. Promise, s’just…feels so good.”

His pupils double in size as he looks up at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, nose nuzzling his once again.

He smiles softly, lashes falling shut as he drinks you in. “Good. But don’t do that. If you wanna be loud, then be loud.”

“Okay,” you murmur, kissing the side of his jaw. “Okay, I promise.”

The grip on your hips constricts as he kneads on the flesh to convey his appreciation. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitches.

And when he notices, something flashes behind his eyes. Something…primal.

“What else…was on the list?” he asks, voice heavy and thick. “What else, Bee?”

“I don’t know,” you nearly whine, face nuzzling into his neck. And it’s true. You don’t have the mental capacity right now to remember a goddamn thing outside of him.

Which you aren’t exactly upset about.

He smiles again, his cheek brushing your forehead as his fingers suddenly appear around the back of your neck to pull you out of hiding. “Want you to do something for me.”

Now you do whine, rather impatiently as your thrusts against his leg are forced to slow.

He glances over toward his nightstand. “Open it and grab the red thing.”

You huff at a stray hair that’s fallen across your face before leaning over to slide the drawer open.

After peering inside, you find the aforementioned object, and pluck it free. Then, once you’ve settled back down over his thigh, you hand it to him.

But he doesn’t take it. He simply nods his chin at you with a coy smirk. “Open it.”

Curious, you do as told, studying it carefully as you attempt to figure out just what it is…before you realize.

It’s a pocketknife.

You can feel your lips part and your eyebrows raise as you flick the blade free. It shimmers against the light, taunting you with its power as Harry watches you.

“S’not, you know…a steak knife, but…” He runs his tongue over his lip in anticipation. “Will it…I mean, does it work for you?”

Normally, you’d tease him for something like this, but now…

You clench around nothing as a rush of adrenaline washes over you.

And Harry can tell, because he tenses when he feels the way you drip down his leg, his teeth gritting with possessive infatuation.

“So…yes,” he decides, still smug as he returns his hands to your hips.

You look at him, heart racing beneath your chest. “Har, we don’t…this isn’t everyone’s thing, I don’t wanna push you—”

“Uh-uh,” he quickly scolds, shaking you once. “We made a deal, yeah? If I didn’t think I could handle it, I would tell you. That’s what we’re doing this for, remember? To try. To see.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Have I said watermelon?”

The stern but rather good point makes your jaw clamp shut. “No.”

“No,” he agrees, cradling the back of your neck once again to bring you closer. “So, take that knife…and do whatever…you wanna do with it.”

He kisses you again, hoping to ease whatever doubt you might have, and you want to thank him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and just…stay there.

He nips at your bottom lip, at your tongue, at your cheek. Distracted by your taste.

So distracted, that he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’ve brought the blade closer to his jaw.

But when the cool edge slides along his skin, he stills, and you feel the hitch in his breath.

You start slow. Gentle. Tentative of his reaction as you pull back to study him.

He doesn’t…seem uncomfortable. Or nervous or panicked. Granted, you haven’t even touched him with the sharp side of the blade yet, but he knows it’s coming.

However, his attention remains on you. Watching you with the same focused determination that you’re watching him.

He wants to see what this does to you.

“Are you sure?” you hear yourself whisper, more timidly than you’d meant.

He nods. So subtle, you almost miss it. “Yes. I trust you.”

I trust you.

There’s a ripple in your chest where your heart lies, and you swallow.

Then…you rotate the knife, and let the cutting edge move across his cheek.

You hardly apply any pressure, a bit too nervous to actually hurt him. But even the sight of the silver metal dancing across his face makes your stomach flutter.

You squirm a bit harder against his thigh before moving the tip of the blade down, watching as it travels across the equally sharp curve of his jaw.

He sucks in a quiet, strained breath, his body rising and falling ever-so-slightly as his eyes flick across your face. “Are you okay?”

It’s your turn to nod, which you do, mutely.

“Bee, come on.” It’s almost a warning, but you don’t look at him. You look at the knife in your hand. You look at the way it slips under his chin. Look at the way goosebumps form in the wake. “Need to hear you say you’re okay.”

“M’okay,” you murmur, still mesmerized. “Just don’t wanna hurt you.”

His fingers instantly press harder into your hips. “Hurt me,” he says, so sincerely that it just about catches you off guard. “Hurt me. It’s okay. I promise. I fucking promise, Bee. Don’t care, just want you to do it. Want you to do whatever you want. Please.”

And now he’s begging you to cause him pain, and while this speaks volumes to his masochistic tendencies, you can’t help but feel pleased.

So, you use the position of the knife under his chin to tilt his head up.

His eyes widen but you can see the desire swimming behind the hopeful expression.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, this time with a more devious undertone. “You sure you want me to hurt you, pretty boy?”

He’d likely laugh at the nickname if it were any other moment. It’s something you used to call him back in high school, and now…now it seems to have found its place once again.

After all, he is pretty. Especially right now, with a blade teasing his skin.

“Yes,” he whispers, and you clench yet again around nothing.

And the need in your stomach has grown as you slowly roll your hips over his leg, now drenched with you.

And this slow, torturous pace that you’ve set so as to not hurt him is biting you in the ass now. Because it’s going to kill you.

And it’s going to kill him, too, if the growing erection in his boxers is any indication.

But not once has he suggested you help him out. Something that almost disappoints you, seeing as one of your favorite pastimes is turning your partner on. Making them feel good. Watching the way they fall apart.

A trait he seems to share.

It makes you smile to see so many similarities, so many kinks in him that mirror your own. Further proof that you made a rather good choice in a best friend.

When the pressure begins to pick up, and the urge to throw caution to the wind and grind against his thigh until you’re screaming overwhelms you, you make a decision.

You toss the knife to the floor, wrap your arms around his neck, and just take.

You suck on his tongue as he groans, his palms sliding down your back before they’re disappearing beneath the hem of your tank top.

Then, he slips around the front to collect your tits in his hands, pushing them together before running his thumb over the nipple just to feel you shudder.

Everything else is disregarded as he works to get you off. To feel you come against his thigh.

And he’s so warm. So feverishly hot that it makes your fingers shake as you trail them down his chest just to mimic him by slipping them under his shirt.

His stomach. You whimper against his mouth at the feel of his abs. The way they bend, and dip, and ripple as he works in desperate breaths. As he snakes an arm around your hip to drag you a bit harder over his leg. As he braces himself from the pleasure.

Struck with new inspiration, you reach for his wrist, tugging it out from beneath your tank top to bring it up to your throat.

Cautiously, you guide his fingers to the sides of your neck, pushing them into your skin just hard enough that he’ll get the hint.

And for a moment, he stills, seemingly unsure of whether or not he’s ready to have this kind of control over you.

But then, he gets a better grip. Touch constricting around your airway until each potential breath dissipates from your lungs and small, floating stars dance behind your eyes.

You give him just a moment to decide if he likes it or not.

And then…everything changes.

So fast, and so sudden, you hardly have time to process.

He growls into the kiss before he’s lifting you off his lap, tossing you onto the other side of the mattress, and placing himself above you.

His hand instantly returns to your throat, making a home on your neck as he squeezes.

And you gasp, back arching off the bed as he dips down to kiss you again.

But not just kiss you.

Take you.

He tugs on the pink fibers of your bottom lip with fervor. Angry enough that you can’t help the whimper that slips from your mouth into his.

And he feeds off it. Presses his bent knee back into your cunt just to tease you, forcing more pleasure to roll over each nerve ending.

A moment later, you taste the metallic, tangy flavor of blood as it drips back into your mouth and down your throat.

He’s made you bleed.

Yet another kink to check off the list, and you squirm against his leg once more as he eagerly sucks the droplets into his mouth.

His lashes flutter, and your heart just about jumps out of your chest.

Breathing harder than you ever have, you watch with awe as he finally uncurls his fingers from your airway to lean back and see you. Study you.

Then, his thumb finds your lip. He swipes it through the blood collecting around your mouth, eyes wide and filled with need.

He pushes it into your mouth, albeit gently, with the unspoken request that you suck.

So…you do.

You suck the ever-loving shit out of his finger as your pussy practically vibrates against his knee, forcing him to inhale in a sharp breath of his own.

He’s happy.

So goddamn proud that you don’t quite know what to do with yourself except keep making him happy.

A second later, he’s dragging his thumb back out just to trail it down your chin. Blood and spit staining your skin exactly the way you love.

Exactly the way he loves.

“Shit,” he mumbles, his other hand smoothing down the side of your ribcage. “Shit, Bee…look at you.”

You say nothing. Can say nothing. Because he is everything, and you aren’t even here anymore. You’re merciless to his intentions. Desperate for each touch, hanging off each word, each thought.

He pushes your top up until it collects just above your chest, thumb returning to your sternum to paint a picture of his obsession.

He drags it between your tits before moving it over to your nipples, smearing the blood over the peak as it hardens.

Then, his eyes meet yours…and he lowers.

His lips wrap around you, licking at the ruby marks over your breast before pulling you into his mouth.

And it’s game over.

It’s sadistic, and cruel, and absolutely perfect. Everything about this—about him—is perfect.

His leg against your cunt, his mouth on your body, his curls tangling in your fingers.

Everything.

Him.

You.

All of it.

Your head rolls back against the mattress, your focus finding the ceiling as you will yourself not to scream.

But you do moan, rather lasciviously, and the sound of it has Harry’s nails pulling at your skin.

And you’re rather excited about the marks you might find tomorrow.

“Fucking killing me, Bee,” he grunts, popping off your tit to nose under your jaw. “M’so goddamn lost on you. Do anything for you…anything.”

Anything.

“Everything,” he adds, squeezing your hip. “Shit…don’t think I can do much more. Might actually kill me.”

And you know what he means. Know exactly the kind of pain mixing deep within his belly at the lack of release.

And suddenly…you’re struck with inspiration. Possessed by an idea you know you’ll come to regret tomorrow.

But you really don’t fucking care.

You grasp onto his face, palms melding with his cheeks as you force his eyes on you. “Harry?”

He seems to steel himself at the sound of his name, the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he presses his knee further into you.

You squirm once more, arching a bit higher as you pout at the unfairness. “Thought of…something else…we could try.”

His brow raises. “Yeah?”

You nod, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I want you…to fuck me.”

He’s torn between two reactions. Surprise and acceptance.

You can feel just how much he enjoys the idea by how firm his grip on your body becomes. How pointed, how ravenous.

But you both agreed there was no going back after something like that. And you can see the way he considers your proposal.

And you know him. You know he’s asking himself if this is really what you want. If you’re in your right mind. Aware enough to even suggest such a thing.

He’s asking himself if you’ll regret him.

And you want to assure him that you could never…but you can’t. That’s not something you can promise. All you can do is hope he does it anyway.

You sit up just enough to nuzzle your nose against his, exactly the way he had before. “Please, Harry…please…need you. Need to feel you, gotta feel you, Har…hurts so bad—”

He makes another animalistic noise in the back of his throat as he presses his forehead to yours. “Bee—”

“Gimme everything, Har, please,” you continue rather insistently. “Be so good for you. Promise. Just need it. Need you…can’t…can’t fucking take it, Harry—”

“Fuck,” he just about groans, lowering his hips until they can grind against yours.

And the feel of his cock, so close yet so far…nearly does it.

You mewl at the contact, the sound pathetically desperate, but it seems to be the only thing to tip the dominos.

And every fear, every hesitation, every warning is instantly shoved aside as he kisses you once again. “Promise me we won’t change.”

He rolls himself over your cunt a second time, just before you can answer, and you whimper once more as your nails scratch down his shirt. “Har—"

“Fucking promise me,” he repeats, nearly hissing the instruction at you. “If I do this—if we do this—you have to fucking promise me, Bee. Can’t fucking lose you. Can’t do this and then lose you, I can’t—”

“I promise,” you whisper quickly. “I promise, Har, just…please.”

And that’s all he needed to hear, a smile breaking free across his face as the last domino finally falls.

“Good…cause we’ve still got quite a bit of list to go.”

DON'T YELL AT ME, THERE'S ANOTHER PART COMING, I SWEAR!!!

Next Part:

~ Feel Me* (Pt. 4)

Previous Part:

~ Show Me* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs

#harry #harry edward styles #harry styles #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #blurb #imagine #smut #concept #harry styles best friend #best friends to lovers #harry and bee

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nothomegal · 5 months

Text

"Nothing, just (Y/N)"

(Pyramid Head(s) x GN! Reader NSFW)

Minors do NOT interact!

Summary: wondering through abandoned semi-ruined places is great to hide and get lost, and in your case the latest happened. But don't worry! Because you were lucky enough to bump into your lover... Or not. Whoever, or whatever this is, it really looks like your monster, yet it's different at the same time... Huh, I wonder what will happen when these two do meet face to face... Huh, I wonder what verdict awaits you.

Warnings: non-con touches at first, brief mentions of nipple play, oral (Pyra receiving), references to double penetrations (but you can interpretate it differently since the reader is gender neutral).

Word Count: 3.9k

This idea popped up after I remembered that Pyramid Head has two different designs (one that appears in DBD and Silent Hill 2, and the other one from the movie and Silent Hill Homecoming, y'know where he has a more pointy helmet and exposed torso)

I usually describe the DBD/original version (though my dummy self been using gifs with the other design hashsha). But still, why don't we present our lil' (Y/N) the other one? 🤭

They’re lost. (Y/N) let out a long tired sigh as they keep walking through the long dark hallway of what appears to be a school.

They begin to regret their decision of going deeper, it probably would’ve been smarter to just chill in one of the classes until the ‘newcomers’ leave the area, buut… Uh, last time they hid in a room they ended up kidnapped by the group they tried to avoid so yeah… Not really a fan to repeat that experience.

The school was dead silent most of the time, apart from the sound of their footsteps or the occasional shuffle or hiss from a Creeper. For anyone new, this would be an unnerving place, but for (Y/N)? Oh they’re chilling with the peace n’ quiet around them. Sure, silence is not always associated with safety and there is always the possibility of something lurking in the dark and waiting for the perfect moment to attack. But in (Y/N)’s case it’s not possible, no creature is dumb enough to even get close to them, not to mention hurting. They can’t help but to chuckle to themselves, they’ve been in this place for quite a while, probably months, maybe even a year! Or two? And no matter how much time passed or will pass, they still can’t believe the fact that one of the most fearsome creatures of Silent Hill took them under his wing, keeping them safe and making them feel something more than just a piece of flesh to use or kill.

Sigh, they probably have the dumbest lovesick face they’ve ever made, like some teenager thinking about his crush, but can you really blame them? Who the hell wouldn’t get all giddy with a creature like Pyra? And speaking of him, they probably should find an exit faster before he gets tired of looking for them and just tanks his way through the building-.

Or maybe not, because the sound of metal scraping the old tiled floor of the school and the erratic heavy footsteps resonated from one of the hallways. Huh, each day they start to believe that they somehow summon Pyra just by thinking about him for long enough.

With a little smile (Y/N) makes their way towards the sounds, happy to have their lover back with them after him completing his hunt and punishment.

–”Hey big guy! Sorry for the trouble of having to look for me in here. Just wanted to avoid the incident from the last ti- ”–

(Y/N)’s voice died and they froze in place when they met the source of the sound. Yes, it was the known pyramid headed beast, but… It wasn’t their pyramid headed beast, it wasn’t Pyra.

The monster in front of them was different; his vest, which appeared to be stitched, was only covering everything below the waist, leaving the torso completely exposed. The helmet was different too, it was more… Pointy? The edges were sharper and the shape was more triangular and detailed with additional metallic pieces.

This other beast and (Y/N) remain completely still, staring at each other in heavy silence, the monster’s metallic breathing being the only audible thing. (Y/N) gulps nervously, both confused and afraid. What the… Who is this creature?! Why does it look almost like Pyra?! Is this another executioner? Wasn’t Pyra the only one? Are there more monsters like him? Then why did they never see it before?!

Their internal freak out paused then the other beast let out the familiar low metallic rumbling, which wasn’t as low and deep as the one Pyra emitted, but that fact didn’t make the sound any less intimidating, especially when the monster seemed to grip the handle of his large knife tighter.

–”W-Wrong executioner, m-my bad!”– you peep out before taking off running.

They sprint down the hallway, their adrenaline skyrocketing when they hear the known bulky footsteps and scraping noises behind them. They haven’t felt this much terror since being chased by Pyra himself. Sure the group of shady men was scary too but their demise was inevitable. In the case with Pyra… Well, if the executioner chooses you as his target, there is no chance to escape your fate, only delay it.

But- But this time it will be different, right? Their Pyra is still somewhere around, right? It’s unclear what they're hoping for, or what they want to happen when both beasts face each other. All (Y/N) knows is that the true safety has always been in Pyra’s arms, and they have no other option but to go there if they want to have the slimmest chance to survive this chase.

Despite trying to find the exit, it feel like they only get themselves deeper into the building, all hallways and rooms appear to get darker and more rotten, it's like they're decending deeper into hell, closer to their demise, further from their salvation...

But the light of hope was recandled when while turning a corner (Y/N) bumped face first into a firm and broad torso, which didn't even budge at the impact while they already had landed on the floor right on their butt. They rub their nose after the impact and shoot their gaze up, their heart almost jumping through their rib cage after recognizing the known pyramidal shape of the creature’s head, thinking that the beast chasing after them somehow outsmarted their panicked brain. But when the creature kneeled down they instantly relaxed as relief flushed through them, despite the monster’s large form menacingly towering over them and engulfing their smaller frame with its shadow.

–”Pyra!”– you exclaim both happy and relieved as you scramble right into his arms.

The monster instantly wrapped his large arms around (Y/N), his own body tensing up, as if feeling the distress of his human and knowing they’ve been chased by something, fact that clearly angered him. When the sounds of metal scraping the floor and slow heavy footsteps began to resonate from afar, (Y/N) tensed up even more.

–”Th-There it comes… It- That thing, it looks like you!”– you warn him as you grip his vest tighter.

Pyra remains still for a moment as the noises get closer. After a while, he slowly stands up to his full height, lifting (Y/N) with him and putting them back to their feet to then gently push them behind him. The mentioned person carefully peeks from behind his large form, both afraid but also curious to see if it’s really another creature like Pyra and it actually exists or they just officially went coconuts and somehow imagined it all. Their doubts were dissolved once the other creature appeared from around the corner, his pace slow and unhurried. The monster froze in place as he stared at them, Pyra froze too and stared back. The atmosphere suddenly turned… Weird, not tense and heavy as one would expect, just odd and bizarre.

Still, (Y/N) didn’t feel at ease at all. There is a reason humans fear the unknown, and that’s the main factor that keeps the mentioned person on high alert. They have absolutely no idea of what to expect to happen next, are these two about to fight? Will the other creature turn around and leave? Will it somehow change Pyra’s mind and he will kill them? Are they in danger? Should they run? Wait? Pray?

A breathless gasp escaped their lips when the other creature began to move, slowly making his way towards them two. What freaked and confused (Y/N) even more is the fact that Pyra doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, he remains still in his place with absolutely no intent to stop the other monster.

When the second beast got way too close for their liking, and Pyra was still doing nothing about it, (Y/N) let out a shaky breath out and stepped away from their lover to then begin to back away on their own.

–”No. N-No stop, that’s-...”– you swallow nervously as you shoot a pleading glance to your beast. –”Pyra…”–

But he doesn’t react to their pleas, he doesn’t even look at them… And when the other beast was right next to him is when he finally does move, slowly turning around, and just like the other executioner, he begins to slowly walk towards (Y/N) in the same menacing manner, not like they’re his lover, but another victim to punish…

This scene broke (Y/N)’s heart into numerous tiny pieces, is… Is that it? Is Pyra really going to just… Kill them here and now? After all this time they’ve been together he… He’s just going to throw all that away like it’s nothing? Like they are nothing?... Silly them, of course he will, he’s Pyramid Head, the executioner, an immortal and eternal being created to punish and kill. Who are they to him?... They are nothing, just a little meaningless human… Just (Y/N).

The moment their back collides with a wall, their survival instincts kick in. Even though deep down they knew that their fate is practically written on their forehead, their mind was focused on the most primal desire that a human can have in case of facing danger; run away.

And so they do, they obey their instincts. When they notice an opening between the other monster’s large body and a wall to squeeze through, they bold forward with no care in the world and miraculously dodging his arm that attempted to grab and stop them from escaping. They let out a breathless chuckle out of shock that they actually managed to dodge that by ducking, such a silly maneuver actually wor-.

Suddenly something gets a hold of the back of their shirt and yoinks them back, right against Pyra himself. He holds them tightly against his chest, one arm being more than enough to keep the panicked human in place despite all the desperate struggles to break free. (Y/N) is beyond terrified now, they feel Pyra’s arm tighten around them while the other one gets so close that he ends up pressing his body against their front. Now being basically sandwiched and completely immobile, (Y/N) is feeling like passing out at any second. In any other occasion they’d be so flustered and aroused by this, but now? Oh their poor mind is being flooded with terrible images of how the two executioners will end them, the newer thought worse than the previous one. They’re shivering like crazy, eyes shut tightly, waiting for the wave of pain to come as the monsters will begin to skin them alive…

But after nothing happening for a solid minute, (Y/N) gathers enough courage to finally open their eyes and see what’s going on and why these two beasts are not doing anything. The instant they peek up, the two monsters let out that famous amused rumble, which due to the closeness, made (Y/N)’s whole body vibrate, super weird (and kinda pleasant) feeling.

(Y/N) was about to yell in anger, thinking that these two are seeing their fear and pain of the betrayal as something funny, but such chance was lost the moment they began to feel big hands roam around their body, caressing and feeling every curve through their clothes. The gesture wasn’t aggressive or mocking, but affectionate and loving, just like Pyra’s actions towards them on a daily basis.

Now (Y/N) is confused and quite dumbfounded. Didn’t these two have the intention to murder them? Why is this other monster suddenly so docile? Are they truly safe? Wha-

A shiver ran through their body when the executioner in front of them managed to slip his hand under their shirt, tracing the rough yet warm skin of his bare palm through the softer skin of their abdomen and chest. They let out a surprised squeak when the hand reached higher and brushed against their nipple, the contact causing (Y/N)'s body to shiver, and it only got worse when the beast began to rub it as it let out an amused purr. Another whimper escaped their mouth when Pyra’s hand made its way through their inner thigh, squeezing and rubbing their flesh gently until it stopped right between their legs, his movements getting progressively bolder and suggestive with each little sound that left that pretty mouth of theirs. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as they realized what the two monsters are trying to initiate.

–”Wa-Wait no-! I- I’m- I’m n-not ready for th-this!”– you stammer nervously as you try to clumsily wiggle out their grasp, face already red and flustered. –”You- You two s-sto-!”–

They have no chance to even finish the sentence as something warm and wet suddenly entered their mouth, making contact with their own tongue, which suddenly turned the action into some very sloppy kiss. Their struggles also lead to nothing, both monsters only squeezed them tighter against each other, reducing (Y/N)’s mobility even more. This continues for a couple of seconds, until the "kiss" finally stops and (Y/N) is finally allowed to breathe again, their mouth completely wetted with their and Pyra’s saliva. As they pant like a dog, trying to recatch their breath, they feel Pyra’s hand travel up to their face and wrap his hand around their face, rubbing their cheek lovingly as his tongue playfully wiggles in front of them.

(Y/N) suddenly gasps shakily as they feel something hard being pressed against their front and back, and by the way both monsters growled, they knew exactly what it was and what’s about to happen.

They shouldn't want this, they should try to get away and put a stop to this, they really should… But it’s hard, it’s hard to think straight when their mind has been poisoned with their own arousal and lust. Their logic side is saying no, but their whole body and most of their mind is screaming yes.

As if reading their mind, both monsters made a pleased sound and the next thing they know is that their body was swung over Pyra’s shoulder and taken somewhere... But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t get completely blown up in a moment, and Pyra’s big hand squeezing their ass and thighs is a reminder of that. They’re then brought into one of the classrooms of the school and their body is placed on one of the tables, just like the little delicious treat they were.

From their spot, (Y/N) stares at the two beasts with half lidded eyes and lovesick gaze. It’s like being under some sort of spell whenever things get heated between them and Pyra, and now that there are two of them? Oh, it’s like being hypnotized to act like a slave of their own lustful desires.

The two monsters were kind enough to actually undress (Y/N) (instead of destroying their clothes). And now, fully exposed and being in all fours, they silently observes as both executioners position themselves. The other beast is right behind them, one hand placed on their hips and the other one pulling down his vest, revealing an already fully erect and hard cock, tip brushing along their skin, making them shiver in anticipation. Pyra was right in front of them, vest fully opened and pants pulled down too, his cock just as erect and needy for his sweet lover, one gloved hand placed under their chin as his thumb rubs their cheek and lips lovingly, as if saying “you’ll do such a good job drear”.

The calm lasts for a couple more seconds… And then the whole world goes down without a warning. The beast from behind slams his whole length almost and ones, barely giving (Y/N) time to adjust to his size. Pyra also nearly choked them when he pushed the tip and part of his cock into (Y/N)’s mouth, but he was kind enough to wipe their tears of pain and pleasure.

This was both a torture and a treasure, the roughness and feral neediness of these monsters made (Y/N) feel a certain type of way. The knowledge that two powerful beings craved for them, THEM, so so badly made them feel both very special and flustered, just what did the executioner see in them to make him want their body and soul so much? Crave for them both sexually and emotionally, want nothing but to be close to them and keep them to himself, not just like a trophy or a pet, but as something worth to worship.

And they did, they really felt oddly worshiped despite being absolutelly destroyed by them. Feeling the one from behind dig his fingers into their flesh as he pushes into them, trying to bring them closer to his own body with each thrust and the distorted rumbles and groans he makes when the contact between their skins is missing, even for a brief second, only proves how much he wants them close. Pyra was too showing the effect they had on him, saliva actively dripping from that little hole in his helmet where the tongue would come out, hand placed in the back of (Y/N)’s head as he fucks their mouth and throat, and the fact that he’s not thrusting with more force also proves the care he has for them. They both could be rougher, they both could be more selfish, they know they totally could destroy them if they really wanted to… But they actively chose not to, because even in this feral and lustful state they’re in, they care for them, they care for their little sweet (Y/N).

The action doesn’t last too long, as (Y/N) is barely holding themselves back from coming ,and eventually it got too much. The second the monster from behind felt their release, he let out a growl and quickened his pace. (Y/N)’s body began to shiver, wobbly limbs barely supporting their own weight due to the overwhelming feeling of fullness and the lack of oxygen, air they can hardly get since Pyra’s pace got faster as well. When they eventually collapsed, their body miraculously remained in place and it all thanks to the beast behind them, who caught them and held them up with a single large hand placed on their chest.

It was hard to keep up, hard to keep themselves from coming again, but they must refuse, must holdup, must wait for the two monsters fucking their brains out to come before allowing their own sweet release again. And just as they reached their absolute limit, so did the two beasts. The taste and the sensation of their release drunken (Y/N) completely, eyes rolling as they let out a weak muffled moan as they're sent both to heaven and hell at the same time, their inside burning and their skin shivering under the cold sweat.

Once done, Pyra takes his still hard cock out of (Y/N)’s mouth, allowing them to take all these needed gulps of air as the white liquid drips from their mouth and down their chin, even after trying to swallow it they still got messy, a picture that their lover absolutely adored.

Though (Y/N) was quite tired, they know this is not the end, this is just the beginning˜.

They let out a yelp when their body is suddenly lifted and their back is pressed against the solid and warm exposed torso of the beast behind them. The table they were previously on had been flung across the whole classroom with great force and the next thing they know is that they’re completely immobilized again by Pyra’s body pressing their form against the monster behind. And soon enough, (Y/N)’s mind is being turned into mush again when the beasts begin to move again, their thrusts strong and hitting all the sweet and most sensitive spots of theirs.

Their movements were unnaturally coordinated, knowing exactly when to thrust and how to move so their helmets won’t collide. It was both freaky and fascinating to see, which left (Y/N) thinking if Pyra is really as simple as they initially thought, or is he the embodiment of something way more sinister-.

Their thoughts melted into a mass of letters and blurry shapes at the sensation of the rough fingers of the beast from behind rub their sensible nipples again, sending violent jolts and shivers with the mildest movements. Now (Y/N) was a complete panting and moaning mess, though their sounds were slightly muffled by Pyra’s broad chest, even slightly suffocating them at times with how close he got (not like they mind it). They always cringed at how vocal they can get during sex but they also knew better than to try to quiet the noises after learning the hard way how much their monstruous lover adores to hear them.

This fucking continued for a good ammount of time, (Y/N) already lost count of how many times they came, they have absolutely no clue! All they know is that they’re like in heaven, seeing stars and impossible colors of light flash before their eyes with each release just to then fall back into their mortal body and suffer the consequences of all the overstimulation and the generally overwhelming sensations. How are they still awake and breathing? They have no idea, but it did kinda boost their ego to know they’re tougher than they thought.

Eventually, the thrusts come to an end after the two monsters came one last time, causing (Y/N) to hide their face deeper into Pyra’s chest as they sink their fingers into his flesh and scratch his scarred skin with their nails. Even after coming and filling them up real' good yet again, the executioners remained in place, not pulling away from (Y/N) and still holding them against each other.

After regaining part of their breath, (Y/N) pulls back and their eyes wide at the sight of all the marks they left along Pyra’s broad chest and abdomen, both scratch and bite marks. The executioner from behind also received some lovely scratches on his body as well, when did they even manage to make these? None of the monsters seemed bothered by the marks though, and their hands roaming over (Y/N)’s body is a clear confirmation of that, showing just how pleased they are with their performance, even if they didn’t really do anything.

Now that the heat is slowly dying (Y/N) should feel cold, yet the warm skin of the beasts keep them perfectly warm and comfortable, their big hands traveling around their body, soothing the growing soreness in their muscles and worshiping every inch of their soft and tender skin, despite it being covered in sweat and drops of their load.

(Y/N) wanted to cry, but not out of pain, but of how loved they felt in that moment. The surprisingly gentle and affectionate caressing, the soft purrs and rumbles that at times resembled praises, and the overall atmosphere among them three felt so overwhelmingly comforting and loving, nothing like the heated lustful air from moments before.

Tiredness and exhaustion made itself known and they began to slowly doze off. Luckily, they didn’t have to worry about having a pillow, the chest of the two monsters were a perfect replacement, so warm and kinda soft now that their bodies and muscles relaxed a bit.

Unknowingly to (Y/N), a little smile formed on their lips. Yes, they're still pretty much nothing compared to a creature like Pyramid Head, but the fact that this same creature, or in this case, creatures, are all over them, a simple little human, makes (Y/N) feel this alien thrill and warmth.

They're still just (Y/N) though.

Their (Y/N).

Ţ̴̡̤͕̝̱̙͎̗͓͎͔̤͍͍̺̖̣̥͇͔̺̖̬̑̅͆̅ͅͅ ̷̨̢̢̡̡̡̧̨̬̲͈̹̦̤̻̬̳͎̳͔̬̘̤̤͚̮͇̪̗͍̺̟̦̯̙͇͔͓͈̫̾̾̂̂̚͠H̸̪͇͚͙̫͇̯̆̚ ̵̧̜͔͎̙͈̦̥̣̥͕̅̆́̆̑͗̈͛̇̓̾̏̇̌͛̾̓̉̀͛̓͆̈́̇̃́̄́̑̊͐̎̍͊̂̈́͆̕̚͘͘͝͝Ȩ̵͈̟̜͓̥͙̣͙̲̤̰̫̟̭̲̪͔͖͇͉̩̗̩͕̮̲̳̼͖̜̳̙͗͒̓̀̊̊͋̿̉̿͜ͅͅ ̷̘̦̜̻͓̒̽͛̚͝Ì̴̡̧̡̧͓̭̝̥̱̻̦̻͔͙̜̳̘̣̘̻̗̫̮̬͖̝͕̬͕͕͐͋͋͆̔̂̍͌͑̏̌͌̚̚ͅ ̵̨̜̻̬̲̬̩̤̹̩̮͈̮̭͈̙̦̪͕͕̭̠̝̝̀̿̓̀̌̌͊̅ͅR̶̫̯̬͚͚̝̦͋͌͒͐̀̄͌̃̓̌̈́̉̄͐͆

#nothomegal fic #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head #slasher x reader #gn reader #pyramid head smut #nothomegal smut fic

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