#and occasionally has dreams like these warning him of stuff

[shiny-jr]

outlander

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia. 

Summary: In every land you travel to, there's a god with elemental powers. But why is it that in every nation you arrive to, the gods attempt to make you stay?

Note: Why has no one done a genshin x twst thing? This is more of a concept idea than anything else. I might do a series with it, or not, or just random posts. Feel free to ask about it or request stuff for it.

This must be a dream, either that or a never-ending nightmare.

Waking up alone on a sandy beach, as if washed ashore, was disorientating. There was nothing else on the shore save for shells and the occasional crab, no debris indicating a wreck and no scattered belongings. All you had on you were the clothes on your back, which were a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, your pajamas.

In the center of your palms, was a marking you had never seen before, like a freshly painted tattoo in the shape of a tiny key. As curious as the strange new markings were and you wondered how they even got there, there was a larger question looming:

How did you get here?

GRIM

There was a cat on the beach. At least, it looked like a cat. A talking feline, with gray fur and the most impossible feature of blue fire lightly simmering in his ears.

It spoke, just like a human, with a grating high-pitched voice. It was a devilish little beast, with little fangs sharper than his comebacks that he supposed were funny.

The feline pridefully announced his name: Grim.

And when you told Grim your story of how you woke up by the water's edge with no recollection of how you got here and little to your name, the creature didn't appear to care. However, when he spoke of elements being used by people and names of nations and cruel living gods you never once heard of, only then was he very vaguely intrigued. Perhaps it was amusement, as he laughed and called you stupid for not even knowing of The Seven.

That's when you heard a growl, not from behind his fangs but from his stomach. If you looked at him from the right angle, he looked quite scrawny. The poor thing was hungry, you realized.

All it took was an offering of cans of tuna found in an empty cabin nearby, and you had him in your grasp. Following you around was only temporary, he insisted, he'd go along so long as there was food. While a talking cat was not the most conventional of guides, it was better than nothing, especially since he knew basic knowledge of each nation and where the nearest sign of civilization was located.

HEARTSLABYUL

Through the winding dark woods where mysterious creatures lurked in hollow trees and dead end paths, were meadows of flowers and peaceful grooves. However, don't let the tranquillity of nature fool you. In the distance were mountains– not actually mountains, but volcanoes and hot sprints along this land's border.

It's been said that the very millions of roses and other greenery in this land, was formed when ash rained down on dry barren earth for nearly a month. Ash from those very dormant volcanoes that were the backdrop to this perfect scenery, which came in huge black clouds thousands of years ago and blanketed the earth.

A god, an archon, the deity of law that rained hell on earth over thousands of years ago.

Long ago this land was a country of criminals ruled by a god of chaos that reveled in havoc and disorder. Among the mayhem, was a small deity of fire with mighty powers and a vision for a future he was determined to see. Riddle, is what the deity was called.

Riddle gained a number of followers to listen to his words, and he created order. A small feat compared to the many wicked still running about in a lawless land ruled by a god that valued anarchy. So, using newfound strength, the deity of fire drew forth molten lava from the mouths of the northern volcanos, burning all those in its path while the deadly plumes of smoke and ash suffocated those that remained. Atop the remains of the destroyed towns and cities, he built a new nation of order for his loyal followers.

Today, it is a thriving nation filled with flowers and greenery. However, there is one issue. The god of pyro, Riddle, is a tyrant. Every law is expected to be followed without question and without fail, beheadings have become nearly a daily occurrence with the criminals often being charged with mistakingly picking flowers on Wednesdays, drinking the wrong sort of tea post-meals, or playing croquet after five pm.

You were fortunate to be spared after your audience with the god of law, for breaking the rule: one must never bring a cat to a formal affair. Before he could burn you were you stood, you interjected, answering that your companion was no cat, so you had broken no rule.

Well, he promptly apologized for the misunderstanding and in turn, offered to make up for it by inviting you to a tea party. It would be best to except his invitation, afterall, he was the same deity that buried nearly an entire country in lava and ash, then built his kingdom atop their remains. He was a tyrant that beheaded and burned people on the daily. It was wise not to get on his bad side. Besides, he appears to have taken a fancy for you. Riddle implores that you tell him more of your world while you ignore the whispers of rebellion.

There is no leaving Heartslabyul, not without the explicit permission from the god of law. The borders with their volcanoes burn any would-be invaders, allowing passage only to merchants and travelers who have received the pyro deity's blessing. Why would Riddle ever give you his blessing to see you go?

SAVANACLAW

Across the volcanoes and hot springs of the borders, the mountains turn green with dense jungles. Across the river lies the savanna where the world's most wondrous creatures run free. Times have been turbulent, the shaking ground was evidence of troubles with this nation's divine beings, or rather, now single divine being.

Earthquakes have always been a sign of something occurring either for a purpose or unintentionally by someone else. The harsher the quake, the greater the importance of the event. And not too long ago, a ginormous tremor shook the entire globe. Something of major importance had happened.

A god, an archon, the deity of intellect was the new sovereign after tragedy befell his elder brother.

In the past the land was under the protection of the god of strength, a mighty god worshipped by his people. This god had a young heir who was also beloved by the people. However, most forgot or completely disliked the younger brother of the god of strength, a deity of ground, Leona, who had a burning hated for his brother.

Leona amassed followers of his own in secret. It came as no surprise that the common and the wealthy adored the exalted god of strength. However, the poor detested him, because he offered no help to them, no matter how much they prayed and offered what little they had to his alter. Instead, their prayers for mercy and for a change in luck, were answered by the deity of ground. The change of luck came from the death of the former god and his son, paving the way for a new sovereign.

Today, there is uncertainty in the street. Many of the former worshippers of the god of strength believe in one thing. The god of geo, Leona, is unfit to rule. The poor and mistreated have emerged from hiding places in the shadows, filled with newfound confidence for their was finally a god that answered their prayers. However, there remains a growing tension between both factions. Followers of the new god sing his praises, while followers who mourn for his brother believe that everything is falling into disarray.

You were promptly introduced to the god of intellect by his followers that wished to spread the good word. There was something wrong, you and your companion both agreed. How could a powerful god of strength and his young heir just perish without warning? Something was amiss.

This was just a new follower, at least in his eyes. So he brushed you off, allowing you to partake in the best food and drink only his followers had the privilege of receiving. Testing your luck, you decided you would ask him if he knew of a way home. For now you filled him in, explaining your origins and recent adventures. For such a conniving and arrogant leader, he was surprisingly lax. It even appeared as if he wasn't even listening to your words, just dozing off on some pillows. Your words were at least more interesting to him than the rumors of possible unrest.

Perhaps he does know a way for you to return home, but he doesn't want to tell you. It's as simple as that. He likes the new follower, you. Besides, you're not going. There is always the option of traveling further, but why do so when the geo deity has what you need? Leona greatly loathes betrayal from his own worshippers, so you wouldn't leave Savanaclaw to see another god, would you?

OCTAVINELLE

In the seas dwell creatures of unimaginable horrors living deep within the watery depths, across the ocean over turbulent waves there are islands of paradise. The chain of islands composed warm southern beaches and cold northern snowlands. This may be paradise, but a toll must be paid to even get near the islands.

A tax is applied to all arriving merchants wishing to trade and tourists wishing to step foot on the island. It doesn't make much sense, until you see their towns and cities bursting with trade. Business was booming, apparently. The water is clear and pristine, you could see the vibrant coral reefs and schools of fish swimming below.

A god, an archon, the deity of contracts once came from these very waters when there was no land.

Thousands of years ago there was nothing but ocean out this far away from the mainland. That is, until a deity of water appeared from the depths. He promised a new nation to traveling merchants, so long as they worshipped him. The deity introduced himself as Azul.

Azul had grown bored of the dull happenings under the sea, for he had achieved most things beneath the waves. The ocean could not satisfy his endless greed. He had his sights set on higher elevation, with the lofty goal of being just as powerful on land as he was in the ocean. He moved waves, creating tsunamis outward but revealing islands once hidden by water. The merchants took to land and fulfilled their end of the deal, worshipping him while creating a prosperous nation of deals.

In present day, hardly anyplace can compare to the thriving hub the nation has become. However, loyal followers have begun to see his greed. The god of hydro, Azul, is a charlatan. The ocean in all its vastness was not enough to satisfy his desires, it was why he took to land. For the promise of fulfilling prayers, something always must be given in turn or the worshippers must risk going on a quest. But, it is not always as it seems. One way or another, a prayer asking for something will end in the worshipper becoming in debt to him.

In exchange for an answer to the continued question of how to return home, you have nothing to offer for payment except for ideas. Home was modern, this world was not yet on par with the technology you knew. So you offer ideas of inventions, a device to capture an image in time, a mechanism like a box with wheels, a tool to contact someone miles away.

He believes you're quite bright, you think it false flattery to deceive you but you would be wrong. Your ideas are truly brilliant, and will no doubt earn him more millions and influence in other nations on the mainland! Best to take the compliment with a smile, or else this swindler may find a way to trap you in debt. Azul insists you tell him more of your home and your lucrative ideas. Here, a contract, where he shall sell your ideas as goods and you shall reap the rewards! Whatever hearsay you've heard painting him in a bad light, is defamation! Don't fall for it so easily.

Sailing away from Octavinelle would just be a fool's quest. Unless you can escape on a boat that can weather the harshest of sea storms, there is no stepping foot off the island without the risk of drowning. Don't you have more profitable ideas to share with the hydro deity? If not, just listening to your voice would make Azul content than all the gold in the world could.

SCARABIA

Rolling sand dunes stretch as far as the eye could see, and rocky canyons border a savanna. Sandstorms fill the skies like a dark cloud, covering the dry hot land in a new layer of sand once again. Struggle through the scorching days and blistering cold nights, and there will be an oasis in the center between large flowing rivers.

Life follows the flowing waters, and an enormous oasis is planted in the center of the desert. For miles and miles along the banks, are blooming cities and towns. A great contrast to the desert outside, these settlements are overflowing with water, with the greenest gardens and greatest crops.

A god, an archon, the deity of commerce that gave life to a once barren land.

Thousands of years ago, a terrible famine struck the land. All remaining oasis had shriveled up, leading to starvation. A kind-hearted deity of earth took pity on the people. So he decided to extend a helping hand. People would call the deity Kalim.

Kalim used his abilities to create a lush environment, a vast and incredibly rich oasis out of sand in the middle of the desert. When he walked, grass and flowers sprouted from the sand. In days, he managed to create a garden of tremendous size and design, where his new followers could live in peace and luxury by the rivers. Towns and cities were developed, giving way to a grand nation where he resided in comfort and extravagance, surrounded by people that adored him.

Now there is a grand metropolis where there is just as much gold in the markets as there are flowers. The god of dendro, Kalim, is naive. For thousands of years he has been sheltered and treasured by his people. He is oblivious and clumsy, but at the same time he is not foolish. He knows of the people that have attempted to use his abilities for sinister purposes. Although, no one could guess a conniving being plotting against him, resides in his very own palace.

Exciting adventures and thrilling tales, the god of commerce loves to hear your stories of the outside world! First time foreigners are welcomed with open arms, but you are treated as a rare guest with your unique origin. This might just be the most peaceful land you had ever traveled to.

Come, partake in the celebrations! It's easy to forget that such a laidback and cheerful personality belongs to that of a deity that gave life to this region of the desert. Dance, chat, he wishes to do it all with you! The brightness of the fireworks and lively atmosphere is nearly enough to drown out the presence in the shadows you see from the corner of your eyes. A figure with a piercing gaze, watching the jolly divine being with envy in their eyes. With a power as tempting as his, there would be those wishing to snatch it. Kalim distracts you, offering more food and drink with a smile sweeter than any flower.

Why would anyone ever wish to leave this garden that was Scarabia? The outside, the desert and canyons, were harsh and unforgiving. The god of commerce did not wish to see you risk traveling and getting hurt. The dendro deity invites you to stay in the city! Surely you could be happy here with Kalim, right?

POMEFIORE

On elevated lands, between mountains and hills, were endless forests in which travelers often vanished in or were discovered frozen. A winter wonderland, although this wasn't so delightful. It was beautiful, but a deadly kind of beautiful, where you risked being chased by mysterious beasts or becoming lost in blizzards.

The snow may be pure, it may look picturesque upon frozen lakes and lines of white trees, but looks are deceiving. This was once a serene land with a temperate climate, but it has only gotten colder and colder in more recent months until there was not a single spot of green to be seen.

A god, an archon, the deity of curses who was so bitter like the cold that he caused snow to fall all year round.

Stories have told that the land was once warm in springs and summers, only growing cold whenever the divine being was cross. They were frighteningly beautiful and terrifyingly powerful, regal as royalty but at times wrathful. Vil, is what the deity was referred to.

Vil became envious of an emerging figure, so he invoked powerful blizzards and storms. In recent generations, there have been a growing number of his people breaking off into a separate faction that worshipped a younger compassionate god of healing. Enraged by the betrayal of some followers and resentful with biting jealously, many knew that it was only a matter of time before he would snap. This frightening divine being would not accept being dethroned, he would not allow himself to be demoted in the people's hearts.

Civilization continued to thrive, even despite the never-ending snow. And yet, people cannot help but worry what may happen if the cold doesn't let up by spring. The god of cryo, Vil, was pretentious. Anyone who openly voices their distaste for him or a preference for the god of healing, can expect to be encased in ice and used as a display. No one dares to even utter the name of his rival, for fear of incurring his wrath.

Misfortune brought you before the god of curses' throne. Mistakingly his followers had believed you to be worshippers of the god of healing, which you insisted not to know of. You had simply been lost. Maybe it was your gawking at his ethereal appearance, or the compliment you murmured under your breath, but you were not frozen a punishment.

He decided to interrogate you himself, and through his stern questioning you found yourself a nervous mess as you answered honestly but blabbered far too much. Maybe this deity was amused, much like a king would find humor in a pathetic little jester. The divinity that froze nonbelievers into statues for his palace, found you quite endearing. Vil even once smiled at you when you spoke of inconsequential things, warming his heart to which the clouds carrying snow broke apart if for a moment, causing his followers to go into a frenzy fueled by hope.

When leaving Pomefiore is so much as even mentioned, all exits will be frozen shut by the god of curses. Why even venture outside the palace, when you have earned the favor of the cryo deity? Perhaps the land is warmer, but the neighboring nation is dangerous and he forbids the journey. Why would anyone leave after finally melting Vil's icy cold heart?

IGNIHYDE

A forest of dead trees serves as an ominous welcome, or perhaps it was an omen warning incoming travelers. Slopes gave way to valleys, and along the coasts was a heavy mist that painted the vision gray. Homes and buildings, magnificent temples and crumbling feats of architecture, appeared to be floating in white clouds, but in reality they were situated on cliffsides thick with fog.

In the center of the dying forest, there are ruins of a grand temple once belonging to a god that met a tragic end. However, its remnants are closely guarded by mysterious creatures of air that cannot be touched. Legends say the temple was once a place of worship for a fledgling god related to the main god the nation worships today.

A god, an archon, the deity of innovation that has never once shown his face to the public.

Thousands of years ago, a pair of divine beings appeared. They went largely unnoticed for many years, until their brilliant inventions brought awe to those around them, attracting worshippers and diminishing the power of other local gods. The one remaining brother from this pair, is a deity known as Idia.

Idia created wondrous inventions, unintentionally forming a nation of inventors in the process. Withdrawn, dark, and silent, he is quite the unconventional god and yet he begrudgingly rules nonetheless. As reserved as he may be, he is feared among divinity. All lesser gods aiming for his spot are quickly wiped out by his inventions, without him so much as lifting a finger and using his own abilities. They're reduced to mere memories, as nothing is left of them. In times of old, it was once believed that he was a harbinger of death.

On decent days, the sun may shine on the coast, but most days there are heavy clouds and fog. The god of anemo, Idia, is an enigma. Most think him a ghost, for never appearing and for his abilities. The highest families, the most brilliant inventors, even other divine beings may request an audience, but he will never show. No one has ever seen him, all that's known is he is a figure shrouded in black robes like a grim reaper. There are others who believe there are double, because two figures have been spotted once.

You become the first to see his face purely by accident. It seemed he was just as startled of you, as you were of him. Thankfully, you were not going to be blown off the face of the planet by hurricane-level winds. No other god would help, in fact, they wished to keep you here. So you had to turn to him for assistance in finding a way home.

It was only by promising that he could pet Grim, a deal to which the feline disagreed to, did the god reluctantly hear you out. After your explanation, he scoffed as if looking at a simple equation like 2 + 2. Of course he knew the answer, but he wouldn't give out the assistance you needed. The deal was to hear you out, not help you out. He'd become quite bold in the private conversation, a sharp contrast to his previous anxious demeanor. There was no arguing against he who could slaughter gods with a snap of his fingers. Although you aren't as intolerable as other mortals, this he admits.

Departing from Ignihyde is highly unlikely, given how dense the fog is. You cannot even see the ground you're walking on. While, yes, the anemo deity hasn't assisted you, he will, eventually, probably, maybe... You're the first mortal Idia has ever asked to stay, so why would you turn your back to him?

DIASOMNIA

A wall of impenetrable thorns stands in the way, magically opening and creating a clear-cut path through dense forbidding forests lively with critters. The thorn walls close, effectively trapping you. There was something different. It was unlike all the previous nations, the very air itself felt off. With every step deeper into these whimsical woods, it felt as if you were not alone.

Once upon a time, there was a dragon. No one knows how long the dragon has been alive, only that even the oldest tales say he was already ancient way back when. Valleys were shaped by his claws, the rivers from his tail, rare ore came from his fallen scales buried in the earth, the tallest mountains were but small hills to him.

A god, an archon, the deity of dreams is by far the most powerful and most ancient of all divinity in the world.

Peace was his personal preference, as he enjoyed new company which he never truly received due to his fearsome reputation. However, when other divinity sought out his destruction and his home, the deity of electricity raged. Destruction was left in his wake across the entire globe, and everyone came to know the name Malleus.

Malleus commanded thorns to be raised like walls protecting his home, and constant violent storms to ward off anyone threatening to cause trouble. For hundreds of years, no foreigner was allowed to step foot within the nation's boundaries. Anyone that tried would quickly be reduced to ash, and just a number added to the untold amount he's slayed in order to protect himself and his territory. Kind he may be to his own, but to foes he is merciless. With his black horns and piercing eyes, some refer to him as a devil incarnate.

A land unseen by outlanders, it's peaceful and magical in it's beauty. However, it seems that while your presence may be surprising, it is not a shock. You're taken by knights in gray and black, escorted away. The god of electro, Malleus, has invited you to his castle. There is astonishment and disbelief in people's eyes, a foreigner alive and well. Most like you would have been reduced to particles before they could even step foot past the thorns.

Much to your horror, or relief, once you're brought to the god of dreams, he seems delighted to have you here. It seems your presence was expected, as all he said was, "So you've finally come to see me, hm? I was beginning to grow concerned that perhaps I would have been left out of your list of destinations."

This was the last option, the only one you could turn to in finding a way home. Surely, the most ancient and powerful deity would hold the answer and assist you, since he had been so kind as to allow you inside his nation. Although as welcoming as he may be, you must remember that despite his fang-toothed smile and the twinkle in his eyes, this man– no, god, was archaic and all-powerful. He must have killed more people than you will ever know, wiped out whole armies and flattened entire nations. Malleus tilts his head at you, requesting that you recount your tale, with every minute detail.

This will be the end, there will be no escaping Diasomnia. Of course, you shall not know until later. For now, the god of dreams delights in your stories. You were the first guest he's had in thousands of years, and one of the few who did not wish to slay the legendary dragon that was the electro deity. Malleus knows what you desire, he has seen it in your dreams. However, he will not be kind and grant you what you sought. If he did, then what he desired would then vanish: you.

#outlander twst #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #yandere riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #twst leona #yandere leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #yandere azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #twst kalim #yandere kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #twst vil #yandere vil schoenheit #soft yan vil #idia shroud #twst idia #yandere idia shroud #malleus draconia #twst malleus #yandere malleus draconia #twisted wonderland #twst

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 4/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Word count: 10 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Another long chapter, but it's the last one, so... Enjoy! ^^

The next night, you dream awake.

You didn’t want to sleep with your back turned against him, and König didn’t even need to scoop you into his arms. You went there by yourself, completely willingly. You were disappointed when he didn’t even try anything; he just fell asleep like a baby after the hangover that left him weak.

Your hand is on his chest, right over his heart, as you listen to his soft snore. It’s like the whole world has shrunk into this bed, like your entire life suddenly consists of him. You can’t even hear the birds, the occasional gust of wind, or the pair of sandals outside the tent going to a nightly pee. The only thing you can hear or see or feel is him.

His heart under your palm. His chest against your cheek. The slow, steady rise and fall of it, the push and pull of it like a tide. His leg, draped across your hip, enclosing you under a heavy body that clings to you like he never wants to let you go.

And…

No. 

It’s too stupid.

“Love” is something bards sing about. There’s no time for it in the real world; lust brings people together, and they multiply like birds and beasts. They simply flock together for warmth, food and survival. Love is the property of dreams and songs, something that happened at the dawn of time but now only occurs in tales and plays. Surely, a mountain giant knows nothing about love… He just wants to stuff his cock inside you and alleviate the burn of his loins.

But his words still linger.

”I have fallen in love with you.”

You repeat them over and over again in your head, snuggling even closer to him, your heart flaring into a small bonfire when he squeezes you in return through sleep. The warmth spreads across your chest, it makes your toes tingle, and the tingles rise up to your head like ale, bringing tears to your eyes. 

Why does he have to be like this…?

There’s a sudden crack of thunder outside, and it makes you startle and clutch him tighter. It’s soon followed by a downpour of rain, the weight of it like a blanket spreading across the land. The drops beat the tent with so much noise you fear the whole abode will collapse from the force of them.

Another crackle sends you to grip him with fear; a violent rip of lightning makes you bury your head in his neck. König mostly wakes up to your distress rather than the sounds of thunder and hail, rumbling softly to the crown of your head and drawing you closer to him. You’ve always been afraid of thunder because nothing can compete with the fury of the Sky Father. You whimper as another roar shakes the bed, the very earth beneath you, and the rain begins to beat the tent in full.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” König mutters, unafraid and clearly about to fall back to sleep again. “Only sky father making love to his woman...”

His explanation of the horrible display of the sky god’s power wipes your mind blank for a moment. He uses the same name of the god as you, but the viewpoint is thoroughly foreign. Is this the sound of lovemaking to him? 

“Safe here,” he squishes you against him until it’s difficult to breathe. Your heart is still beating in your chest as König falls asleep, the arms around you relaxing just enough to allow you to breathe again. 

In the morning, you try to correct him on his strange thoughts about Sky Father. You tell him your people believe he’s fighting his enemies when it thunders, not… making love to anyone.

“Fighting or fucking,” he only shrugs. “Same noise.”

You open your mouth to explain the difference between fucking and lovemaking next, then decide it’s no use.

The weather is warm and the land is lush after the abundant rain. König takes you to a small stream and you risk to take a dip, delighted and relieved to have the opportunity for a quick wash. When you threaten to gut him when he sleeps if he takes a peek, König only laughs. Probably thinks it’s an exciting threat. Then he sits on the bank to work on a small piece of wood while you have your cold bath. He’s been carving it for a few days and has refused to show it to you, no matter how “nosy” you’ve been. It’s an unfinished piece, yes, but it still feels silly that a grown man is so secretive about a chunk of wood. You only now begin to understand that perhaps the statue of the Great Mother is not stolen. It’s not bought, and he hasn’t had it made. He carved it himself.

Shocked, you forget to keep an eye on him while you scrub and rub yourself in the stream. You never thought of him as a sculptor or even a carpenter, but apparently, some soldiers spend their leisure time in other activities than fucking and drinking and gambling.

Your hands meet the leather string of the necklace as you wash your hair, and you remember your vow. It makes your heart sink: it’s a beautiful day, the first of summer, and you have to let go of the loveliest thing König has ever given to you. You peek a glance at him: he’s looking so peaceful while carving the small figurine, with that signature smile his that always reveals itself through his eyes, warm and jovial, like he’s just a hunter or a fisherman having a break from a day of toil.

You strip yourself from the necklace and release it with a sullen breath. The spirits accept it hungrily, pulling it underwater the instant you let it go. The current carries it far away downstream, and you find your chin trembling, and not from cold. You have given your moonblood to Mother many, many times, but this gift is infinitely more valuable. Still, the most important thing is that the man you prayed for is alive and whistling happily on that bank.

And you’re not an oathbreaker… But König is. 

When you rise from the water, he steals a glance. Actually, he stares at you like you’ve particularly asked him to never rip his eyes from you. 

You pay the adoring beast no mind and rise from the stream with the pride of a queen, only to have it all robbed from you as you notice there are flowers placed there where you left your clothes. The crazy giant has actually plucked flowers for you.

It’s an odd thing to do because in your land, only children pick flowers. Usually, people give flowers to the gods. Or, mainly just to the Great Mother... It’s because She appreciates them. 

And you also notice your old dress is not where you left it.

“Where is it?” 

He extends his hands to the sides and shrugs, faking innocence so poorly that you don’t know if you want to shove or kiss him. You’re desperately trying to cover your womanhood from his searing stare – an attempt that, of course, makes your tits press together even more cutely than before. König doesn’t even know where to look when there’s so much of your sweetness on display. 

This man is so stupid and childish and simply unbelievable; hiding your dress the instant you are vulnerable and in your thoughts. You look around you, then up, and notice that he’s thrown the dress over a pine branch far above your reach. Of course.

“You’re a bully,” you turn your accusing gaze to him, hands now slowly curling into fists by your side. You’re not even angry: you’re just feeling... hot, and frustrated, and embarrassed, having to stand here in bright daylight, dripping wet and about to have another tantrum while naked. You’re starting to suspect that he probably enjoys it when you get in a pet. Maybe it makes his cock hard: to watch you stomp your foot at him, especially if you do it without clothes.

“Bully?” His eyes smile at you like he’s the son of Sky Father himself.

“It’s someone who… who tortures people,” you blurt, a bit more dramatically than you initially meant to. He bursts into laughter and laughs for a long time, either because you just called him precisely what he is or because you called him a torturer for doing a silly prank.

“Ach… Well, you are pretty,” he says after surviving something that was veritably not meant as a joke. As if you being pretty is some kind of an excuse for doing this stupid, childish stunt...

His stare sweeps over you like you’re merely property, his eyes darting between your pouty face and the glistening sex between your legs now that you’ve blessedly moved your hands out of the way. Then he notices that something’s missing, that there is no necklace resting above your breasts anymore. He takes a step and raises a hand, and for the first time ever, you wouldn’t even dream of shying away from his touch. He brushes your bare neck with a silent question and brief hurt in his eyes.

Gods, he can’t think you got rid of it because you despised it, can he...?

“The river took it,” you explain quickly and with genuine regret. It’s a lie, but you can’t tell him the real reason it’s gone. You can’t confess that you had to sacrifice it for his safe return.

“I really liked it,” you whisper while looking him straight in the eyes, stomach heavy with both lies and the horrible, sweet truth. König recuperates surprisingly fast and nods slowly, the caress rising to your cheek to console you.

“Don’t worry. I can make you a new one,” he promises stoutly, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from bursting into tears right there in front of him. “With wolf claws, if you like?”

“I don’t know… Sounds dangerous.”

“Hah. I kill my first wolf when I was fifteen.”

Your heart is bursting inside your chest – the songs of the bards never tell about someone being so goofy that you want to hug them until they stop speaking silly things. 

“I’m sure you did,” your lips quiver with a whisper of a smile. König takes in every crumb of your affection like it’s a blessing from the Mother below: his shoulders draw back everytime he senses you are appreciative of him or admire his strength. He’s even more proud when he presents the small carving he’s been working on. 

You’re now absolutely, vehemently sure that he has made the statue of the Great Mother himself. Because what you’re looking at is very similar to that statue, only far more detailed. The breasts and hips on this figurine are more proportional, and you could almost swear that the statue he just gave you is trying to depict you. It has your hair and your face, or then he has tried to capture the slightly pouting face of some other ungrateful woman. But you can’t shake the thought that you may very well be looking into your own eyes.

“For you,” he says above you, and you swallow tears for gods know how many times today. He even winks at you, incredibly playful, like this statue is now a cute little secret only you two know about.

“It’s–I didn’t know you… Uh. Thank you,” you stutter like a fool. You can’t ask if it’s you – you can’t ask a simple question because to hear his unabashed, proud answer would mean that you won’t be able to hold yourself back from kissing him.

You are starting to feel like… an idol of worship, almost. 

He lavishes you with gifts and flowers, he feeds you grapes and wine, he brings you his bloodied loot and asks you to bless his sword. He honours your purity and respects your wishes not to be touched and pilfered.

What else are you if not a goddess? 

Even the Mother in his satchel doesn’t get such fevered attention. He even carved a new statue for you. Of you.

Your senses become eagle-sharp as you realize just how much your suspicions are proving true. You think about the way he is always at your tits, as if calling forth good luck and abundance when he squeezes them every day and night. It’s almost like a ritual. Or how he tries to dress you in fine clothes, not just to show you around, but to make you feel appreciated. The way he protects and shelters you and lets you – no, demands you to – ride his horse while he exhausts himself on the road. How the selecting of the necklace now seems like a test, to prove whether you are a true goddess who favors a gift of bone and blood and amber over the pathetic shiny trinkets of men. 

And the way he hasn’t touched other women all this time; no, because he doesn’t keep other goddesses...

Just you. 

Only you.

…

He knows your tongue so well that you don’t practically need the translator anymore. König sends him away after you whisper in his ear that you don’t like him.

It’s another lie because what you really don’t like is how bothered he looks when forced into the company of you two. You don’t like the deep sighs and the weary looks he gives both you and your supposed lover who always insists that you sit on his lap even if there are other people in the tent. You don’t want to make the poor man uncomfortable, so you come up with a reason for König to send him away. It's quite apparent that you could ask for the moon and stars, and he’d figure out a way to give them to you.

When you ask him why, for the love of all the gods, does he even want to keep a Roman slave, he says it amuses him. You always thought it was an odd thing to do because you’ve never seen König spend time with his soldiers. He never gambles with them, never eats with them, never hunts with them. By separating himself from them he keeps up an illusion of himself as a walking, fighting myth who has forced half the world to its knees, and whose quirks are to keep a Roman slave and, now, a foreign fairy in his tent.

You start to understand that it's because he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

He doesn’t even want to belong. He doesn't make an effort to be a Roman even if, legally, you suppose he’s a citizen or at least a free man. You wonder if it’s his only weakness: being so different from everybody else. 

You walk in and out of camp like a free woman with him. To the forest, to the stream, and one day, to the ocean, not too far from where you used to gather clams. If you walked the shoreline long enough, you would end up near your old village.

You spend your entire day there, collecting pink and white shells, giggling as König takes a dip in the shivering sea. He even throws the hood away before walking into the foaming waves. You have to hold your breath as he comes out because his face is the complete opposite of what you thought you would see. He has stern features and some prominent scars above his lip and crossing the bridge of his nose; there’s one above the left eye, and his nose has been broken at least two times. He looks mean and dangerous and suffering, it’s true, but you’re not scared at all. In fact, your embarrassingly wet while he furrows his brows and looks down at his feet, otherwise proud and happy in his skin but now suddenly concerned that you might not like what you see.

“Ugly?” He asks bluntly, with such distanced but sharp pain that your breath leaves you entirely. The vision of him might have frightened you on the first night, it’s true, but now, you only think he’s handsome. In a crude way, perhaps... But still handsome.

“No,” you shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off him. König takes in air as if he has been granted a pardon from a horrible crime, and your heart hurts – is this the reason he has clung to that hood? To conceal some old scars and to appear more menacing to friends and enemies?

He’s stronger than ever as he walks to you, unclothed and smelling of seabreeze and salt, like he was just born from there, sired by the ocean and the wind. You ought to pray to Mother but you know it will do you no good. It’s a rotten joke to want a man who has massacred your people, the ones you used to call friend and neighbour and kin. You feel like you’re betraying the memory of your whole village by wanting to sleep with the enemy. The enemy who worships you; who looks at you like you’re a goddess when you lean back to watch the night sky come alive with indigo and stars. The enemy who teaches you their names in his own tongue...

He points you to the Head of the Serpent and the Smith’s Street, then to the Nail that holds the sky in place. You have your own names for the stars but you like it when he introduces them to you, clumsy and excited. When he shows you the long cock of the hero your people call Hunter, your cheeks heat up. You try to repeat the name in his tongue (whatever lewd, brash northern hero it may be), and it makes him happier than ever to hear you speak his words.

“König,” you ask him when he's shown you all the stars he knows. “Why do you fight…?”

He turns to look at you, perplexed, and you word the question differently.

“What do you want?”

“...What do I want?”

“Yes. In this life.”

His brows furrow as he starts to think, and your love for him only grows. Has no one ever asked him that before? Has he ever even given it a thought...? 

He grabs a handful of grass and rips it from the ground, absentmindedly and deep in thought. He fiddles with it for a while, then throws it away, looking somewhere to the distant, generous sea.

“I want…children,” he says. “I want a home.”

König turns to look at you, so stern that it forces you take support from the earth beneath you.

“Home. Richtig?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “A–a home.”

But it can’t be...

It can’t.

It’s simply too crazy that the brutal, callous giant has been searching for a home all along. That the man who cuts off heads and spits out the flesh of his enemies is simply someone who has lost his home and has yearned back ever since. It’s too wild a thought that the Titan wants to raise a family and have many children.

“Don’t you have a home somewhere in Rome…?” 

“It’s only a house.”

He fidgets with more grass, then turns back to you again with honest curiosity.

“Do you want children?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Fee. You would be a good mother,” he determines right then and there, saying it so casually that you have no choice but to believe it. You want to change the topic, and quickly, now tugging at the grass yourself because you're feeling shy.

“König… What is Fee?” 

“Fee is… They are small women? Live in trees. Or flowers. Or everywhere,” he gestures vaguely all around you.

“You mean fairies,” you whisper, and he shrugs. If you say so. But you know you're talking about the same thing: curious little earth spirits, lively and wild. 

Your heart is burning; it’s scorching until there’s nothing left but sweet molten gold. Usually, this kind of burning has stirred in your chest when some old crone has told a good story at the fire during the turn of the year. Usually, you’ve felt this kind of thrill when you’ve heard the piper play for the forest during springtime, lulling the devious spirits back to the trees so that they wouldn’t enter lambs and goats and make them sick. You’ve only felt so alive when you’ve walked at the beach during midsummer with a desperate aching between your legs because you’ve felt so alone and yet so, so alive.

“They said you were a Titan,” you whisper, another hushed question on this night of nights. You feel like you’re having a conversation of the ages, even if it’s clumsy and plain. The night sky is blooming with stars, the sea is whispering its secrets, and there are so many unsaid things between you two, finally washing up on the shore. König is ripping out more tall grass, but only because he’s searching for the right words.

“No. No titan. Just king,” he shakes his head as if sorry that he has to disappoint you. “I was the king’s son. Before Rome came…”

He’s suffered the same fate as you then, a long, long time ago. You wonder where his people are now or if they are even alive anymore, if he is the last giant standing, the last remaining man of his folk from the mountains. If the ruins of his proud house have already turned to dirt and dust and soil, if his father’s head was left to rot on a Roman spear, his riches and wealth taken back to Rome as spoils and exchanged for wine and whores and slaves.

You can only imagine the fury and despair when a tall boy’s future and dreams crumbled into dust, to blood and tears and screams, to a tale that no one ever told.

“You’d make a great king,” you say, meaning it with all your heart. His whole face lights up with a smile; the sorrow is still present in his eyes, and you know the depth of its roots now. But the Romans never managed to kill his will to live.

“If I was king… I would choose you for my queen,” he says softly, and you thank the wind for drying an escapee tear that rolls out. Fate is shaking your ribcage like a rattle; the wind steals your tears like they’re a long-withheld gift.

He tells you his tale under the safety of the vast starry sky. It's only bits and pieces, but you understand enough from his clumsy words.

He tells you how he was brought to Rome as a slave, sold to the pits and how he rose to manhood and fame there. He fought in the great arenas you’ve heard so many gruesome tales about; he fought until he could buy his freedom. He forgot his people, his revenge, that he was a king. Not knowing what else to do, he took up arms again and became the thing he hated the most: a Roman soldier. 

He tells you about a woman who can see things that have not yet happened. He asked this seer if there was anything else for him in this life but death; he would give any offering that was needed if only he could find more life instead. He had already given money and offerings to all the fertility goddesses of Rome, to no avail. He had carved a statue of Venus to attract love, but it didn’t work. So many times he had wanted to throw it in the sea. Until the woman who sees told him he would find what he was looking for in his next campaign. When he promised he’d come back to kill her if she lied, the old crone had only laughed at him. 

The next day, he was discharged from his old unit and separated from those who spoke the same language as him. Everyone was afraid of an uprising that would have a giant at its head, so he was offered money and whores, even a position in politics, and lastly, a place in an elite unit with a better wage. They told him the troops were about to leave for the harsh frontier: a new campaign to bring glory to Rome. He chose the latter option immediately.

He turns to look at you. Bloodless, thin-lipped, shivering you.

“She said you would be pretty. Like a fairy.”

You hear the distant rumbling of the sea, endlessly soft. You feel the wind suddenly passing through the field, filling the cloak of a northern king who came all this way just for you. Even the stars are waiting for your next move. 

“I…” you start, already breathless. “The necklace… König, I’m so sorry. I had to give it to Mother.”

“Mother?”

“To the gods. So that you wouldn’t die in battle.”

Realization dawns on his face, driving away all doubt and confusion. He’s just as pleased as the day he gave you all those gifts, if not even more so.

“You make sacrifice for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You can’t help it: a sob wrenches out of your chest as the first tears fall. “I’m sorry. I really liked it... I’m so sorry–”

König rises immediately, only to come to you and fall to a crouch. He draws you against his chest, your weeping face soon held right against his heart.

“Never say sorry,” he kisses your head, over and over again. “Never say sorry…”

The wind surrounds you both, soft and warm, as he rocks you back and forth. You hug him with all the strength a little fairy can muster, then raise your chin to look at him. You’re probably the most pathetic creature he has ever seen – you could swear there is no woman alive feeling as weak as you feel now. König cups your face gently, the look in his eyes that of a hunter who has finally caught up with his prey. Warm, merciful, loving.

“Fee… I can still taste you,” he says.

“I can still feel you,” you whisper back. A deer, felled. “But I don’t… I don’t like biting.”

“Biting…?” 

“Teeth.”

“Ja. I noticed.”

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You would let him bite you anywhere and everywhere now. You would actually kill for it if he only laid his mouth on you...

You laugh with leftover tears in your eyes, and your giant smiles back at you, so endearing that you feel like it’s the first day of the rest of your life.

“Do you like bath?”

…

You ease into the warm, almost too warm water with a sigh.

The slaves have had to toil the better half of the evening to heat such a large body of water, and you can’t even begin to imagine where König has gotten the pretty little clay bathtub. It’s the largest pottery you have ever seen; far too small for a giant like him but just enough for a fairy woman like you.

You wash yourself languidly, feeling like the queen of the whole wide earth. Someone has even poured some of the scented oils into the bath, and you could cry from happiness as the sweet scents envelop you. You wonder if the wife of any chieftain has ever experienced such luxury and warmth. 

König has the most pleased smile on his face when he sees how much you appreciate yet another gift of his. He pampers and spoils you so much that you threaten to turn into an overripe grape, too soft and sweet and juicy, unable to keep intact anymore. But there’s a price to be paid, apparently, as he watches you from across the tent, sitting in his chair and pulling back the tunic to reveal the the erection between his legs. It’s the biggest cock you've ever seen, and already standing tall and proud, like a soldier about to go to war.

Your lips part on their own; heat shoots between your legs so fast it knocks the breath out of you. He seems to love your attention and awe, because his cock gives a few pulls just from you staring at it. Pearl-white seed leaks out of the tip as he grabs it inside a strong fist and gives himself a few unhurried strokes. 

“König…?”

You’re breathless, but he’s not: he’s breathing heavily in that chair, powerful thighs spread wide, stroking the thick weapon between his legs while you feel like fainting in your bath.

“When will torture end?”

He's dark, dark and done with patience, and you don't know how to answer such a question. You don't even know where to look.

“Hm? You like to torture men?”

“No,” you whisper, cheeks hot and cunt ridiculously wet.

“Yes you do. A little bully, hmm?”

“König–”

“I’ll show what happens to bullies.”

He lets himself go and rises from the chair. Your mind is of no use to you now: all you can do is stare at that thing between his legs, pointing towards you like a road sign.

He walks to you, cock and gaze equally heavy, and gets rid of his tunic. Then he gestures for you to rise from the tub. You’ve spent enough time there in his opinion, and the water is indeed turning unpleasantly cool – but if you go to him now, you won’t be able to fight him. Not when you’re in such a pleased, lax, purring state. Perhaps that was the whole idea...

You rise slowly, then step out carefully, taking support from the edge of the tub and from his shoulder – and still almost collapse all over him as you try to remain on your feet. He holds you upwards while you try to avoid the murder weapon between his legs, but your giant is not as shameful as you: he grabs your butt and guides you flush against him. You meet his chest with a gasp, the length of him now trapped between you two.

“Wait, I’m—I’m still wet,” you try to peep, but it’s no use. He sweeps you off your feet, no doubt with the intention of carrying you to the bed. 

“I will lick you clean,” he looks at you like you’re already trapped, caught, and bled: such a weak little creature in his arms, trying to beg for mercy with its last dying breath. You cling to him as such, that’s for sure.

“Just... No biting. Please?” You whisper as he lays you on the bed.

“No biting,” he gives his valiant promise, accompanied with a confident flash of a smile.

Gods…

If he’d gotten rid of that stupid hood earlier, your legs would’ve been pudding. They would’ve been as far apart as the two villages east and west of here. That smile would have allowed him to infiltrate everything in between. Perhaps it’s a good thing he is not that clever… 

“Oh gods–” you gasp as he shifts down and lowers himself for worship. His breath hits you first, and the next thing you feel are his lips – still smiling – then the gods-forsaken beast gives you a kiss.

“Oh–”

There is a sudden silence following your moans, then you hear soldiers bursting into laughter outside your tent. They’re warming themselves by the campfire, no doubt, sharing stories about war and women, and now they’ve heard the first mewls of surrender from their hero’s tent, after weeks of quarrelling.

Your cheeks heat up as one of the soldiers utters a hurried sentence and mentions König’s name, after which the merry crew booms to laughter again.

Gods take the Romans and their stupid, lewd jokes...

You try to concentrate on the warmly lit burgundy ceiling as König carries on without paying any attention to what’s happening outside. They could march into the tent and try their best to rip him off your cunt, but you doubt if they would get him to move an inch. He's simply that drunk on your taste.

You wonder if his chin is already covered in your juices because his kisses are open-mouthed and hungry – he even tries to push his tongue inside you. The man has absolutely no shame when he's buried down there, groaning with approval as you roll your hips. You're rutting his face as shyly as you possibly can, and it makes him purr and rumble with bliss. The noise he makes is enough to make you sing too, so filthy that it earns you a whistle from outside.

Shit... They probably think he's fucking and hurting you with his cock – a scary prospect, yes, but you'll have to cross that bridge when you get there – and they couldn't be more wrong. If they only knew what their champion is doing to his slave, lapping and sucking his disobedient woman like a starved dog...

“You like mouth?”

It’s hungry, so dark, the way he asks if you like what he’s doing to you. It’s not the mad lust of a drunken man from a few nights ago; it’s sober, fierce greed with a clear purpose behind it. Your fingers find his hair and tug at it weakly, not to cheer him on, but to take support from something relatively stable. 

“Yes… Yes, just–"

“Gut,” he grins into your folds, coarse stubble scraping you deliciously raw. “I like this too. After I lick you enough, I will fuck you.”

Your fingers curl around his hair, giving him another involuntary tug.

Gods, make him stop talking... Just tie his tongue or something, make him shut up.

Please…

“I will bully you all night with cock. I know you will like. Hm?”

He prattles more nonsense in your cunt, and you can’t hear the men outside anymore. You can’t even see the lamps. You’re in a womb of pleasure, which is funny because there’s a grown man between your legs, dragging his tongue over your slit until you're shaking and crying on the bed. Yes, if this is a womb, you never want to leave...

And he’s not eloquent; you don’t even know what he is trying to do to you. He probably doesn’t know it himself. He’s not trying to fish for cues on what you like: he just does what he feels like doing, which is everything. He tries every single thing. He’s just happy to be down there, flicking and circling his tongue over your nub until you can’t take it anymore.

You're dangerously close, and rise halfway to push his head away because it’s just too much; it’s too much pleasure in one go. He gives you a husky laugh and fights your weak attempts to make him stop, the damned bastard. You’re too frail to resist him, and he knows too much already, repeating the torture until your hips buck up.

“Gut... Like that...?” He asks again, so eager to please that you have to stifle a sob.

“Yes... Yes, just like that,” you sigh while trying to stay in one piece.

“Guide me, little fairy,” he demands, excited like a young, hot recruit. Apparently it's no big deal for him to have his head tugged and shoved and dragged just for a woman's pleasure. It doesn't take away an ounce of his power to be your toy for a moment. Your sharp tongue has left you completely; it is you who is humbled as you guide him back to the right spot, jerking when he licks you just the way you wished.

It’s bad enough that you make a mess on his bed and moan like a paid woman, giving everyone in this camp a taste of what it sounds like when a giant bullies his fairy to the full. But can’t he keep his stupid, lovable mouth shut...

He’s making so much noise that you can both feel and hear him. His moans are hoarse, needy and deprived; they echo somewhere in your core, somewhere inside your most sensitive, aching place, just before he finds it, the right spot, and pushes his tongue inside you.

“Wait…” you gasp, convulsing on the bed now. What the hell does he think he’s—

“Wait—I’m…”

And then you cum, right into his mouth, with an arched back and quivering thighs, with such lewd sounds shooting out of your mouth that complete silence follows outside.

Whatever those soldiers had thought to happen here tonight, they clearly didn't expect to hear that… Nor the cries that follow, so nasty and wanton that König doesn't withdraw, not before you have clenched and cried your fill. He enjoys your peak to the last tremble, but you barely get to catch your breath before he leaves you. He doesn’t even give you a chance to caress his head as thanks for what he just did to you.

His mouth leaves you empty and cold as he rises, watching you like you're his best conquest. His cock is so hard it juts out, immovable like a rock and so intimidating that you stop breathing for a moment.

And he doesn't allow your breathless, shocked state go to waste: he grabs that horse cock and sets it on your flush, soaked lips, and pushes the head inside. More than just the head inside.

“Oh gods, oh fuck–”

Your legs are completely useless, falling to the side as he eases himself into you. He looks at you curiously, tilting his head when he hears you curse for the first time in his presence. More than just amused, he goes deeper still, delighted that he made you say a naughty word with his cock.

You can feel the stretch; you can feel every ridge, every vein, all his thickness filling you with purpose. You can do nothing but flutter your eyes as he takes you, finally, as his own.

And it must be some cruel joke of both Mother Earth and Father Sky that it prolongs whatever bliss he just gave you with his mouth. Your body won't stop having its pleasure; it welcomes him with a string of helpless whimpers. Even your cunt starts to squeeze him like it's the best thing in this world.

And he sees it. He feels it.

“Ja, little one. Time to fuck.”

He continues his journey inside, one massive palm landing on each side of your head as he leans over you.

“Einfach so… Trust me. Hmm?”

You only nod, completely silent and tame, waiting for him to give you more gifts. Mother knows this man is your downfall: your heart and soul are about to burst into flame when you look at him. You want him with your whole being; you want his love and praise so much you could cry.

“You want cock?”

“Yes,” you look up at him, eyes surely shining like stars. “Yes, yes, yes–”

“I will give you. Don’t worry.”

You sob as he withdraws, pulling the long, delicious cock almost completely out. He returns immediately when you whine from the loss. He feels so good, and so, so big… Fulfilling you entirely, every bit of you that was hollow and empty, every little space that needed loving is now his and filled with love.

“Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng,” he huffs and looks down as if to check if it’s true that he’s finally inside you. It could never fit in fully; you both probably knew that. But he’s trying his best.

“What does that mean?” You pant, impatient that he stopped moving.

“Too small... For me...” he laments. Or brags.

“Any woman is too small for you,” you mope underneath him, thinking about whether he has had women who have been able to take him fully in. Women who haven’t been “too small”.

König raises his eyes to you and smiles, revealing a row of white teeth, the scarred lip making his grin look pure and sweet even if he is a menacing man.

Stupid mountain giant… He's just proud of not being able to fit inside you. Your lower lip juts out with a pout, and the cock inside you responds immediately with a pulse. You can feel it — he's fucking excited about you getting angry at him again.

There is a flash of mischief in his eyes – darned bastard – just before he swoops down to attack your neck. Your tits get crushed under a solid chest as he nuzzles close to your ear and gives you lots of love and little bites. He starts to fuck you slowly, and there's nowhere you can escape now, nowhere you can flee his mouth or teeth or cock.

“König, you promised–”

“Aber… You are more tight this way?” 

The breathless laugh that follows leaves you blinking. Of course he can feel the way you tighten around him every time he gives you a little bite.

“Gods, I hate you…” you whisper on his shoulder, thinking about biting him there in return. König laughs in your neck again – your threats of hate have long past lost their intimidating nature and are more like love confessions to him now. And perhaps that’s what they are.

He makes love to you hard and good, and it’s embarrassing, how you're about to cum again around his cock. You were supposed to have your revenge by showing him you have teeth too, but find yourself biting your lip instead, trying to tone down at least some of the filthy sounds that try to escape you.

He's not too rough, at least not yet, happy with listening to the poorly stifled whimpers that follow his every thrust. You thought he'd rail you like an animal, but he seems to settle for making love to you while biting and groping you all over. He savours every thrust like he savoured those grapes you fed him: slowly and intently, with passion instead of greed.

You're squeezing him with everything you have as he rocks you back to the edge. His grunting only make it all worse: he doesn't even try to be quiet and decent, and it's driving you to madness. Why does he have to be so noisy? Why does he have to fuck you so that everyone can hear just how good you feel?

Every soldier in this camp can hear both your moans, his hoarse ones and your weak ones, merging together until you do sound like animals in heat... You’re so wet that some of the men must hear the music of that, too. You never knew your cunt would be so hungry and needy, least of all for a man like him. You grip him as the waves approach, rich moans turning into pathetic little cries as his cock works you open.

“Again…?” He smiles a surprised laugh on your neck. The waves hit you before you can tell him to shut up.

The noise you make is even more obscene this time, and you barely catch a glimpse of his drowsy, victorious stare before your head falls back. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to take in the most powerful orgasm and the most powerful cock of your life without having to see that stupid, happy face of your lovesick giant.

“Nein,” he grabs your jaw inside a huge but gentle hand. “Eyes open.”

He won't even let you cum in peace, but you do as you’re told, finding him watching you like a stormcloud or a god. He watches your every tremble, every whimper, every sigh. He sees the full-blown love in your eyes, and you wonder… Is this what the bards sing about in their stupid songs? 

…Weakness?

Because your heart hurts and your eyes sting, your thighs tremble and your cunt is far too wet and open for him to plough. If this is love, it hurts; it burns far too sweet. It leaves you utterly weak.

“Little one is needy,” he comments softly on your second downfall.

“You’re the one who’s needy–”

Your already weak argument ends in a gasp as he reminds you who you belong to with another good, deep thrust.

“I will put a child in you,” he rumbles, a threat or a promise. “If we do this every night… You will have my child.”

“Then let’s do this every night,” you whisper beneath him, your own purr of a threat. As if you didn’t know how babies were made… To your silent joy, König stops to catch his breath or your words; you’re not entirely sure which. You decide to up the stakes, just to make him fall with you.

“And every morning too?”

“Ach, du kleine–” he crumbles, voice turning to dust from your innocent suggestion.

If you thought he was a little too in love with you before, the look on his face now is worth all the gold in the world. You could swear that your kind question is the sole reason for this man cumming on the spot. Perhaps your body is to blame for it too; he couldn't keep his paws off when you were being sulky and difficult, so how could he take it when you're pleased and loving and all puffed up?

You see the brief flash of vulnerability, the mortal fragility in his eyes just before he shoots his load with a painful-sounding groan. The sound that leaves him is a mixture of desperation and release – even giants can cry, you think as you watch how beautifully he comes undone. He makes sure his seed is sent deep inside you by burying his cock into you, as far as it can go; the intention behind it is so clear that you wouldn't be surprised if you got heavy with a child after this first time.

He falls on top of you after, drained and spent and body heaving from exertion. There’s no other sound in the night but the satisfied panting of you two: the soldiers outside are rendered silent by the sounds of true lovemaking, even the wind spirits are hushed tonight.

You’re completely filled, and with his cock still inside you, he’s preventing any precious seed from escaping. You’re only glad he’s too weak to move because you’d happily keep him here forever, inside and on top of you like this.

“You are pleased…?” He turns his head a little, sounding worried enough to make you hug him tight.

“Yes. Very much,” you whisper, and he moves to rise and look you in the eyes. 

“Gut.”

It’s cute to be nose to nose like this with him, eyes locked together, lips only a hair’s breadth apart. He looks so intoxicated and happy without even being drunk that you break into a small laugh, eyes brimming with happy tears, the washing away of relief. He smiles too, then laughs with you.

The soldiers outside might think it an odd business: to make a woman moan and laugh with a cock. You were brought to this tent screaming, and he made you scream again, just not the way they thought.

The sound of your mutual laughter rises in the tent, up towards the heavens, surely making even the Sky Father smile above.

…

You do it every night, and every morning, too.

Sometimes, you do it during the day after bathing in the stream. After washing and playing in the water, you rush to the shore together, but König is always faster than you. He throws your dress away or holds it up above his head, far from your reach, smiling like the most innocent man in the world. He's far from innocent, though: his cock hangs heavy between his legs, swelling just from seeing you angry and flustered and wet. 

“Bully,” you accuse, utterly in love and out of breath, earning you another attack of a love-hungry giant. You forget the dress when he kneels on the grass, kisses your stomach and your thighs, keeps you in place for his mouth with two strong arms and a love that turns your whole body weak. 

“Pretty,” is the only thing he breathes as an answer before he scoops up your leg and spreads you open for his mouth.

Your head rolls back with a choked sigh, the drops on your skin dry on their own. Somehow, you end up on the grass with his mouth glued on you. The sun plays in your hair; it dances on your face as he gives you more and more until you know, you just know that if you do this every night and morning and day, you will definitely have his child.

He tells you his real name, his true name, the one his mother gave him. You moan it in his ear just before you cum around his length. Sometimes, it makes him purr; other times, it makes him grunt. Once, you hear a soft, pitched whine. 

He’s more rough when you’re on your knees. You’re shy and wet when he commands you to prop yourself on your elbows and show him your cunt. He licks you from front to back, feasts on you until your breaths turn to shivers. You squeeze your eyes shut from how obscene the scene must look; you hope to all the gods the Roman slave won’t come to ask his travel guides back when König finally rises and takes a wide stance behind you. He sets himself on your opening and pushes in, fat and greedy. 

You can only whimper as he starts the thrusts, starved and slow, picking up the pace and holding you in place by the hips when you approach the brink of another collapse. You fear you will lose your mind if he keeps doing this to you every day. The only thing you hear are the breathless, warm grunts of encouragement behind you.

“You can take it. You can take it. Already took it, little one…”

He won’t stop, not even as you cry out loud, the cock hitting you in places that make your legs nearly give in. He won’t stop even as tears brim, not even as you start to sound like a tortured animal; no, he just tightens his grip on your waist and pounds you harder. You cum with a moan that would make Roman whores blush, but your lover doesn’t mind at all. He cums right after you, with a roar that could raise the reverend dead from their mounds.

Afterwards, he’s gentle again. He gathers you in his arms like his most valuable possession, caressing and breathing you in, giving you a soft kiss behind your ear.

“You’re... mean,” you try to remember how to breathe as he gives you more of those hungry kisses. You already know he likes it when you’re so spent you don’t have the strength to squirm or fight him.

“Ja. And you become more nice when I bully you,” he whispers in your ear. “More calm… Less difficult.”

“Well, you don’t,” you turn inside his hold, eyes shining brighter than the stars or even the sun. “Crazy man…”

“You have robbed me of my sword and shield, it’s true. Robbed my heart too. Little thief.”

“Thief? You’re the one who stole me…!”

“And I’ll never let you go.”

You wriggle a hand to cup his face, meeting his eyes with such helplessness that it’s not even funny anymore. If he’s joking or playing with you now, you’ll kill him with his own swords.

“You promise?”

“I make a vow,” he declares ceremoniously, with a hand on his heart. But you doubt that he’s playing any games; you wonder if this man is even capable of lying or deception. You hug him so tight that he has to let out a grunt – surprised and pleased – after which you have to bury your face in his neck so that he won't see your tears.

“I am in love with you, Fee,” he whispers in your ear while caressing your hair, ever poetic for such a simple man. “Tell me. Do you like me too…?”

“Yes,” you breathe a half-cry, half-laugh in his neck. “Yes, you crazy giant. I like you too.”

You rise just enough to kiss him. It’s hungry and delivers everything you can’t say. You can’t tell him you love him; you simply can’t. You’re not ready for the painful happiness it would bring forth. He stabs you full of it anyway.

“I will never let you go. Never. Not when I finally found you, little one...”

…

Summer comes.

The camp moves lazily to its next destination, but when the next battle comes, König refuses to fight. 

His soldiers blame you, of course. You have bewitched him with your softness, making him soft and spineless as well. It is unheard of that a warrior like him would fall like this: out of some woman’s underhanded spell rather than dying gloriously in the field by a barbarian blade or two. Even poison is considered better than this.

No one understands that there is no hex. The war is still being fought, this time inside his soul. It’s not just you preventing him from taking up arms; it’s something else, something old and deep-rooted you've managed to stir in him. Something ferocious, something that has been asleep for a long time, something that is far from all things soft.

You two sneak out from the camp after the bulk of the army has marched away. He takes you to the seaside again, to a wild, roaring shore. You laugh and bask in the sun, swim in the sea and eat the first berries of the season. You lie on the tall grass, naked as the day you were born: it's simply too hot to wear anything except your glowing skin. König starts to ask you peculiar questions while tracing the soft line of your spine. 

He asks what kind of house you would like to live in, and tries to find out in a roundabout way if you would like to live in a forest or in the hills. You treasure the sound of waves, and König likes the sound of the wind in trees, but you both love steep hills and the open view of plains. You get the idea that he may want to retire somewhere in the near future. 

He tells you he is not a good fisherman but can hunt everything that moves. He is good with a spear, with traps and the bow, and he’s tired of hunting humans who only wish to live in peace. The arena he could understand, but the war on foreign lands, not. And if you begin to swell with his offspring, the Roman encampment at war is the last place for a sweet little fairy like you. He asks what kind of village you used to live in and is somewhat sad to hear all the things you tell him. He says it sounds like home, the one he was taken from many years ago. 

When you return to the camp, it’s like you two are a different species altogether, two wild animals who sneak from the gates back to the flock, back to being human, back to being caged and tamed and stunted. The grumpy, tired soldiers witness your wildness and happiness with sullen distaste. To them, your appetite for freedom is the filthiest, most treacherous thing in the world. 

The commander of the troops summons König at his feet and threatens to flog him if he ever skips a battle again. He’s told that only barbarians ignore orders like this: at the turn of a whim or a woman or wind. If he doesn’t remember who he is, not the reckless murderer of his youth but a man reborn, a noble Roman citizen, he will risk descending into apathy and greed again. Was this the case, Rome will guide him back to fold again by the crack of a whip if it has to.

That night, you tell him that you love him. Wherever he goes, you will go. That night, when you’re lying in his arms, sweaty and spent and thoroughly happy, he speaks words so wild it shakes the whole tent with a wind.

“If I kill the soldiers, will you come with me?”

It’s only a mutter, a murmured, careful whisper, but it makes you rise to sit and place a hand on his chest for extra support.

“Kill the soldiers? You mean… Kill the Romans?”

“Ja. All of them.”

The shock quickly makes way to disbelief. Can such a thing even be done? He’s a giant, but he’s still just one man. But König doesn’t look restless at all; he looks like a man who has finally made a decision he should have made years ago. He looks like someone who is at peace with their soul.

"Where would we go?" You whisper weakly, unsure if he has given this enough thought or thought at all. It’s now the wanderer in him who speaks, the adventurer who fears nothing because he has already lost everything – and found the most precious, essential thing. 

You. Himself…

Free will.

“Wherever you want.”

“What if you get killed…?”

“You take treasure and horse and go.”

…

Your mother always said that it's useless to sway a man if he has chosen to stand up and fight. She told you that the best you could do is go grab a sword and join him.

That is why you give him your blessing – your full, ardent blessing.

It makes him stronger than ever: were he to go out there with nothing but his skin, he would be victorious. The oak that hears your magnificent spell shivers from fear above you as you call down earth, fire and wind. 

You call the spirits from below to guide his feet and make them swift and silent as a feather in the wind. You call down the lightning from the sky to accompany his sword as he deals his blows. You cloak him with the fury of the dead; they will smite down his enemies when they catch even a glimpse of him. You shroud him with the Mother's blessing so that he will be untouchable, unstoppable, invincible as he deals death among the Romans.

It’s a terrible spell; even the moon withdraws into a cloud when She hears it. Not even the lady of silver twilight dares to reveal this giant to the Romans as he’s about to descend upon them.

He rises with the power of fifteen men and gives you a kiss that nearly topples you. He smiles before he leaves you, and never looks back as he goes to do the deed of a legend.

You watch the massacre up from a hill. A safe distance from the camp, but close enough to see how König destroys a whole cohort by himself. The plant you mixed into the “reconciliation wine” he gave his soldiers and the commander before nightfall makes it laughably easy because most of the men are still half asleep when they burn inside their tents. The oil spilt on the dry dirt and linen roars aflame now with the help of the wind and earth spirits as König torches the camp. The occasional few soldiers that rise to meet him with fear in their stare are already broken by your spell before his swords impale them. 

The old translator is the only Roman who wasn’t given a cup of foxglove wine because he was König’s slave, and now he can see that he is blessed among men. The God of War faces him with swords pointing to the ground, fury planting his feet wide, and it takes the old Roman a while to understand that he’s the only man who gets to walk out of this camp unharmed. As grumpy and unsociable as he is, you wish him good fortune on his future journeys, even utter a quick protection spell to shroud him as he leaves towards his destiny on enemy land.

The slave women, sober, confused, and free, run amock to gather weapons, cloaks, food, and valuables before escaping the camp. König doesn’t even notice them, and they pay little mind to the enraged god ramming through puny mortals because they’re too busy getting out of the burning castra.

How fitting it is that the only people escaping the hellfire are a few beaten women and an old, weak-calved Roman – every able-bodied soldier burns inside his tent or meets their end at your lover’s blade.

The wind spirits help spread the fire so eagerly that you begin to fear that König won’t make it out in time. You whisper prayers into your fist, curled around the Mother who has already given you so much. She has also taken away everything; like seasons, she has reaped and sown, but if she reaps your lover now, you will walk into the sea.

Mother is merciful and returns him to you, unharmed and glorious. He's the same ferocious beast you saw half a moon ago, and also the same ferocious man who was inside you this very morning. You see a god of war, and he sees the mother of life and death, perhaps, because his first words to you are a ripe offering.

“I avenged them all,” he says when he reaches you, thrumming with victory and smelling of smoke and ruin and blood.

He has been born again; he has walked to a new dawn through fire and death and returns to your arms like you two have known each other since the beginning of time. You’re not sure if he talks about his fallen ones or your fallen ones, or everyone who has fallen to these particular Roman spears. You’re not sure if this is his downfall because what you’re looking at is only the downfall of the Roman campaign on your lands. You and König are very much wild and spirited and free. If this is a downfall, it feels like being lifted towards the sky. You see in his eyes that he feels the same as you.

The whole world is new as you leave towards a new life. Sun rises, and takes years off your backs. You wash him in the sea and kiss the salt away from his lips, and it feels only right that he takes you on the grass after slaughtering your enemies.

You bury the statues and the bronze sword in your old village, long abandoned and thoroughly looted. The old woman is in her hut, dead as a stone, and she finally looks happy, with a calm little smile on her face and flowers in her hand. She looks like a young girl, almost, ready to meet the spring of her life.

"Ready for adventure, little one?" König smiles as he raises you to his horse. He takes direction from the sun while you look down at his happy, golden form – your god, your life, your love. 

Your new beginning.

...

Translations:

Richtig? - Right?/Correct?

Einfach so - Just like that

Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng - Damn… Gods, you are tight

Aber… - But…

Ach du kleine… - Oh you little…

Scheisse - Shit/Fuck

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x female reader #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #konig x you #historical au #Roman soldier!König #könig smut #könig fluff #könig imagine

[lincolndjarin]

Every Now and Then - ch. one

[ I Dream of Something Wild ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 6.4k

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, injury, language, manipulation, joel takes advantage of readers situation, eventual smut, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, she is picked up by joel at one point but i'm a firm believer that he's strong enough to lift any one who may find themselves in the pov of our reader, joel is possessive and controlling, dark!joel miller in a sense?? like he's not really dark now but he's going to be, multiple time lines, not canon compliant, mentions of prostitution, i sorta made up my own timeline, i probs missed tags sorry!!

a/n : i really need to fix my writing schedule so i'm hoping that having a new fic to put my energy into is going to help!! also sorry if this chapter doesn't have much going on i need to set up a lot of stuff but i promise more action in future chapters

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

He crept up on you like the shadows as the sun sets in the west. An all encompassing darkness that blotted out the sun until all that was left was night. He sunk his claws into you so deep that your eyes adjusted to the dark, and you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you shrunk away from the inevitable sunrise that made him cower away from the dawn as if he never really was big and scary. 

And in the light of day you saw him for what he really was.

He was just a man, who was once a boy, who was scared of the dark. 

So he made himself big, and terrifying, and he grew so accustomed to the thing he once feared that the very idea of anything else made him recoil.

You feel something akin to pity when you think of him now. That doesn’t mean you forgive him, but when you can stomach it you try to, for the sake of your peace. You’d probably be happier if you could just forgive him. 

But you can’t.

So you don’t. 

It’s hard when his own blood doesn’t think he’s a good man. Tommy was afraid of him. Terrified at the very thought of his big brother. You can recall several nights where you had woken up to him screaming in the sleeping bag beside you, absolutely petrified of a memory that had inevitably snuck in through the darkness. You never feared him quite like that, but seeing the effect he has on Tommy makes your stomach churn, a painful reminder of your own suffering.    

Most of the time it’s easier to just not think of him at all, despite the reminders he’s branded into you forever. You ignore him when he tries to soak back into your very being, but at the end of the day he’s unavoidable. You see him in the dark brown eyes of others, hear him in Tommy’s southern drawl, taste him when you have the occasional sip of whiskey. He tries and tries relentlessly to worm his way back into you, but you never let him. You put up walls and you focus on other things, anything, that isn’t Joel Miller. And even though you can’t forget him entirely you manage to ignore the memory of the man you once loved for several years.  

Until one day it’s impossible to keep the thought of him away. 

Until he himself makes it impossible.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“Stay off of it or you’re going to lose it.”

That’s what the QZ doctor had told you. A couple weeks of bed rest was the most he could offer when you came to him with your broken ankle. 

A couple weeks without working is a death sentence. 

If you don’t work you won’t be able to afford food. And you don’t have anybody to fall back on, no family, no friends, not even an acquaintance to borrow funds from. 

Lose your leg or starve. 

As appealing as it sounds, starvation isn’t an option, too painful. 

So you have to work. The only issue with that is you’ve been blacklisted, the stupid doctor had you put on a no-shift list. You beg them to let you work, you’ll do anything, but they never budge. 

You only have enough ration cards stocked up to make it to the end of the week so you have to consider your other options. You could sell yourself. It certainly isn’t uncommon and the money’s good but it’s too dangerous, especially if you can’t run on your leg. You’ve seen too many people get hurt in that profession to risk it. You don’t have a trade. You’re terrible at sewing, you can’t cook, there isn’t a need for much of anything else and you own nothing valuable. 

So there’s only one other option for you. 

You steal. 

You dress inconspicuously, in your only pair of jeans and a plain shirt, both of which are getting rather tattered at this point but you have nothing else. With your jacket on you pull up your hood and you do the exact thing you aren’t supposed to do, and you walk. 

The conditions in the QZ are poor enough that your limp doesn’t stand out. You walk up and down the streets all day, slow and steady, with your head down and you don’t take risks. You don’t take anything big or obvious, just little things. A single ration card peeking out of a pocket, a pocket knife off a vendor's table, stale bread, set away from the good stuff where no one is looking. And you return home each night with your pockets full and your leg aching. 

By the end of your second week you’re still barely scraping by but you’re managing. What little ration cards you manage to snatch you use to buy food, but it’s still nothing compared to what you’re used to making. Your ankle feels worse by the day. 

You need more. 

You need to find a source of income that will let you rest or you’re going to lose your leg, which will leave you in an even worse position. It isn’t until you hear your neighbor slam his door that you come up with an idea. 

Your neighbor probably has more cards than he knows what to do with, and he’s always coming and going so he probably wouldn’t even notice if you skimmed a little off the top. Nothing substantial, just enough to keep you going and give your leg time to heal. 

The only problem is your neighbors reputation. 

You doubt you’d have much of a chance of surviving him if you got caught. Joel Miller was a bit of an urban legend around the QZ. Of course you only knew him as your stoic neighbor, just a guy who didn’t make a lot of noise and came home at strange hours, and sometimes disappeared for days at a time. 

But everyone else acted as if he was some kind of Boogey Man. You didn’t see him much in the streets but when you did children ran and people whispered, and while you had no knowledge of how he earned that reputation you knew it probably wasn’t pretty. 

So you’d have to be careful. 

He’s gone now, you’d heard him stopping down the hall so you decide it couldn’t hurt to take a peek, just scout out the area. 

You climb out onto the fire escape, your leg aching as you do, and you use the dull little knife you’d stolen a few days ago to shimmy open his window lock. It slides open pretty easily, he’s probably rather confident that nobody would ever mess with him so he doesn’t seem to have the usual precautions taken to protect his belongings. 

Lucky you. 

Stepping into the room you wince as you land on your bad leg, stumbling onto the floor, knocking a board loose in the process. 

“Shit.” You groan, sitting up quickly, trying to put everything back in its proper place when you catch a glimmer of something under the floor. 

A revolver. 

You shouldn’t be here. Joel Miller is a dangerous man, you knew that but you did this anyway, you can’t help but feel incredibly stupid as you stare at the weapon. You feel so stupid that you don’t even hear the click of a lock. You don’t even bother with the ration cards you can see peeking out from under the gun, you just want to leave and forget that you ever thought this was a good idea. It’s a struggle, getting back to your feet, your leg is throbbing, begging for a rest you can’t afford to take right now. With a groan you push the window open, eager for this silly idea to be over you try to figure out the best way to go about this. You’re starting to lose feeling in your leg, should you go bad leg first or try to balance on it while shimmying the rest of your body out the window? 

You never get to decide what the best course of action is because your head is slammed against the wall, your knees crumple underneath you as you hit the floor, the room spinning as your leg bends at an angle that makes you shriek. You slap your hand over your mouth but it’s far too late for that. He’s been here the whole time. It’s dark but you can still make out the foreboding shape of his figure. The broad shouldered beast that’s glaring down at you, his boot nudging your chin roughly as you bite back a shriek of fear. 

“I could report you to FEDRA for this.” The gruff voice whispers into the darkness. 

You’re desperate to avoid lockup, you know you’ll die in there, or worse. Although you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen to you either way. 

“I- I’ll tell them about your contraband.” You point frantically at the loose floor board. “They’ll lock you up too.” His glare is unwavering as he stares down at you. You’re a little worried that he might just kill you himself, there would be no consequences, no one would be looking for you. 

No one would look for you. 

The thought makes you shudder and even though you try to stop yourself you feel your eyes beginning to water. You hear footsteps, watching his outline move across the room before you’re shrinking away from the light of a dim lamp in the corner. 

“You gotta be real dumb to find yourself in this situation.” He mutters, turning back around to stare at you. His gaze makes you want to cover yourself up, it’s like he can see every single part of you within that icy glare. You’ve never taken the time to really, truly look at him before but you do now, after all this might be your last chance to look at anything at all. 

He isn’t a terrible last sight. 

Sure, he’s ominous enough to make you want to try and run despite the ache in your calf right now, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. In a rugged, weathered sort of way. He’s older than you thought, gray sprinkled throughout the mess of curls framing his face. What a nice face it is. Soft where it needs to be soft, sharp where it needs to be sharp. He marches back over to you, easily taking the pocket knife from your hand and crouching down in front of you.

“Give me one good reason not to finish you off right now.” He points the blade in the direction of your leg. “Seems like it’d be a mercy at this point.” 

Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe it would be a mercy to just let him put you out of your misery. Why have you been fighting so hard? You can’t seem to recall a reason other than the fact that that’s what you’re supposed to do. Your mind tells you that you’re supposed to keep fighting but you can’t think of a single driving force. You’re in pain, constantly, you live in a world that wants you dead, and you have no one relying on you. 

You don’t have a good reason, other than the fact that surviving is all you know how to do. So you look up at him and you nod. Taking in the sight of the pretty, frightening man one last time before closing your eyes. 

It feels good. You feel good, for the first time in a long time, knowing that you won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be afraid of someone kicking your door in, you won’t have to worry about where your next meal is going to come from, and you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster. It’s a mercy.

So you close your eyes.

Suddenly grateful for the killer before you, your guardian angel, here to deliver you the peace you didn’t know you needed. 

You wait patiently for the sting of a blade or the embrace of his hands around your throat but all you're met with is a sigh. When you finally find the courage to open your eyes he’s sitting on the edge of the bed across from you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Just go.” He grumbles, muttering a few other words you don’t catch. 

You’re almost disappointed, having accepted this was the end, and now you’re being shoved back into the cold and unforgiving world. You start to get to your feet but your knees buckle under you. You try again, willing your leg to just work but much to your dismay you can’t even straighten out your leg anymore. When you try to move it all you find yourself only able to bend your knee a few inches.

Shit. 

You think of the fall you took on the way in and wonder if you finally pushed yourself to the limit. If you go back to the doctor will he remove the entire thing? Maybe you should just ask Joel to finish the job before it comes to that. It would be a kindness, between a quick death here or a slow death starving in your apartment you’ll take the quick way every time. Before you even have a chance to ask he’s on his feet. Maybe his patience has run out and you won’t have to ask at all. 

“Let me.” His voice rattles around in your head, so low and commanding that you put up no resistance as he lifts you up under your arms and sets you down on the edge of the bed where he just was. He flips the knife out, going to cut your jeans off of you but you stop him.

“Wait!” He freezes in place, giving you an impatient look. “These are my only jeans, just- just pull them down.” Before you can realize how embarrassing it might be to show your neighbor your faded pink panties, you're already unbuttoning your pants, lifting your hips up so he can pull them down your legs with a roll of his eyes. It’s painful, the feeling of the denim running against your skin but it’s better than not having any pants at all. 

Fuck. 

It’s been a while since you’ve actually looked at your leg. You’re surprised he was able to get your jeans off with how swollen it is, the flesh bulging around your ankle and now up your calf. The skin is shiny and blotchy with shades of purple and red. The sight of it makes you want to hurl but you manage to swallow the urge, looking away as he pokes at the tender flesh. 

“Christ girl, what the hell did you do?” When he grabs your ankle to lift your leg you yelp in pain, making him set your leg back down instinctively. 

“I just- it’s just a broken ankle.” You mumble as he gives you an incredulous look.

“Like hell it is.” Something about the sternness of his voice demands your obedience as you nod. “Wanna tell me what really happened?” 

“Well I- I fell and-” You struggle to find an excuse to justify how bad you let this get but you come up empty. So you tell the truth. “I fell off a ladder while painting over graffiti during my shift and broke my ankle. The doctor told me to stay off of it and- well, I couldn’t afford not to work so I just… didn’t” You rush through your words, staring anywhere else but into his demanding gaze as you explain yourself. 

“So you turned to stealin’.” He says it like the fact it is and you can only bring yourself to nod. “You need antibiotics.” He says just as matter of factly. “You know how much that sort of thing costs?” 

A lot. 

More than you’d have even if you were working overtime. 

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. 

His eyes were so dark that day they threatened to swallow you whole. Were they always that dark? Or was it just that day, the first day, when he realized that he had you. 

“Look, I don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody. But I can help you.” He had sounded so kind, his hint of a smile had seemed so promising. 

“I can’t afford it-”

“You can use alternative methods to pay me back.” 

You told him you’d think about it. 

And he hadn’t pushed you, he had simply helped you back into your jeans and carried you back to your apartment. He told you he’d check on you tomorrow and see if you had an answer for him.

So when the next day came and you had a fever and your leg was throbbing, demanding your attention you’d been all too eager to accept his help. 

And just like that, it was your idea. 

It wasn’t his, he was blameless, you asked him to help you. And it didn’t matter who had suggested it first, it mattered who brought it up after. 

You had been certain that when he had told you you’d be using alternative methods to pay him back that his intentions were unsavory. And at that point you didn’t really care, you’d made your peace with that. The medicine you needed wasn’t cheap and you could find worse looking men who didn’t take care of themselves the way Joel did. 

But he wanted nothing of the sort. 

Southern Manners.

All he wanted was for you to take care of his apartment when he was out with his business partner, a woman who didn’t seem to dislike you but certainly didn’t care for you. He told you to take a week to just rest, take the medicine he brought you, eat the food that he fed you, and be good. So you did as he asked. And after a week you could move a bit more, you started spending your days at Joel’s tidying up and organizing while he was gone, it was much easier to stay off your leg for most of the day and he always made sure there was food and books for you while he was gone. And when he returned he would help you hobble back to your place and help you into bed without complaint and with a promise that he’d be back in the morning. 

But you still don’t relax around him.

It doesn’t make sense. Even someone who wasn’t known for their cruelty wouldn’t just take a stranger in. You’d like to believe that there’s good in people but you know better than to have that kind of faith. There isn’t enough left of the world to share the remains. Yet Joel does. He doesn’t ask to know you better and he certainly doesn’t tell you about himself yet he shows you more kindness than anyone else in your life has before. 

He must like having someone to take care of. 

That’s how you explain it to yourself. 

You watch him with Tess and it’s clear who’s in charge there, she barely even lets him stitch her up when she returns to the apartment. Joel gets frustrated every time, huffing and pacing around the room before finding some way to tend to you in her place. Icing your leg, or bringing you a new book to read, or feeding you. 

It took a few months for your leg to heal, it had been in such bad shape a part of you worried that it might never be the same as it once was. 

After the first month of your arrangement Joel told you his knees hurt and he wouldn’t be able to carry you home, you offered to just walk yourself over, your leg didn’t hurt that bad anymore and you were more than capable of walking short distances. But he insisted you stay, told you you could sleep in the bed and he’d take the couch.

But his knees hurt, you couldn’t let him do that. 

And you told him you’d take the couch and he told you he wouldn’t feel right making you sleep on the couch with your leg the way it was. 

So you told him you’d both just sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a big deal. You trusted him, of course you did, he had an opportunity to exploit you and he didn’t, if he was going to hurt you he would have done it already. 

He had acted unsure. 

You know now that it was acting. 

So you had insisted. You told him it was okay, you told him you felt safe with him. 

It was your idea. 

Even though it hadn’t been your idea to stay that night.

You had insisted he get in the bed with you. 

A fact that he would bring up often in the months to come. 

He would still help you to your apartment some nights, but just as often he’d complain about his knees and you’d stay. You got used to his warmth, you got used to waking up in his arms and not talking about it in the morning. 

So it made sense when he told you that you should keep your pajamas at his apartment. 

It made sense when he got a toothbrush for you to keep in his bathroom cabinet. 

It made sense when he told you that he couldn’t find new clothes in your size and you could just wear his. 

It made sense when he told you that he and Tess had never been a thing, so you had no reason to feel weird about sleeping in his bed. 

And it made sense when he told you that he’d hold onto the keys to your apartment, afterall you wouldn’t want to lose them. 

Joel Miller was a glue trap. And you had waded across his sticky surface without a care in the world, never realizing that it was getting harder and harder to move until you were standing still. Until the only way you were going to escape was by biting off your own leg. 

You don’t remember when you stopped returning to your own apartment completely, but you know that it happened early on, before you’d even started chewing. 

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“Ruth?” You’re gonna be late if you don’t find her soon. The turntable in the corner of the kitchen plays a 3 Doors Down song as you lift the table cloth, searching for the little girl. “We don’t have time to play, we need to get you to school.” You groan, turning to face the boy currently sitting in a highchair he’s just about grown out of. “Do you know where she is?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glaring at him as he shrugs. 

Of course he isn’t going to tell. They look out for each other before anyone else, a fact that normally fills you with joy but not when they’re ganging up against you. Thankfully you catch his eye as he shoots a glance at the pantry. Pulling the door open you’re quickly met with the sight of Ruth, giggling on the floor. You pick her up, putting her in her own highchair before setting a plate of fruits down in front of her.

“Eat. We don’t have time to play this morning, young lady.” You poke your fork in her direction as you sit down across from them.

“Eat.” She repeats in a mocking tone, her brother erupting into a fit of giggles at the impression as you sigh. They need to be at the community center in half an hour. You make the job schedules on Friday and you need as much time as possible if you want to finish them in one day. You’re having a hard time focusing on the mess your son is making as he smashes each blueberry down onto the table before popping them into his mouth as you try to schedule your own weekend. 

You need to finish all of your work today while the kids are gone so you don’t have to juggle watching them and working later, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue, scheduling should only take a few hours if you really zero in on it. You have dinner with Tommy and Maria tomorrow and you promised to bring dessert so you’ll have to take the kids to the market tonight, which also means you’re going to have to find supplies to barter with before you go. 

You have nothing planned on Sunday.

You’ll have to change that. 

You hate having nothing to do.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as a blueberry hits you in the forehead. Both twins laugh now as you frown at them. 

“Behave or I’ll tell your aunt that you’ve been bad.” Both children look at each other nervously before returning to their breakfast. You were never stern enough with them. You loved them too much, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to yell at them, and it wasn’t like they were troublemakers by any means, they were just kids with a lot of energy in the mornings. And when they did misbehave a small threat of telling Maria was enough to make them stop whatever it was they were doing. 

You finish up your own plate and start getting ready to leave as the kids start giggling again to themselves. When their plates are empty you use a wet washcloth to clean their hands and faces before lifting each of them out of their respective seats, letting them run off a bit more energy before you head out. You set all three bags down in front of the door. Yours being the beige over the shoulder bag accompanied by two little backpacks. Ruth’s green canvas bag is covered in mud and other remnants of the yard that she’s brought in with her but Arthur’s purple backpack is kept neat and tidy. You slip into your coat before turning just in time to watch your son dive into the couch, quickly followed by his sister. 

“Come on little ducks. Time for school.” You take their jackets off the hook, holding them out to them as they rush over to you, tugging their own coats on before grabbing their bags, once you pull the door open they both rush out into the cool autumn morning, talking to each other in hushed tones. Always secrets with those two. It would probably make you a little worried if these were normal circumstances, the way they don’t let anyone in except each other, with you being the only exception. But the world is a terrifying place, it brings you peace to know that they have each other. 

A part of you is certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle just one. 

One little person relying on you, all while you’re doing your best to hold it all together? It sounds like a nightmare. It’s better that they have each other. Once you’re standing outside the community center, busy with parents dropping off their children, you kneel down. 

“Be good, if you behave today you can go to the market tonight.” The promise of the market has both of them grinning, showing off the teeth they’ve both recently had grow in. “I love you, I’ll see you in a bit.” You hold open your arms, each of them taking their respective sides as they wrap themselves around you. You take your daughter's face in your hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead, repeating the motion with your son. After a few “love you mama’s” they both run into the building, once you’re sure they’re safe inside you head off in the direction of town hall. 

You have what you would call the best job in town, despite the fact that no one else seems to want to do it. 

Maria understood when you arrived that you needed something that let you work from home if needed, you needed something that kept your mind busy but also gave you time with the kids. So you took care of the parts of Jackson most didn’t think about. 

You document all of the citizens, you make the shift schedules, and you make sure everyone has the necessities. You take care of housing, when big hauls from scavenging come in you divide them up among the people who need them. You make the meal schedules for the dining hall, and you make the crop schedules. 

You keep Jackson moving. 

When you arrived all of this was Maria’s job along with her other duties, when you told her you wanted something engaging and demanding she was more than willing to pass off those duties to you. So now you’ve got to make the schedule. Town hall is nothing more than a house with several desks for people doing work similar to yours but thankfully you’ve been lucky enough to reserve your own office in one of the bedrooms. 

Most Friday's Maria visits you for lunch but you know she’s on patrol currently, another perk of this job is knowing where everyone is, all the time.

No surprises. 

You hate surprises. (With a few exceptions.)

One of the exceptions is waiting for you in your office, Tommy sits with his legs up on your desk, reading over this past week's schedule. 

“You put me on crop harvest way more than anyone else.” He grumbles, tossing your notebook down.

“It’s the end of the season, everyones on crop harvest.” You lean down, kissing his cheek before taking your place across from him, immediately getting to work as he groans. 

“Maria gets to go on patrol.” 

“Council gets first dibs on patrols during harvest season.” The tip of your favorite pen is dry so you quickly bring it to your mouth, wetting it with your tongue before you start writing out jobs for this upcoming week. The second he sees how many farming related jobs you’re listing he leans back in his chair, groaning and running his fingers through his dark curls. 

Today’s his day off. You always gave anyone doing more manual labor three days off instead of two. 

“I can get you on one patrol shift but they’re going to need your help with the corn.” You write his name in with the Monday and Tuesday patrol squad, filling in the rest of his week with harvest as he grins. 

“Thank you, darlin’.” He drawls. You hate that nickname, you hate that he isn’t the first to give it to you but you never complain, you’d let Tommy get away with murder at this point. It’s the least you can do considering everything he’s given you. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You’re only getting a two-day weekend next week.” You mumble, searching through the list of citizens, trying to pick out the people you know won’t mind the hard work. 

“Fine by me.” You have a complicated relationship with that smile of his. You can love it all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that it makes you uneasy, it doesn’t help that you’re starting to see that same smile in your son. 

“I was thinking about berry cobbler for tomorrow night.” Molly twisted her ankle last week, make sure she isn’t standing. You put her down for shucking corn, she can sit in the dining hall and work. 

“We have a bunch of extra sweet potatoes if you want to make sweet potato pie.” He takes your crop ledger, flipping through it, clearly not reading a thing. 

“Ruth hates sweet potatoes.” Marcus insists he’s capable of doing manual labor, his pride won’t let him act his age. You put him down for pushing the wheelbarrows, he won’t have to bend down to pick anything up but hopefully he’ll still feel like he’s doing enough. You’ve told him countless times that at his age he shouldn’t be working so hard but he always insists. 

“Shit, forgot about that. Maria might have some apples.” 

“I’ll stop by tonight before I take the kids to the market.” 

You’re thankful for Tommy.

He keeps your mind busy with conversation while you work, and he’s one of the only people you actually trust. By the time you’re almost done you know you need to go get the kids, with a conflicted glance at the clock you start to gather your things but Tommy beats you to it.

“I’ll go get them, Maria should be home from patrol soon, she’ll want to see them.” He’s already putting his coat on so you stay seated. 

“Are you sure?” You already know there’s no reason to argue, he’s stubborn, just like his brother. 

“It’s the least I can do to make up for bothering you all day.” He steps around the desk to give you a peck on the cheek before going to leave. “Just come by the house when you’re done, no rush.” And just like that he’s gone. 

You make quick work of your remaining duties. Finishing everything within a half an hour before heading out in the direction of the Miller’s farm house on the edge of town. It’s only a few houses away from your ranch house, a fact that you couldn’t be more grateful for, if it weren’t for Tommy and Maria you aren’t sure you’d have been able to handle those first few months of parenthood. Most people in town assumed Tommy must be the father purely based on how much effort he put into taking care of not only them, but you as well. As you make your way up their porch steps and into the living room you’re also reminded of the similarities. You can’t blame people for making assumptions, even Maria thought he was the father. The twins have his eyes, (which by association means that they also have his eyes, but you try not to dwell on that.) Ruth has your nose but Arthur has that Miller curve already starting to show on his little nose. Both little ones are sitting in the big recliner with their uncle as he tries to get them to settle down while he reads to them but the second they see you, both are scrambling out of the chair to hug your legs. 

And everything goes exactly how it’s supposed to. 

(Of course it does, you plan every day down to the minute.) 

You give Tommy the list of things you need along with a few things he can trade them for and he takes the kids down the street to the market as you sit at the kitchen counter, talking to Maria about her patrol. You had all planned to go to the market together but she’d insisted she was tired and you didn’t want her to be here alone so you stayed, helping her cook dinner. And you talked about all the things you knew you would, something cute the kids did, how her patrol went, what things you could put on the dining hall menu in the coming weeks. 

It’s all exactly how it should be. 

Until she frowns. 

“Are you busy Sunday?” You had sensed something was wrong with her but you assumed maybe she was just a little rattled coming off of a three day patrol. 

“No, did you need something?” You continue to chop up the sweet potatoes she now planned to use tonight instead of tomorrow. 

“We found a couple of strays, I thought maybe we could get them settled in.” 

Odd. 

Normally finding survivors would be the first thing she mentioned after returning, even stranger is the fact that she’d often waste no time getting them supplies and a home to make their own. But you're not one to question Maria’s judgment.

“Sure, we can do that Sunday morning.” You want to ask questions about it but she’s already changed the subject to doing a clothing drive at the community center so you don’t press. Despite the way the look on her face is bothering you.

It wasn’t fear, or discomfort, or something you could explain away with the excuse of the strays being off putting or violent. 

It’s a look of pity. 

As if she feels bad for even asking. 

It unsettles you enough to leave it be. Making idle chit chat with her until Tommy returns with the twins and you take them home. It unsettles you as you make your own dinner, as you give the twins a bath, and as you help them into their pajamas and read them a story. It never leaves your mind. 

“Goodnight Ruthie.” You lean down to kiss her forehead, watching her eyes flutter shut as she continues to fight sleep. Always the stubborn one. 

“Night Mama.” You take the stuffed bear from the foot of her bed, tucking it in beside her before quietly standing, walking across the room to your son's bed. 

“Goodnight Arthur.” You lean down, kissing both of his rosy cheeks, he doesn’t fight sleep the way his sister does. So similar but so different. 

“Goodnight Mama.” His little voice has the same southern drawl you know he’s been picking up from Tommy. 

“I love you, little ducks.” You smile at him, turning to see that Ruth is already asleep, you tuck in the blankets around Arthur before leaving, keeping the door cracked open a bit so the light from the kitchen can act as a night light. 

God, you're tired. 

You’re quick to shower and slip into your own pajamas, crawling into bed with a yawn. You take the book from your nightstand, flipping through until you find where you left off yesterday. 

You never really know what’s going on in the books you read, they serve a singular purpose and it isn’t entertainment. 

You read until you fall asleep, they’re just a distraction to keep your mind busy with thoughts so he can’t sneak in right before you fall asleep and embed himself in your dreams. 

It works.

Your dreams never feature him. 

They aren’t good dreams by any means, they’re wild. Often of your journey to Jackson, the fear you felt then. But you’ll take that over Joel any day. Tonight isn’t any different, your sleep is restless as you fight the memories of fighting for survival in those woods, but instead of your usual nightmares of infected hunting you through the trees you’re faced with a sight that somehow makes you even more uneasy than the living dead.

The look on Maria’s face when she told you about the two strays. 

support me on kofi!!

a/n : this fic has been bouncing around in my brain for months now and it feels so fucking good to finally start it omfg. sorry if this felt a little slow, i really needed to set a tone and a base for the story, sorry!!

#lincolndjarin #fic : every now and then #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[fxllfaiiry]

✰‧₊˚ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐜𝐬 .ᐟ

✶ pairing: hobie brown x fem!reader

✶ summary: just some fluffy hobie hcs

✶ warnings: very fluffy, a little swearing, nothing too bad.

✶ notes: please, please send in some spiderverse requests it can be for legit anyone!! the brainrot rn is taking over.

hobie brown loves to go shopping with you, helping you pick out clothes and making you model them for him afterwards. 

hobie brown serenades you with his guitar, playing private concerts for you every now and then. 

hobie brown swings you around the city its honestly just an excuse to be closer to you. he still gets all shy and stuff everytime you bury your face in his neck. 

hobie brown loves to tease you with his accent, he knows how flustered you get. loves when you stutter because of him, it gets him all giggly knowing he has this effect on you. 

hobie brown lets you borrow his band tee’s (you never give them back tho) he thinks you look adorable in his clothes.

hobie brown listens to all your favorite songs, they may not be his taste but anything to make you happy. 

hobie brown gives you random bear hugs throughout the day, he’s one clingy boyfriend (not that you mind) 

hobie brown will occasionally model for you, he needs his best girl's approval. 

hobie brown will only go to sleep knowing you’re there next to him, don't even think about getting out of bed because he won't let you. he clings to you throughout the night. 

hobie brown will help you with your homework giving you a kiss for every correct question.

hobie brown gifts you any and everything. you think that necklace is pretty? well its yours now! 

hobie brown reads to you when you can't fall asleep, his accent calms you down.

hobie brown doesn't show much pda but always kisses your cheek in public as an “I love you”. 

hobie brown is a simp for you and you only, he becomes so soft around you. 

hobie brown feels so giddy every time you compliment him, you called him pretty? holy shit, he feels like he’s dreaming.

#📂 ‧₊˚ my works .ᐟ #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fluff #spider punk #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman x reader #hobie brown x you #across the spiderverse

[italianlobster]

Surprise (Matías Recalt x Female Reader)

Requested by: wallowins3lfpity

Summary: You haven't seen your boyfriend, Matías, in months because he is busy working on the set of LSDLN. He unexpectedly shows up on your doorstep one night.

Warning: Smut

-

It has been months since you have had the chance to see Matías in person. You haven't felt his warmth in so long. Yes, you facetime him and call him on your phone, but that wasn't enough. You needed him so badly. You watched the behind the scenes of LSDLN and also interviews only for him, wishing he would come back. His handsome face, which included pale skin, brown eyes, and pink lips, drove you crazy. You longed for his touch, whether that would be a hug, a kiss, or even more than just that.. You didn't want to seem clingy, so you just left him alone.

Little did you know, Matías also felt the same way. He'd look at pictures of you on his phone of you on dates or just regular selfies, you know, innocent stuff, and occasionally, in suggestive outfits and positions when he really needed you. His imagination went wild. He'd continuously excuse himself with a raging boner in his boxers and a blush painting his pale cheeks to a private space when possible. All of the other boys were suspicious whenever this happened. They weren't stupid. Of course, they knew what he was really doing in that private space. They also knew how much he really missed you and joked around with him about his long-distance relationship.

The wait was painfully long. One month.. two months.. it kept going on and on. During the nights, whenever you craved for each other's touch and it was becoming unbearable, you both would send nude pictures of yourselves along with texts and phone calls that would make the devil sweat. You slept with one hand on your breast, wishing it was his. Matías would wrap his hand around his dick, with his eyes closed, wishing that it was yours. Your dreams felt more and more realistic. A recent dream was when Matías played around in your asshole and you played around in your pussy. You woke up covered in cold sweat while breathing heavily.

It was becoming harder to focus on your daily tasks. At your job, even at your apartment. You never called your apartment "home" because the only home you knew was in Matías' arms. People noticed you daydreaming during conversations with them. Everything around you reminded you of Matías. Places like coffee shops where you both would regularly have dates. A restaurant that specifically sold Argentine dishes. The same went for Matías. He couldn't focus at all on filming. There were multiple cuts where he had stuttered or forgot his lines. This caused the filming to take much longer.

A few months into filming, you were alone at your apartment. You decided to treat yourself with a bubble bath, something to do instead of masturbating and thinking about him all day. You turned on the faucet of the bathtub and adjusted the temperature to hot. A few squirts of your favorite soap went in the hot water, and it was perfect. You put your long hair down (or you just left it alone if you have short hair). Your shirt went over your head, and your pants fell to the ground. Your panties followed after your pants, and you unhooked your bra. You removed your socks, and you put one foot into the tub when the doorbell suddenly rang. Frustrated, you put on a bathrobe and stomped to the door, opening it.

"Fuck off!" You shouted at the man standing in your doorway. It was Matías. Filming hadn't ended yet. Why was he here? You wondered. His face went from a happy to a surprised expression. His eyes also widened. "Well, hello to you too. You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He jokingly said with a giggle. You didn't respond. You were still shocked at his unexpected appearance. "Are you going to let me in or not?" He said with a smile. You moved out of his way, and he entered your apartment. He had no luggage, and it seemed like he left it at a hotel somewhere.

The both of you went into the kitchen. Matías was thirsty and helped himself to a glass of water. "Shouldn't you be filming?" You finally spoke up. "Well, yeah, but we're in the midst of a break, so I decided to visit you for a while, and then I'll go back to continue filming." He responded and took a sip of his glass. He then sat down at the nearest table. You followed, too. Matías was desperately trying to control himself. His leg was bouncing, and his hands shaking. Drops of water spilled from his mouth when he took a sip of his glass since his hands were so shaky. You tried to control yourself as well, but you decided to have some fun teasing him, too. Your legs crossed, and you opened your bathrobe just a little bit to reveal some cleavage.

You could feel Matías' eyes focus on your presence. He was staring and very distracted. There was silence until he abruptly got up from his chair and pulled you up. Your lips were dangerously close, and your heart was beating out of your chest. You didn't waste any time and immediately smashed your lips onto his. At first, you both went slow until he entered his tongue into your mouth. This was enough to destroy your patience and the pace of making out sped up. Saliva dripped from your chin. You licked his lips. He sucked on your tongue. You tasted each other's saliva. He went down to your neck and left marks on the skin. He bit and nibbled on the skin. Then he licked and sucked on the marks. He had marked his territory.

Suddenly, Matías pulled away from the kiss. He looked at you with a smirk and said, "bedroom?" You shook your head, yes. He lifted you up bridal style, and the two of you went off to the bedroom. He threw you onto the bed gently and climbed over you.

What you have been waiting for months now is finally going to happen. Matías untied your bathrobe, and your body was exposed to the cold air. Your nipples immediately hardened, and the hairs on your skin rose. Matías absolutely loved your body. He helped you love yourself. He kissed every mole, freckle, scar, and birth mark on your body. He would build a sculpture of you if he had the skill. First, he admired your body from top to bottom for a few seconds before kissing you again on your lips. He moved down to your neck with his tongue and stopped at the middle of your breasts. He sucked on your left nipple while licking it, and his right hand caressing the other breast. His eyes still focused on your face. He wanted to see your facial expressions and how you melt completely from his touch.

Matías grinned devilishly. He didn't focus too much on your breasts and went down. Giving kisses to your stomach, abdomen, and thighs. He tugged at your pubic hairs, and his nose brushed against it. He was so close, but yet still so far from where you really needed him. Finally, he gives a quick lick on your clit. You let out a small moan. He grins more against your pussy. He begans to lick and suck on your clit. He also uses two of his fingers to put inside of you. The sensation of being fingered and licked at the same time was too much to handle.

"You taste so good." Matías whispered, but it was loud enough for you to hear. During the whole session, he never looked away. His attention stayed on your face. His brown eyes were so seductive. You couldn't bear to keep eye contact with him. "Look at me with those beautiful eyes." He said, you obeyed. You kept moaning, and it was like music to his ears. His favorite song. You felt like something was coming. It felt like you and Matías were the only ones that mattered in the world right now.

Suddenly, he stopped and looked at you. Once you caught your breath, you looked back and saw that his lower face was completely covered in your juices. He still had that grin on his face. You can't help but feel embarrassed. This had never happened before. Before you could speak, Matías said, "You squirted, but I really liked it." You responded with a soft smile. He was still clothed, and you wanted to rip off everything right then and there.

Matías was kinda shy showing his body to you. He wasn't muscular but thin. You always complimented him because it made him feel better. He was like a greek god in your eyes. His self-esteem had majestically improved ever since your first time. Matías began to undo his blouse. One button, two buttons.. he teased you by taking his time, and he was painfully slow. So you decided to get up and just rip off his blouse. The buttons flying everywhere. To the ground. His eyes widened. You caressed his chest and nipples, feeling cold and soft skin. You also gave kisses everywhere on his torso, which left hickies. Hints of purple on his white skin. You pulled and twisted his pink nipples. They became sore from you playing with them. They were also hard and sharp enough to cut paper.

Your hands traveled down and stopped at his bulge, which was getting bigger every second. You unbuckled his belt and threw it to the ground. His pants dropped, and he was in his tight boxers. It was so tight. In fact, you could the outline of his dick. He was suffering through these tight boxers. You massaged his dick through the fabric while also squeezing it, and you pulled him closer. To the point where you were poking him with your nipples. He giggled at the feeling. Finally, you grabbed the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down. His hard dick sprung up, and he groaned. There were sparks of precum dripping from the tip.

You wrapped your hand around his dick and began to stroke it slowly. Matías held on to you for dear life as you gave him a hand job. It has been so long, and he could pass out at any moment from all the simulations. Your other free hand went down to massage his balls. Squeezing them and also pulling them. His eyes rolled back as he grew more and more sensitive to touch. More precum dripped down his length. Veins also pulsating on the base of his length. You could feel his breath growing heavy.

You removed your hand from his dick. He whined as he wanted more. You looked at him with a smirk while laying down on the bed behind you and then opening your legs. You both still kept eye contact. Matías didn't waste any time and got on top of you in between your legs. You could feel his dick poking your inner thigh. He was so close to being inside you. Matías gave you one last kiss on the lips before lining his length against your pussy. Rubbing the tip against your clit. "Say you want me!" He shouted. He loved to watch a woman beg before absolutely destroying her.

"Oh.. I want you so bad.." You whispered. Your hands covered your red face.

"Hm? I couldn't hear you!" He shouted yet again, the tip of his dick still rubbing against your clit.

"Oh, I want you ins-" You said more louder and were cut off when Matías rammed himself inside of you. He was an impatient man. Your walls clenched around his dick. You were very tight, and it hurt him so well. Matías laid on top of you but was careful enough not to put his entire weight on you. His hand caressed your cheek as you adjusted to his size. He never looked away from you as well. A few minutes had passed, and you signaled him to move. He got the signal, and he slowly began to move his hips. One thrust, and you're already gushing around his dick. Your juices soiling the bedsheets underneath you.

You finally got what you wanted after so many months. The wait was worth it. You wished this would last forever, though. Matías was very vocal in bed. He sounded like a pornstar and was just as loud as you. His groans and growls alone were enough to make you orgasm. You would never guess that these noises were coming out of a gorgeous man like him. His pace grew faster as he fucked the shit out of you. Your hands grabbed and squeezed his petite ass, urging him to go deeper. The room got steamy; the sounds of your pussy grew wetter with each thrust and your moans became more higher pitched. Suddenly, Matías' hand went down to rub your already swollen clit. He pinched and rubbed it as he abused your hole.

His balls slapped against your ass and he attacked your neck with kisses again. Licking all the marks he had made previously. He was proud of his creations. He wanted everyone to see those marks so they could know that you're his. He runs his tongue down your neck. He pulls away and looks at you. You couldn't help but stare at his half-lidded eyes, sweaty bangs covering his forehead, pink cheeks, and his mouth, which was still covered in your juices from before. "Oh fuck, I love you, Y/N Recalt!" His eyes rolled back and his arms felt like jelly, he was getting closer to his orgasm and his arms could give up at any second. You were shocked at him saying your name and his last name, but then your face shrieked with delight and you responded,

"I love you too, Matías Recalt!"

Matías' face lit up with glee. He was officially the happiest man on Earth. His thrust grew more sloppy and faster. You scratched his back. You could draw blood. You wanted to leave marks on him too. Your eyes still looked into his so you could see his orgasmic face. You felt the same feeling in your stomach again, like when Matías was eating you out. It felt like a flower about to bloom. You kept moaning Matías' name, and he did the same.

"Oh, God! Matías, yes!" You screamed with everything in you. You wrapped your legs around him. You exploded, and the flower had bloomed. You squirted around his cock and it also had dripped out of you. Your bedsheets were ruined even more. It's going to be one hell of a laundry day tomorrow.

"Ah shit, Y/N!" He cursed and fell on top of you. He released his load deep inside you, the white liquid dripping out of you. He pulls out his dick which is completely covered in your juices. He laid down next to you because he felt like he was too heavy on top of you.

The both of you laid there in silence. There were no worries at the moment as you both embraced each other's existence. Hands holding and hearts beating as one. Nothing could ever bring you two apart.

God, you're so lucky to love someone like him.

--

#matías recalt #matias recalt fanfic #matias recalt x reader #matias recalt smut

[babysfirstfic]

live now, think later

luke hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: Luke desperately needs to blow off some steam. In a dingy bar, he finds just what he's looking for...

warnings: Brief allusions to sex, but nothing major. Yet. (18+)

a/n: This is my first ever fic! I would love to hear feedback if you have any. I plan for this to be chapter 1 of 3 (but we'll see what happens)! Shoutout to this Tate McRae song for directly inspiring the title and for subconsciously inspiring the plot.

There were few NHL rookies who had more eyes trained on them than Luke Hughes. Between the constant media attention he received from a young age and the pressure that came with his last name, Luke had always had a complicated relationship with his celebrity.

Don’t get it twisted, Luke was super grateful for all the advantages that came with having two all stars for brothers, and there was a part of him that enjoyed leaning into his status. 

On the ice, he welcomed the attention. He loved the chance to put on a show for the fans, reveling in the opportunities to make game-changing plays. Hockey was his craft; the minute he laced up his skates he was an artist, an author, a showman. A single goal could cause an entire stadium to rise to their feet, and the power he felt in those moments was indescribable.

Off the ice, though, it was a different story.

Luke prided himself on his maturity and his charm, his ability to keep his cool even while being peppered with questions and surrounded by cameras. He had years to perfect the art of the interview, expertly dodging personal inquiries and even cracking the occasional smile to make it seem like he didn’t absolutely despise answering the same inane questions over and over again. 

But one could only keep up appearances for so long. He found it exhausting to have to perform all the time. Though he understood it was a sacrifice he’d have to make now that he was living out his dreams, that didn’t make it any easier. 

After several months in the league, he craved a chance to be something other than “Luke Hughes, the hockey player”. He desperately needed to let loose and to make use of the other sides of his personality, the spicier sides, the sides that the cameras would never get to see. 

It was time for this Devil to earn his horns. 

Within the first few months of being in New Jersey, Luke quickly learned which bars would bend the rules for him. In his desperation to fit in with any teammate who didn’t share his DNA, he was willing to do pretty much anything to get in, buying fake IDs, signing jerseys, you name it. He felt it showed his teammates just how committed he was to building their relationships, on and off the ice. 

But tonight, his team couldn’t have been further from his mind. This time, he’d come alone. 

Luke had never had the time or energy for dating, but he thrived on quick hook ups and meaningless sex. No obligation for vulnerability or commitment, just fun. After the whirlwind that had been last year, he needed some fun, and tonight, he was willing to work for it. 

His bar of choice was dingy, a typical dive bar, complete with sticky floors and disgruntled employees, but the low key lighting and loud music allowed for the perfect cover. Luke felt a sense of safety in his anonymity, a feeling which was becoming increasingly rare. 

Waiting in a booth on the edge of the dimly lit room, he scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of excitement, someone to steal the blood from his brain and force it elsewhere. 

Suddenly, something, no someone caught his eye. It was you. 

In a glittery backless top with a loose, low cut and black pants that you filled out in all the right places, you were shaking your stuff on the dance floor. Your whole body bounced with every movement. Like a beacon in the night, the strobe lights illuminated your entirety, sending colourful fractals bouncing off in every direction. You were practically demanding Luke’s attention, and you didn’t even have to try. 

You had sensed his eyes on you immediately and couldn’t help but to return his gaze. He looked young but strangely sure of himself, carrying the recognizable swagger of a man who’s used to breaking the rules and getting away with it. Luke would call it confidence, but if you asked his brothers, they’d call it his raging youngest sibling syndrome. 

You were undeniably intrigued. Adding more hip movement to your dancing, you hoped that it would encourage him to join. This certainly was not your first rodeo. 

It worked. Slowly, he stood up from his booth and made his way onto the dance floor. You sensed a shift in his energy, like this was something out of the ordinary for him. “Nice to know he has a weakness,” you mused to yourself, just now noticing the flutter in your heart as he inched closer. 

Luke hated dancing, but something about you drew him in, like a ship of sailors drawn by the voices of sirens. Though he hoped he might meet a different fate; he hoped you might give him a happy ending. 

Eventually, he reached your spot on the dance floor. 

“Hey,” he spoke into your ear, leaning in close so that you could hear him above the music. You felt his breath tickle your neck, sending chills down your back and deep inside. 

“Hi,” you responded, keeping your cool in spite of the tides coming in beneath you. You didn’t know him, had never seen him before, yet everything within you yearned to be close to him, craved to feel his hand against your skin, begged to know him in every sense of the word. “Sheesh girl, you need to get out more,” you thought, smiling briefly to yourself.

Without wasting any time, you grabbed his hand and placed it on the small of your back, finally experiencing the brief release of skin-on-skin. You looked up at him, attempting to decipher the look on his face. He reciprocated your gaze, flashing his crooked smile, practically threatening to melt you right then and there. 

Seeing his smile mirrored on your face, he moved his other hand to match the first, pulling you in close. You nodded to express your approval and quickly fell back into your original rhythm, grinding and swaying your hips to the music. Sticking your hands in his back pockets, you led him through the motions, slowly undulating your bodies to the beat. 

Your eyes scanned up and down as you let yourself take him in. There was something about this boy; he completely captivated you. With his arms around you, you felt safe. He lacked the aggression and forcefulness you had unfortunately come to expect from situations such as these. He was clearly strong, but you caught him out of his comfort zone, so he was letting you take the lead, a role you took on gladly. 

After a couple minutes of finding the right rhythm, your bodies became one. The world melted away. Luke leaned in and began gently kissing your neck, stopping only to briefly nibble your ear. As your pelvises moved up and down to the beat, you began to feel the friction of something rising just below his belt. You responded in kind, sensing a growing heat and swelling between your legs. Neither of you had done this in a while and it was showing, your bodies overly excitable. But you didn’t mind; you were both getting exactly what you wanted. 

“I live a couple blocks from here,” you shouted above the crowd, doing everything in your power not to let out the moan that was threatening to escape your lips. “Maybe we could finish our dance there”. 

Knowing full well he couldn’t wait that long, Luke made a different suggestion. “There’s a hotel across the street. I have a room. Care to join me?” 

In the haze of the crowd and the music and the night, you found yourself moving off the dance floor, out of the bar, into the open air of Newark. 

Your entire body was pounding, throbbing with energy and excitement. Your hand was clasped in his, and only then, as you were making your way through the hotel lobby and down the hallway to the room, did you realize you didn’t even know his name. More importantly, you realized you didn’t care. In fact, it was better this way. No possibility of getting attached or contacting each other afterwards. A true one night stand. 

As you reached the room, Luke spun you around to face him, your back firmly placed against the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, leaning close, finally allowing you to get a good look at his face in the light.  

Your gaze trailed down from his curls to his lips, before resting on his eyes. You noticed a slight sparkle in them, a glint, an invitation. This was your chance. “I’ve never been more sure,” you responded.

Lunging forward instinctively, you reached up, taking hold of his hair and guiding his lips towards yours. Your touch was confident, verging on forceful, a byproduct of the pent up energy that needed an outlet and had finally found one. 

Maybe you were a little too forceful. As your bodies collided, they also made contact with the door, sending a loud noise vibrating through the hallway. You briefly paused your moment of passion to laugh, your foreheads still touching, neither of you daring to fully pull away. 

“Someone’s a little eager,” Luke spoke against your lips, chuckling slightly before re-initiating the kiss. 

Just as it had in the bar, the world melted away, making you forget just how publicly you were displaying your affection. 

But you were both being reckless, and Luke knew it. He had been warned about pulling something like this, about bringing negative attention to himself or to the team. He was new and still needed to prove himself. Above all that, he had a squeaky clean reputation to uphold. He was trained to be tight-lipped to the media so that the focus was on his playing, not his personal life. Stunts like this could jeopardize everything he’d worked for, everything his parents sacrificed for. But god, you were making him forget all of that. There wasn’t a single thought in Luke’s mind that didn’t have to do with getting you out of your clothes and under his tongue...

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #my own gif

[glystenangel]

with heart💞

boyfriend!gojo x gn!reader (canonverse)

tags/warnings: 18+ blog but this one is fluff/hurt/comfort!!, domestic stuff, handholding, kisses, cuddling, gojo teases you a bit, canonverseish gojo, slightly corny but only bc u are both so in love!!!

summary: you and gojo help each other get better at love

~<1k words

_________________

Gojo treats you well.

But more importantly, he treats you like a person.

He holds your hands and traces the spaces between your knuckles with the tip of his forefinger.

He hums when his head is in your lap and you’re stroking the ivory strands of his hair, always placing his hand over yours after you rest it on the plane of his cheek. The touch of his palm confident and warm.

Wherever you two go on a dinner date, you take a walk after and he swings your hands together, laughing and twirling you around so he can hug you from behind with his chin resting perfectly in the curve of your shoulder.

You love him wholeheartedly, and he shares his whole heart with you in flower bouquets and teary midnight conversations whenever either of you are feeling down.

He lets you eat the strawberries on his cakes, calls you just to see how you’re doing whenever he’s away, and grins so hard you can practically feel it when he comes home from a long mission and gets to hug you.

Everything about Gojo makes you melt, especially because you know that the feeling is shared.

You don’t mind that some nights he cries himself to sleep. Quietly, so that you don’t wake up.

Because you wake up anyway, resting a gentle hand between his shoulder blades and cradling him against your chest as he mutters broken apologies.

Because when he finally falls asleep, he holds you tightly by the waist, pulling you as close as possible. As if he was afraid you were a dream that would disappear in the morning if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

You treat him delicately, infinitely more gentle than the world that demands his talents until he is far past the brink of exhaustion. The world that keeps him poised for battle and where he spends far too much time facing curses than his own demons.

He tries not to take it out on you, and you can see whenever he is trembling with thin irritation because you are truly the only one he has in his life, but even with you he can’t always reel in his protective apathy enough to resist pushing you away with the occasional snide comment.

He never says anything that actually hurts you, but the shame he feels is instant and nearly incapacitating regardless.

It usually ends with him silently slouched on the floor, too mortified by his past and how it causes him to behave to do anything more than look up at you between shaky fingers over his face.

The sight, even now, causes your heart to ache.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean that.” He croaks out, “I’m just so tired.”

You crouch down to place a hand on his broad shoulder, learning early on in your relationship to not take any expressed frustration personally and realizing long ago that Gojo needed more care than he would ever admit.

“Do you want to eat something or sleep?”

He lowers his hands from his face, resting them at the sides of his neck and staring only at the ground, “Sleep.”

“Come on then.” You tug at his arm, and he gets up to follow you into your shared bedroom.

Once you’re both settled in the blankets, with your ear pressed to his heartbeat and him fiddling idly with your fingers, he lets out a lengthy exhale.

“It’s alright.” Your instincts tell you to say, and he shakes his head before squeezing you close.

“Are you going to leave me now?”

“No.” You answer nonchalantly, without hesitation.

Another sigh, and then you feel him relax beside you.

Loving Gojo means that you can read his actions more than his words, but even when he finally allows himself some much needed rest and succumbs to sleep, you’re unsure if he believes you.

You can’t tell if he chooses to drift off because it might make your possible attempts to leave him less noticeable, or because he trusts that you will stay.

As he sleeps, you continue listening to his even breathing and slowed heartbeats, hoping that someday soon the burden of strength will at least weigh less.

Because at heart, Gojo is a person too.

That reminder laces your own slumber, and then when you wake to him framing your face with large palms and soft kisses of gratitude, you know that his faith in you is completely reassured.

“I love you.” He mumbles, and you can feel that his eyes are closed the next time he kisses the corner of your mouth from the light flutter of his eyelashes against your cheek.

“I know.”

“No fair.” He groans, in a voice still scratchy with sleep, “Say it back!”

The smile you can never hide around him blooms across your features, “I love you, Gojo.” 

The admission has him searching for your hand under the blankets and bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“Thank you.”

Your smile only widens, “Thank you too.”

Gojo quirks up a brow, “For what?”

You weave your fingers together, lifting his hand to your warm cheek.

It’s covered in long healed scars from when he trained as a child, raised against his skin and so slight they are almost imperceptible.

Almost. 

His eyes seem to soften at your careful touch, pale blue rain melting into unfathomable depths. If love had a certain look to it, it was definitely in those sea colored eyes. Curled in every silvery fleck and home in every gaze upon you.

“For being lovable.” You finally say, and Gojo laughs with an obvious streak of sarcasm punctuating his response.

“You are so silly. It's cute.”

“I’m not.” You feign a frown, and his grin broadens with all the love in the world remaining captive in his eyes.

“You are.” He insists, tugging you closer.

You roll your eyes before giving the sculpted point of his nose a deft poke.

“And yet. You love me.”

Gojo traces a finger along your face, adoring lines over your eyes, down your cheeks, and around your lips.

“I do.” 

And he absolutely does.

_________________

End Notes:

felt a bit sad and wrote this pretty quickly! idk, I feel like dating Gojo would be difficult in reality, but as long as the love is there any hardships would be overcome 100% :)💗

seems like he needs someone</3

#myfics #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo jjk #gojo jujutsu kaisen #gojo imagine #gojo fic #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo oneshot #jjk fluff #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x gender neutral reader #gojo x gn!reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo comfort #gojo angst

[jjuwuni]

shortcut to heaven | yang jungwon x oc

pairings — yang jungwon x reader

genre — fluff, angst, college!au, fake dating trope, drama, occasional smut (minors dni please)

summary —  Two strangers seemingly cross paths, everywhere they go. 

Would they find their heaven among their chaotic lives? 

“ That’s right, I’m talking to you, ” Jungwon, THE Yang Jungwon, with his arm, outstretched, index pointing right at me, “ Do you want to be my girlfriend? Fake girlfriend, that is, so make sure you don't end up falling for me. ” With his right dimple in full view, he smirks at me. 

And that was the day my whole life turned upside down.

warnings — a SOCMED AU but with heavy narrations, fake dating trope with some twist n' turns, compared to my other stuff this one is definitely more on the cute, fluff side hehe so not much warnings in terms of content ! OT7 enha is present, as well as probably other 4th gen idols, will use nwjns minji as the faceclaim for y/n, alcohol, drunken mishaps, profanity, there might be slightly dark themes surrounding family and love, no mnc i assure you, making out, smut etc. will happen so minors 👀 watching you !

[ preview ] | [ 1 ] | [ 2 ]

A/N: wow, updated both my fics on the same day. this is an achievement i think :) anyway, enjoy enjoy ! things are only going to get better (and more complicated and fun) from here. lmk what you think as always please ! your guys' comments keep me inspired to keep writing 🥺 BTW ! taglist is OPEN! for this.

taglist: @jwnghyuns, @sparklingsjy, @y0ubleedjusttoknowyourealive

JIN PANICKING IN 3...2...1...

HELLO ??? ARE YOU STILL THERE ??

NARRATION — READER'S POV

It was as if she couldn't sit still that whole afternoon after Sunghoon asked her out for coffee. It was slowly but surely sinking in that Park Sunghoon himself asked her out to have coffee.

Given, that he didn’t specify what it was for, but who was she to say no to such an offer? Especially after what she saw and how he treated her when she got whacked in the head by the door on the way to the student council room.

It was at that moment that she realized that among that group of people she thought she despised, there were kind souls. 

It was no wonder that Sunghoon won the hearts of the majority of the student body and why he was the president of the student council.

He was just really, well, for the lack of a better word – nice. 

And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find him attractive. 

Unlike that Jungwon guy. 

But if she were to be truly honest with herself, ever since the small moment they shared back in the janitor’s closet, safe to say, he’s been haunting her. For the past 3 nights, her dreams would always consist of Jungwon making a cameo, one way or another. 

And she was almost sure that she caught him staring at her in class the Monday after that fateful weekend. 

But why? The whole school knows that Jungwon has been actively pursuing Sooyoung since time immemorial, and has been relentless about it. Perhaps that’s what gave Sooyoung that extra edge among all the other girls in school. To think that the most eligible bachelor in the whole university has set his eyes on you, must be nice. 

The familiar ding in her phone makes its presence known and pulls her out of her deep thoughts, and it sends Jinae to rush out of the room, knowing that someone is waiting downstairs in front of her dorm’s building. 

Greeted by the sight of a red, shiny Mercedes-Benz C-class, she tries her hardest not to let her jaw drop to the floor at the sight of it all.

There was Sunghoon, leaning against the hood of his vehicle, phone in hand, silver specs decorating his prominent features, eyebrows thick and furrowed together as he was evidently busy reading something on his phone. 

Upon approaching him, the male looks up at her just in time as if he sensed her presence, features softening at the sight of her. “Hey,” He greets, baring his canine teeth. Wow, it's like he's an actual vampire. “You made it.”

God, should I ask him to bite me?

Shaking off her rather unwanted thoughts, she finally musters out a greeting back, “Hi, sorry, did I take too long?” 

Vehemently shaking his head, Sunghoon walks over to the passenger seat and gestures for her to get in, “Nope, not at all! Thanks for making time for me today.” 

--

The car ride was silent at first, but not to the point that it was unbearable. Jinae wanted to initiate the conversation but admittedly didn’t know how. They were in the middle of the road, stuck in the middle of rush hour traffic, with Sunghoon giving her the chance to play whatever song she wanted after handing her his phone. 

“So,” Finally, Sunghoon broke the silence, “You’re probably wondering why I asked you out huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” She replies, rubbing the back of her head, “Um, but it's not that I’m complaining! I’m just.. It was so sudden.” 

He breaks out into a small laugh, his fangs coming into view again and she couldn’t deny the fact that it made her heart skip a beat. After all, even though they’d had limited interactions up until that point, only going as far as a nod or a smile here and there whenever her adviser would ask her to drop off paperwork at the student council office, she never saw Sunghoon smile. 

His aura does a 180 when he smiles, so handsome.

“I know, sorry about that. Actually, I've been wanting to befriend you for so long.” Frank as can be, he wastes no time in getting straight to his point. “I guess you can say, I just really never knew how to approach you.” 

And there goes the thumping in her chest again, “Oh,” She timidly replies, nodding her head. “I see! Actually, apart from two people, I really don't have many friends at school, so, why not! You seem very… nice.” Jinae adds with cheeks dusted a light pink. 

“Nice? Hah, thank you. And I’m happy. Though I must say, I’m surprised, I thought you'd have a ton of friends. You're a dancer, you're smart... Popular with people, from what I heard all around school. What's not to like?” He continues on with his frank remarks. 

“Eh? I think not...” 

“Maybe they’re just intimidated by you.” Sunghoon cuts in, “I know I was.” 

“Huh? Why? Is my face that scary?” The female asks, placing her hands over her cheeks. 

A throaty laugh is heard from Sunghoon’s end, “Nah, it's not like that, it's like – how do I explain this. Your aura? Maybe. Like, you're unreachable, or something.” 

Jinae couldn’t help but laugh, followed by a light slap on the chest, a clear indication that she was comfortable with someone, “Hey! No! Oh my god. I guess I just wanted to keep a low profile in school? I get attached to people so quickly too so, I try not to forge too many friendships. It's scary to me.” 

She didn’t know what came over her, and why it felt so easy to be comfortable enough with Sunghoon for her to divulge such information. 

He nods solemnly, “I understand,” His voice trails off, as he casts a glance over at her. Their eyes met and Jinae could feel some kind of stirring from her insides, “Please don't worry though, my intentions with you are pure. I promise.” 

“I will hold you to that.” Was all she could say, trying to fight the fluttering feelings from within.

CUTE CAFE UPDATES 🫶

LEE HEESEUNG KNOWS WASSUP

🥺🥺🥺 PWETTY

NARRATION — READER'S POV

Suffice it to say, the next day was quite literally the worst in Jinae's young life. For one, she forgot her readings at home, so she wasn't able to participate much during class.

Two, she tripped up the stairs, which caused her to spill her sea salt latte, wasting her hard-earned money. 

Three, and probably the worst of them all, she got laid off from her job as a 7-Eleven clerk that morning via text. 

Groaning in frustration, she found herself lying on the floor of Jake’s apartment unit, staring up at the ceiling while her two best friends stared at her with saddened expressions. 

“Girl, okay, enough, stop moping around!” Sunoo finally exclaims, "That might've been a good thing! You've been late for our 10am class for the past weeks. Besides, you have another job anyway, right? In our school's admin office?"

Laying on her side and not minding the fact that she was literally laying on a hardwood floor, “That's not enough for my everyday expenses, Sun.” She whines out, pushing her lower lip out, busying herself by giving Jake's dog Layla a few pats on the head, "And I don't want to burden my parents for any of my expenses."  

“Babygirl,” Jake's soft tone makes itself known, walking over to her and crouching down on the floor to rub her back, “You’ll find something else to do, I swear. But for now, Sunoo and I are here to help you.. with anything. Even your finances.” 

“True.. OMG! What if– you just find yourself a sugar daddy!?” Sunoo suggests, eyes bright as he does, as if that was the most groundbreaking idea ever. 

She reaches for the throw pillow on the floor and chucks it over Sunoo’s way, which he dodges in time with a laugh, “Shut up, I'd rather go around and pick up trash along the highway than find myself a sugar daddy, please!” 

“What’s so wrong about a sugar daddy? It’s easy money.” Jake interjects. 

Sunoo quickly responds, “You say that just because you have a sugar daddy yourself, in the form of Mister Lee Heeseung!” 

“Hey! He’s not my sugar daddy!” The older male between the two scowls. “We’re just having fun.”

“Enough, you two! My head already hurts as it is, you guys aren't helping me.” 

“Ok then let's be serious, didn't Sunghoon ask you out? Just go date him for real! You'll never know, you might take over their family business when you marry into their family. They're super rich anyways.” 

All Jinae could do was frown, “That's nothing! Besides, we're just friends, please.” 

The two males exchanged knowing glances at each other at their best friend’s denial. “Sure sure. Whatever you say.” The younger spoke, crossing his legs and resting back on the couch, leaving Jinae alone with her thoughts.

REHEARSALS TIME

👀👀👀 HMM WHAT HAPPPENED?

** A/N: typo correction - "that was an interesting rehearsal"

NARRATION — SUNGHOON'S POV

Sitting around their hideout, the four boys decided to have a rather chill night. Being a part of such a social circle, they’re always asked to attend house parties and parties in general, left and right. But tonight, they decided they were just going to put on some vibey music and sit around the lounge area of the Rangers hideout, drinking and smoking as one does at their age. 

Their topic of conversation for the past two hours has mostly been about schoolwork, and complaining about the workload. 

Following that, there was a 10-minute silence that enveloped the four men, with them just catching up on messages on their phones, scrolling through social media, and taking a sip from their beer cans. 

That was, until, Jungwon broke the silence. 

“What do you guys know about Park Jinae?” He asked, eyes still glued to the phone he had in his hand. 

Unbeknownst to him, Sunghoon tensed up beside him. 

“Oh, Jinae?” Heeseung’s right eyebrow raised, “Well, I do know she’s Jake’s best friend. Isn’t she pretty popular? I sometimes see her coming to school on a motorbike.” 

“All the boys in my class talk about her. Why do you think so many guys show up to events where the dance club performs?” Ni-ki affirmed, resting back on the couch behind him, both elbows resting on the backrest. 

“She’s an enigma, isn’t she?” So far, it was a dialogue between the oldest and the youngest in the group, with Jungwon and Sunghoon keeping quiet for now, “Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, no one knows anything about her. Not that it’s a bad thing, but you know. Anyway, why are you asking? Are you really planning to ask her to pretend to be your girlfriend to make Sooyoung jealous?” Heeseung squints at the younger Jungwon as he asks this. 

“I mean yes, but not just that. I just - she seems interesting. You know she almost swung at me at dance practice today, because I called her out for being late.” Instead of being annoyed about it, Jungwon could only grin, “It was pretty cool.” 

“She swung at you?! HAHAHA how funny is that?!” Ni-ki bursts out into a big fit of laughter, placing his hand on his stomach, soon followed by Heeseung. 

One corner of Sunghoon’s lips twitched upwards into a grin trying to imagine her throwing a punch at Jungwon. 

“What about you, Sunghoon hyung? Do you know anything about her?” Jungwon’s curiosity was piqued by his silence. Given, he’s always been the quiet one among the four, call it intuition, but the younger did sense a kind of tense vibe from the other. 

“Hmmm? Well..” Crossing his legs over one another and resting back on the couch, he hummed, “She’s cool, at least from what I’ve noticed. Very easy to talk to, too. She’s... beautiful, yeah.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the girl, swirling the contents of the beer can in his hand. 

That didn't go unnoticed, the way his eyes lit up. But the younger decided not to say anything about it for now, “I see.” Jungwon timidly responded, stroking his chin in the process. 

It was like Sunghoon could hear the cogwheels turning in Jungwon’s head in response, “Be careful with your decisions, Jungwon. We’re not here to police you or anything, feel like you’ve had your fair share of that in your life, but, all I’m saying is, make sure that whatever you’re planning, no one gets hurt.” He tried his hardest not to sound as if he was scolding him. 

But at this moment, he found himself worrying about Jinae, too.

BABY GOOD NIGHT 🌙 .. (a series of texts)

** A/N: typo correction (wow i'm on a roll with typos today) - "am i in trouble"

LMFAO JIN PLEASE

REPLY TO HIM ALREADY GEEZ

MORE GOODNIGHT TEXTS

#& series: sth. #enhypen #enha au #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines #jungwon #enha x y/n #enha x you #enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen jungwon smut #jugwon imagines #enhypen scenarios #jungwon x reader #jungwon x you #fake dating #socmed au #jungwon smau #enhypen crack

[yrluvjane]

| ʜᴇʀ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ɢʟᴏᴡ |

[Harry Potter x fem!reader] [Warning: most annoying ending ever.]

"I never promised Hermione anything, I mean, all right, I was going to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, but she never said . . . just as friends . . . I'm a free agent. . . ." Harry mocked Ron voice as he sat with Y/n in the back of the library, filling her on the Ron's latest speech about his freedom. "That book please." Said Y/n mindlessly pointing towards a heavy-paged blue book titled Transfiguration of sentient beings.

"We're taking this in two weeks! Why in Merlin's name are you doing it now?" He asked flipping through the book but shut when he saw an entire 13-paged chapter on transfiguration of garden animals. "I like to be ready, and Hermione isn't being any better really."

"He's at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes, I really couldn't care less." Said Y/n making a face which Harry believed had to be Hermione's. She raised her quill and dotted an i so ferociously that she punctured a hole in her parchment.

"You should really start studying." Said Y/n without looking up. He bent a little lower over Advanced Potion-Making and continued to make notes on Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to decipher the Prince's useful additions to Libatius Borage's text.

"And incidentally," said Y/n, after a quite a while, "you need to be careful."

"For the last time," said Harry, speaking in a slightly hoarse whisper after three-quarters of an hour of silence, "I am not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in - and I thought you were on my side -"

"I'm not talking about your stupid so-called Prince," said Y/n, giving his book a nasty look as though it had been rude to her. "I'm talking about earlier. I went into the girls' bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work -"

"Why didn't you tell on them then?" demanded Harry. "They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," said Y/n scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt whether even the Half-Blood Prince" - she gave the book a suspicious look - "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you, that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," mumbled Harry, who was still trying not to think about how Y/n would certainly go with Hinderson, a Ravenclaw prefect, any more than he could help, despite the fact that she kept cropping up in his dreams in ways that made him devoutly thankful that she could not perform Legilimency.

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," said Y/n grimly. She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Transfiguration essay and continued to scratch away with her quill. Harry watched her with his mind a long way away. "Hang on a moment," he said slowly. "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?" asked Y/n, still concentrating on her essay. "But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?"

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," said Y/n. "It's part of their Owl Order Service. A Hufflepuff kept showing it off in the common room."

"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry quickly. "The point is, Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school - ?"

"Oh, Harry . . . not that again . . ."

"Come on, why not?" demanded Harry.

"Look," sighed Y/n, "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register - and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous -"

"You broke into a gate that was bewitched by Dumbledore!" Whisper-shouted Harry as Y/n hit him with a parchment roll on the head before shushing him. "And if I didn't, you would've been dead due to frostbite." Said Y/n with a glare and slamming her book shut signaling this discussion is over.

True to her words, Romilda Vane had cornered him the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. "Hi, Harry!" said Romilda, "Fancy a gillywater?" He could imagine Y/n giving him a "what-did-I-tell-you?" look over her shoulder. "No thanks," said Harry quickly supressing a snort. "I don't like it much."

"Well, take these anyway," said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them."

"Oh - right - thanks a lot," said Harry, who could not think what else to say. "Er - I'm just going over here with . . ." He hurried off, his voice tailing away feebly.

When he arrived in the entrance hall at eight o'clock that night, he found an unusually large number of girls lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring at him resentfully as he approached Luna. She was wearing a set of spangled silver robes that were attracting a certain amount of giggles from the onlookers, but otherwise she looked quite nice.

Harry was glad, in any case, that she had left off her radish earrings, her butterbeer cork necklace, and her Spectrespecs. "Hi," he said. "Shall we get going then?" "Oh yes," she said happily. "Where is the party?" "Slughorn's office," said Harry, leading her up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering. "Did you hear, there's supposed to be a vampire coming?" "Rufus Scrimgeour?" asked Luna.

"I - what?" said Harry, disconcerted. "You mean the Minister of Magic?" "Yes, he's a vampire," said Luna matter-of-factly. "Father wrote a very long article about it when Scrimgeour first took over from Cornelius Fudge, but he was forced not to publish by somebody from the Ministry. Obviously, they didn't want the truth to get out!" Harry, who thought it most unlikely that Rufus Scrimgeour was a vampire, but who was used to Luna repeating her father's bizarre views as though they were fact, did not reply.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires - and, of course, his friend Sanguini." Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry's hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored.

A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited. "Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" said Worple, peering shortsightedly up into Harry's face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, 'Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?' " "Er," said Harry, "were you?" "Just as modest as Horace described!" said Worple.

"Here, have a pasty," said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini's hand before turning his attention back to Harry. "My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea -"

"I'm definitely not interested," said Harry firmly, "and I've just seen a friend of mine, sorry."

He pulled Luna after him into the crowd; he had indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters. "Hermione! Hermione!"

"Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!"

"What's happened to you?" asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare. "Oh, I've just escaped - I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said.

"Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her. "Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely. "I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately.

"I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole -"

"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revolted. "Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall. . ."

The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, "Who are we hiding from?" whispered a voice from behind them as Hermione shreiked.

"Y/n! Oh thank merlin!" Said Hermione placing her hand on her chest as if she just had a heart attack. Y/n chuckled, "Sorry?"

She looked beautiful.

Harry's breath hitched and caught in his throat as he raked her up and down with his eyes. She was dressed in a stunning, glittering gold dress that pushed off her shoulders and slitted up her thighs leaving others imaginations go wild, especially Harry's.

She had her hair tied up in a low bun, decorated with pearls. Her gold heels reflected the light. Her middle finger had a gorgeous wildly sparkling gem on but what caught Harry's eyes wasn't the expensive rock.

It was the large bruise forming on her knuckles, staining her skin with blueish purple marks.

Harry's hand immediately grabbed hers in worry, his mind racing with what could have caused it.

"Y/n! What happened?!" He asked, the monster crawling inside him was both in rage and worry. It was as if it wanted to climb out and tear everyone apart and push Y/n behind it, protecting her.

"Oh, it's nothing." She said as she pulled back her hand a dismissively waved it.

"Y/n punched one of Williams friend's in the face after he said something bad about you, Ron and Hermione." Luna said in her dream-like voice as if she was retelling a story.

"What?!"

"Why?"

Both Harry and Hermione asked at the same time though Harry felt the monster calm down and he had to hide the grin that was about to litter his face.

She defended him. She had punched someone for him.

Well technically she punched someone for you, Ron and 'Mione ... A voice in his said but he pushed it away. Harry felt special.

"He just said something unacceptable." She replied just as Luna interupted

"He said Harry is bias and an attention seeking freak, Hermione was disgusting for dating Weasley, Krum and Cormac and that Ron was a patheticly poor excuse of a wizard." Luna said expressionless as Y/n tried to send her 'Cut it' signals with her hand but the Ravenclaw ignored her.

"Y/n then punched his face in front of the Ravenclaw common room, breaking his nose. Then she told William she couldn't date someone who had friends that shamelessly talked in such vulgar ways and she'd rather date a Slytherin. And made sure to remind us that Hermione here is the smartest in our year, Ron saved every single throw at the match and Harry was more braver and selfless than all of us combined. That's why he isn't here, he was escorted to the infirmary."

Hermione seemed both shocked and grateful as she lunged herself at the Hufflepuff and started muttering nonsense of how she shouldn't have done that and how she'd get in trouble and how she's grateful for her words.

Harry on the other hand was a grinning freak inside. She thought he was brave. He felt the urge to giggle and held it in. Sure he was pissed off with what Hinderson's friend had to say but she stood up for him ( them ) but who cares.

She said he was braver and selfless then all of them combined. But before he could let the butterflies in his stomach get the best of him, he needed to make sure.

"So you and Hinderson are over?" He asked as Y/n nodded. "Did I go to far?" She guilty asked her friend but Harry answered and answered too fast.

"No!" He had shouted gathering some of the surrounding people's attention causing the three girls to look at him either in shock or curiosity. Hermione squinted her eyes at him and raised her brow.

He felt his face flush as he stumbled for words. "Sometimes they're just not meant to be." Grimcing as he remembered his epic failure of a date with Cho last year.

"Yea, so? I don't have a date and Hermione is hiding from her date. . . May I have this dance, Miss Granger?" Y/n asked in a deep posh accent that made Hermione giggle and blush.

"No, yo-" Hermione began but squealed when Y/n pushed her onto the dance floor. Y/n placed a hand on Hermione's waist and grabbed her other hand in hers as Hermione placed her hand on Y/n's shoulder, laughing as the latter lead them across the dance floor in quick, funny strides.

"You like her." Luna's voice came.

"Yea, I do." He said. He's face morphed into a soft lazy smile as he watched the Hufflepuff twirl them in circles making Hermione laugh as she tried to slow the badger down.

"I'm sorry Luna, I didn't mean to ruin your night." He said but the blonde waved her hand and smiled at him warmly.

"Your my friend Harry, I'm happy if your happy." She said, Harry stared at her with a friendly smile before bowing down slightly and placing his hand out.

"Miss Lovegood, may have your hand for this dance?" He asked as the Ravenclaw smiled before pulling a chuckling Harry onto the dance floor.

An hour later, Harry sat with his drink on a couch alone while Luna spoke with a friend on the other side of the room. He looked around staring at the dancing figures as they twirled and swayed under the light.

His eyes caught Y/n' figure. It wasn't that hard, she was glittering like a disco ball, her sweet laugh filling the room, making Harry smile.

He watched her dress flow every time she twirled.

How the strand, that fell from her elegant hairdo, swayed every time she laughed, throwing her head back.

He watched how she tapped her, done white nails, on the glass of her drink, into a rhythmical sound.

He watched how she twirled Hermione and complemented her in a deep voice mimicking a man, making the bushy-haired girl swat her arm playfully and covered her mouth as she laughed.

He sat mesmerised by the ethereal beauty that filled his mind, painting his every nerve and cell in a glowing haze.

His thought we're cut off when he felt the couch dip next to him. Hermione had just flopped down next to him, out of breath sporting a happy smile.

"Oh, I don't think I've ever danced so much. Should've gone to the Yule ball with her, boy can she keep going." Hermione said as she turned and faced her friend, who was staring at the said girl.

"Go, go ask her to dance!" Hermione encouraged as Harry shook his head bringing his glass to his lips.

"C'mon Harry, you can go dance with her and grow this relationship into something more or you can spend the rest of your life regretting it for being a coward." Hermione said as Harry kept quiet for a moment, downing the rest of his drink.

Hermione was about say something else when Harry jumped up and placed his empty glass on a passing tray. "You're right, 'Mione." He said.

He walked over to where Y/n was speaking to Zabini, his chest tightened at the sight wanting nothing more than to hex the Slytherin into the next century.

As Harry aproached them, he caught Zabini's eye, who looked at him in disgust before saying a few words to the Hufflepuff and leaving.

"Hey." Harry said softly as Y/n made a surprised sound before chuckling and facing him with a tired smile.

"Hey, well don't you look ravishing?" She teased as Harry felt a shiver run down his spine, the words making more problems then it should.

He swallowed before putting on a similar tone. "Isn't that my line?"

"You wish, Potter. We both know I'm much more of a gentleman." She said. Harry's eyes locked on her lips as she raised her glass and drank it.

"Dance with me." He said abruptly. She raised her brow and put down the now empty glass at a nearby table.

"Are you asking or demanding, Mr. Potter?"

"Will you give me the honour and pleasure of having this dance with you?" He asked putting his hand out, every fiber in his body begging for her to say yes.

"The pleasure is all mine." She said as she slipped her hand into his.

He slid them to the middle of the room as he placed a hand on her waist and held her other hand in his.

"You look gorgeous." He said filled with seriousness. He watched as she blushed, chuckled, looked down then up again at him.

"I'm not the one who's got the eye of everyone in the room." She said.

"You're mistaken, you're the most beautiful one here. They're blind if they think otherwise." He said, he felt her grip on his shoulder tighten.

"Didn't know your the charmer type, Harry."

Harry.

Harry.

The sound of his name on her lips made his heart beat like never before. He let go of her waist and twirled her around, bringing her closer to him.

Her hand rested on his chest as his slipped slightly lower than it was before. "Maybe there are things about me you've yet to see." He whispered.

"Maybe there is." She mumbled as she drummed her pointer finger against his chest. Harry pulled her out before twirling her out and pulling her in, wrapping his arms around her waist as her back flushed with his chest.

"Harry." She whispered as he twirled her out. There it was again, his name. His clothes felt to tight. The air felt too hot.

When she came back this time her hand was on the side of his neck wrapping around it as she brushed his jaw with her thumb. He's hand dropped to her hips, brushing his thumb up and down.

"Y/n." He whispered so softly he barely heard it. It came out as a warning, as he shut his eyes.

She was close, too close.

"Yes?" She asked as she ran her hand down his shoulder and to his chest, the hand that held hers tightened it's grip.

"Yo-" He was about to say something when the perfect moment was cut off by Hermione's shouting.

"Get off me!" She shouted, both and almost everyone in the room faced the commotion.

Both Harry and Y/n rushed over, apart of both their minds annoyed and slightly pissed off.

"You don't have to make a scene. Let's just dance." Cormac said.

"I said I don't want to." Hermione said as she stepped back from him. Y/n stepped in front of her pushing her back, behind her.

"This is none of your business, L/n. C'mon Hermione, if it was anyone else they'd beg for me to dance with them let alone date them."

"Shove off, Cormac. Hermione values those with brains and character." Y/n said as Cormac scoffed, pushed Y/n and reached to grab Hermione's wrist.

Harry was already on his way to punch the bastard when, Hermione raised her fist and punched right in the jaw.

Before anything else could happened, Y/n kneed him where the sun doesn't shine.

"Nice form, 'Mione." Y/n praised as people turned their heads to see Cormac rolling on the floor. Hermione on the other hand stared at her fist as if it punched Cormac with it's own mind.

"Next time she says 'No' you get the hint and piss off," Y/n commented as she kicked him with her heel. People began to rush over and crowd the boy.

"Y/n!" Hermione yelled horrified.

"I've got detention anyway, may as well stretch it to it's limits." She joked just as she got pulled by Professor Slughorn. Harry stared at Cormac with undisguised disgust before grabbing Hermione and rushing her out after saying goodbye to Luna and Y/n.

That night, Harry stayed wondering at all the possibilities that could've happened if Cormac wasn't being a pain, which made the Potter hate the boy even more.

#harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter x fem!reader #harry james potter x y/n #golden trio era

[douceurrrr]

Can u do what dating michael cimino would be ever since his character on nhie ive been obsessed with him

yessssss!

-

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞

warning(s): slight smut… or maybe more than slight

dating michael is a dream. michael is definitely the type to bring you flowers, even if it’s not Valentine’s Day. he would be the type of boyfriend to treat you like a princess and give you anything you ask for. when dating him it’s not all about sex, it’s more sweet than sexual but you both have those moments.

dating michael means getting the best kisses. micheal would be the type to give you those passionate and intimate kisses that makes you feel electricity throughout your whole body. i think the places he would kiss you most is your lips, neck, and even your shoulders. he’s love language is definitely physical touch.

when dating michael you find everything about him hot, even the simplest things, like his voice or how he turns his head a certain of way but he feels the same way about you. the one you like most about michael is that he has a great personality and how he treats his mom (bc we all know that’s a dealbreaker). when micheal first talked to you he knew you were the one bc how nice to people you were.

dating michael also means bomb sex. he loves fucking you, it’s he’s hobby. he’s favorite position is when you ride or or doggy, he like watching you ass clap against him. sometimes he gets real nasty, like slut-worthy nasty. one time he saw you making something in the kitchen and he came behind you and started feeling you up and you two got a little frisky after. but sometimes it’s not sex it’s just little touches he gives you like when he occasionally slaps your ass or rub the sides for your waist orrr grinds his bulge against your ass.

dating michael also means getting a taste of the bad stuff too. you two barely get into arguments but when you do you both always know how to come back and makeup (aka makeup sex). michael is also the type to get jealous often but you always reassure him.

all in all, michael screams boyfriend.

#ethan morales #micheal cimino #micheal cimino x reader #micheal cimino x you #micheal cimino x y/n #never have i ever

[sai4u]

don’t wait for heartbreak !

⤷ instead of cupid shooting an arrow love, it feels like heartbreak instead. being friends with the boys is great and all, until feelings start showing up. with feelings, things could go smooth sailing or could go awry with a potential frazzled relationship

− ⌗ ft .∿ haechan, mark, jisung x fem reader

− ⌗ genre + warnings .∿ angst + non idol!au, college au for mark + jisung, reader lowkey breaks jisung’s heart :/

⤹ ⊹ MARK LEE

✶ for quite sometime you have been acquaintances with mark and for quite some time, you have seen him more than you would think. of course it’s college and you can easily run into familiar faces but to run into mark lee just about every day of the week? quite strange some might say, and to say that you don’t have a class with him makes it even more…odd. “it could be fate”, some may say but you waved that possibility off a while ago.

though, you are grateful that you do bump into mark ever so often. as coincidental as it was, the constant run-ins bloomed a friendship between you two, and he was a friend anyone could ask for. he was kind, funny, light-hearted, caring, and everything someone could ask for as a friend or partner. hence, not being shocked that most of the student body is either infatuated or “in love” with mark lee, including you. terribly cliche but he was one of your closest friends; someone to lean on, vent to with any and everything, an understanding guy with the limited vocabulary of “yo” and “bro”, someone to joke with, fall in love with, he was everything you could ever dream of as a romantic partner.

however, if there was one flaw mark had, it was being oblivious. well, it was more so a flaw to you than everyone around you. to think all those times of your boy troubles, your long long rants about finding your dream guy (terribly obvious being him) and bringing yourself closer to him, one would think he would catch on. but instead, he doesn’t, he never bothered to put two and two together and instead went about to continue dating other girls.

to make matters worse, something bloomed between a friend of yours and mark, creating a heartache as you watch the two grow in love with one another. thus leaving you with frustration, anger, and regret for not vocalizing your feelings and how much you want him to be your lover.

it would eat at your heart watching mark and your friend, but then again, what kind of friend would you be if you wished the worst for them? instead of creating jealousy, and/or envy, you thought it would be best to create space, bit by bit as the days pass. you distanced yourself from mark cause you couldn’t let your heart slowly shatter as you watch him date your friend, as your feelings for him grew, right?

⤹ ⊹ LEE HAECHAN

✶ haechan, the man with a pretty smile and an elegant voice that could bring tears to angels. his voice was one that was complimented ever since he was young, making him such a gifted person to others who get to hear it and to you who get to be best friends with haechan. though, past his voice, he was kind, loving, affectionate, occasionally cheeky and flirty, but overall someone that you could consider heaven’s blessings.

he was someone to give you a hug (and doesn’t let go) on your bad days, someone to lull you to sleep anytime anxiety kept you up or a bad nightmare had you uneasy, someone who wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable to you, an emotional support for just about everything, even with girl stuff he couldn’t understand, he was there for you. albeit, you were there for him just as much he was there for you, much more with his singing career.

when he introduced you to his dream of becoming a singer and wanting to become a respected songwriter, you were none other than supportive. some would say you were “too” supportive but who wouldn’t want to see their best friend be recognized for his angelic voice, which should be heard by billions across the world?

however, as the fame leisurely grows and less time is spent haechan, you begin to think, “as much as it is good that haechan’s dreams are coming true, just how much his newfound fame can taper our friendship?”. it doesn’t help as well that as the two of you grow older, your heart wanting for him grows more and more. the emotions that were once platonic, and strong, turn into a deep crush, and potentially…love. maybe it’s the distance that grows as he becomes busy with being a singer-songwriter, maybe it’s the gratitude he showers you with when you were supporting him and his dream, or maybe it’s the way he would look so divine in his performances, something about haechan made you yearn for him more than usual.

but of course, with newfound fame comes people throwing themselves at haechan, making him become less available for you and making him more distant. not to mention that every time he would announce a new relationship, you would fake happiness for him, on some days you would almost let it slip that it should’ve been you. as time passes, you would sink into a battle of wanting the best for haechan and wanting to be selfish and confess your feelings to him. you would think day in and day out how it should be you that he kissed on camera or it should be you that he brags about on his new song, not some supermodel or famous actress.

though all this inner fighting with yourself leads you to a slow heartbreak and distancing yourself from your best friend. the distance was already hefty as it is, he simply wouldn’t notice you avoiding him as well. he wouldn’t need to as another girl is graced upon his arm telling him ‘i love you’ and you’re sat with heartache.

⤹ ⊹ PARK JISUNG

✶ jisung is what some would consider empathetic, he was always one to put others before his own. not really known by many on campus but the ones who do know him, they would say that he truly is one of a kind, a good soul, a pure heart, a blessing to all who meet him. though one thing jisung wished he wasn’t was an easy lover.

he wished he couldn’t catch feelings for others as easily as he does, it’s a blessing and a curse. some of his friends say he should embrace it, but that rarely helps when he feels crushed every time he shows a girl an ounce of his love. it’s the same routine time and time again; he befriends a girl, they become close, he confesses and it’s one of two options, they either reject or strangely use his crush to their own advantage. the second option only lasts till it plagues jisung’s mind that he’s just a throwaway to these girls.

though with you, he thought things would be different this time, again thought. the night you confessed to him that you liked him, you were drunk but very bubbly to express your feelings for him. it made jisung giddy inside to know that this time won’t be a mess up and that good will come out of this. he kissed you as you were expressing yourself, your smile was already cheery as it is but his kiss ignited something in you. it ignited something that led to various kisses on his face, ending with a kiss, on the lips, that felt like a lifetime, and passion that brewed between the both of you.

said passion led to many drunken and messy kisses, late night sneaks, neediness for one another’s body, something and anything to light up that passion that was created between you two.

though something felt off, more so to jisung than to you. he felt like he’s seen this before, like deja vu is warning him of something, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. he talked to his friends about it, they say that maybe it’s just fear of the past trying to scare him but they did lightly threaten you to not hurt him. he is the baby of the group, they couldn’t help it.

however, as time passes, you seem to act detached towards jisung. you haven’t called him as often as you used to, you don’t come by his dorm, you haven’t shown him affection like you used to. it was going from honeymoon avenue to heartbreak hotel and jisung didn’t even bother to figure you out.

he essentially gave up, he didn’t want to bare anymore pain from love (again), and it doesn’t help that it’s you setting that pain in his heart. thus, he sulks in that pain and just goes about life, distancing himself just as much as you detach yourself from him.

౨ৎ oh ariana grande, when i catch you….WHEN I CATCH YOU. cause why would you make we can’t be friends…..

౨ৎ there will be a part two with the rest of the dreamies :). but i hope you guys enjoy my first post !

kisses to you all and God bless you 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝟥𝗋𝗒𝗇. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

#₊˚꒰ 𝜗𝜚 ꒱‧xoxo .ᐟ : trin is writing #nct #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream angst #nct angst #nct drabbles #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n #mark lee x you #mark lee angst #mark lee x black reader #haechan x reader #haechan x y/n #haechan x you #haechan angst #lee donghyuk x reader #haechan x black reader #park jisung x reader #park jisung x y/n #park jisung x you #park jisung angst #park jisung x black reader

[yawntu]

The Times We Win

A/N: There’s not enough out there for the literal sexiest man in the whole franchise. Do I have to do everything myself? DO I? Second person pov isn’t my cup of tea but he deserves sm more hype. You’re work with Mo’at as a shamans apprentice or something and he admires you a lot but you act all tough because of it. Also i’m delusional and in my silly little mind he’s alive him and Jake are buddies even if he doesn’t like admitting it <333333333333 I know this man aggressively spoils the people in his life u can’t tell me you would not be a queen in his presence. Vague mention of bestie Jake Sully who has made you a definition of a gremlin.

pairing(s): Tsu’Tey te Rongloa Atey’itan x Fem!Reader

word count: 6k

warnings: NSFW MDNI, I am going to an unimaginable hell. Overstim, Sub/dom aspects, Unprotected (be safe y’all), Established Relationship, Oral (fem!receiving), Fingering, P in V, Praise / degradation, Usually soft ish dom Tsu’tey turned a little mean has my heat, He just wants you to not act like a hooligan and behave you’re better then that, He’s going to torture you and tease you a little bit tho, Tsu’Tey is obsessed with you, Slight non/con if you squint, Saw someone do queue stuff and had to commit to it, Squirting, Breeding, Vague waterworks if you squint, Slight dacryphilla, Impact play, He’s a little mean in this one but, Slightest hint of Daddy kink at the end but he can’t help wanting you full of his kids <3, if you notice anything else pls lmk, we were both cringing writing this /jk

na’vi glossary: kelku- home, tswin/kuru- queue, yawntutsyìp: darling, Nga yawne lu oer - I love you, paskalin: honey, yawntu: beloved, sempu : daddy

A lot of things no longer made sense to Tsu’tey. He had spent a majority of his teenage years with the sole focus of being Ole’eytkan, and defeating the twatute. All he was was a warrior, always ready to fight. After a series of events outside of his control he lost his first love, reigned as Ol’eytkan briefly and then willingly gave the honor to the uniltìrantokx. Granted he had accepted the man as a brother and even sided with him when his parents had done the unthinkable- that did not mean that the way his life turned out did not often confuse him. 

So all he could do was preoccupy himself with you. Your soft thighs are thrown over his own, a stark contrast between soft and ridged. He could not help but tense his outstretched legs under the weight of your straddle. For his intimidating stature, Tsu’tey’s fingertips are lithe against the cerulean skin of your back. Your arms are thrown haphazardly over his broad shoulders that have started purpling due to being out under the sun daily. You twirl the loose hair at the end of his braids, occasionally caressing the stubble on the side of his head. 

You had been perched on his legs like this for what could have only been an hour. Tongues sloppily slotting against each other, teeth clicking ever so slightly on occasion. Kissing him has left you dizzy every single time despite how long you have found a home in each other. Seeing the normally coy and aloof man so passionately present sent jitters up your spine right to the base of your pleasantly throbbing kuru. 

He had finally given you a scintilla of what you desired when his thumbs gently grazed the swell of your breasts. He doesn’t miss the way your body jolts up in his lap, or the way your ears draw forward, tensing your forehead that rests against his own. Finally drawn out of your distracted kiss hazed day dream, and once again fully focused on him. Twitchy like a yerik before he’d impale it with an arrow. 

You had to nearly whine to get him to toy with your breasts- drop your body weight down into him and give him little choice but to entertain you. Letting your weight push the fat of your breast into his empty hands. One large hand massages your breast while the other reaches behind you to untie the intricate halter of your jewel beaded top. 

You try desperately to pull back- to watch his fingers finally twiddle with the soft azure of your right nipple, yet he’d catch you in another kiss not long after you pulled away. Not allowing you to watch the powerful and rugged hands- that had no doubt done the most of the work in bringing home the talioang that had just fed the village- smoothly rub against your nipple. His right hand finds your stomach, palming the warmth. It made his tail flick, knowing he provided for you. He didn’t so much care for filling the stomachs of the rest of the village- no, he was far more interested in what else he could fill yours with. 

How can he think of anything else when you are practically trembling on his lap. Sighing into his mouth as his calloused hands slid past your svelte waist to grip a handful of the hips he loved so dearly, hands embarrassingly growing clammy at the feeling of the skin bunching between his fingers. 

“‘Su’tey…” 

How can he think straight when you slur over his name? When your tail is flicking so pretty between his legs, the tuft of whipsy hair tickling his calf. It is too hot out for you to add this much heat to the atmosphere of the home you built together. 

“Are you alright, sevin?” 

You had not moved back from where your lips were ghosting each other, so he was privileged with feeling the apples of your full cheeks rising at the compliment. 

“Oh? I’m pretty now? What happened to being a skxawng?” 

Ahhh. That’s right. He remembered now. How displeased he was with you. You were a skxawng. An absolute fucking moron. He had to restrain himself when his large palm cradles the back of your head, wrapping around your kuru, pulling you back softly so your eyes are trained up at the ceiling of your tent, tsmisnrr illuminating your soft features. He feels the sharp angle of your nails grace down the braid of his own kuru, finally releasing some of the deep rooted tension at the base of his skull. The seconds of bliss do not halt the attitude laced quip from falling from his lips,

“Why do you always have to ruin everything. I forgot you were a vonvä,” 

His hiss barely falls past his subulated teeth. And now that your head is trained back he can finally run his nose down the nape of your neck. You can’t even say that he’s kissing it. His mouth is no longer dry and leaves a messy trail of his saliva all over your pulse. Maybe he was right. You were always a dick head. No discipline. Just a mischievous little fuck that he prayed would stay out of trouble while he was out providing for you. Yet you never did. Could he blame you? Your world was peaceful now, almost too peaceful. After growing up war torn he was sure you felt every bit of anxious energy he still felt himself. Unlike you however he had an outlet in hunting. Though you serviced the village well, and were adored by many, your work did not give you an outlet to release all of that turbulent energy. So you found yourself meddling. Your quips were usually funny, and you amused him, but he was aware that you knew how to get under peoples skin. Even worse- you thought it was funny. 

He was grateful for Jake, really they were the best of friends now. Though Tsu’tey would never admit it he had finally found comfort in feeling like a younger brother, he genuinely enjoyed the time they spent together. However, Jake encouraged your bad behavior. Teaching you English curses, or how to flip the middle finger at argumentative Na’vi while you were meant to be helping them. He supposes if you were just a forager or cook then perhaps he could excuse the attitude you walked around with. You worked under Mo’at though, not just as a healer, but to be a shaman. A holy woman. Despite a respectable title you had fucking punched a man. Salt to the earth, you had flipped him off after. You were small for your kind, an incapable (unwilling; you’re compassionate you’d tell him) of killing a bug kind of girl training to be a peaceful shaman, and yet you were hitting men. To prove a point; to win whatever overblown argument you had decided you’d be the winner of. Hitting men when he wasn’t there to save you from the recoil. 

He owes Ki’ani for defusing the situation in his absence (which was an extra annoyance to him as one of his students had filled the role he was meant for). All for you to sit on his lap, giggling that he called you an asshole. Utterly bemused that he of all people would be grumpy over a brawl. 

“Ah, I remember why I don’t hang out with you hunters. Vulgar hooligans. And i’m meant to be better than that,” 

There was an air of superiority in your voice that he thought didn’t suit what he was about to make of you. The snooty little angle of your head to the side, smirked lip caught on your sharp teeth. You only acted so tough around the village because you knew he would get you out of any predicament you had managed to get into during the hours he was away. Relinquishing his Olo'eyktan duties after surviving the war meant the only dedication left in his heart was you. It has spoiled you really, and it was all his fault. 

“You don’t hang out with hunters ‘cause the only thing you know how to do right is irritate me,”

He loosens the grip on your kuru, sliding his hands down your shoulders and ribs once more so he could squish your full breasts together, allowing him to finally run the moistened muscle of his tongue across the swell of your right breast. He had not realized how wet his mouth had grown until his teeth began to graze the flesh. 

He knows you are mad above him. Irritated that he had sat stoically though dinner in a silent rage just to have you follow him home to be teased for what you believed was far too long. Undoubtedly, even more irritated now that he had just called you annoying. Your hips jut forward when he runs his teeth over your purpling nipple though you are unable to slide up his extended legs due to the grip he held on your breasts. He smiles against them- amused that you had become so worked up that your chest was beginning to flush. If he wasn’t so irate he’d have spent more time kissing the blush that crept across your chest. 

“You seem very friendly for someone who’s vexed by my existence,” 

You still have that stupid tone of ascendancy to your voice, and it works at pulling him out of his lustful haze. Your eyes trailed down to your saliva covered breasts that he has occupied himself with sucking soft bruises on. He knows what you’re doing. Being annoying on purpose so he gives in and pays attention to you. 

He hasn’t meant to neglect you. Eywa knows he would never want anything less. He had responsibilities though. The warmest season would end sooner rather than later, and Tsu’tey was far too busy helping prepare- which meant you would have been in the village without him to keep that big brain of yours occupied. He doesn’t acknowledge your quip, and you quickly realize it’s to punish you. He does not like the tone of your voice, and he wouldn’t entertain the impish attempt to continue to rile him up, instead he’d continue to lick and kiss at your assaulted chest. 

But you always poked the palulukan, even before he had claimed you. So he shouldn’t have been surprised when your hips wriggled forward again in an attempt to flush against his, arching your back to slide to your goal. You’re embarrassed by the feeling of the moistened fabric finally making contact with him, but you are shameless at the feeling of slotting up against him. You try to look down, to see where you meet but his torso and head, that had slid up to the crook of your neck as you moved forward kept you from gazing upon where he stood at attention for you. You could feel the speared tip that has grown past the confines of his tweng, leaking violently against his stomach now that your own body pushed against it. 

His resolve breaks only momentarily as his face falls to hide in your neck as his eyebrows furrow. He had to leave sloppy open mouthed kisses on your mandible to distract himself from purring at the contact of your heat. It felt like ages ago he made you sit on his lap. Plants are now glowing outside, and your body is beginning to clam up and tremble. You are embarrassed when your nails dig into his shoulders as leverage to try and grind yourself forward. Anything to end this impasse with your imposing mate, the weight of his presence right next to your deprived cunt sending you into a haze of mania-inducing desire. 

He knows he’s cruel when his hand wraps around the base of your tail, pulling you backwards off of him, the round of your ass once again finding their perch above his knees. He almost feels bad when your eyes are wide and watery, staring at him in disbelief.

“Baby please, this is cruel,”

He snorts at the term of endearment. He hadn’t been called a baby since he was one. No one would dare call him such a name- yet here you were. He could tell you were indignant, but you still found it in your heart to speak softly to him. He can only smile up at you, fangs poking into the pout of his bottom lip; it’s a patronizing hint of a smirk that makes a whining hiss fall from your kiss swollen lips. You feel the pad of his thumb caress the puckered ring under your tail, sliding under the thong of your tweng as a response. 

“Why should I touch that cute cunt of yours, huh?” 

He whispers against your lips, kissing you quickly and softly. Your ears pull back against your head, and your tail wraps across his calf, the end thudding against him rhythmically. Your stomach flutters at his words, partially because he had been too quiet up until this point.

“Tsu’tey- you’re being mean to me,”

You whine like a petulant child, nose crinkling and fangs baring ever so slightly. Like a cornered animal caught in a carefully laid trap he can see you weigh your options- trying to figure out what you can do to break him. To win. 

“You are mean to me,” his answer isn’t a quip like yours was, there’s an aftershock of a scold in his voice. You can’t help but break your gaze. 

In response to your sudden shyness he releases your tail and begins to roll the spheres of your ass in slow circles while slowly squishing them together then pulling them back apart. His nimble fingers would slide under the waist of your tweng to pull it up, snagging it against the thin sensitive skin under your tail, and wedging the delicate woven linen between the lips of your pussy. He relishes in the sloppy sound of your lips plopping together against his intrusions and you’re whimpering breaths. 

“All day I go out and take care of all the things you need, and all you do to repay me is get yourself into trouble.” 

You are embarrassed that he is scolding you while you’re dripping onto his lap, and you thank Eywa most of the village is still preoccupied with eating and festivities as to not hear the reprimand in your mates horsed yet honeyed voice from the inside of your home. You could have gotten a little rowdy, but you do nothing in comparison to the trouble he and his friends could occasionally get into. You can’t bring yourself to argue your case though. All you can do is look up at his sulfuric eyes, your own gaze knitted together in embarrassment. You finally were at a loss for words, and found it hard to look into his sharp eyes- slitted down at you, almost disappointed. But you know this is what he wants. You try fixing your gaze at the crinkle of his nose but you can’t help but fall on his plump lips. You realize you have to speak before he can tease you for your piteous attempts. 

“I said I was sorry before dinner,”

It’s pathetic when you plead for him, and he’s so glad no one can hear it from the safety of your own kelku. No one else deserves to hear this side of you. Only he gets to hear your pleas reverberate off the walls just to bounce back to his ears. 

“That was nice of you,” you finally breathe a sigh of relief thinking he’ll give in, lay you on your back and drill into you at speeds only the best warrior in the clan could achieve, “I do not forgive you,” 

Your stomach drops at his words, yet there’s a quip in his voice that puts your aching heart at ease- at least he’s not actually upset with you. Not really. Just half upset. Just upset enough to make your night long. He can tell you were worried he was truly mad at you for a second, afraid you had fallen from grace in his eyes. So he quickly lays a chase kiss to the crown of your head, running his thumbs under your waterline. He finally looks down to see the reflection of the slick you have left across his muscular thighs, and admires the dark front of his tweng. He didn’t care about anything that went on outside of your chambers. The only thing that was real to Tsu’tey is how wet his pussy gets for him. 

The sob that falls from your lips and the pleading “baby please” that falls from your lips as his hand dances to your kuru again makes him chuckle. You were the baby, useless and needy and loud. So loud. Especially loud when his hand once again wrapped around it, guiding you down so your pudgy round cheek fell flush against the woven matt of your bed. You laid across his lap now, stomach flat against his legs while he held your face to the floor. It strains your eyeballs to glance sideways to look up at him, the throbbing of your eye sockets the first round of pain you’d feel tonight. 

“Tsu’tey please, I said I was sorry. I mean it,” your tail flicks as your bare nipples rub against the fibers of the mat. 

You were flushed over the feeling of the position you were in. Yet you could only be thankful for the breeze that entered your home. The dry breeze is no doubt an indication of a coming storm but you didn’t care. Now that you were on the floor however, you could finally begin to cool off. You liked to think you were smarter than Tsu’tey (and he usually let you believe this wildly inaccurate statement) but you would accept he was smarter in this moment as he had the foresight to leave a small sliver of the tented flap open. Thankfully the breeze it let in had kept the floor cold despite the heavy haze of summer heat and arousal clinging to the air of your home. 

Your salvation is short-lived when his fingers dance across the braid of your kuru. He’s pushed the long terraces of your half loose hair above your head to expose your upper back and neck, and you’re sure you looked like a wildly unkempt beast out of the forest he spent his days in. He runs his hand down the braid to the fluffy end which makes you huff against the floor, balling your fist over your face. He tuts when your tail wraps around the hand that’s holding the now exposed nerves above you, keeping him from moving his hand (and in conjunction the exposed tswin tendrils) freely. 

“C’mon, do not start that,” 

He still has to be patient with you. You’re not ready for him to use you the way he wants yet. And he can see your wet clumpy eyelashes and it can’t help the pinch at his heart. He watches the tip of your tail tremble, but you don’t move quick enough for his liking. He hates to force your hand but you were so bullheaded that sometimes you just needed a nudge in the right direction. So he hunches forward over you, face meeting his hand to lay a soft kiss at the exposed nerves. 

You all but howl at this, and he watches your legs clench and tremble over his lap. His tail is wagging rhythmically behind him and had he not been torturing you already you’d have called him out for his lack of bodily control (and his tails assault against your already perfectly fluffed nice pillows). 

He had found success in his silent intentions however. You weren’t tense now at least. Finally enjoying the feeling of the tendrils grazing over his tongue, and you even sat well behaved in his lap while he untied the knot of your twang, letting the cold breeze finally touch your bare cunt. It only increased the hot ache between your legs, and added to the embarrassing drip from between your legs- but you couldn’t be bothered to focus too long on it because at least he was finally touching you in some way. 

“Nga yawne lu oer,” you cry to him as you feel a palm grip the pliant skin of your ass spreading you apart. 

Perhaps he’d think you were endearing and let you off of the hook like he often did. Yet with your tail wrapped around the hand holding your kuru up to his mouth there was nothing stopping him from staring down at your swollen pussy, and it only spurs him on more. He knows he’s being terribly mean to you but he also knows that you enjoy it. Despite your drawn back ears and furrowed brows your cheeks are still pulled up into a grin. 

He huffs at the sight and you can feel it shoot across your skull at the cool contact with your wildling flowing tendrils. It was a welcome distraction once his left hand rises and falls against your ass. You finally release your tails grip on his other hand, letting it fall limp against his torso. 

“I’m sorry. Please-“ you don’t even get to finish before there’s another sharp slap to your other cheek. It’s hard to feel any of the pain when he’s tongue fucking your nervous system however, and he knows this. 

“I know what you want, yawntutsyìp. You’ll get it when I am finished,” 

You try to focus on the wall of your home while his palm spanks down against you. Try to focus on the feeling of his dripping cock against your tummy in embarrassment while he mumbles something about how if you liked hitting people you could take it back. You couldn’t help but strain your eyes to glimpse at him. His stupid little smile while the tendrils of your tswin dance across the area surrounding his lips, desperately looking for his to connect to. You want to bite the stupid smirk off of his face for torturing you like this but the sight of his slightly cocked head and his hooded eyes trained directly on you invoke mercy in your tortured little heart. After a final stinging slap to your wet folds he becomes more interested in soothingly gripping your ass. You huff slightly each time he would trail his fingertips across your folds haphazardly, knowing that anything louder would have resulted in another smack. 

“Nga yawne lu oer,” he finally whispers back.

It’s silent enough that you can hear the strain in his voice. You never understood how he held such great equanimity in these situations- especially when you could hear the desperation in his voice- see it in his eyes. Though you’re wet, frustrated and becoming increasingly aware of the sting on the skin of your ass you could fall asleep with him right now. Comforted by the fact that someone had not only known you, but loved you so intensely. And with the way he was so softly caressing your folds you couldn’t help but feel soothed in his lap. At least that’s what you thought until he taps his fingers against your cunt again, the dull pop echoing in the silent room. 

“Tey,” you bark, eyes shooting open, jolting slightly, “you’re going to kill me,”

“Never,” he bends rather uncomfortably to kiss your spine, “C’mon paskalin, spin ‘round for me,” 

His hand did not leave your kuru, not since he had grabbed its end. You surprisingly have a fight left in you; enough at least to make a coquettish show of sitting up on your knees for him, and sitting yourself between his legs. You are finally faced with the state of your mate, and your tweng that he was now tossing away from your nest of linen and pillows neither of you had made when you left this morning. 

You can’t help but cringe at the state he has put you in- he’s still clothed and you’re naked, and you’ve left a mess on him despite barely being touched. How could you be so absolutely absorbed in him? You should have chosen someone less attractive. Or someone who didn’t kiss you as sweetly as he did, so sweetly that you can sit back on the heels of your feet and the warmth of your stinging bottom didn’t bother you. Instead your thumbs run over his handsome strong cheeks, grinning at him. 

“Are you alright?” 

You don’t get to answer because he spins you around forcing you to crane your body to continue looking at him. He sounds as sweet as he kisses you. He’s so sincere in his asking that the “Find out,” that falls from your lips sounds mean in comparison. It’s not your fault you’re snippy, to think he’s left you unconnected to him since the early hours of the morning is criminal. 

Tsu’tey is never forceful with you, he doesn’t need to use force. Eywa knows with his 9’2 form and dangerous muscles he could push you forward into an arch. Yet, Tsu’tey had a natural air of authority that left you winded. It didn’t matter how stubborn you felt, when he looked down at you and began guiding you gently with his hand that was it- with a fluttery stomach you would do it. 

He would love you even if you were the hissing spoiled monster you would pretend to be. But he can’t help the fact that he loves you the most when you behave for him. The pretty show you made of laying down for him and grant him the bliss of being face to face with your sloppy, pretty pussy was surely the best behaved you had been all day so he ought to tell you-

“That’s my good girl,” he finally connects your tswin to his with no warning. Finally the cool rush shoots up your skull, casting over your face in a tantalizing buzz. For a split second the air in your nose wasn’t yours, and the throbbing across your skin did not belong to you. 

He pulls your arch back by your tail, laying a chase kiss on your folds, the cruel overstimulation of an almost simultaneous assault on the most sensitive parts of your exhausted body. At least he’s merciful to not pick on you for the groan that escapes your lips. It’s almost unbecoming of you, guttural and feral. It’s quickly replaced with a squeal when he begins to lick up your folds. You can only press your cheek to his calf, and clutch your fingers around his leg while he assaults your cunt with his tongue.

“Fuck,” 

He learned the word from Jake, and said it entirely too much now. Practically mumbling curses as he shoves his face impossibly deep into you. If you didn’t feel moist and sticky before it’s only accumulating at an alarming pace now. Tsu’tey is sloppy with it, unlike everything he does Tsu’tey can’t keep that composer once he’s actually face to face with his pussy. He enjoys fucking his spit into you with the pointed end of his tongue until it twitches and you start to drip back out into his mouth. He can’t stop himself from angling your hips with one of his large hands, while the other hikes you up higher by the tail which gives him the luxury of wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, wanting to swallow as much of the yovu sweetness of your cunt as you’d allow him to. 

You can’t say you feel bad for the mess you leave anymore, not when you can’t even bring yourself to moan about how good you feel. And your dazed heavy breathing wasn’t enough sound for Tsu’tey. You had made his day long, he was going to make your night longer. Unbearably long like the pointer and middle finger that slides into your silk folds with no resistance. He figured he could have used all three and you wouldn’t have complained too much, and now that he himself can feel the dull thud of his fingertips against the spongy wall of your cunt he wouldn’t stop. He moves so quickly, embarrassingly so as he can feel what you’re feeling, he knows how to ruin you and you can no longer hide your lack of resolve. 

“‘Tey I wanna cum,” 

Your voice is cracking as you huff out, biting into his calf whilst he speeds his intrusion up. What an embarrassing position. If anyone walked into the door of your home the first sight they’d be greeted with would be Tsu’tey sitting straight up against the walls that met the corner of your comfort ridden bed, legs lazily outspread caging you on your stomach, back arched right in front of his face while he watched your sloppy cunt take his fingers, often leaning down to lick, suck, and kiss wherever he can. 

“Ya?” He finally removes his mouth from you, still pistoling his two fingers at speeds you thought were sacrilegious, “You wanna cum on my face?” 

It’s embarrassing when you squeal, even more embarrassing when his third finger finally slides in. Between yanking you back by your tail onto his assaulting fingers, and the heavy panting of his breath fanning across your swollen lips you can’t help but orgasm. Hips jutting forward and ruining your rhythm. An act which should have annoyed him further, however, when his pretty lady is nice enough to squirt all over his face he can’t help the love sick moan that rips through his chest, 

“Ya that’s my baby, all you’re good for,” 

It leaves his mouth as his fingers start to slow down, you weren’t even holding yourself up anymore, chest pressed firmly into the floor while he held your hips in the air. Too busy breathing as your heart skips in your chest to hold your own body weight. There is still embarrassingly loud and slopping wet noises coming from you as his fingers had never stopped slowly finger fucking you. 

By the lack of any discernible sound around your expertly woven home you knew others had heard you at some point and decided to avoid the area around your home all together. You couldn’t give your mate anything in all of Pandora that could get him to care. 

You reach your soft hand between your legs to grab at his wrist, digging your nails into him and he can’t help the twitch of his cock at the sting. He sharply scissors the two fingers that now preoccupied themselves in slowly keeping you stretched open as he preoccupied himself with the sight of you. 

“Stop- stop looking- you’re embarrassing,”

“Ya you should be embarrassed, you should see the mess you have made,” 

You can hear the smile in his voice and you can’t stop the mewl that falls from your lips at the way he teases you. You don’t need to see the mess to know it’s there, the back of your legs are uncomfortably wet, and your leaking cunt is throbbing. You know he watched everything you had to show him greedily. That everytime you connect to him for the next week you’ll get the view of you squirting for him pushed to the front of your mind as if it was your own memory. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, only for him to lay a chaste kiss to you one more time, you can feel the smile on his face.

He knows neither of you mean this, it’s almost silly that you both put on this charade. He still thinks it’s cute you are at least still polite enough to apologize. It doesn’t save you from the quick grab of your leg and hip. It’s surprising how gently you land on your back, considering the speed he flips you over at. You don’t yelp because it hurts, but because it startles you. One second you were looking at the wall, the next you’re on your back, gazing up to meet the exhilarated eyes of Tsu’tey. And now that you can see him without straining your eye sockets you want nothing more than to cum again. 

You’re sprawled out on your back, and he is above you perched up on his knees now- looming over you as if he had just shot an arrow into you- as if he was your last shadow. You can’t help but clench around nothing, missing the stretch of his fingers so terribly at this moment. Fingers that are now untying the far thicker fabric of his tweng. Not that it’s hiding much of anything at this point. He’d grown past it, tip flushed indigo and leaking violently. It looks like he had probably came once already without you noticing, had he really made you that oblivious?

He falls forward on his hands once he’s done, and your eyes snap up to meet his. He lacks his usual authoritative aura in this moment, his pupils dopey and wide as his form engulfs you. If feral was an unbecoming look on you, Tsu’teys wide lovesick eyes was unbecoming for him. He’d lie and blame it on your neurolink- he’s only a love drunk fool this way- but he more often than not felt this way. You in some mystical way had bewitched him in his entirety. He doesn’t kiss you, opting to rub his face into the crook of your neck, to feel you. 

“You’re not sorry, this is what you wanted,” 

His smile is huge against you. You can feel his cut cheekbones rising as you try to peek between your forms. You don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing him above you. You can’t help but tense at the sight of him. He hates himself when your jolt of genuine panic shoots down his own spine and his cock twitches. After all of this time he still intimidated you. How could he not? At nine foot two, it was fair to assume Tsu’tey’s cock was nothing if not admirable. He had been a talking point amongst women on many occasions, you and your friends had surely spoken about the older boy before you had mated. You knew however that any girlish gossip had been an understatement. His ears twitch forward as his props himself back up slightly, 

“No answer for me, huh? Jus’ going to stare dumb at my cock?” 

He spoke too regally for the nasty words that fell out of his mouth. He’s quick to kiss the pouty lips you give him as your eyes slit and your brow furrows, you’re small “Shut up,” only fuel to edge him on. It’s cute; you’re already spent by him. You of all people don’t have a quip of an answer for him. You barely even complain when his right palm meets behind your knee, sliding your leg over his shoulder as he posture’s up on his knees slightly. You start to sit up on your elbows when you feel the dull- plap, plap, plap- of him smacking the tip of himself against your clit. You watch his body jolt along with you as he could feel how his intrusion made you feel and though the pleasurable stinging of the intrusion subdued you, it seemed to only spur Tsu’tey on more. 

Your body moves without you really thinking, trying to slide yourself backwards, further away from the man and the puddle you’ve been laying in. A desperate attempt to keep his hips away from yours. 

“Nuh- uh,” he’s quick to sush you, grabbing your fleshy hips and dragging your weeping cunt back towards him, “Why are you running away from your cock, huh?”

He’s rubbing himself between your folds, catching on your still swollen clit and relishing in the feeling of your muscles spasming. The liquid that escapes doesn’t bother you anymore, but you watch it begin to coat his lower stomach. Skin sticking uncomfortably. 

“It doesn’t fit,” you’re dramatic, and he’s sure to remind you. 

“It fits every time,” He finally snags the hole, and feels the coil of your stomach tighten in his own. So pleased with your reaction he can’t stop his moan. Finally what he’s wanted all fucking day.

“I’ll make it fit, shh, there you go yawntu,” 

He is large enough that he can sit on his knees, one hand next to your head, supporting his weight while he hunches over you. He could have been mean and made you suffer through a tight and slow stretch, or he could mess with you one final time. Could he really waste such a slick state? No. Not when his pretty pussy was begging for the weight of him. You all but scream at the quick trust of his full-lengthen intrusion, and he can’t help but whine at the feeling of finally being seethed inside of his mate, as well as enduring the delicious feelings you were. He was confident you didn’t even acknowledge the neurolink at this time, too busy stupid over how good he’s made you feel. 

“Tsu’tey,” and you're grasping at the bottom of his own stomach, pushing your palms into him as he slowly pulls out, pushing back in as far as your hands would allow him. 

There’s already a milky ring accumulating at his base and he’s barely moved. He does not thrust haphazardly, yet the control he possesses is finite. You can feel him bubbling on the edge of ferocity as the muscles of his lower stomach twitch under your fingertips. He is not a man that blushes often but the sight of your watery, wide, and ever so wondrous eyes has his neck and chest flushing deeply as well. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his ears so purple. 

“Oh fuck! Eywa!” The kick up of pace has you forgetting your previous adoration, too distracted with his face to notice he had propped himself up on the balls of his feet as to better his angle.

Though you couldn’t deny the ache in your cunt at the weight of his girth or the tightening of your stomach due to another impending orgasm it couldn’t be something you focused on. This wasn’t really painful. Pressure perhaps- but none of that mattered over the electrifying buzz that had begun to grow so intense that your lungs felt locked. 

Are you filthy for watching the assault on your cunt as he grabs your right thigh with a huff, forcing your leg to slot comfortably on his shoulder? Now that you had one leg hitched over his broad shoulders you both had an unimpeded view of his cock disappearing into you only to bulge the skin above your pelvis at the force of his obtrusion. Once he moves his weight off of his freed hand to meet your clitoris you can’t help but relax deeper into his thrusts. 

The spray of liquid that follows and shoots up covering your reddening chests enunciated the slapping sound echoing between your bodies. You weren’t even sure if you were cumming anymore or your overstimulated cunt was just releasing everything it could for him, 

“See baby. Always take care of you,” 

His face is rubbing against yours, as he reaches down to hold your tsaheylu. Running his thumb across where the two braids meet. He relishes in the feeling as one of your hands grab at his head, gripping the braids of his hair while he drilled into you. 

“Y-you’re so good. Tsu-“ You cut yourself off at his words in regards to running your own fingers over your abused clit-

“Did you ask to touch my pussy?” 

Though there’s a snarl in the voice of the man whose face is mushed up against yours his thrusts become more powerful. 

“Tsu’tey please- for Ewyas sake you’ve made your point,” the squeal is in your throat as you continue to rub- he never stopped you and you had never implored self control before, this is not the time to start. 

“Please, I want to cum on your cock so bad,” 

You finally look into his blown out eyes now. There’s barely any yellow to be seen. Just the messy appearance of your reflection in his huge pupils. You can feel something snap in him as you suddenly feel both of your legs get pinned down against your torso. It almost knocks the wind out of you, the feeling of being moved so suddenly. Folded in such a demanding way and then your guts getting drilled into by the man above you. Of course your hand doesn’t falter though- he had been treating you like a whore he should expect you to act like one. 

“Look how fucking wet you are,” He starts, it’s a dangerous whisper, “You’re gonna make another mess for Sempu?” 

It’s embarrassing. The fact that the only words to leave your mouth after his vulgarities are a very pretty “Oh Eywa,” followed by your doey eyes rolling into the back of your pretty head. Daddy. You had called him it before but something about his blown out eyes locked onto your own as if he can see nothing else but you, letting the title fall off his own swollen lips had you reeling, hips trying to jerk under his assault, hand jerking messy, tight, circles on your own clit. 

You don’t even know if you squirt this time, too busy alternating between clenching though your orgasm and pushing down, listening to his guttural moaning in your ear as he once again hunches down over you a little more. 

“Fuck, please ‘s too much. Sempu please, w-want you-” You don’t even know what you want. You’re too busy spasming on his cock. 

Praying maybe he’ll pop out for a second so you can catch your breath. Despite your newest orgasm Tsu’tey does not stop his assault. Only now more of his body weight falls into you. Using the momentum to drill deeper into you. It’s too much, your feelings on top of the tight painful pit in his stomach. He wants to cum so badly. 

“Let me cum in you,” it’s almost a beg, almost a plea to you. He needed to hear from you that you were satisfied. That he could breed you full and you’d finally be satisfied with all he does for you. 

You cup both of his cheeks in your now unused hands, and despite the ache in your contorted body you can’t help the wave of relaxation that teases you when you make eye contact, 

“Want your cum so bad, Sempu,” 

It’s embarrassing really. The way you two talk to each other like this. You would cringe at the idea of these words coming from anyone else, but you can’t help but be addicted to the sound of desperation that rises out of the both of you. 

“Fuck please breed me,” 

Though you’re choked up, at least you can speak. You are almost positive he’s brain dead when you feel his hips jerk up into you deeper then his previous thrusts. When he pushes you legs down further you’re shocked at the feeling of him grinding the head of his cock against what you could only assume was your cervix. He did not seem to care so much for your shock though, returning to sitting up more so he could watch the bulge of your stomach. 

“Ya fuck, my sweet girl,” the breathy pants against your face results in a tight clench of your lower stomach, yet with a whine you keep your legs open for him,

“Fuck baby- jus’ lay there and take it for me, there’s my good girl.” 

It’s not long before his thrusts go from a calculated assault on your g-spot to an erratic chase for his own high. It almost surprises you- the animalistic pace of his thrusts against you. The way he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slam into you, forcing the slick skin of his pelvis to grind against your far too stimulated clit. It’s why you don’t feel bad for the hand that reaches up to wrap around the base of his kuru. You could have came when you feel the way his stomach tightens when you apply pressure to him. You feel the jolt the action sends through him- and you have never been more thankful (yet felt such disdain) to Eywa for tsaheylu. Eyes rolling into the back of your head at the mind thudding euphoria you felt. 

“Look at me. Baby look at me when Sempu cums in you,” 

He’s prettiest when he whines. Despite the honorific title there is little that defines Tsu’tey as the dominant one right now. Anyone could tell he was completely at the mercy of your slicken folds. He couldn’t even remember why he was mad at you by the time he had flooded you, using his large hands to pull the plush of your hips flush against him. Unable to control the need to be as deep as possible. 

He’s purring when he notices the way your eyes light up at the feeling of him overstuffing you with his cum. Loud rumbles that you can feel vibrate against you as he lets your legs finally drop and lays flat against the floor. 

“Are you okay, my love?” Your closing eyes are being kissed, as he travels to any exposed skin he can get to, while moving as little as possible.

“I win,” your eyes don’t even open as you mumble. Too busy caressing his sweaty back that was most likely torn up from the assault of your nails. All that there was left to do was breath and enjoy the warmth of laying safely under him. Proud of the turn of events. 

Now that you weren’t actively engaged in each other the humidity of the sex stained kelku wasn't enough to keep you warm. Not with the eclipse breeze creeping through the opened flap. 

You turn your head to see your mate, forehead pressed to the mat, eyes closed, catching his own breath- yet there’s a large cheshire grin on his exertion blushed face. 

“Ya whatever. I give you everything you could want, what mate would I be if my little love suffered one night without making a sloppy mess all over me,”

        His attempt at teasing makes you laugh, occupying yourself with kissing his cheek and lingering there a minute. Ignoring the way the fat of his cheek squished under your kiss. The bubbly,

“Ya, hopefully you gave me the baby I want this time,” would have broken the resolve of Ewyas most pious. 

The roll of his hips deeper into you in hopes to plug you full makes your toes curl. He can’t help but say a silent prayer to anything that would listen that you’d be round and full soon. Tsu’tey also can’t help the fact that the feeling of your tight walls twitching and fluttering against him make him throb with a whole new need. The assault of his rolling hips is unwavering. Both completely enchanted by the uncomfortable sting of over stimulation. He could cease his slow drawn out movements that reward his ears with the sloppy echo of his cum being fucked right up into your womb where it belonged. Tsu’tey could stop and clean you up and let you fall blissfully to sleep while he held you. 

Or he could make sure you don’t roll out from under him without a deserving prize in your womb.

#tsu’tey #tsutey #tsu’tey smut #tsuteysmut #avatar #atwow x you #atwow smut #jake sully #tsu’tey x reader #avatar x reader #jake sully x reader #tsu’tey x you #avatar the way of water #avatar (2009) #he is very special to me #y’all are silly and in love #na'vi x reader #tsu’tey te rangloa ateyitan #tsu’tey fanfiction #tsu'tey avatar #tsu’tey fanfic

[thornybubbles]

Playing Minecraft with the Stardust Crusaders

**Note: Originally I was going to have this be a story with just Kakyoin, but I decided to add the rest of the Stardust Crusaders. Also I decided to just do headcanons instead of writing a full story. I’ve been writing a lot of dark yandere stuff and I just wanted a break. So here’s something wholesome. PS. Polnareff’s part was my favorite to write. XD **

Joseph

He may be an old man, but he’s not completely out of touch when it comes to the concept of video games. It takes him a little bit to learn how to play, but once he gets the hang of it, there’s no stopping him. Joseph’s building skills are pretty basic. He’s more interested in the survival and exploration elements of Minecraft. Once he gets his house built, he does a little mining to get a full set of iron armor, weapons, and tools and then he’s off to explore. He’s almost never seen around the main base and spends most of his time many, many blocks away, discovering cool things. He will often ask questions about things he’s unfamiliar with and you explain it to him. Sometimes he hardly speaks at all because he’s too enamored with all the stuff he’s discovering. 

Then there was the “Creeper Incident”. Joseph made the mistake of doing some exploring at night instead of going to sleep like a good little Minecrafter. 

“Hey, what’s this freaky green thing?” he asked you. 

“Freaky green thing? What kind of freaky green thing?” you said, wanting some specifics. 

“It looks like a depressed cactus,” he explained. 

Uh oh.

“Oh! That’s a cr---!” 

There was a distant explosion followed by Joseph screaming, “Oh my God! Son of a bitch!!!” 

After that, something changed in Joseph’s play style. He went from explorer to monster hunter. Angry at having been blown up and losing all his stuff, he goes on a vendetta to destroy all creepers. And why stop there? Zombies, spiders,skeletons or any other creature of the night that crosses his path were quickly dealt with. He goes deep into learning brewing, armor and weapon enchanting, and anything else he can think of to give him an edge against the hostile mobs. With Avdol’s help he builds a battle tower and protective wall around the base. He has very big dreams about taking out the Ender Dragon. 

Joseph is a bit of a jack of all trades when it comes to Minecraft. He may not be the best builder but he has a lot of creative ideas that help all of you with whatever projects you might be working on, especially when it comes to base defense and monster fighting.

Jotaro

He only ever plays when either you or one of the other Crusaders asks him to. When he first spawned in he wasn’t too impressed. He had a hard time figuring out what he wanted to do. At first, he doesn’t bother building a house or anything and just bums around his grandpa’s house. He makes a snide comment about how Joseph’s house is just a big, wooden block with one window and a door. Joseph grumbles something about how his house didn’t need to be pretty, just practical. Joseph ends up being the one to teach Jotaro how to play, while you occasionally interject to mention something Joseph may have forgotten about. Jotaro just responds with non-committal grunts and wanders around the base, checking things out. 

Eventually, he goes off on his own to explore and find somewhere nearby to build a house. He hasn’t collected any resources, has no tools, or crafted a weapon of any kind when he starts exploring. You try to warn him that he should at least get a wooden sword to defend himself with, but he ignores you. It isn’t until night comes and he is nearly killed by zombies that he finally decides to get some wood and stone and make some basic tools. He still hasn’t found a decent place to build yet, though.  

After he’s wandered around for about 4 in-game days, he comes across a village. Jotaro watches the villagers run around, doing their thing, and is bemused at their silly appearance and sounds. But when nighttime comes and zombies start attacking them, Jotaro feels he’s found his purpose in the game. Somebody has to protect these dumb looking guys and it may as well be him. He teams up with Avdol and Joseph (who is a little miffed that someone found a village before he did) to form a “Village Security Team”. While Avdol fixes the village up by patching holes in walkways, correcting poorly spawned buildings, and starting work on building a monster proof wall around the village, Jotaro and Joseph stay up at night to fight off the monsters. 

Eventually, Jotaro builds a massive fortress near the village and Avdol attaches the wall to it. This fortress serves as Jotaro’s home and the village becomes the secondary base for you guys. Joseph jokingly calls him “King JoJo” and “Your Highness” which usually has Jotaro grumbling under his breath. He spends most of his days decorating or improving either the fortress or the village itself. When he’s not doing that, he’s usually tagging along on one of his Grandfather’s adventures. 

Kakyoin

The redstone wizard of the group. Noriaki’s beaten the game a few times already, but only recently started messing around with redstone contraptions. He set up an automated farm that both harvests and replants crops as well as a huge mineshaft with minecarts set up so that they returned to the surface to be unloaded whenever players filled them up with resources.

As innovative as he is, though, he often uses his redstone skills to be an absolute troll. And usually, his victim is you. That’s not to say that he hasn’t pranked any of the others yet, it’s just that you’re his favorite target. It’s kinda your fault though. It started back when you first started playing Minecraft together and you might have, possibly, sorta, kinda, completely un-accidentally pilfered a diamond or two from one of his chests. He knew you were the culprit because there wasn’t anyone else in the game at the time but the two of you. He didn’t call you out on it, though, assuming that you would replace the diamonds as soon as you got a chance. You never did. While you actually did have every intention of returning the diamonds to him, you just forgot about it. It didn’t help that you later developed a habit of helping yourself to whatever you found in his chests instead of going out and getting the resources for yourself. Hey, it was easier and it saved time!

Nori never said a word about it, instead opting to quietly plan his revenge. One day you went down into his storage basement to grab some cobblestone from one of his chests. You were only going to grab a stack or two and make a mental note (for the hundredth time) to replace whatever you took, but knowing that you’d probably forget. When you opened the chest, though, you didn’t find any cobblestone. Instead you found yourself staring into the sullen face of a creeper, its warning hiss in your ears. You let out a shriek of terror and braced yourself for the inevitable explosion, but it never came. You examined the “creeper” again only to see that it was nothing more than an armor stand wearing a creeper head and green dyed leather armor. It was inside of a minecart that was cleverly hidden behind the chest. You just stared at it as your brain slowly came to the conclusion that you’d just been pranked. 

“Ah, I see you found my theft deterrent.” Noriaki said, amusement clear in his voice. “It’s a nifty little project I found online called the ‘creeper in a box’ prank.” 

You can’t even say anything. He got you good and you know it. You made it a point to stay out of his storage basement from then on. 

It doesn’t stop there though. That one little incident unleashed Noriaki’s inner troll and you’re the one who gets to suffer for it. From filling your house with dirt blocks to slowly rearranging your decorations over time to see how long it would take for you to notice, Noriaki just seems to love messing with you. You have to admit that while his pranks are annoying, they are pretty funny and too clever for you to really get mad at. Your “favorite” was when he hid a bunch of note blocks under your house and arranged them to play a certain song when you opened the front door. 

“Nori, why is my house Rick Rolling me?” you demand of him, annoyed but admittedly amused. 

“Why are you asking me?” he says, playing dumb. 

He knows what he did. 

You eventually do give him his diamonds back in hopes that will appease him. It does… for a little while at least. 

Avdol

The master builder. Before being invited to play Minecraft with you guys, he’d never really played a video game before. But there was something about the building mechanics of the game that awakened something within him, possibly nostalgia for those calm times with building blocks when he was a little kid. Whatever the case, Avdol takes to building like a pro and all without any YouTube tutorials, too. You want a medieval style bakery? You got one. Want a modern bungalow? He’ll do it. Giant fire breathing demon chicken to put in the middle of the base? You can envision the weird looks he wants to give you, but he’ll make one of those, no problem. His best projects are the ones he does on his own, though, with no guidance and with minimal suggestions. 

Due to his building skills, he finds himself constantly busy within the game as someone always has some kind of building project they want help with. He even offered to improve Joseph’s plain block house. The old man told him to do whatever he pleased and then went off to go treasure hunting with Jotaro and Kakyoin. When Joseph came back he found his simple home had been converted into a deceptively cute cabin. While Joseph was impressed enough with how cozy it looked, Avdol revealed that the cabin had a secret, a well hidden secret chamber that appealed to Joseph's inner superhero fanboy. He had his very own secret lair now (yeah, it’s not really a secret if everybody on the server knows about it, but let the old man dream)!

Over time, Avdol has added things here and there to the base to keep things from looking so plain. He’s added a decorated pond for fishing and just a place to hang out. There’s also a meeting area for when the whole gang gets together right before going on an adventure (brings back bittersweet memories. At least this time there’s no danger of anyone actually dying.). 

And yes, he even added that giant fire breathing demon chicken statue you wanted so badly. Your odd tastes aside, Avdol managed to make the abomination of a statue look rather cool and stylized. Kakyoin wants it to be the mascot for your group. It ends up being put on any and all banners for the base, much to Avdol’s chagrin. 

Every time he gets online with you guys he is either working on a project or starting another one. He never seems to run out of things to do. Surprisingly, his own home is rather quaint. Just a regular old farm house, but it’s very pretty. And yes, he has a chicken farm. 

Polnareff

Chaos incarnate. This man got into the game and immediately started doing everything WRONG! Digging straight down, forgetting to sleep at least once to ward off phantoms, forgetting to crouch when standing at the edge of great heights, you name it he’s messed it up. So basically just Polnareff being Polnareff. He always manages to find danger or danger finds him. Every monster in the area seems to target him specifically. On one mining trip you actually watched around five zombies shamble right past you and head straight for a very startled Polnareff. They completely ignored you! He’s died so many times that you actually put in the “keep inventory” cheat so that at the very least he stops losing all of his hard earned resources. 

Speaking of resources, when it comes to mining it’s the one thing that Jean Pierre is really, really lucky at. To the point that it makes everyone else jealous. He was the first to find diamonds and emeralds and the first to manage to get full stacks of both. You never even thought it possible to find 64 emeralds naturally, but Polnareff managed to pull it off. Joseph is quick to accuse him of cheating which results in a very childish argument between the two until you step in and explain that you were with Polnareff the whole time and he just finds diamonds and emeralds by chance. Joseph apologizes but grumbles when Polnareff laughs. Ever since then, whenever he comes across diamonds, or anything even remotely interesting, he is very obnoxious about it. 

“HEY GUYS!!! GUESS WHO FOUND EVEN MORE DIAMONDS?!!” he’ll shout in an annoying sing-song voice.

This usually results in annoyed huffs from Avdol and Kakyoin, disgruntled “Good griefs” from Jotaro, not-so-humble requests for him to stop bragging like an asshole from Joseph, and a threat or two from you that if he didn’t stop rubbing your faces in it, you would shove him into the nearest lava pit. This always earns a mischievous giggle or two from him. He’s so full of himself about it. He does make up for it though, when he crafts full sets of diamond armor for you all. For all his arrogant bragging, he’s really rather generous with his finds. If any of you need diamonds or emeralds he’s the first to offer up his stash. After all, he has so many, why shouldn’t he share? ~ ❤

Whenever he goes mining, you usually tag along. You say that it’s so you can help him carry his loot, but actually it’s because you’re his self appointed babysitter. Just like in real life, it just isn’t a good idea for him to run off by himself. You never say that out loud though because you know how sensitive he is about being danger-prone. Besides he likes having you along and the two of you end up as mining buddies almost every time you play. Sometimes Kakyoin joins you as he’s always in need of redstone and other materials for his contraptions (it’s important to note that Polnareff is Kakyoin’s second favorite trolling victim and it always makes you nervous whenever he tags along because you never know if he’s up to something or just genuinely wants to collect resources.). 

Whenever you and Polnareff go off on your own to do anything, the rest of the Crusaders server prepares their poor ears for the inevitable screaming and swearing that will follow. Something happens to you whenever you pair up with Polnareff. Your brain power seems to get cut in half and the two of you end up becoming an unintentional comedy duo that has everyone else either laughing or, in Jotaro’s case, muting you for being “too damn loud”. 

There was one time that Polnereff was digging a strip mine that ended up leading right into the Deep Dark and the Warden’s territory. You can probably guess what happened. Before you could warn him, Polnareff’s antics end up summoning the Warden and the monster kills you both before either of you have a chance to panic. This results in Polnareff seeking revenge (or trying to) and going all the way back to the Deep Dark to fight the Warden again (and dragging you along each time), and (both of you) dying again. This happens about three more times before he actually manages to defeat the Warden only to find out that he doesn’t get any kind of reward for it (other than bragging rights, which believe me, he takes advantage of). 

On a minor note, Polnareff’s inventory is always extremely unorganized. Whether referring to his personal inventory or his storage chests his inventory is in shambles. There’s no rhyme or reason for where he places things in his hotbar and sometimes he’ll end up hitting monsters with a stick or block of glass rather than his sword. He also has a bad habit of using the wrong tool for certain jobs, such as using his pickaxe on dirt instead of his shovel and it drives more organized players like Kakyoin and Avdol insane. 

BONUS:

Iggy

(We’re assuming that the little gremlin lives with you) While he can’t exactly play video games for obvious reasons, he does kinda like watching you play, but that’s only if he’s not trying to take a nap (you’re kinda noisy). Most of the time he just plops down in his comfy spot and watches you struggle to survive in what he mentally calls the “stupid human block game”. He is really amused whenever you and Polnareff team up because watching you two together is comedy gold. Sometimes, when you’re playing alone, he’ll wait for you to be exploring a dark, creepy cave and suddenly bark very loudly for no reason, causing you to very nearly jump out of your skin. 

Iggy: “BARK!”

You scream, swear, and jump back so hard that your headset falls off. Your mouse has been practically thrown across the room. You turn around and glare at the little brat. 

“IGGY!” you shout accusingly. 

The cheeky little doggo runs out of the room making sounds that can be interpreted as the canine equivalent of snickering.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #reader insert #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #minecraft #non yandere #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #muhammed avdol #jean pierre polnareff #joseph joestar #jjba iggy #this was very long

[falloutjuli]

Back on my shitposting Bullshit. This posts theme is something I had already done on my older writing blog and I always love making headcanons so here it is for JJBA. (Jodio not included yet)

 Feel free to drop in my ask box if you miss any character and wanna hear what I think or for literally anything else. (Please remeber to not send in too many charcters, Ill set the limit for now at 6)

Anyways, I hope yall get a kick out of my funky ideas. 

----------------------

1-8 JoJo’s x Reader - Playing Animal Crossing Together

Wordcount:

Short summary: My personal headcanons on the JoJo’s playing Animal Crossing with references to you and their friends.

Warnings: None. Only wholesomeness here., except for Joseph srynotsry

-----------------------

Jonathan:

Loves it, huge fan of the tiny wholesome animal game.

Speedwagon showed it to him, knowing Jonathan would love it.

Jonathan puts a big effort into keeping his island pretty, villagers happy, filling the museum, sending gifts and letters to his friends and you.

Most wholesome player you'll ever encounter, that happily trades anything he has.

Loves to buy furniture and clothing for you to surprise you with it.

 🌟

Joseph:

Wasn’t that big into it until he discovered the custom pattern function.

Now he's a menace, using loads of cursed patterns to paint his island in and give his villagers ugly shirts.

His own character wears a "Pussy Master" shirt.

Will visit Caesar’s and your island just to mess with you and gift your villagers ugly clothing and furniture.

Avid time skipper.

Biggest troll you two know and yet you love him.

  🌟

Jotaro:

Not interested, didn't know what it was until he saw you having fun with it.

He asked Kakyoin what the game is, and he happily showed Jotaro.

Jotaro eventually surprises you with a friend request on your switch.

He doesn't do much around his island, just places some stuff here and there.

Is absolutely obsessed over aquatic Villagers and filling the fish part of the museum to take pictures there with you.

  🌟

Josuke:

Organized Town, pretty layout, casual player that takes his time to slowly work towards everything.

Will make his house gaming themed.

One part of the island is dedicated to recreating the cafe and fill it with references to you and his other friends.

Eager to get his friendship up with all his villagers, loves to give them gift and talks to them daily.

Loves the Nookmile tickets/ Kapp'n trips and goes on them whenever he can.

  🌟

Giorno:

Froggy Chair obsessed.

Owns the Sanrio Amiibo cards and decorates with it.

Also has all the villager amiibo cards and everyone is welcome to borrow them to get their favorites on their respective islands.

Loves the museum and eagerly works on filling it, gifting anything he already has to you.

Cute natural island theme with loads of plants and occasional duplicated statues spread around.

Made a cute park for you that has lots of hybrid flowers and cutesy furniture.

Loves all villagers, but his favorites are the frogs.

  🌟

Jolyne:

Surprisingly organized in a sense?

Like you, Ermes, FF and her share a group chat where everyone posts their newest decoration updates, what villagers moved in and might move out, turnip prices.

You trade furniture for the catalog and help each other's museum, teamwork makes the dream work.

Loads of pictures of you four hanging out in the coffeeshop.

One room in her house is dedicated to you and filled with references to your relationship.

Anasui is banned from all islands, and you designed a custom pattern with his face and a red X on it that all of you have next to your airport.

  🌟

Johnny:

Johnny wasn't big into it at first and then got completely hooked.

Only Horse and Mouse villagers.

Western themed all the way. Kentucky state flag as his island flag.

Loves Gyroids and has multiple in each room.

Gyro and he trade furniture and ignore the museum completely. They are only interested in decorating their homes and island to have it perfect.

Made it big with turnips but refuses to explain to Gyro how it works.

  🌟

Gappy:

Was confused at first why you liked the game so much.

Yasuho and you made him his sailor outfit and buy him some furniture to start him up with.

You two explain the whole concept roughly to him and then let him play.

You never expected him to figure it out super quickly and making loads of money with turnips.

His house was upgraded faster than yours and Yasuho’s, he began making his own custom paths, made an orchard on his island.

He quickly takes a huge liking to the game and loves everything about it.

He leaves the island largely as it is, the only stuff he really decorates are his house, the orchard (reminiscent of the Higashikata one) and the little area with his villagers.

The rooms in his house are all dedicated to a person that he then decorates accordingly to. (You, Yasuho, Holly, the Higashikata Family etc)

#jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #johnny joestar x reader #gappy x reader #joseph joestar x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #josuke x reader #jotaro x reader #giorno x reader #jolyne x reader #Jays back on her bullshit yeehaw

[seresinhangmanjake]

Seresinhangmanjake Masterlist

Hiya :) thank you for taking the time to read anything I write. If you like something (and are comfortable with sharing) let me know. It always makes my day! - ❤️ Lauren

ao3: Laureolive (if you see my writing anywhere else, please let me know)

I am trying a tag list so you can join by filling out this form, or you turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing. Many of these fics are 18+. If you are a minor, please do not read them.

Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Thorn (Expendables 3) Masterlist

The Daggers Moodboards (Top Gun: Maverick)

One shots:

Can’t Let You Go: When you and Jake broke up, it hurt both of you more than you could handle. Now, after three months of barely seeing or speaking to one another, Jake walks in on the surprise of seeing you in a wedding dress, and it brings past memories and ruined dreams to the surface.

Rather Be with You: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

It’s oh so Quiet: you are in a bad relationship, and you just want to be with Jake.

Just a Little Weak:  You are Penny’s new bartender and she warns you to stay away from one particular pilot, so you do your very best to please your boss. It is only when Penny goes out of town for the summer, leaving you in charge of the bar, that the pilot finally makes his move, and you finally give in. 18+

Touch and Go: You and Jake had been sleeping together for months, and as sure as you were of your feelings for him, you were unsure of his for you. He, however, certainly knew how he felt about you, and after you decide to go on a long trip without telling him, he lets you know just exactly what’s on his mind. 18+

Lazy Mornings and Whatnot: After coming home from his last mission, Jake doesn’t want you to leave the bed and will do what he has to if it means insuring that you’ll stay, which leads to fluffy conversations.

Jealousy Game: You do a little experiment to try to make Jake jealous and it works, with unexpected consequences that change the way you thought the night would go. 18+

Jealous Jake and the Biting Problem; Jealous Jake and the Other Sleepover Buddy: You and Jake have a friends-with-benefits situation, but when he finds bite marks on you from another guy, he doesn’t handle it well. 

Split: You break up with Jake because his actions make you question everything you’ve had between you, but he wants you to take him back. 

A First and a Second: It’s soft Dad!Hangman from start to finish. And cute marriage stuff.

Wanting it all: Hangman ends up in the hospital from a very similar Phoenix/Bob/birds situation, and you suddenly regret keeping a big secret from him.  

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts: You and Jake had a history of flirting and occasionally kissing if too much time was spent at the bar, but it never went any further than that. One night, after showing up at your house and passing out on your couch, Jake wakes up the next morning only to learn he had drunkenly confessed his feelings for you.

Alive: After you get into an accident, Jake has a hard time coping with how close he was to losing you.

More Than What We Are: You and Jake are friends with benefits, and you have one rule: No feelings! Jake decides that rule doesn’t work for him anymore. 18+

Less Misery, More Company: Jake has feelings for you but you don’t believe it, so you play a little trick to get back at him for all of his flirtatious teasing. But that little trick fails miserably, and as the weight of your mistake settles in, you realize you owe him an explanation, one that requires you to admit some things you’ve long denied.

Back for More: Jake up and left you without explanation right before a mission. Now he’s returned wanting you back, but you want that explanation before you’ll be willing to let go of the pain and heartbreak from his sudden departure a month prior. 

Scrapes and Bruises:  When Rooster and Hangman get into a fight over you. Basically, Rooster is not thrilled about your relationship with Hangman, and their issues with one another bring up some fears of your own.

A Mission of Another Kind: Jake is assigned to a mission he did not think he would have to take part in, despite training for it with everyone else. Considering its high level of danger, you had been happy he hadn’t volunteered for it, until he came to your house one morning to tell you he had been assigned and would be leaving within the hour.

Drabbles:

He Doesn’t - Jake doesn’t do relationships...right?

Early - Jake’s a sweet boyfriend when reader gets her period.

Jake helps his drunk girlfriend

His Princess

“The bed is cold without you here”

Perfect for me, Baby - Jake is there for you when you have body-image concerns. 

Get Me Through - Jake helps you through the death of a loved one. 

Oh, Baby Universe: dad!Jake Seresin x female reader

Full Masterlist / Chronological Order Masterlist

You might not have been his girlfriend, but when you left town one night a month after sleeping together, it completely broke Jake’s heart. Now, a year later, you’ve returned and you’re not alone. You have a new little companion that just so happens to bear a startling resemblance to Jake.

Oh, Baby: Jake learns he’s a dad

In the Night: Jake has nightmares that you leave him again

His Girls: A domestic moment with dad!Jake

The Other Mother: your mother comes to town

Birthday Boy: It’s Jake’s B-Day and you have a special gift for him

It’s What You Make It: Jake’s mother makes an unexpected visit

And Honey, I’ll Make It All Okay: Jake’s Dad shows up.

Nothing Better than What We’ve Got: You’re finally ready to have a ring on your finger

I’ve Promised You Forever: Jake and his Honey are married

The Prequel:

Oh Honey: Part 1

What Once He Had: Part 2

Gone: Part 3

Related Fics (jump around in the timeline):

Everything and All of It: Reunion...stuff ;)

A Little Love: cuteness during a family grocery trip

Daddy Knows Best: Eve says her first word

Oh Wow: Flashback to when Jake first sees you

Methods of Love and Trust: Jake lets his mother babysit for the first time. 

Jingle of The Bells: Eve is worried Jake won’t make it home for christmas

That’s Definitely a Name: Eve helps name her baby brother.

The Favorite: the Daggers meet Eve for the first time.

Drabbles:

Eve is upset when Jake has to leave

the rules of Disneyland

Eve learns about Baby #2

Eve’s got a new guy

First Night Home

AUs:

Your Way Back to Me: Oh, Baby AU. What if you didn’t return after Eve was born and it was decades later before you met Jake again? And how would he feel to find out his best student might be a bit closer to him than he initially believed? 

Now that I have you (Part 2 of Your Way Back to Me)

Because You Stayed: What if you never left?

Moodboards:

Jake x Honey

Jake x Honey with Eve

Jake x Honey Elopement

Oh, Baby Wedding

Eve’s First Birthday

Coach Jake & Jake x Honey in Texas

Oh, Baby Christmas

Baby Boy

Extras:

Digital Daggers: Oh, Babies by @mamachasesmayhem​

Series: 

The One I Want

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x plus size!reader

Full Masterlist

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Warnings: Judgment related to weight. Cursing. Fluff. Angst. Eventual smut (alluded to/or other). Self-esteem issues. Mentions of physical abuse. Traumatic past. Mention of death (no main characters).18+

Note: The Jake POV chapters are not necessary to read to understand or follow with the rest of the story!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

Part 3.5 (Jake POV)

Moodboards:

Jake Seresin x plus size!reader

Stolen Angel

Demon!Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he's a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Descriptions of blood and pain. Obsessive behavior. Eventual fluff and smut. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it's fine. I wrote that one too.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Not your Type

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Goth Girl!reader

Summary: Jake Seresin doesn’t usually have to try hard to get women, but the only woman to catch his attention in a long time doesn’t want anything to do with him.

Written in the form of sharing milestones of their relationship as it develops. For example - Day 1: the day they meet; Day 3x: the day they (...); Day 5xx: the day they (...); and so on.

Notes/Warnings: Unwanted flirty (in the beginning), fluff, probably eventual smut (18+), angst

Full Masterlist

Part 1 (Day 1 - Meeting)

Couples Moodboards

From Two to Four 

Single dad!Jake Seresin x single mom!reader

Full Masterlist

Summary: a trip to the movie theater with your son becomes more eventful when you meet a man and manage to save his daughter’s birthday from being ruined.

warnings/notes: bad past relationships, cursing, fluff, eventual smut

Part 1, Part 2

Moodboards:

Family of Four

Girls Day

Beyond the Hills (College AU)

Full Masterlist

Summary: Technically, you and Jake Seresin have known each other for twelve years. All throughout your childhood education, you and Jake shared classes, lunch periods, homeroom teachers. It seemed if the opportunity for you to be in the same space arose, the universe made it happen. But you were not friends. Not enemies, either. Not much of anything to one another outside of the occasional class project partners. When high school ended you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon, but then you find yourselves at the same college, and once again, forced together. It seems no matter where you go, Jake Seresin is there. But you are not the shy girl you were in your youth. You want to try things now; party, have fun, do things you’ve never done before, and suddenly, for reasons you don’t understand, Jake seems to take issue with your new choices.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, fluff, eventual smut, angst, typos I'm sure, underage alcohol use, jealousy, manipulation (not on Jake's part)

Intro sneak peek, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Signed Away (Arranged Marriage AU)

Full Masterlist

Summary: You find out about the contractual marriage your parents arranged with Jake’s when you were a baby. You’re plenty angered by it, but Jake doesn’t seem too bothered. He might even be happy.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, fluff, eventual smut, angst, contract marriage, loss of rights, feelings of being trapped, poor parent/child relationships.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Epilogue

Headcanons

Moodboards:

Signed Away Christmas

#top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #top gun jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #jake seresin fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

[bbyquokka]

falling for you

pairing: yang jeongin x gender neutral reader

genre: head cannon, smut – MDNI

synopsis: when fuck boy ! jeongin slowly falls in love with you

warnings: fuck boy ! jeongin, masturbation (m), unestablished slowly turned established relationship, descriptions of sex, general mature themes.

words: 0.8k ~ (849)

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

fuck boy ! jeongin who is unbelievably confident in himself. the type to not give a fuck about what everyone else says, blowing them off and occasionally getting into fists fights to defend his pride

fuck boy ! jeongin who likes to show off, regardless. he has this image about him and he has to maintain that image, even if it's tiring for him.

fuck boy ! jeongin who has built a reputation of being untameable. rumours circulate of how good he is in bed and how he knows how to use it. yes, it boosts his ego but when he listens to the same stuff all the time, it becomes tiring for him. the high fives, the slap on the shoulder and the constant cheers and ego boosts is grating on him; slowly but surely.

fuck boy ! jeongin who only does one night stands. the thought of something long term turns him off. the thought of having someone cling to him and beg for attention makes his skin crawl and disgust to rise from his stomach. however, deep down he knows he isn't made for long term relationships. he doesn't have the heart to break someone's heart so in order to save himself the drama, a quick fuck is all he needs.

fuck boy ! jeongin who believes he will never be in love nor be loved by someone. he believes that he has fucked around with too many people that he is tainted. that no one will go near him anymore.

fuck boy ! jeongin who secretly wishes to have a stable life. the whole façade of 'not giving a fuck’ and being sex obsessed is all for show. in reality, he wants to settle down, have a family and a loving partner. someone who can tame him.

fuck boy ! jeongin who goes home after a long day of masking. he rests on his bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing he didn't have this life anymore but he doesn't see an end. on the outside, everyone thinks he enjoys the male and female attention. everyone thinks he's a chad from sleeping around but reality hits when he is alone or sees a couple madly in love and wishes that was him. he doesn't want this life nor title of being a fuck boy anymore.

fuck boy ! jeongin who falls madly in love with you. seeing you from afar causes his heart to skip multiple beats and heat to pool down south. the way you look, smell and sound. you're everything he's ever dreamed of and more.

fuck boy ! jeongin who tries to get close to you and befriend you. however, you've been warned by your friends about his reputation so you believe he is only getting close to you because he wants a quick fuck when in fact, it's the opposite. he likes how driven you are by your dreams, how head strong you are. how well spoken you sound. he doesn't stop pestering you until after months of begging you finally give in and let him take you out on a date.

fuck boy ! jeongin who is so madly in love and smitten by you, he's willing to change just to keep you. he promises to get rid of the contacts of his hook ups, change his friend circle and be a better person; be the person he truly wishes to be. 

fuck boy ! jeongin who lies awake at night, stroking his cock to the thought of you. the palm of his hand gliding up and down his shaft, his moans muffled. his skin on fire, nerve endings tingling. his cock rock hard and tip an angry red as he pumps himself to sinful thoughts of you. his imagination runs wild until he finally orgasms. his sticky fluid landing on his toned stomach, chest heaving as he calms himself down.

fuck boy ! jeongin who is slowly falling madly in love with you. every time you look at him, he goes shy. every time you touch him, his skin is on fire. every time you speak, he's in a trance. he's a love sick puppy for you but also scared. it's a whole new feeling he has never experienced before but it's a feeling he wishes never to end.

fuck boy ! jeongin who asked you to be his. you said yes and that same night, you both had sex. it was the best sex he has ever had. to be able to feel and hear you in a new light. to see your body and face twist and turn with each thrust of his cock. to hold your hand and feel you clamp around him as you whisper and moan his name. nothing compares to it. he's slowly becoming addicted to you–as are you.

fuck boy ! jeongin who finally got what he wanted. a stable life with the person of his dreams. he finally said goodbye to his fuck boy life and settled down, planning his future with you and only you. he's never looked back since.

note: no, its not on my wips list. yes, it is self indulgent because its all i've been thinking about. sigh. don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng

#kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #straykidsland #skz smut #stray kids smut #jeongin #i.n #jeongin smut #jeongin x you #jeongin x reader #i.n smut #i.n x you #i.n x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #yang jeongin #yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin x reader