#idk witch one is his last name

[wholoveseggs]

hi! I see you have a bunch of requests so I’m sorry to request but do you think you could write an Elijah angst with fluff ? Like y/n is upset because she thinks that elijah likes Hayley but he’s actually in love with her and has been for centuries but has always been too scared to tell her.

Always

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Upon your unexpected appearance at the compound, centuries after being presumed dead, Elijah has to grapple with feelings he long buried and the consequences that come with it.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) & @vervain3 ♡♡ - I combined all three ideas and made a jealousy triangle {square? circle? idk}~

3k words - Warnings: a little smutty right at the end, drama, angst, jealousy... vaguely refer to events from season 2 & 3... Klaus interfering & loving all the drama (Regina George energy)

It was a rare thing for Elijah Mikaelson to fall in love, but when he did, it was forever. In his one thousand years of living he could count on one hand the number of times his heart had truly belonged to someone else and he could recall, with exact detail, everything about them.

There was Tatia, the first woman he ever fell for, and then there was Katerina, or Katherine, who was a thorn in his side and a constant source of regret.Then Celeste came into the picture, a beautiful and powerful witch, her loss and betrayal still a bitter taste in his mouth.

And then there was you, the brightest light in his dark life. Your face still burned brightly in his memories and your name still danced on his tongue like the sweetest melody. You did things to him that no one else could, dissolving his burdens with just a smile.

You had captured his heart with just one look and he had been yours, mind, body, and soul. He was so in love with you, it hurt.

So when you died, he was shattered, torn apart and left to deal with the pain alone. He would see your face everywhere, haunting him and reminding him of his failure to protect the one he loved. To never be able to tell you how he felt was the most painful thing of all.

Centuries had passed since he lost you, his grief now a dull ache in his heart, but nothing had ever truly made the pain go away.

Hayley's presence in his life mended the broken pieces somewhat, but they were still damaged. His feelings for the hybrid would never be enough to erase the ghost of his love for you.

He accepted being content with what he had, knowing he didn't deserve anything more. That he was lucky to have met his soul mate, even if you were never truly his. To know that true love was real, if not fleeting.

So when he saw you, sitting on the sofa in the courtyard, laughing and chatting with Klaus, his heart stopped. He wondered if he was imagining you again, if his mind was playing a cruel trick on him.

But you turned, your gaze meeting his and the world stopped. He felt his knees grow weak, and his heart race.

You were real, you were here, you were alive.

And you looked just as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

But there was a bit of a problem, he was with Hayley now. You were back and he didn't know how to feel about that.

"Elijah, how long has it been? You look well." You greet him with a smile, pulling him in for a hug.

Elijah hesitated before wrapping his arms around you, inhaling the scent that he had thought he'd never experience again. He couldn't help but hold you a little tighter, afraid that if he let you go, you'd disappear.

"Y/N," he whispers softly.

You pull back, noticing the way his eyes seem to burn brighter, full of emotions you couldn't read.

"How are you? I haven't seen you since..." you trail off.

"Since you died," he finishes, his eyes looking at you curiously.

"Since you left me behind," you corrected him.

Elijah frowned, not understanding what you were talking about. The night Mikael returned, you were killed and your body burnt, at least, that's what Klaus had told him.

"Klaus said you were killed, we didn't have time to retrieve your body."

You shake your head. "That wasn't me, he was mistaken."

"So where were you?" he asked, still unable to believe you were really here.

"Here and there," you said with a smile, none of that mattered now.

You always had a soft spot for Elijah, when you first met him and his family, you found him to be so stoic and melancholic. You delighted in making him laugh, his smile lighting up his whole face and giving him the air of youth and carefreeness that you knew he had buried deep within him.

Nothing ever happened between you, he tended to fall for more serious types. But you never stopped loving him, he was always going to be the one you couldn't forget.

"You're as bad as Niklaus," Elijah said, chuckling lightly.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you grinned.

You were interrupted by a beautiful brunette with stunning hazel eyes, she walked up and placed her hand on Elijah's shoulder, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Y/N, this is Hayley," Elijah introduced, his hand going to rest on her back.

Of course, you thought. She was exactly his type, beautiful and fierce.

You gave her a small smile, shaking her hand.

"How do you know Elijah?" she asked, curious.

"We met a very long time ago, in another place," you answered, giving Elijah a sidelong glance. "In another life."

Hayley looked between the two of you, sensing there was more to your relationship than you were letting on. She wasn't going to let you anywhere near what was hers.

"What brings you here? To New Orleans, I mean?"

"I heard the original family has settled here and I wanted to catch up with old friends," you replied. "But mostly, I'm just passing through,"

Hayley frowned, "old friends," she repeated, her hand tightening around Elijah's shoulder.

She had only just met you, but already, she knew she didn't like you. You seemed to have a permanent smirk on your face that reminded her of Klaus, and that made her distrust you instantly. And the way Elijah was looking at you made her feel uneasy, she had never seen him look so...happy.

"Oh," Elijah's expression faltered, his disappointment barely noticeable. "You're leaving?"

"Well, I don't want to overstay my welcome," you joked, your eyes flickering to Hayley's.

"How about you join us tonight for dinner," Klaus said, walking up and joining the group, he always knew exactly how to make an awkward situation worse. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

You gave him a small smile. "Sure,"

When you arrived for dinner, you were surprised by the amount of people Klaus had invited. It was a bit of a relief, it would mean that you didn't have to be alone with Elijah and Hayley.

Klaus stood at the head of the table, making introductions, there were a number of vampires and werewolves present, including a werewolf alpha named Jackson and a handsome vampire named Marcel.

You greeted them all politely, before taking a seat next to Marcel.

"Y/N, this is my dear friend Marcellus," Klaus greeted, "you two have a remarkable amount in common."

Marcel smiles, "hello, beautiful."

"Hi," you smiled back, your eyes lingering on his, he had a killer smile and a charm to him that was difficult to resist.

You were glad to have someone to talk to, you could tell Marcel had a great sense of humor and you enjoyed his company. You also found yourself attracted to him, he was definitely your type.

"So, how do you know the Mikaelsons?" Marcel asked, a little confused. "I didn't think they had any friends outside their family,"

"Klaus turned me centuries ago, when they were hiding out in my town." You explain, taking a sip of your wine. "They needed allies, so he made some of us into vampires."

"Ahh, been there, done that." Marcel replied with a smile, leaning in closer, his hand brushing against yours.

Elijah watched from the other end of the table, his eyes flickering between the pair, his stomach knotting with every touch and look exchanged between you.

You didn't miss his glances, or his frowns, and you wondered what his problem was. He had his gorgeous girlfriend by his side, why was he looking at you this way?

Klaus delighted in the growing jealousy he could see bubbling up inside Elijah. He knew his brother had always loved you, but never made a move. And now, he was paying for it.

Klaus watched as you flirted with Marcel, enjoying the sight of Elijah growing increasingly frustrated.

"They seem cozy, how cute," he mused, his eyes gleaming.

"Yes, it appears that way," Elijah replied, his jaw clenching.

Hayley smiled at you and Marcel, "they’d make a good couple,"

"Would they?" Elijah asked, a hint of irritation in his tone.

Hayley didn't notice, she was too busy watching the way your eyes lingered on each other's and the way Marcel leaned in close and whispered in your ear, making you laugh.

Elijah didn't miss the spark in your eyes as you spoke with Marcel, the way your face lit up and the way his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

He wanted to rip his heart out.

He felt himself growing angrier by the minute, his hands clenched and his jaw tight. He could barely keep up with the conversation, his attention focused on you, his jealousy eating away at him.

There you were, so close, your laughter filling the air, the sound he had been longing to hear for so long. And he was stuck sitting across from you, watching you get closer to another man.

"Jackson, tell me about this ritual you mentioned earlier," Klaus said, interrupting Elijah's thoughts.

"Well," Jackson began, looking between Hayley and Elijah awkwardly. "It could possibly give the pack hybrid-like abilities,"

Hayley smiled, "that's exactly what we need Klaus, an army to protect our child."

"What would this ritual involve?" Elijah asked, trying to distract himself from the sound of your laughter.

"A marriage," Jackson answered. "Between myself and Hayley,"

"A marriage?" Hayley asked, confused. "I thought this was just a ritual?"

Jackson shook his head, "in order for it to work, we need to marry,"

Hayley frowned, looking between Jackson and Elijah. She wasn't sure how she felt about the idea of marrying anyone but Elijah, but she had no choice, she would do anything for her daughter.

"It would give us the power and numbers we need," Klaus agreed. "We could protect Hope from anyone who wished her harm."

Elijah felt strangely relieved, despite knowing how selfish it was. He thought he loved Hayley, that her marrying another would bother him, but he was more bothered by the way Marcel was touching you, he realized that his feelings for Hayley weren't enough.

He still loved you, and he always would.

"I guess that's it then," Hayley sighed, glancing over at Elijah, wondering what was going through his mind.

"We can discuss it further tomorrow, but I'm sure it's something that would benefit us all," Elijah said, his voice steady.

Hayley nodded, her heart breaking at his indifference. She didn't understand, she had hoped he would argue against it, at least a little bit, but it appeared she was mistaken.

She glanced over at you, seeing the way you kept looking at Elijah. She realized that your presence had shifted something in her relationship, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger towards you.

After dinner, everyone had a drink or two and mingled. Elijah and Hayley found a private corner to chat about her wedding, their conversation awkward and strained, filled with hidden meanings.

"Are you alright?" Elijah asked, noticing the pain in her eyes.

"Yeah, fine." Hayley nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "I just thought you would... I dunno... Protest the wedding more."

Elijah hesitated, "we need to do whatever we can to bring home Hope." He spoke carefully, "you know that I... care for you."

Hayley looked away, trying to hide the hurt on her face. He 'cared for' her, but it wasn't enough.

"You care for me," she repeated, her voice lacking the inflection of surprise. "But you don't love me, do you?"

She looked up at him, their eyes locking. He looked at her sadly, the regret in his eyes telling her all she needed to know.

"You'll always have a place in my heart, Hayley," he said. "It's just-"

"She's back," she finished, nodding sadly. "You've always loved her."

Elijah didn't respond, instead he simply stared at her, their eyes full of unspoken words, unshed tears and the promise of a life together that would never be.

Hayley took a breath, blinking back her tears.

"I should probably go and join the others," she said, turning to walk away. "I'll… see you around,”

Elijah released a breath, running his hand through his hair. He stood there, debating whether he should go over and talk to you.

Hayley could tell from the way you'd been looking at him that your feelings for him were the same. She was hurt, and a little drunk, and a more than a bit angry.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw Marcel whisper something in your ear, his hand resting on your shoulder. You seemed to have every man here wrapped around your finger instantly, even Elijah.

Hayley walked up to you, her eyes flashing. "It's incredible how you just return out of the blue and have every man here panting at your heels."

You raised an eyebrow, not expecting the hostility.

"I'm sorry, have I offended you in some way?" You asked, giving her a confused look.

"No, you're just a slut who can't seem to keep her hands off the men around here." Hayley snapped.

You looked at her in surprise, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Marcel and I were only flirting," you replied.

Hayley glared at you, her fists clenching. You could see the rage burning in her eyes, and you were tempted to push her further, just to see how far you could take it. But before you could, Jackson was by her side, a worried look on his face.

"Come on Hayley, let's get some air," he said, pulling her away from you.

Marcel watched as they left, his arm draped around your shoulders.

"What was that about?" He asked, glancing down at you.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you shrugged, your gaze drifting over to Elijah.

He was looking at you as well, his eyes wide and searching, as if he couldn't believe you were really there.

"I'm sorry Marcel, I think I'm going to turn in early," you said, smiling apologetically. "It's been a long day."

Marcel nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Call me sometime, if you're interested," he said with a grin, winking playfully.

"Sure, thanks." You nodded, returning his smile.

You made your way over to Klaus, thanking him for the dinner, and bidding him a goodnight. You then approached Elijah, a small smile on your face, your heart pounding.

"It's wonderful to see you, after all these years," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

"You too, Elijah." You said, giving him a genuine smile.

"I want to show you something, before you go." He said, extending his hand out to you.

You hesitated, glancing down at his hand, a part of you afraid to get your hopes up, to believe that he saw you as more than a friend. But when your eyes met his, you could see something in his gaze, and it gave you the confidence you needed to take his hand.

"Lead the way,"

Elijah gave you a small smile, leading you to his study. He walked over to his desk, searching around until he pulled out a wooden box.

He placed it on the desk, opening the lid. Inside was a pendant necklace, a gold chain with a small emerald medallion hanging from it, with your initials engraved.

You hadn't seen it in centuries, not since the night you parted, and the sight of it brought a flood of emotions crashing down.

"You kept it," you whispered, your eyes stinging with tears.

"Of course," Elijah replied, his voice quiet, a smile playing on his lips. "It was yours, it belongs with you."

Your fingers gently grazed the pendant, the cool metal a reminder of your human life. It was given to you by your mother, the only thing you had left of her. You had treasured it, and when it broke, Elijah had offered to get it fixed for you.

But when Mikael arrived and you were separated, you thought it was forever lost.

"You got it fixed," you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

"Yes, it was important to you." Elijah replied, his voice soft, a smile on his face.

"After all these years, after everything, why did you keep it?" You asked, confused.

"It was all I had left of you," he replied, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed, unable to speak, your throat tight and your chest aching. You'd never imagined he'd held onto such a keepsake, a reminder of you he held onto for centuries after he believed you to be dead.

Elijah gently picked up the necklace, placing it around your neck, his hands lingering.

"I'm happy to return this to you," he whispered. "It's where it belongs."

Your hand went up to the pendant, tears streaming down your cheeks. You turned to face him and his hand cupped your cheek, wiping away the tears. You leaned into his touch, his skin warm against yours.

He stared into your eyes, his expression filled with emotion, his heart beating erratically.

"I want you to know that I..." his voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words. "That I have never forgotten you."

"I never forgot you either," you whispered, your gaze dropping to his lips, your own parting.

He leaned in slowly, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft, gentle, as they pressed against yours, you both sighed, melting into each other. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

He moved you back until you hit the desk, his lips moving down your neck, nipping and kissing, causing you to moan. Your hands grasped at his clothes, tugging him closer, desperate for him.

Elijah lifted you onto the desk, pushing his body between your legs, his hardness pressed against you. His mouth was on yours again, his hands roaming your body, exploring every inch.

"Wait, wait," you panted, breaking the kiss. "You are with Hayley,"

Elijah paused, his eyes locked with yours, his chest heaving. "Not anymore."

You stared at him, confusion and desire muddling your thoughts.

"What?" You managed, still struggling to catch your breath.

"We broke up, tonight," he explained, his voice husky, his hands caressing your thighs.

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind, but his closeness and his hands on your body were making it impossible to think. He kissed you again, his lips hungry, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you.

You moaned, arching into him, your hands roaming his body, pulling him closer. His hands tugged at your dress, hiking it up your thighs, moving your panties to the side.

"I want you," he muttered, his eyes dark, filled with lust.

You whispered his name as his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit. His mouth was on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, nibbling softly. You gasped, your hands grasping at his belt, trying desperately to undo it.

He pushed his pants and underwear down, his cock springing free. He positioned himself between your legs, easing into you slowly. Your eyes locked, both of you filled with an intense, desperate need for the other.

Elijah groaned, gripping the desk, his knuckles turning white, as he began thrusting into you, slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your moans filling the room.

His movements became faster, more frantic, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you. You felt yourself getting closer, your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming shallow.

His lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your thighs, holding them open. The desperate way he was fucking you was a testament to the feelings he held for you, and it only fueled your desire for him.

You moaned into his mouth as you came, your orgasm hitting you hard, making your body tremble, your muscles spasming.

Elijah buried his face in your neck, sinking his fangs into you as he let go, his body shuddering. You held him, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax.

"I've always loved you," he whispered.

"I love you, too." You replied, kissing his temple.

He kissed you again, his hands cradling your face. He smiled at you, his eyes filled with warmth, and a deep love that was reserved only for you.

It felt like coming home.

♡♡ Hayley is jealous of you -> you are jealous of Hayley -> Elijah is jealous of Marcel... & Marcel is too cool to care. ♡♡ ~What kind of jealously geometry is this??? I'm a writer not a mathematician lol~

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson smut #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

[softlymaximoff]

Sick Sleepy Bear ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

18+ ONLY MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

— A/N: malen'kiy detenysh “little cub”, and then your usual Russian pet names we all know-

— Summary: prompt 1 -> “hey l'm not your pillow" prompt 2 -> “you’re adorable like this”

— Characters: WandaNat, Fem!reader

— Warnings: anxiety, fluff, little bit of obsessing over Wanda’s boobs, !BRIEF NIPPLE STIMULATION!, body admiration/ worship kinda idk,

— Word Count: 860

There weren’t many times where you were delusionally sleepy, for the record, the only time you were extremely clingy and completely out of it would have been when you fell ill the other month and your body decided to shut down. Of course it happens again when your girlfriends are currently away on a mission.

Tossing and turning in the mass amount of blankets sprawled on the bed, you sigh for the last time before groaning and sitting up. It was only an overnight mission but your tummy was starting to twist and your eyes were going red at the constant rubbing around them. A quiet whimper left your lips as you grabbed your phone and squinted at the harsh light. 3:04am, what a joke.

You hesitated before pressing on the contact name but another rattling cough had you calling in a frenzy. You absolutely hated being sick. It was hell for anyone involved, you despised taking any medicine, you were snappy and you were generally over everyone who tried to interact with you.

A few rings of the dial tone and it connected to the other side “Malysh? It’s three am honey go to sleep” Natasha mumbled out tiredly yet concerned as to why you’re up at the hour. “Come home please” You sniffled out and you heard a shuffle on her end. “Baby- we can’t- drogoya we’re stakehousing, we can’t get to you sweetheart. We’ll be back later today alright moya lyubov” Wanda’s sleepy voice gravelled out through the phone and it made you miss her more.

“Need yous” you whined when another cough coursed through you and you heard a curse through the line. “Oh love, I promise if you close those sleepy eyes we’ll be back before you know it okay malen'kiy detenysh” Wanda sighed sleepily and you tried to shut your eyes once more, but to no avail. “Wanda please. Need you” you whimpered and tried to get comfy again.

Not a moment later and the duo were harmonising a soft lullaby in their common tongue, Wanda slipping a few Sokovian words and Nat keeping the basis Russian. Before you knew it, you were finally catching up on the missed hours of sleep with their voices as the last thing on your mind.

<><><>

The house was silent when the two Avengers finally made it home. The TV was paused on Netflix’s telltale of a binge session asking if you were still watching your current obsessed series and the overthrow blankets were in a pile on the floor. You however, we’re nowhere in sight.

Nat dropped the overnight bags by the door and took Wanda by the wrists, dragging the exhausted witch to your shared bedroom. The minute they opened the door, they caught you in a deep chesty cough, your steady body jolting with each one. “Oh baby love” Wanda pouted sleepily and undressed herself to get into comfy clothes.

A cheeky - yet admirable - glance from Nat had Wanda blushing and sidestepping from the gaze lightly. “Shut up you, go get changed and let’s snuggle please” her voice was light and playful but deep down the three of you knew she was always bashful about her body.

One of the many benefits of Nat having the most control in the relationship was forcing Wanda to feel good about her body before she could literally feel good. As soon as Wanda slipped under the covers, you curled into her sighing in relief at her presence. Nat scooted in behind you and you instinctively reached back, slowly waking up from your slumber.

“Hi” You mumbled into the quiet of the afternoon and practically into Wanda’s boobs, giggling when you nuzzled your face into them and kissed over her heart gently. Another cough rattled your bones and you whimpered when the attack was over, pulling nat closer so she was spooning you from behind.

“You’re adorable when you’re like this. All clingy and melty” Natasha let out a small chuckle but nestled her head in the crook of your neck. A low whine left your lips when she places butterfly kisses along your neck and whispered a small ‘i love you’ in Russian. “Our sick lil angel” Wanda pouted when you pressed your face further into her boobs.

“Hey, I’m not your pillow you goof” she rolled her eyes at the movement but a quick suck from you shut her up really quick. One look from Natasha and Wanda blushed, she was always so bashful when she was exposed with underlying tones. Natasha was never the one to judge but always the one to use it to her advantage.

Hopefully you get better soon because with the rate that your clinginess is going, Wanda was sure to be overstimulated and Natasha just can’t focus when her girls just so beautiful together.

In the meantime, Wanda will just have to keep her composure just enough for you to fall back asleep. At least until the opportunity for a shower arises anyway, cause if you think Natasha is letting Wanda off with nothing but a glance of admiration for the night then you’re thinking wrong.

#wandanat #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wanda x reader #natasha x reader #wandanat x you #wanda x you #natasha x you #sick sleepy bear

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Zoro x Fem reader fluff! You know how Zoro has an unimaginable amount of debt towards Nami? Well, S/O has been paying Nami time after time to slowly repay Zoro’s debt because she loves him so much and she’s sweet enough to do that. Nami does decrease his debt to a point where even Zoro notices his debt decreased. When questioned, Nami confessed what S/O did for him and how she’s so sweet that she didn’t have to and Nami collected all the money to give to Zoro so he could make it up to S/O.

So cute omggggg. As you wish my lovely! I kept this as broad as possible, with an S/O who likes music, which I think is pretty broad, but if it isn't, don’t come at me pls I’m just a baby.

I think in One Piece, they have like CD players where you plug in headphones and you can carry it around, at least that's what was shown in the anime when people were lining up for Brook's concert after the time skip. I can't remember the name of it, but it used to be a popular thing. I made it a spring island because its (supposed) to be starting to be spring where I am, but we just started our second winter (as per usual with the midwest lol).

Warnings: paying off partner’s debt behind his back, cheating at GAME, Zoro being broke lol.

It's just fluff man idk what else to say.

“Witch.”

“Unsanitary marimo” Nami replied easily, keeping her focus on her magazine. Zoro’s eye twitched, but he held his tongue.

“Since we got loot at the last island, how much are you pulling out of my debt for my share?”

Nami’s ear perked at the word “loot”, and she did some quick mental calculations.

“Hmmm. All but your allowance. But I’ve been considering reducing that for you”

“Oi! Why would you cut my allowance?”

Nami shrugged.

“You only buy alcohol”

“So?”

“So you don’t need that much. Besides, after a couple months of a reduced allowance, you’d be down to at least an imaginable amount of debt.”

Zoro paused. Why was his debt going down? He wasn’t paying unless she demanded it. Had he paid that much? Or did they get that much loot at the last island?

“How much did we get at the last island?” He asked. Nami glanced up at him.

“It’s kinda creepy how you’re showing interest in money, but about 734,286 Beli” she said. Zoro only focused on the seven hundred thousand Beli. He wasn’t great at math, but knew when that was split between the crew, his share would hardly make a dent in his debt. So why?

“That doesn’t make sense” he muttered. Nami looked at him curious.

“No?”

“My debt was… I don’t even know how much. So why has it been going down?”

“Hmmm. Maybe I’m just generous!” She smiled sweetly at the swordsman, putting on her most innocent act. He narrowed his eyes at her. She knew something.

“What do you know.”

Nami glanced around, as if making sure anyone besides the swordsman was within earshot. Zoro furrowed his brow at the action.

“What is it?” He muttered, arms crossed. Nami sighed.

“Look. You should thank her by doing something nice for once. She’s so sweet and kind, and I have no idea how you ended up dating her but… I saved the money she’s been paying me for your debt. I thought maybe you knew, and I was going to smack some sense into you but she begged me to keep it quiet," Nami shrugged and picked at her nails before continuing, "Technically, it’s been going towards your debt but I figured I could be nice and generous for once, and ask you if you wanted to accept it. Once you found out, of course. But if you want, I can give it to you and you can spend it on her instead.”

Zoro’s jaw clenched, and he looked down. You had really been doing that? For him? He only mentioned being annoyed by that damn debt when Nami held it over his head when he had to do the dirty jobs for her. He could be mad at you for thinking he couldn’t handle it on his own, but honestly? He couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t be mad at you. He just ignored the debt, hoping it would eventually go away, and you were so kind to him. He hardly deserved you.

He scraped a hand through his hair, sighing as the other hand landed on his hip.

“I… I don’t know how to… I want to do something for her to pay her back. But what?”

Nami leaned back in her chair, gesturing for the swordsman to sit next to her. He slumped into the chair, brow furrowed as he thought.

“In a day or two, depending on the weather, we should make it to another island. Think about what she likes, not you. Go and enjoy it with her, together. Support her passions, and it’ll mean so much to her”

Zoro huffed.

“How much did that advice cost me?”

“Free for this time, only because of her. Not you. It would be 100 Beli otherwise”

“100?!!”

“I could make it 500.”

“You’re scamming me.”

“You’re the one who needs my help. Why should I give my help for free?”

Zoro sucked his teeth and stood to walk away but paused. The navigator looked up questioningly. He looked off into the distance, a stoic expression on his face.

“Thanks for the advice” he muttered. He obviously meant it, so Nami smiled in return, and he walked off to find you.

He found you playing a card game with Luffy and Usopp, laughing as you laid down your winning hand. The other two complained loudly, groaning and flopping back. Luffy accused you of cheating, and Usopp backed him up.

"Me? Cheating? Never" you teased, giggling. You looked around as you heard heavy footsteps behind you, eyes landing on your boyfriend. You turned back to the other two in front of you and stood, producing a card from its hiding place, tossing it on the pile of cards.

"You guys are pirates, think of this as training to learn when someone is cheating at a card game"

"Hey! You were cheating!"

"No fair!"

"Like I said- training, not cheating"

Zoro stood behind you arms crossed and a smirk on his face at your antics. You turned around, hands laced behind your back, trying to look innocent. You batted your lashes at him, smiling sweetly.

"Right, Zoro?"

He looked at you and grunted, seemingly unfazed by your act. Inside, his heart skipped a beat with how cute you looked.

"Don't tease them. They're idiots"

"Hey!" "We're not idiots!" Luffy and Usopp protested in tandem. You sighed, pouting at him. He blinked at you, keeping his face neutral despite his sudden desire to kiss the pout right off your face.

"C'mon. I wanna ask you something" Zoro said instead, turning on his heel and leading the way. You followed, but not before turning and tossing the last card you cheated with on the pile. Luffy pulled his eye and stuck his tongue out, and Usopp blew a raspberry at you. You stuck your tongue out in retaliation, and skipped off after your boyfriend.

You followed him, unsurprisingly, to the crows nest, scampering after him on the ropes. You were a little nervous. Zoro wanting to ask you something could range from giving your humble opinion on a sword technique, to if you loved him even though he was aggressive. You simply didn't know. You entered the crows nest with practiced movements, eyes falling on the swordsman sitting on a bench near an open window.

You approached him, slightly hesitant.

"What did you want to ask me?"

He hummed, acknowledging your question and indicating he was constructing his answer. You furrowed your brow. He hardly ever thought through his words. He spoke once you had sat next to him.

"What do you know about the next island?"

You cocked your head.

"Nothing really just that it's a spring island... should I know something?"

"Just curious. Is there something you've been wanting to do lately? Like something that can really only be done on an island?"

You thought. Nothing in particular came to mind. But maybe...

"I uh. I want to buy some music to listen to. I know we have Brook, and he's amazing but... I dunno. I miss my music player a lot, and hearing whole bands at once and different singers... I mean Brook is a great singer and he does different genre's, but sometimes you want to shake things up so you're not listening to the same artist all the time, ya know? But I usually end up buying some other things I need instead" you shrugged. You looked at Zoro. He wasn't looking at you, instead was looking out the window. He grunted.

"Show me"

"Show you what?"

"Show me what you listen to, and what you like. I'm not really familiar with music all that much, having not listened to it much growin up or... ever really."

Excitement grew with every word. He wanted you to introduce you to music? To the music you listened to and liked? What would he like? Would anything surprise you? Warmth spread from your chest, through your body, and you bounced in your seat, a grin curving your lips.

"Really?! Oh my goodness there's so much to show you! I can't tell if you'd like softer music like R&B or maybe you'd like hard rock... I'm not sure you'd like pop punk but you might! Maybe some pop songs, but you might be picky about that. French jazz might be meh for you, but it might remind you of Sanji so maybe we should stay away from that... Maybe some other jazz? Or probably something with a good beat. Like workout music?" You babbled on excitedly, pondering the possibilities. You continued talking, not completely sure if Zoro was listening, but you didn't mind.

A small smile formed on Zoro's lips as he listened. Nami had been right, frustratingly, but this way, he would get to see a side of you he hadn't yet. Even if he didn't like the music you did, experiencing it would be good for him, and more importantly, you'd be happy. He saw the little scrunch of your nose that you got when you were really happy and excited, and he huffed a laugh.

"and maybe- what are you laughing at?" you looked at him, smiling still as you interrupted your chatter. He finally faced you fully, leaning his head on his hand, his arm propped on the back of the bench.

"Just you. You're cute when you're all excited about something. You get a little scrunch in your nose when you smile when you're happy like this."

Your hand rose self-consciously to cover your nose. He gently smacked it away with one hand, swooping in to kiss the tip of your nose gently.

"Don't cover it. It's cute"

You blushed, flustered. A thought suddenly occurred to you.

"Why are you asking about what I want to do on the next island? Normally, we do what catches your interest, which don't get me wrong, is typically entertaining, but... why the change?"

"You."

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

"Me?"

"You've been paying my debt to Nami"

"Whaaa??? Psshh nooo~ I never. I mean. I would, but I haven't?"

Zoro raised a singular brow. You swallowed, eyes flicking to the side.

"That so?"

"Uhh. Yes?"

"You are really a terrible liar. How can you cheat so well at card games but you can't lie to save your life?" he teased, a rare soft smile curving his lips as he spoke.

"You're intimidate me and fluster me at the same time! I can't help it!" you whined, before shyly asking, "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad at you for taking care of me?"

He ruffled your hair, and you squawked in indignation.

"Thank you, really" he said softly. You looked at him, smiling.

"You're welcome"

The two of you sat in easy silence, listening to the waves and distant chatter of Usopp and Luffy.

"So music, huh? What do you like?"

You wiggled excitedly, chattering away with Zoro asking the occasional question, even as he started training again.

~~~

"You're buying this?? Zoro, hon, I can get it" you pleaded, eyeing your pile of CD's and your brand new player.

"Nope"

"You can hardly afford alcohol! How could you afford this?"

Zoro ignored you, producing some other CD's you had reluctantly put back earlier, unable to afford them.

"These too" he muttered to the cashier. You repeatedly smacked your boyfriends arm, getting rougher with each one. He finally caught your hand.

"Stop hitting me, woman! Nami gave me the money you paid her for my debt, and now I'm spending it on you! Accept my love, damnit!"

You froze, looking at him in awe and surprise. You started as the cashier cleared his throat.

"Th-that'll be uh... the a-amount you s-see right there... s-sir" the poor teen stuttered, obviously intimidated by the swordsman. You would've snorted had you not been filled with love and awe for your boyfriend. Zoro paid the cashier and took hold of the bags. You followed closely, still aware of yourself enough to know he would get lost without you. Again.

"Thank you, Zoro" you finally said. He smirked at you.

"Of course."

#one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fluff #one piece #zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #fluff #mugiwara kaizoku #fem reader #roronoa zoro #zoro fluff #no use of y/n #no smut #one piece nami #nami headcanons

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 12

Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Namjoon focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, found family, domestic/slice of life, action/adventure ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 11.2k ⤑ warnings: lol idk what it is about namjoon that makes me so feral but explicit & implied smut (penetrative, 34+35, face-riding, daddy kink), description of body horror, mentions of death & past traumas, pet names (baby). ⤑ note: lmao bc the way i've been working on this chapter since the end of last year, and it's FINALLY being posted. i've been in this weird slump with my writing, so i hope that this is ok lol. enjoy, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter! :)

Chapters: Series Masterlist | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

“You’re so annoying,” you complain, shutting the door behind you. Your next lecture is in half an hour, but Hoseok will be looking for you soon.

The two of you have about fifteen minutes.

“I’ll be fast,” Namjoon promises, already pulling off his top. His roommates aren’t in. They’re most-likely hanging out in the common rooms and won’t be back for a while.

It’s just you and him.

And the paramour secret that hangs between you two.

Your back is pressed against the door as you eye him. In just his slacks, he looks like sin. Tall and muscular, sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders and long arms. Blessed with the perfect body proportions. The hunger in your eyes grows the longer you stare.

“We shouldn’t keep doing this.”

It’s what you tell him every time, but you lift your skirt. His gaze automatically locks onto your thighs as he unbuckles his belt, and his cock twitches with interest when he catches a peek of your panties.

His voice is husky when he asks, “Should we stop?”

He already knows the answer. It’s the same as it always is.

“No,” you reply, tilting your head slightly. A daring gesture as a coy smile dances on your lips. You slowly loosen the buttons of your blouse one by one. His gaze lifts to your face as you whisper, “Want you, daddy.”

Namjoon wants you more.

Without another second to waste, his long strides close the distance between you two. Strong hands impatiently yanking at the fabric of your clothes as he leans down to kiss you at last.

Namjoon wakes, sticky with sweat.

The bed he’s on is bigger and more comfortable than the cheap bunk at his dorm. The white duvet – kicked to the floor at some point of the night – is thick and weighted; a godsend compared to the thin, itchy blanket he was given when assigned to his room. The bedroom itself, curated to his taste, is woodsy, minimalistic, and bold: favorite art pieces hang on the walls and decorate the space that reflect his current moods, a private library with books that frequently changes to new titles whenever he finishes reading some, and bonsais that he’s been taking care of are starting to bloom flowers.

It takes him a moment, but he realizes he’s no longer a student nor an enchanter at Blackstone Castle.

A sigh falls from his lips as he runs his fingers through his damp hair.

Another dream about you.

He’s been doing that a lot lately. Dreaming of you.

You, sneaking into his bed after lights out and everyone else is asleep. You, taking his hand and leading him into secluded places between classes and when things at the shop are slow. You, climbing over his lap with your hands steady on his shoulders as he holds your waist, loving the way you look on top of him.

Once upon a time, when all this initially started, Namjoon thought it’d never go beyond a physical affair. The two of you were clearly attracted to each other. When the stress of exams, a looming Harrowing, and the competitive streaks between you two became too much, you often sought each other out.

But at some point, Namjoon realized it was starting to mean something more to him.

At some point, Namjoon realized it was because he was falling in love with you.

And somehow, at some point, you started to fall in love with him too.

You, dedicated and hardworking, quiet and serious with your studies, and burning with a hunger for knowledge and an eagerness to test your limits. You, also kind and caring, loyal and protective of the people you love deeply, and who’ve dreamed of opening this shop of comfort to help people. You, who carries the warmth and radiance of the sun, beautiful in the way that starlights compliment the night sky, and yet look to the shadows of the moon at him.

Love to Namjoon is still… a new concept. 

There are days where he isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing or what the future holds with you. There are days where he questions why you even love someone like him when the others could be much better lovers.

It’s like fire. Pretty to admire, comforting to feel its warmth; a guidance of light through a dark and harsh world, but never to touch. Never his to claim and hold as the shadows of loneliness and insecurity grow around him. Love burns as fire does, leaving nothing but scalding embers and ash as its remains.

He loved his family, but they had easily given him up after he awakened his magical powers, even though he desperately ran away from towers and fortresses to beg for their forgiveness. He loved his hometown in the countryside, but he still remembers the look of hatred on the villagers’ faces once they found out what he was and deemed him a monster. He loved his friend, Ignis, and his untimely death by the cruel hands of hunters is still a burden Namjoon is forced to carry with him.

But there are days where love just feels… nice. 

Where, in the early morning, when he’s getting ready for a run by the river, you’d stumble down the stairs shortly after him with your hair still a bit messy from sleep and your eyes barely open, and simply ask if he wants coffee and breakfast with you now or when he comes back. 

Where, more often than he’d like to admit, a spell backfires and instead of changing the temperature of the shop, he ends up casting a sleeping spell on all the patrons, and you end up fighting your drowsiness to set things right, never once berating him or making him feel bad for any harmless accidents.

Where, after a long day, the two of you wind down together, sprawled in his library nook downstairs, not really talking to each other – too caught up in your own readings for conversation – but finding each other’s presence comforting nonetheless as he uses your thighs as a pillow while you absently run your fingers through his hair, or when you’d prop your legs over his lap as he gently massages your calves.

If Namjoon could write a million poems to describe how he feels around you, it still wouldn’t be enough. With you, he feels safe. With you, he feels comfortable. With you, he feels accepted, despite all his flaws and mistakes.

Namjoon loves you more than anyone he’s ever loved before. From the days you two were just students in Blackstone Castle to now. He loves the shop, the family it has brought together, the freedom of being himself – an ordinary man who likes books, nature, and art – without being condemned for his affinity to magic.

But like his family, his hometown, and even Ignis, he’s afraid that one day, you, the home you built with him, and the family you both found will all disappear.

And it’ll be his fault.

With a deep, frustrated sigh, Namjoon forces himself to sit up.

Before, he used to dream a lot about all the things he’s loved and lost. He recalls every detail of it: the day of his awakening, the fires that destroyed his home, how often he ran away to apologize to his parents, the screams of agony when he had to leave his only friend behind.

Now, Namjoon dreams about you.

You’re everything he loves.

You’re everything he’s afraid to lose.

“I’m heading out now!” Seokjin calls out, putting on his shoes by the front door.

“Okay, be safe,” you tell him, coming to the entryway to see him out. Seokjin promises he will and pulls you in for a kiss.

Behind the counter, Namjoon finds himself looking away.

Recently, Seokjin started his own guild with his friends from the Freelancers. After a mission involving mages went awry, they left their old organizations and started calling themselves the Oathkeepers. As a newly-established guild, most of their work comes from notices placed on the town’s community board, or word-by-mouth from people who’ve hired them before.

Things have slowed down a lot compared to how busy they were in their former guild. Seokjin was hardly home, and when he was, he was exhausted. While it’s nice to see the former warden around the shop these days, Namjoon can tell that the thrill of excitement and adventures are sorely missed, as well as the amount of coins he was able to collect after each successful quest they’ve completed.

“Can we go too?” Jungkook asks, already slipping a rucksack over his shoulder.

“Please,” Taehyung tacks on, honey-colored eyes wide and pleading as he stares directly at you.

Your lips part with an almost-spoken answer until you catch yourself, and helplessly look toward Namjoon with a face that’s just about ready to give anything the raven familiar desires.

Namjoon sighs. He can’t blame the two youngest for wanting to go with Seokjin. Whatever adventures he has planned today are far more appealing than being stuck in the shop all day. Even though, at the shop, Taehyung normally follows Hoseok around, and Jungkook quietly admires Namjoon doing mundane work.

“Sure, why not?” He decides with a shrug. “Be careful and listen to Jin-hyung, though.”

“Yes!” Taehyung and Jungkook cheer and high-five each other.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go. The others are waiting for us,” Seokjin urges before turning to you again. He kisses you one more time and adds, “We’ll be back before dinner.”

“Bye, hyung. Bye, kids. Look out for each other,” Hoseok reminds them, standing beside you with Yoongi in his arms. The black cat looks comfortable in Hoseok’s hold, pointed ears twitching as he turns his head to look at the others.

“We will,” Jungkook promises, nearly bouncing on his feet with excitement. A sheepish smile spreads on his face as he caresses your cheek and kisses you sweetly. “We’ll be going now.”

“Don’t miss us too much, darling,” Taehyung teases when it’s his turn, tilting your chin up and diving in for a goodbye kiss as well. He smirks at the flustered look on your face as Seokjin calls for them to hurry up.

As you watch them leave, Hoseok nudges you. There’s a knowing look on his face when he comments, “You look tempted to join them.”

“It does seem fun,” you acknowledge with a small sigh. Seokjin makes his quests sound so thrilling and perilous, even if you know he exaggerates a bit just to impress you most of the time.

Namjoon frowns and speaks up. “I’d rather you stay here.”

You turn to him, a bit defiant, and place a hand on your hip. “Why? Think I can’t do it?”

“Ooh,” Hoseok utters with a smile. He and Yoongi look between you and Namjoon with mild amusement.

“It’s not that,” he retorts, nearly rolling his eyes. He knows that you’re perfectly capable of becoming an adventurer and would be a great asset to the Oathkeepers. “What Jin-hyung and the others do is dangerous.”

“I can handle danger,” you tell him. Hoseok nods his head and agrees you can. Without looking away from Namjoon, you give your best friend a high-five.

“Here is safe,” Namjoon argues with a finality in his voice. He frowns when he looks at you. “And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

It occurs to you and Hoseok that Namjoon is being very serious.

“Namjoon, we’re just kidding,” Hoseok quickly assures him. “Neither of us are going anywhere. The shop is our responsibility.”

“Yeah. And even if I did go on a quest with Jin, you don’t need to worry about me.” You walk up to Namjoon and take his hands in yours. “I can handle myself, Namjoon.”

Words you’ve told him repeatedly, even before the night of your Harrowing back in Blackstone Castle. In the library where he’d always run into you.

“I know you can, baby.” He brings your hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “If it comes to that, just promise you’ll come back to me, okay?”

Before Jungkook was turned into a toad by an evil witch, he was an adventurer. He joined a guild with some same-age friends, traveled far from home, saw rare sights, fought challenging beasts, and visited beautiful places. Excitement and wonder were at every corner.

But this…

“Your grand task today,” Seokjin informs as he unceremoniously hands a stack of fliers each to Taehyung and Jungkook, “is to pass these out and put them around town.”

This isn’t it.

Jungkook glances down at the posters. Since the Oathkeepers are still new, Seokjin and the others have been trying to promote their guild and ask around for work. The neat calligraphy and the print of their symbol is a way to do just that.

“Actually, I think Hoseok-hyung might need my help at the shop after all,” Taehyung tries to back out. This isn’t the kind of quest he had in mind either.

“You’re already here. Just help out a little,” Seokjin pushes, holding out a flier from his own stack and handing it to someone who curiously grabs it. “This will help attract people to our shop too.”

Taehyung pouts, but relents. “Fine. But I want to go on a real adventure next time.”

“Hyung, I think I can finish my stack faster than you,” Jungkook suddenly challenges. 

Taehyung’s golden eyes light up with a competitive streak. “You’re on.”

“Wait,” Seokjin begins, suddenly feeling left out. He starts to shove his fliers in the arms of people passing by. “This isn’t a contest. You guys…”

Without waiting for Seokjin to finish, both Taehyung and Jungkook dart off to opposite directions. His hands work quickly as he slides the fliers under doors, sticks them on the walls, and hands them out to whoever he sees.

“Please come to our shop,” Jungkook says, handing one of the last ones to a guy in a cloak. Most of the people he had passed them to merely glance at them without another thought, but this stranger stops and reads through it.

“Kim Seokjin?” he reads out loud, as if the name is familiar to him.

Jungkook pauses and looks at the mysterious stranger. The cloak covers most of his face and body, but he meets his eyes with a look of curiosity. With a tilt of his head, Jungkook asks, “You know my hyung?”

The stranger nods. “Hey kid. Do you happen to know a guy named Kim Namjoon?”

When Seokjin and the others return to the shop, they aren’t alone.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice says as he steps inside. He pulls down the hood of his cloak, revealing his handsome face. “I knew you’d be together, but I never thought I’d find you all here.”

“Jackson?!” Namjoon’s mouth drops, knocking over the chair he was sitting on as he rushes to greet his friend. The two clasps hands and pull each other into a quick hug.

Hoseok laughs in disbelief, welcoming him as well in a similar manner. “Hey, man! It’s good to see you!”

“Likewise,” Jackson replies with a big smile. He looks around the shop, in awe as he takes it in all. “So, this is where you guys have been hiding.”

The walls are painted bright, vivid colors. There’s a mix-mash of furniture, from old antiques and oddities to more modern pieces. The cozy entrance where you all stand divides the parlor and the tavern, and upstairs are the private rooms of the residents.

Perhaps to regular humans, it’s just a quirky shop. But for a mage like Jackson, he can feel the magical energy: the warmth of it on his fingertips, the whimsical lightness that eases his worries away, the safety from the protection spells cast in every room.

A kind of place that’s easy to overlook, yet brings in a strange sense of comfort that he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“Like it?” you ask with a bright smile, shoulders rising with pride. “This is our home.”

“It’s incredible,” he tells you, thoroughly impressed. His voice softens as he adds, “I didn’t think I’d ever run into a place like this.”

“Who is he, babe?” Jimin asks you, curious of the newcomer. Taehyung and Jungkook share the same wonder, coming to stand next to you and Yoongi. All four of them are new faces to Jackson, even though he had already met Yoongi in his cat form.

“He’s a friend,” you explain as Jackson politely introduces himself to them. “We all went to the same school.”

Some time has passed since you’ve all escaped Blackstone Castle and found your place in this town. A lot of things have changed since you last saw Jackson as well. After that night, you haven’t seen or heard from any of the other mages.

Until now.

Jackson stands before you all, travel-worn and exhausted. His face is thinner and more sunken. Dark circles are beneath his tired eyes, as if he hadn’t properly slept in days. There’s a scar on his cheek that hadn’t been there before.

“We ran into him in town,” Seokjin informs, coming to greet you with a quick kiss. Jackson arches an eyebrow when he sees a former warden kiss a mage. “He said he needs to talk to Namjoon.”

“Me?” the man in question asks, surprised.

“That’s right. Although…” Jackson trails off as he turns his attention to you and Hoseok. “Maybe this is something you guys could help with too.”

You and Hoseok exchange glances with each other. Then, curiously, you ask, “What do you mean?”

But Jackson hesitates. His eyes flicker to the others, suggesting that the news he’s about to share must be spoken in private. That its details require the use of magic, and Jackson doesn’t know who among your group already knows the truth about you, Hoseok, and Namjoon.

“Have you eaten yet, Jackson?” Hoseok suddenly asks, easing into a bright smile. “Stay for a while. We have a lot to catch up on.”

It feels like old times.

Jackson and Namjoon share a drink. Their glasses clink together before they chug down the golden liquor.

Hoseok’s loud laughter is carried throughout the room, more amused by Yoongi’s reaction to Seokjin’s joke than the punchline itself. Despite that, Seokjin attempts to make another. His face burns red from the tips of his ears down to his neck as he desperately tries to refrain from laughing at his own joke. And when he fails at the delivery, he smacks Yoongi in the arm as if it’s his fault. Hoseok, somehow, laughs even harder.

Jimin pours another shot, cheeks flushed a rosy pink and barely able to see straight. The clear liquor misses the glass entirely and spills mostly on the table. Some of it drips to Jungkook’s pants, who barely registers it. Instead, his round eyes are locked on you, lovestruck as he watches you and Taehyung drunkenly slow dance together.

Taehyung spins you beneath his arm and catches you when you stumble forward. The both of you are clinging onto each other’s arms, in fits of giggles as he presses his forehead against yours. It’s like no one else is in the room except you two. Not even any of your other lovers, who seamlessly take turns drinking with you and passing you around from one to another throughout the night.

Seeing everyone around him relaxed and having fun reminds Namjoon of the parties back at Blackstone Castle. It isn’t unusual for apprentices to sneak away at night to hook up, drink with friends, and celebrate small achievements and occasions. With the wardens constantly watching them, the heavy burdens of exams and Harrowings on their shoulders, and a strict system followed by the staff to keep magic restricted, it’s sometimes the only way the students could let loose.

Jackson was fond of going to these parties. He’d go to as many as he could, and made lots of friends with his outgoing and funny personality. Your old roommates were too, and they’d drag you along with the promise of Hoseok attending a party as well. And Namjoon – who’d patiently wait and catch your eye when you’re alone – would sneak you out before anyone would notice you’re both gone.

“I knew she’d end up with you or Hoseok,” Jackson comments, drawing Namjoon out of his thoughts. They watch as you end your dance with Taehyung with a curtsy before he guides you to Hoseok, who easily gathers you in his arms. “But it looks like she got both of you and more.”

“She’s our girl,” Namjoon agrees with a fond smile. 

Namjoon used to be a little jealous of Hoseok. After all, Hoseok loved you first. He still loves you now. 

But when you feel Namjoon’s gaze on you from across the room, you meet his eyes and smile. With the same sincerity you had back then, when you had first said those words to him during your birthday, you mouth the words, “I love you.”

It’s not words you often say to each other – even though you clearly do, and he loves you just the same – but it still takes his breath every time. You love him. Someone as precious and beautiful as you chooses to love a guy like him.

“Who would’ve thought?” Jackson muses, sipping on his drink.

It feels like old times, but things have changed. 

Namjoon certainly has. Without the vigilant gaze of the wardens and the suffocating confinements of the fortresses, he is a free man in this town. He can run along the river every morning, read books beneath the shade of a tree at the park, and go out with you and the other guys when the shop is closed. No one knows that he’s a mage here; no one looks at him like an abomination or something Wicked.

Here, he is just Namjoon. And as himself, he’s learned to enjoy his life a bit more. He’s learned to cherish those he holds so dearly, and savor those precious moments with gratitude. He’s learned to love, even when sometimes, he wonders if he deserves it.

For Jackson, however, his experiences after Blackstone are entirely different.

Since that night, he’s been on the run. He barely had time to grieve and process what had happened for a while, running before the nightmares caught up to him. He never stays in a town too long, never reveals too much about what he is or where he came from. In Blackstone, the threats were contained within the castle: power-hungry wardens, missued spells, Harrowings, and the nightmarish realm of the Veil. Out here, anything could happen. Anyone could become a potential threat.

“You’re always welcome to stay here, Jackson,” Namjoon offers after a few more drinks, just as Taehyung and Jungkook help carry a drunk Jimin upstairs into the spare bedroom. He grimaces, unable to take back what he said.

The eighth room doesn’t belong to Jackson anyway.

“I appreciate it, but it looks like you have a full house,” Jackson replies as he looks around the shop again. 

Everyone seemed to have passed their limit. Hoseok is zoning out, sitting quietly with a blank expression on his face. Yoongi was the opposite, cheering loudly and running around when he won a card game you were all playing, but now his energy has died down as he patiently waits for you to go to bed with him. Seokjin is sober enough to clean up, putting away the empty bottles and picking up the cards that were thrown on the floor. Neither Taehyung nor Jungkook have come back down after they took Jimin upstairs, so they must have fallen asleep as well. No one is paying attention to them.

Now is as good a time as any to reveal why he’s here.

“What’s that?” Namjoon asks, seeing Jackson pull out a couple fliers. One of them is one he received from Jungkook earlier that day. The other one has a bit more wear and tear, creases showing that it’s been folded and re-opened over and over.

“I think I might have a job you and your friends would be interested in,” he tells him, showing the flier that the Oathkeepers were passing out. “I ran into a couple mages you guys helped out a few towns over. It’s rare to run into others like us, let alone a group of mages and humans who are willing to help each other out. When they described you guys, I had a feeling I knew exactly who they were talking about. Turns out, I was right.”

Namjoon remembers them. Seokjin’s former guild wanted to bring in mages to the frontlines of their quests, but at the expense of abusive power and enslavement to control them. It was a controversial stance that eventually divided the guild and led to Seokjin and his friends separating from them altogether after all of you helped the captured mages escape.

“That’s why you were looking for me?” Namjoon asks, remembering Seokjin had mentioned that Jackson wanted to speak with him.

“I was looking for everybody. You. Hoseok. Your girl. My old roommates. Any of our old friends,” he lists with a frown. It doesn’t seem like he had much luck finding anyone else. Jackson then pushes the second paper – the worn and torn one – toward him. “While looking around, I found this.”

Without reading it, Namjoon asks, “What is it?”

“It’s the job,” Jackson reminds him, carefully watching as Namjoon picks it up and unfolds the paper.

“Help wanted,” Namjoon reads out loud. “Every night, the undead wakes from their eternal slumber and attacks our small village. No one knows why or where they are coming from, but our farmers suspect a necromancer is to blame.”

Necromancy?

Magic, as beautiful and wonderful as it could be, is also dangerous and deadly. Certain magic is forbidden for a reason. Messing with the afterlife is considered one of them.

“Keep going,” Jackson urges.

“Each night, our numbers dwindle as the undead grows. Soon, there will be nothing left of our village,” Namjoon continues with a frown. “In a desperate plea for help, we are sending our notices far and wide in hopes to find anyone brave enough to take this urgent quest. We will do whatever it takes to save our home. Please, to anyone who finds this, help us.”

Namjoon doesn’t get it. Dark magic is explicitly banned from the fortresses. It’s why they’ve been built and why they contain mages in the first place. Jackson knows this. He’s lived in these towers too.

“Check the location,” Jackson quietly presses before Namjoon could turn it down.

He does, glancing down at the paper again. He nearly drops it when he sees where the quest is coming from.

Hawthorn Village. His hometown.

He’s tried and failed several times to return to that place ever since he was sent away on the day of his magical awakening. Ignis died helping Namjoon on his last attempt to return, and Namjoon swore he would never try again after that haunting day.

Suddenly, it feels like it’s hard for him to breathe. To swallow. He blinks back the sting of tears as he looks at his friend. “That place…”

“We can come with you,” Seokjin suddenly offers, holding some empty bottles and glasses that he is taking to the sink. “The Oathkeepers and I. We have the documents that prove that we’re a legitimate guild.”

No one would question them on the road. Some would be more willing to help and provide information when they see they’re a group on a mission and not just ordinary travelers as well.

“What do you say?” Jackson asks, sounding hopeful. “I won’t be able to do this on my own. They’ll need us, Namjoon. We can help them. All of us can.”

And Namjoon realizes why Jackson mentioned you and Hoseok could help with this quest as well.

His gaze immediately turns to you.

Your arm is around Yoongi’s neck as he helps you stand. You look flushed, cheeks hot and limbs loose from the alcohol. A bashful giggle escapes your lips at your own predicament, and how you feel like a fawn learning to walk as you use Yoongi to keep your balance. And you only laugh harder when you catch a glimpse of Hoseok’s face as he blinks slowly at you, and his mouth lifts into a slight chuckle of his own.

After everything you’ve all been through at Blackstone Castle, Namjoon swore he’d do whatever it takes to protect you.

“She’ll get hurt,” Namjoon points out.

“She’s the best spellcaster we know,” Jackson counters. “And Hoseok makes the best potions. You all have familiars too, and a formidable guild that will have our backs if anyone questions what we are.”

“He has a point, Namjoon,” Seokjin agrees, but in a way that lets Namjoon know that it’s his call. Whatever he decides, Seokjin will support him.

“Jin, last time I… Last time…”

“It’ll be different this time,” he assures him with a small but confident smile. “You’ll have us.”

“What do you say, Namjoon?” Jackson asks, pouring both of them another glass.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath. He looks over at you again: your pretty smile and the way it reaches your eyes, how the sound of your laughter reminds Namjoon of how precious you are to him, and the endeared look from those around you as how affectionate you are when you’re tipsy.

It feels like old times, as Namjoon admires you from afar.

He knows you. Even if he had no connection to the village, you’d still want to help. Because that’s the kind of person you are. Namjoon is the same way.

But things have changed. Namjoon has changed.

Before, he would stop at nothing to return to his village and see his parents again. Before, he would take on this mission in a heartbeat, no matter what the risks are. But now, doubt starts to fill his mind.

This could be dangerous. Impossible, even.

But this is his home. His family might still be there. He has to try. Right?

“Okay,” he decides as he takes the glass Jackson pours him. The sudden burden in his heart makes it harder to swallow this time.

Namjoon can’t sleep.

He lies back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind restlessly jumps back and forth between a few things.

First, his hometown. What will it be like, stepping into that place for the first time in years? How much has changed? Would anyone recognize him? Are his parents still there? Are they doing well?

Then, there’s the necromancer. He knows very little about necromancy, and he doubts that you and Hoseok know more than he does about it. Where did they come from? What is their goal? What do they want with his hometown? Would he and the others be able to face them? Or are they dealing with something far too dark and dangerous?

Then, of course, there’s you and the others. He knows you’ve braved dangers before: in your Harrowing, the night Blackstone Castle fell, and even recently when you’ve helped Seokjin against his former guild. He knows you and the others are perfectly capable and skilled individuals, and as a team, you’d be an unstoppable force.

But Namjoon still worries. His mind starts to think about the worst. What if something goes wrong? What if you get hurt? He’ll have no one to blame but himself. Maybe this is too risky. Maybe he should tell Jackson and Seokjin he’s changed his mind.

The door to his room slowly opens. “Joon?”

Startled, he shoots up and faces the door. His heart calms a bit when he sees that it’s you. “What is it, baby?”

You shut the door behind you.

It’s just you and Namjoon. Like old times.

“I just wanted to check on you,” you tell him, sobered up after drinking earlier. Even in your drunken stupor, you can tell something has been bothering him. Your voice is a gentle whisper, calm and comforting. It’s a stark difference to the whirlwind of thoughts storming in his head.

He reaches out to you as you step closer, until you’re right in front of him.

When he dreams of you, he always wakes up just when he has you in his grasp. Just when you’re his to hold. As your fingers delicately wrap around his, he’s almost afraid he’d wake up and you’d be gone again.

“I could be better,” he replies to you honestly. His gaze is still on your hand as his thumb brushes against the top of your knuckles. “I have a lot in my mind.”

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, tilting your head.

He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He meant to ask you to stay. To let him hold you for tonight, and keep the fears of potentially losing you at bay as you fall asleep in his arms.

“I love you.”

The words that fall from his lips instead surprises both of you. He sees your eyes widen, the way you catch your breath, the uncertainty on your face, as if you aren’t sure if you heard him right.

But his hand tightens around yours, pulling you closer.

Namjoon loves you. Truly, he does. He sees you in his dreams all the time.

Everything he loves. Everything he’s afraid to lose.

You’re on his bed now, your eyes falling on his broad shoulders and his bare chest. There’s a look in your eyes that he’s become all too familiar with.

He doesn’t know who makes the first move, but suddenly, you’re all over each other. He kisses you with everything he’s got, meeting your lips and tongue with his, as if tonight could be his last time to hold you, to make you his. He grunts when he feels you gently tug on his bottom lip with your teeth. And you whimper when his hand yanks the white fabric of your nightdress, thumb brushing against your nipple.

The second you’re out of your torn clothes, his mouth latches onto your other breast, tongue flicking the hardened bud. “F-Fuck, Joon.”

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?”

Your breath hitches as his fingers slowly trail down your abdomen and slot between your legs. You close your eyes, rolling your hips slightly as his long fingers slip past your wet folds. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Namjoon praises, his voice so deep and low, it makes you shiver. “Come here. Wanna taste you.”

You obey, following his lead as he lies back on the bed again and makes himself situated. He guides you over him, and you’re careful of your weight on him as he holds your waist and thighs and eats you out.

He feels your muscles tensing and your hips bucking as the pleasure builds. But he keeps a tight hold on you, preventing you from squirming away as he works you open with his tongue. Your grip tightens around the headboard and your other hand tugs on his hair as his thumb rubs against your clit. “J-Joon, I’m s-so—”

Even without your warning, he knows. He gets you there, drinking you in, reaping his spoils as you start to come down from your high.

But it isn’t over.

Once his grip around you loosens, you turn over. Namjoon props himself up slightly, watching what you’re doing and groaning when he feels your hands and mouth on his cock. His fingers easily tease your entrance before slipping into you again, stretching you out, feeling you clench around them, before he decides to pull your hips closer for another taste.

It starts to feel like a competition. Like you’re trying to get him off first before he makes you climax a second time.

But Namjoon knows your body well, and you feel his tongue and fingers prodding, teasing, and hitting your sweet spot mercilessly. Your muffled moans with your mouth against him are driving him insane, and he barely edges you out – your legs quivering slightly from the intense pleasure – before he shoots his release in your throat.

Namjoon catches his breath as you roll onto your back, breathing just as hard as he is. He sits up to look at you, his mouth and chest wet with your arousal, and as you peer up at him with lust-filled eyes, he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

More than what he deserves.

He caresses your thigh and smiles gently. “Tired?”

You scoff, breathless, but stubborn. As if admitting that you are means defeat. “I’m just getting started.”

Namjoon chuckles and then grabs your leg, pulling you closer. He aligns himself to enter you, moving slowly so you could adjust to his size. Your back arches slightly, face contorting at the pressure as your nails dig into his arms. You feel so good to him, he could never get enough of you.

He leans over to kiss you once he’s fully inside of you. “That’s my girl.”

“I’ll always be your girl,” you tell him softly, kissing his cheek.

Namjoon laughs, almost bashful with the way his heart flutters at that moment. You smile back at him, wrapping your arm around his neck as he begins to move.

His lips are on your throat, hands squeezing your breast and hips, whispered curses and grunts against your skin. It feels like wildfire every time. Heated, passionate, all consuming, like every touch and kiss sears his skin. Like every little moan and whine he hears from you compels him to make that fire grow. Then, only in the afterglow, he realizes it’s not the embers and ashes that remain. It’s warmth that fills his chest when he’s around you. It’s light that makes his heart glow with love. And he wants nothing more but to bask in it.

When he dreams, it’s always of you. Seductive, enticing, and tempting. But nothing compares to the real thing. Not even close.

Namjoon’s fingers absently trace patterns along your bare back. Your labored breaths have calmed down, slowly and evenly. Your lashes touch the top of your cheeks as you rest your eyes, and your tongue darts briefly to wet your pretty lips. 

He can’t stop looking at you.

“You always do this,” you comment softly without opening your eyes.

His hand stills. “Do what?”

“You always watch over me,” you answer, opening one eye to peek at him. There’s a small, playful smile on our lips. “Even when we first started seeing each other, you always look at me so endearingly.”

Namjoon laughs, a bit embarrassed. He never thought you’d notice the tender, forlorn look on his face after spending a night together. “Stay with me tonight?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re falling in love with me, Kim Namjoon.”

He smiles at that, dimples appearing deep in his cheeks. “I already love you, baby.”

You snuggle a little closer to him, the teasing in your voice replaced with sincerity as you tell him, “I love you too.”

It isn’t often that you two say those words to each other, but it still makes him catch his breath every time you do. His arm wraps around you protectively as he kisses your hairline, and he sighs happily as you tuck yourself under his chin.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs quietly, closing his eyes. It feels nice to have you in his arms. It feels nice to have you so close. He feels like he can relax like this.

Then, you ask, “What did Jackson say to you?”

His eyes snap open, and he sees the concern on your face. You hold his gaze, curious, but also as if you’re not certain if you want to push for the answers.

“He showed me a quest, and asked if we can help him,” he explains, his grip tightening around you a little. “It’s in my hometown.”

You’re quiet as Namjoon tells you everything. From all the details pertaining to the mission to Jackson heavily implying he won’t be able to do it without you. If there really is a necromancer terrorizing the village, you have the best chance of stopping them. Your skill at spell-casting is unmatched compared to the others.

Part of him hopes you’d refuse it – that you’d realize the odds are against you with this type of Wicked magic, and how stupid and dangerous this could be.

But he knows you won’t.

You know that Namjoon couldn’t pass up on it. This mission is too important to him. He could lose his parents and his hometown for good.

And Namjoon knows, if nothing else, you’d want to do it for him. You’d do anything for him. He’d do the same for you.

When he’s done, he feels you wrap your arms around him in a gentle embrace. “It’s okay, Namjoon. I know you want to help. I’ll do my best to keep your village safe, too.”

Namjoon frowns. His heart doesn’t feel any lighter as he holds you close. He feels so vulnerable as he softly confesses, “I’m afraid to lose you.”

“Lucky for you, I’m not an easy person to take down,” you quip confidently. You push yourself up to look at him, and your hand cups his face. Your thumb gently wipes away the frown on his lips. “I can handle myself, Joon. You know I can.”

Namjoon wants to believe you. But his heart still feels heavy with worry.

The next morning, Namjoon gathers the residents of the shop and tells them the news. As expected, there’s a mixed reaction.

“A necromancer?” Yoongi repeats, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Sounds fun!” Taehyung exclaims, eyes brightening with the promise of adventure.

“Sounds dangerous,” Hoseok corrects with a frown and crosses his arms. “We don’t really know anything about dark magic or necromancy. How would we know what we’re truly up against?”

“We won’t know until we try,” you reason, glancing over at Namjoon. “As far as we know, there’s only one necromancer, and there are several of us. The people in that village need our help, and we might be their last hope.”

“If we’re not already too late,” Hoseok grimly states.

Taehyung suddenly stands. “What are we waiting for? We need to start packing now!”

“Taehyung, calm down. We should think this through first,” Yoongi points out, but the raven familiar is already taking flight. He transforms into a raven and goes straight to his loft above the library nook.

“I’ll need to start brewing some potions and antidotes,” Hoseok mutters, also standing and walking straight to the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he asks, “Do you think we can stop by the market for ingredients?”

“Can we get snacks too?” Jungkook timidly asks.

You laugh and rub his back. “We can’t have you hungry on our trip.”

“I’ll talk to the others and tell them about the quest.” Seokjin informs, heading upstairs to change out of his pajamas.

“Then, I’ll wake up Jimin. He’s still sleeping in the spare room,” you tell the ones left in the parlor. You glance over at Yoongi, who is already standing up to follow you. “Wanna help me bother him, Yoongi?”

He nods his head, a twitch of a smile on the corner of his lip, as he walks with you up the stairs.

That just leaves Namjoon and Jungkook. The mage sighs and runs his hand through his hair. Everyone took the news better than he thought.

Your party will consist of Jackson, the Oathkeepers, and the shop’s residents. There’s safety in numbers when traveling in such a large group. All of you are diligently preparing to face whatever dangers the roads and this necromancer can throw at you. And Namjoon is certain that you’ll all look out for each other, as you always do.

The only glaring thing is the necromancer. Hoseok is right when he said none of you know what you’re going to be up against. And that makes Namjoon nervous.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asks when he sees Namjoon start to head to the other side of the parlor.

“I’m going to see if the library will have anything about necromancy,” he answers, though he doubts he’ll find anything useful. Even his magical nook of books might not hold what he’s seeking for. “We’ve never had to deal with this kind of magic before. I want us to be prepared.”

More importantly, he needs to know how he can protect you. It’s inevitable that you’ll have to face a powerful mage that controls the dead, but if he can find something – anything – to give you an upper-hand…

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment. His dark eyes stare at Namjoon in an almost penetrating gaze that starts to make him nervous. Then, quietly, he mentions, “You have to take their bells.”

“What?”

“They use bells to summon the dead and have them do their bidding,” he explains, just when he hears Hoseok calling for him in the kitchen. “Take their bells, and they can’t control the dead.”

With that said, he stands and heads to the kitchen, leaving Namjoon to stare after him. 

He knows that Jungkook was previously with a mage that specializes in dark magic. He also knows that Jungkook doesn't talk much about that part of his past, if at all.

But as Jungkook disappears from the parlor, Namjoon can’t help but wonder if he knows more about dark magic than he lets on.

At dawn, you and the other shop residents meet up with Jackson and the Oathkeepers. It’s a long way to Namjoon’s hometown in Hawthorn Village, and Jimin agreed to keep an eye on the shop until you return.

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you this time.” Jimin holds you and peppers kisses all over your face. He wishes he could, but he has his own duties tying him to New Haven this time. “Take care and come home soon, okay?”

“I’ll miss you,” you reply sincerely, wishing he could come as well. Due to the nature of this quest, however, you couldn’t tell him the real reason you’re leaving town.

Instead, you simply tell him that you’re all visiting Namjoon’s family, and that Seokjin and his friends are escorting you all there while they have a job nearby.

It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the truth either.

Taehyung and Jungkook are excited about going on a real adventure this time. They both look eager to get started, rucksacks on their backs and anticipation in their eyes. It doesn’t matter to either of them what they’re facing, as going on a quest with their hyungs sounds more fun than anything.

Hoseok looks like he’s seconds away from a mental breakdown. He’s constantly checking and rechecking that you guys have everything you’ll need for this adventure. His wand is ready, tucked within reach. His rucksack is full of potions and ingredients. He checks with Yoongi to make sure they aren’t forgetting anything, and Yoongi shrugs and drawls that if it’s something they’ve forgotten, it probably wasn’t that important to bring along anyway.

Namjoon and Jackson stand apart from the others, seeming to be in a deep discussion about something. Since Jackson requested his help, Namjoon has been nervous about returning to Hawthorn Village, even if he tries not to show it. You often feel his worried gaze on you when he thinks you don’t notice.

Seokjin is with his friends, going over the map and figuring out the best routes to take. You see a side of Seokjin where he’s more serious than you’re used to, and perhaps on the surface, this is just another quest for him. But when you see him glance over at Namjoon, you know he’s in it for the same reason you all are.

You’re doing this for Namjoon.

Your heart feels conflicted when you catch Jimin staring at the others. It’s hard to keep things hidden from him – to keep him in the dark about everything – and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that you aren’t being completely honest with him. That you’re leaving him behind with purpose, and that you’re shutting him out from such an important part of yourself. 

Maybe he doesn’t even believe your half-truth about simply visiting Namjoon’s family.

You wish you could tell him. You wish you could confide about your own worries about the mission. You wish you could’ve told him stories about Blackstone Castle when you had introduced him to Jackson.

Jimin turns his attention to you, and his eyes lingers on your face, seeing past the neutral mask you’re trying to keep on. “Is everything okay?”

You wish you could tell him the truth about you.

“There’s something I should tell you, Jimin…”

At that moment, Namjoon calls out to you. He has your pack over his shoulder, and a sheepish smile on his face when he realizes he’s interrupting you and Jimin. “We need to get going.”

“What did you want to tell me?” Jimin asks, curious now.

There’s so much you want to say. One day, you’ll tell him about how you and the others aren’t ordinary humans, that the building you all live in isn’t an ordinary shop.

But that day isn’t today.

“I’ll tell you when I come back,” you decide, touching his cheek. You kiss his lips and murmur, “I love you.”

A small, sad smile tugs on his lips before he kisses you again. “I’ll miss you.”

Reluctantly, you part ways with him and join the others. There is a lot of ground to cover between New Haven and Hawthorn Village, and each passing night will just make things harder for the surviving villagers.

“Ready to go?” Seokjin asks, looking at everyone. A unanimous sound of agreement is answered back. The party gathers into the horse-drawn wagons, and thus, the journey officially begins.

Your hand reaches for Yoongi’s – who automatically intertwines his fingers with yours – and you look over at Jimin one more time. He leans against a fence, watching as Yoongi helps you get onboard. When he sees you looking at him, he straightens up and mouths to come home soon before he waves goodbye.

“What were you and Jimin talking about?” Yoongi asks you, still holding your hand.

“I think I’m going to tell him about what I am,” you confess, a little nervous of what he might say. That he might convince you that this is a bad idea.

“You should,” Namjoon agrees, sitting on your other side. He rests his arm behind you, squeezing in so that everyone can fit. “It’s about time he knows about all of us, no?”

Yoongi glances at you with uncertainty, but mumbles, “If that’s what you want.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders as you smile. “Yeah, it’s been hard to keep things hidden from him all the time, you know?”

Namjoon nods and then, lowering his voice and leaning closer to you, he slowly asks, “Was it hard to keep us a secret? Back when we were at the castle?”

“A little,” you admit just as quietly. “Hoseok already knew. He said we were too obvious. My roommates were starting to get suspicious too, and I’m sure Jackson and our other friends would’ve figured out something was going on between us. I think it would’ve all come out eventually.”

“Would you have been mad if it did?”

“Not at all. It would’ve made things less confusing for me if we had been honest with each other from the start.”

In hindsight, neither of you had anything to hide. You both liked each other a lot, and even then, none of the guys were put off with the idea of sharing you. But magic comes with so much secrecy, it seemed natural to keep things hidden. To expect that your enamored feelings won’t be accepted because love is taboo for mages.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, frowning at the things he could’ve done differently.

“I’m not blaming you, Joon,” you assure him, using your free hand to touch his cheek. “What matters is where we are now. Not all the things we could’ve changed.”

His lips quirks into a small grin as he takes in your words. “You’re right.”

The two of you share a brief kiss as the horses continue to pull the wagon you’re all on. It’ll take you as far as the roads will lead, but there’s a shortcut through the forest that will cut your traveling in half. That route, however, will have to be on foot.

Conversations between the others overlap as the excitement of the journey is still high. But to your surprise, you see one person is quiet and lost in his thoughts.

Jackson doesn’t say a word during the whole ride.

Traveling down the familiar roads that lead to his hometown in Hawthorn Village brings Namjoon back to unpleasant memories.

He remembers the terror the night promises, as if it’s still fresh in his mind. The low, warning growl of predators and their glowing eyes in the shadows. The way his body shivers from the cold, and how his feet ache from walking. The exhaustion that tolls his small body, but he can’t afford to stop and rest or the wardens will catch up to him, as they always seem to do.

It felt like a hopeless task then. But Namjoon was stubborn. 

He wanted to return home no matter what.

And now, years later, he finally will.

Seokjin is right about how things are different this time. Now, he has all of you beside him, instead of having to trek these roads alone. And that makes Namjoon worry.

“Watch out,” Namjoon warns, pulling you away from a green plant growing along the trunk of a tree. “Those plants are poisonous.”

“He’s right,” Hoseok agrees, examining them a little closer. You would’ve had an awful, itchy rash if you had accidentally touched them. He rummages through his pack and happily adds, “Luckily, I have an ointment for this kind of thing!”

“Careful, baby,” Namjoon says with caution a little later on. He holds onto you as he helps you down a slippery slope. “You might fall.”

Nearby, Jungkook is giggling when he sees Seokjin slip on the mud, staining his clothes with the wet dirt.

“Yah, Jungkook!” Seokjin snaps as he grabs the younger male by the ankle and drags him into the mud with him.

All day, Namjoon has been overly protective of you. Whether it’s a branch of a tree that’s hanging too low and blocking your path, a hole on the ground that you could easily trip over, or a mama bear and her cubs just passing through, Namjoon is there to guard you. Even if it means hurting himself.

“Joon, you don’t need to be so worried about me,” you assure him, sitting him down on a log and examining the cut on his arm. It’s bleeding, but it doesn’t look too deep.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Namjoon answers, wincing as you apply a bit of healing magic on the wound. Warmth spreads from your fingertips as it starts to close.

“I’m not the one with the cut,” you counter, gesturing at his arm. Thankfully, it just looks like a scratch now.

Being on the road isn’t too bad. After getting dropped off at the starting point of the forest, the excited chatter between you and the others lasts a good while, making the morale stay up. You all take breaks when you need to, make sure food and water is passed around, and keep an eye out for bandits, wild animals, and other dangers like low branches, poisonous plants, and pit holes.

After a while, the conversations die down to a mutual, tired silence. Everyone’s paces slow down significantly, and the breaks become more and more frequent. Jungkook quietly mentions that he’s getting hungry – the small snacks between stops aren’t enough for a meal – and Namjoon is certain he isn’t the only one.

No one protests when Namjoon suggests making camp at a clearing he finds. There’s unanimous relief as everyone begins to pitch their tents, make a campfire, and gather resources and ingredients to make supper.

Which leads to you and Namjoon, sitting together as you check the wound he gave himself when trying to protect you. He sighs and thanks you for treating him, barely feeling the sting of pain anymore. Part of him expects you to leave, but you still sit with him, watching as some of the guys play rock-paper-scissors to decide the order of night shifts.

Although you don’t admit it, you’ve been worrying about Namjoon too.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you can handle yourself. It’s just…” Namjoon begins, rubbing his neck. “After everything that happened in Blackstone, I’m afraid to lose you. To lose everything again. Even now, I’m worried that you guys are putting your lives in danger because of me.”

“We’re here because we want to be, Namjoon,” you tell him with a small smile. “If it was Seokjin’s hometown under attack, or Jungkook’s, or anyone else’s at the shop, I know you’d want to do all you can to help too.”

“You’re right,” he says with another sigh. Maybe he’s worrying over nothing.

Your smile widens as you nudge him. “Are you nervous about going home?”

He chuckles dryly. That, certainly, is an understatement.

“I don’t think I know what to expect anymore. It’s been so long…” He lets himself trail off as his gaze turns to everyone else in camp. Taehyung is demanding a rematch as Hoseok throws his fist in the air and shouts in victory. Their rowdiness catches the attention of the others, who grin a bit at them as they decide to do another round. “My parents might still be in Hawthorn. If we have the chance, I’d like to talk to them. Tell them I’m sorry for burning down our old house, and that I miss them.”

“You could,” you assure him, giving him a comforting smile. “I don’t think the others would mind since we’re already there.”

He smiles a bit at that. Then, his heart flutters nervously as he proposes, “Would you come with me? When I go see them, I mean.”

You look a bit surprised. “I could if you want me to.”

“I do,” he quickly replies, a bit flustered. “It would be easier, I think. If you’re by my side at the time.”

“Then, of course I will.”

His smile widens and relief lifts from his shoulders, grateful you’ll accompany him. “Do you think they’ll forgive me? After all these years? It wouldn’t be too weird if I just showed up, would it? What would I even say to them?”

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart stutter. “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t love you, Kim Namjoon.”

“Thank you,” he tells you softly, dimples popping at the shy grin. “For everything.”

Suddenly, the guys shout in disbelief and burst into laughter at the results of their game. You and Namjoon smile fondly at them. 

“I don’t remember where I was born,” you confide to Namjoon. “I don’t know who my parents are, or if I have family that knows about me. So, when Blackstone fell, I felt like I lost the only place I knew was home as well.”

“Oh…” Namjoon frowns. He never considered any of the fortresses a home. It always felt more like a prison. But perhaps, to mages like you and Hoseok, who’ve been locked away in those towers all your lives, it’s different.

“But you know,” you continue. “I can’t say I’d ever want to go back to it. If we hadn’t run away – if we hadn’t made it to the shop – we wouldn’t have met Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. Seokjin wouldn’t be happy as a warden. And I might’ve never even had the courage to tell you and Hoseok that I love you.”

“Really?”

“Blackstone was my home. It was the only world I’ve ever known,” you say, your eyes still fixed on the others before you. “But I don’t ever regret leaving that place behind to be where I am now. With you and the others.”

In his dreams, Namjoon sees you again.

Your hand is in his, leading him away from camp while the others are asleep. Taking him to a secluded place in the woods.

It’s just you and him. Like old times.

Your back is pressed against the trunk of a tree. A seductive smile touches your lips as you wrap your arm around his neck. You pull him in for a kiss, and his hands glide up your body in a lustful hunger. He hears you panting as his hand slips between your legs, your lip biting back a needy moan, and your flirty eyes glancing up at him beneath your lashes.

His trousers fall down to his ankles, and he lifts one of your legs. You lean against the side of the tree, shifting your weight against the trunk, and look over your shoulder at him with a tiny nod.

A whistle of an arrow flies toward him, but it hits you. Right in the heart.

The flirty gaze turns to a look of horror and accusation. This is his fault.

You slump on the ground, cold and unmoving. Hunters gather around, pointing their weapons at him. Wearing similar faces of anger, disgust, and terror like the villagers from his hometown the night of his awakening.

Among them are the rest of the guys: Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jungkook, and even Jimin. There’s disappointment and sadness in their eyes when they see your body. It turns to looks of hatred and distrust when they look at Namjoon.

It’s his fault you got hurt. It’s his fault things ended up like this.

Everything is his fault.

Namjoon feels so small again, like he’s a kid. Everyone gathers around him, wanting an explanation. Why is he born with magic? What wickedness has he done to be cursed with that power?

Your eyes are lifeless. Your skin is cold.

But with a distant twinkle of a bell, your head snaps toward him. Your jaw falls open too widely as an agonizing scream comes from your throat.

Namjoon wakes with a start.

Another dream about you, but this one is different. This one is a nightmare.

His heart races when he finds himself somewhere he doesn’t recognize. And it takes him a moment to place himself in a tent he’s sharing with you and the others.

Seokjin is at the far end, lying on his back with his face turned toward you. One arm is curled out beside him as his other hand rests on his stomach where Yoongi, in his cat form, has chosen to sleep. Hoseok has his arms wrapped around you and is curled up against your back. Taehyung has stolen his pillow, using it as a nest, as he tucks his head beneath his black feathers. Namjoon doesn’t see Jungkook right away, but he hears his low, steady croaks by his head, settled on the opposite end.

All of you are sleeping safe and sound, huddled together like a pile of puppies.

Namjoon smiles fondly at the sight, relieved to see that you’re unharmed. But the nightmare is still too fresh in his mind. Quietly, he decides to sneak out and get some fresh air.

A couple of the Oathkeepers and Jackson are keeping watch this time. His old friend looks surprised to see him, but doesn’t send him away when Namjoon takes a seat next to him by the fire.

“Aren’t you tired?” Jackson asks.

“I’ll go back in a bit,” he promises, frowning up at the sky. The night feels too long. Dawn doesn’t seem like it’ll break through soon.

For a while, the two sit together quietly by the campfire, lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Jackson asks, “Do you still think about that night? At Blackstone?”

The night of the rebellion. When Adriel summoned something Wicked from the depths of the Veil and made a contract with it. Power in exchange for his physical form.

“It’s not really Blackstone I think about,” Namjoon admits. The burdens he carries are longer and heavier than what happened the night you all escaped.

“I think about it all the time. Everything that went wrong. Everything that I could’ve done differently,” he sighs as he stares at the burning fire before him. “Adriel was my friend. I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve realized what he was doing was wrong.”

“Adriel just wanted us to be free,” Namjoon reminds him. There isn’t anything wrong with wanting that.

“And look where that got us,” Jackson bitterly retorts. “Adriel is dead. Most of us have probably been recaptured and sent back to a fortress somewhere. The rest of us are on the run, hiding our magic so we don’t get caught.”

Namjoon frowns. Jackson has a point. Even outside the castle walls, freedom still has its limits. 

“None of us could’ve known what would’ve happened,” Namjoon reasons. “I don’t think Adriel even knew when he made contact with that Wicked.”

“But we could’ve done better!” Jackson snaps. There’s an anger in his eyes that Namjoon is all-too familiar with. A spiteful resentment that he, himself, has carried for years. “We were his friends. We could’ve checked up on him. We could’ve talked him out of doing something so goddamn dangerous. We could’ve saved him too.”

His voice shakes, eyes wild with accusation and guilt. You were all at the tower. You’ve all seen what Adriel had become. You’ve seen how Jackson desperately pleaded to his friend to recognize him, and how the Warden Commander ran a sword through Adriel when he did. It’s a scene that’s been haunting Jackson ever since he left the tower.

“Jackson…” he begins, but honestly, he isn’t sure what to say. Namjoon feels pity. He understands how Jackson feels. He’s been in his place, burdening shame and guilt over things he couldn’t control.

Namjoon is lucky to have you and the others to be there for him when the shadows of doubt and resentment become too much.

But Jackson… he doesn’t have anyone to rely on.

“What if that necromancer in Hawthorn is one of us?” Jackson asks, his gaze now steady at the fire again. “What if they’re someone from Blackstone? What if they’re just another Adriel that lost their way, and dipped into forbidden magic they’re no longer in control of?”

Namjoon hadn’t thought of that possibility. He always saw the necromancer as a vague, hooded figure in his mind. Someone that summons the dead and commands them to attack his hometown.

What if that person under the hood was a friend? An apprentice he had a class with? Someone he recognizes from the halls of Blackstone Castle?

“Then we stop them,” Namjoon answers, placing his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “And we try to do better this time.”

“I hope we can, Namjoon. I can’t have another mage fall like Adriel did.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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#magic shop series #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #bts namjoon x you #bts namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fantasy au #bts magic au #bts witch au #bts fanfic #bts au #bts smut

[juanabaloo]

BTVS boop head canons:

Angel is on tumblr but types with one finger. he finally got the hang of reblogs last month. he is scared of the boop button and does not try. he makes a mental note to ask Cordelia to explain it to him.

Spike boops Buffy, then realizes how that looks. he begins to boop all the Scoobies, Willow first. he begrudgingly also boops Xander.

Buffy has been busy so is late with the boops. she's overwhelmed by all the boops she has and closes her tumblr tab half way thru booping people. her first boop is Willow, then Xander. she boops Faith back but not Spike. [sorry Spuffy fans, i'm a Fuffy truther] sadly she also boops Parker.

Willow boops everyone, Tara first. Tara ofc boops back. so does Oz.

Tara only boops the Scoobies and her witch friends. while she doesn't boop freely, to her boops are more about friendship than anything else.

Xander boops Spike first, then realizes how that looks. he rapidly boops everyone else, including Giles. (Giles ignores it, but is shaken up that Xander knows about his secret tumblr account "rugged_Sunnydale_librarian.") Anya is glad Xander booped her, she was wondering why it took so long.

(All the Scoobies know about Giles's "secret" tumblr account, since he keeps forgetting to log out of it on the Magic Box research computer.)

Anya gives very limited boops. she's annoyed that tumblr didn't monetize it somehow, since that's what she would do. "it's such an obvious opportunity!"

Cordelia boops a few select old classmates from Sunnydale, but not Buffy. she happily boops Angel, Fred, Gunn, Lorne, and Wesley, in that order. [idk i haven't seen all of ATS]

Lorne boops everyone and won't shut up about booping.

Lilah and Wesley only boop each other.

Lindsey boops Angel and Lilah, but neither boop him back.

Gunn shyly boops Fred and she instantly boops back.

Faith boops Buffy. when Buffy doesn't boop back immediately she boops another 10 times, thinking it didn't go through. when she realizes that all 11 boops went through, she panics and drafts a "sorry yo my tumblr got hacked" post just in case. when Buffy boops her back (once) she grins like a cheese ball for 2 days straight. as an afterthought she also boops the Scoobies.

Giles has a secret tumblr. he scoffs at all the booping, until Jenny boops him. he grins and sends her a long text in response thanking her (like text msg on his phone), signing it with his name like he does with every text.

(@scooby-group-texts your posts inspired me)

#btvs #HC #boop #everybody lives #and nobody's pregnant #and almost everybody is booping! #it's a weird AU where it's a mixture of seasons #this got way too booping is romantic i didn't mean it like that #booping is for friendship first!

[belphiesgirlfriend]

Obey me! Brothers music taste headcanons

——————————————————————————

more like ramblings than headcanons tbh but i had this stuck in my head and needed to get it out, also feel free to send requests for diff headcanons!

Cw’s: none!

Little bit satirical (i over exaggerate sometimes cuz it’s funny) but pretty in character overall i thinkk

——————————————————————————

Lucifer:

• You know this motherfucker listens to classical music and classical music only cuz he’s boring

• Okay but jokes aside i see him listening to like 30’s 40’s 50’s music especially the love songs.

• Like straight up fallout 4 soundtrack music, he’d listen to it while doing paperwork or unwinding

• He’d definitely be really prideful (no duh) about his taste in music, he’d feel all fancy and refined when he tells people

• Type of dude to be like “modern music simply can’t compare to the classics…” shut up grandpa we get it u know bach’s zodiac sign, penis size, and mothers maiden name

• Wants to be different so bad, he’d strictly listen to music from his vintage record player or some shit cause it’s the “most authentic” way to listen, fr acts like a manic pixie dream girl (he’d hit me upside the head if he heard me say that sorry luci🫶)

——————————————————————————

Mammon:

• r&b and spanish music

•but i feel like he’d like 2000s party music from all the clubbing and casinos

• def a weekend listener and like 90’s rap

• but also like i wouldn’t be surprised if he listened to some 90s rock too

• he’d listen 2 sublime or nirvana or local h (i’m projecting on the last one)

• but anyways he’d be a #1 rihanna fan he’d blast her music in his room but then deny liking her💀make it make sense!!

• also he knows her best album is loud CAUSE HE HAS TASTE!!

• also tyler the creator i get the vibe he’d love him

• kali uchis fan too

•ALSO i feel like he had a phase where he listened to juice wrld and was like “these cheating lying females….” after he got his heart broken by a witch YOU CANG TELL ME IM WRONG😭😭 it’s okay though cause he’s embarrassed by it now

• oh childish gambino too duh forgot about him

ALSO LET ME MENTION DINERO IS LITERALLY HIS SONG ITS ACTUALLY HIS

——————————————————————————

Levi:

• this one’s gonna be real fucking short IM SORRYYY

• he listens to anime openings and game soundtracks strictly

• that’s literally all i can think of dude

• he’d be like “i don’t have time for normie music…”

• his room is literally that old caramelldansen meme from 2019/2020

——————————————————————————

Satan:

• this one was harder for me to pinpoint

• first instinct would be classical music but it’s canon he likes ska music too so 🤷‍♀️

• i really do feel like he’d listen to all types of music, like a true jack of all traits, if he likes it he likes it so his playlist is allllll over the place

• for some reason i get a vibe he’d really like 80s music in particular though

• the song that pops into my head is who can it be now? by men at work idk why

• maybe even older music i feel like he’d like sam cooke

• OH both him and belphie would like mazzy star and fiona apple idk why but they would

——————————————————————————

Asmo:

• okay crucify me for this one but…mitski I JUSG FEEL LIKE HE WOULD

• but i also see him loving lady gaga a lot cuz he has taste

•omg he’d listen to old katy perry too

•but yea also probably lil nas x he’d have a celeb crush on him

• oh tyler the creator too with his gay ass, him and mammon both love him, they def have done a duet to see u again

• he’d be a barb probably defend nicki too😭

• and as much as it pains me to say it, he’d fucking listen to ayesha erotica and be like “this is so good!!!”, hed post a devilgram story with one of her songs and then get cancelled on twitter

• “I made a severe and continuous lapse of judgement…” and then did the same thing a week later

——————————————————————————

Beel:

• type of guy when you ask him what music he listens to he goes “idk i don’t really listen to music”

• he legitimately looks up “hype playlist” on youtube to work out and that’s the extent of it

• really can’t see him being a big music guy

• if u invited him to a concert or something he’d go though for food

•he’d give you a piggy back ride so u can see better

• tbh if u were to put on music he would not care much no matter how good/bad it is

• you could walk in on him working out and literally listening 2 cbat or some shit

• HE LITERALLY IS CBAT GUY😭 he’d be like “i always use this song when i’m working out..

——————————————————————————

Belphie:

• emo fucker

• i feel like he’d like emo/ 90s rock ( but more “rockish” than mammons 90’s rock)

• but he’d also love any more relaxing music with softer vocals

• he’d be a deftones fan I KNOW GHATS FUCKING BASIC AND UR ROLLING UR EYES BUT LISTEN

• they have the combination of 90s rock but also more soothing calming vocals, theyd literally b perfect

• and for that reason his favorite albums r koi no yokan and saturday night wrist, also their self titled,

• would call mammon a poser for his music taste “nirvana isn’t even *real* rock idiot🙄”

• but nah, also like i said in satans fiona apple and mazzy star fan

• he’d suck so bad though he’d go on twitter and be like, “if you like deftones ur a poser” (while being their number 1 fan, fucking brat) then turn off his phone and take a nap for the funny

#obey me #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #asmo x reader #beel x reader #belphie x reader #obey me belphie

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Bar Shots

kai parker x reader

summary: your newest coworker takes his staring problem further up a notch

tags: bar / bartender!kai, public masturbation, inappropriate workplace behavior

word count: 1.3k

a/n: idk why i wrote this, i'm so sorry. also, this is the fic where i was gonna use a mon-el gif, but i gave up on that 😅

Your co-worker is always staring at you. Every time you look at him, he looks away, but you can feel his gaze on you whenever your head is turned. Other workers, too, have mentioned it. They’ve reported him walking into walls or dropping glasses because his attention is on you instead of his chores. The manager has a close eye on him, but there’s nothing he can really do aside from asking him to stop. Kai, of course, hasn’t stopped. 

It doesn’t bother you, though. Matt assumes it’s because you have a high patience. You’re well trained in crass behavior and stupidity, so the young witch’s staring is just another nuisance. Matt had laughed in admiration when you only shrugged after he told you about his talk with the boy. Your defiant attitude to this behavior is why he has you train the newbies. No matter what shit they pull, you’re never fazed. 

However as you’ll soon find out, Kai is a whole new category of bold. All the boys stare, some pull pranks, others make a suggestive joke every two minutes, and a few have spanked your ass as they’ve passed. But none have ever gone as far as the newest member of your team has on his second week in training. For the first time in four years, you’re actually stunned. 

In theory, it’s so bad you should report it. One report, and he would be fired immediately. No second chances, no time to explain, he would be out. And if it were anyone else, you would have. Not because he’s a sociopath; not because he’s a witch, but just because he’s so dang cute, and for some reason, you kind of like him. 

It’s just the two of you on shift that night. The restaurant closed hours ago, but the bar had just emptied in the last ten minutes. It’s Kai’s third day of working past closing, where you are showing him how to clean up the bar after the customers have left. He’s been learning quickly, and knows enough that you feel comfortable leaving him up front while you work in the kitchen. There’s a little window where you can keep an eye on him, where dishes are put to be taken out to tables. Though, it seems, Kai uses it to keep an eye on you, too. 

One minute, he’s diligently cleaning. You have no idea what happened between that minute and the next, but the second time you poke your head up, your eyes go wide. The shot glass he has been rinsing sits abandoned on the counter. Water droplets top the rim, but his hands aren’t reaching for the paper towels. Instead, they are around his cock. As soon as you realize what you were seeing, you drop to the counter, hiding your face. Your body burns with embarrassment as you debate what to say to put an end to whatever he’s doing. 

But before you can, a soft moan escaped the lips of the boy only a few feet away. The sound of him spitting reaches your ears, followed quickly by a visceral wet noise as he runs his hands along his length. His hips jut up against the counter, and you can hear the wood reverberating as he rocks his body against it. Light moans become more heavy. Then, your name spills from his lips. 

Your blood runs cold. A chill goes throughout your body at the same time a lightheadedness clouds your mind. As asinine as his behavior is in that moment, your body tingles with a sense of pleasure. Your head forms a picture of him, though it begs for you to get a glimpse for yourself. 

Biting your tongue, you slowly stand back up until you are eye level with the open window. Seeing the real thing is so much better than the image in your head. He’s rock hard and red, pushing the head of his cock into the counter. The way he stands gives you a small view of his ass, which is as plump as you expect it would be by the tight jeans he wears. Of course, you’ve looked him up and down before, but you have never sexualized the man until this moment. 

“Fuck,” he whines between his teeth, “Y/N.”

You involuntarily flick your tongue up in your mouth. The urge to interrupt him is strong. To go out there and help. To taste him; to squeeze and pinch and slap his cheeks. You refrain, remembering just how unprofessional this entire thing is. 

“Hey-” You try to stop him, but the words dry up in your throat. Your clit begs to be touched, though you ignore it. 

Kai doesn’t seem to have heard even your attempts at speaking. He’s completely focused on his feat, not slowing down for a second. You watch him, unable to tear your eyes away, as he brings himself closer to finishing. You can tell by the way his movements get sloppy and sweat beads at his forehead. He’s moaning louder now, too. A guttural sound that’s impossible to ignore. 

In the next minute, he comes. It shoots onto the countertop and his whole body relaxes at once. His cheeks still, no longer jiggling from the friction, and his eyes roll back in his head. You duck, not wanting him to catch you watching. 

Kai seems to start cleaning himself up after a couple of minutes. You can hear him tinkering around the bar, though you’re not brave enough to look up yet. In that time, though, you have a second realization with yourself about how inappropriate that was. How you’ll surely be fired for letting it happen. How it’s probably on the cameras, and you’ll both be fucked if someone’s watching - not literally. 

So, with a deep breath, you put on your best authoritative face and straighten your clothes. You pick up a bar rag just for character, and then walk into the main area. 

“How are you doing in here?” You maintain your composure upon seeing his pink-ish face. Luckily, he’s all cleaned up. His pants are back on, and the cum is no longer dirtying the counter. 

“Good. I made you a shot.”

“Kai, we’re working. This is not the time for shots.”

“It’s closing hours. Live a little.”

“There’s a camera right there. We could both get fired.”

His face pales, but he recovers quickly. “It was a long day. One shot won’t hurt.”

“Fine. But you’re explaining it to Matt if he asks.”

“Okay.” He hands you the shot glass he had cleaned a while back. 

“What is it?”

“Blow job shot, the one with the coffee and stuff in it.”

“That’s suggestive, considering how co-workers have reported you on several occasions because of the way you stare at me.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. It’s late, I thought you’d enjoy the coffee and alcohol mix. The first thing you do on shift is pour yourself a cup of coffee.”

You give him a ‘why do you know that’ look, to which he just shrugs. Your attention then falls to the shot in his hand. The whipped cream looks a little sad, and you suddenly think you know where his shot of cum mysteriously went.

“Alright,” you sigh, taking it from his hands. He watches you shoot it back, eyes on your throat for proof of a swallow.

“Did I do it right?” The bartender in training asks.

You set the glass on the counter, then nod. “Mostly right. It was a little salty, but the coffee and alcohol portions were correct.”

“Oh. Wait, so how do I fix that?”

“Maybe use whipped cream,” you look him in the eye, “instead of cum, when you serve it to customers.”

Kai’s eyes go wide as he realizes you know. You take advantage of his stunned silence to slip past him, smacking him on the ass as you go, and disappear to another part of the bar. The smirk on your face stays for the rest of the night. 

#malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #kai parker smut #kai parker oneshot #tvd fanfiction

[soup-is-nice-sometimes]

warning brendon mention + also excessive usage of brackets and like no punctuation/formatting except for paragraph breaks iM SORRY

sick and tired of ppl saying panic went to shit after ryan and jon left like yes it downgraded (compared to afycso my fave album from them) B U T ian (even tho he was only there for a few years) and dallon (who stayed on til 2017 oh how he put up with a lot of bs over the years) rlly kept it from tanking in those key years imo

like dallon is credited w writing most of v&v (with the exception of "nearly witches" - ryan wrote that) and all of twtltytd (is that even the album name idk i dont rlly listen to post ryan panic sorry not sorry) and he played bass not only for the end of pretty odd touring but also as part of the band til 2015 and then continued touring til 2017 (plus apparently brendon stopped him from releasing a song w 21 pilots which is actually why im writing this lmfao) like

dallons writing was on a similar level to ryans and it feels mean/unfair to reduce those albums that he did write to "shit" bc ryan wasnt there

and yes doab has a couple of bops (crazy = genius and also la devotee imo) but overall they dont cancel out what is mostly a shit album (ok yes dont threaten me w a good time is okay too but he did NOT make those high heels work good lord) esp cause there were literally none of the ogs except brendon on that)

and ofc pftw is ass if i ever hear high hopes or hey look ma i made it i actively try and leave wherever i am (they fucking played high hopes at a skate night i went to WHEN I WAS COSPLAYING RYAN ROSE VEST)

also side note fuck u brendon for continuing to play camisado after ryan left even tho it was like the one song he asked you to stop performing it cause it was rlly personal to him AND YOU DIDNT LISTEN (ofc all the songs were personal to him but camisado was one of the ones that he specifically drew on his experiences w/ his father to write)

also side note 2 imo panic died when spencer left (2013) but was temporarily revived til dallon left (2017) and brendons been dragging its corpse around for the last 6 years. and idc what anyone says the touring artists he played with do not count as panic cause no offence but like their title says theyre TOURING ARTISTS (like how dallon didnt consider himself a part of panic when he was touring w em til they asked him officially and then when he "stopped contributing creatively" - his words) like i rlly doubt ppl can name them off the top of their heads (altho theyre underappreciated for dealing w brendon)

if you've read this far PLEASE feel free to comment (? is taht what its called here) and/or reblog w ur additions/opinions im fairly open-minded abt others ideas!

#panic at the disco #ryan ross #brendon urie #ugh i hate that i have 2 tag that #dallon weekes #ian crawford #post-split panic #pre-split panic #afycso #pretty. odd #p!atd #patd #death of a bachelor #camisado #a fever you can't sweat out #dallon weekes appreciation #br*ndon urie #HAHJKDFSDHGF #nearly witches (ever since we met) #jon walker mention #(very brief) #no spencer sorry #can u tell i dont rlly like brendon #putting it lightly #idk the fact that the band was ryans baby and then everything happened and it got reduced to what it was by the end is just sad :( #ok i think im done tagging #istg ill be illiterate after staring at my computer screen for this long writing this up n double checking to make sure i spelt right #theres like no ' in here either IM SORRY :sob:

[lily-onher-grave]

Okay I saw Wicked again and I’m reobsessed so anyway some of my favorite things from this performance and just in general

The first word of the show is good and the last word of the show is wicked and if that doesn’t sum up how well the symbolism hits idk what does

Watching NOMTW it really did just hit me all over again the themes of fate and destiny and the limitations society puts on us and the limitations we put on ourselves

Wicked is a tragedy in the truest sense! No matter what Elphaba does she will not win and she cannot change things! No matter what Glinda does she will lose Elphaba!

Glinda’s sad face in NOMTW, and also how she is surrounded by the Ozians but is still so alone. They’re all giving her so much space, she has to walk across the stage and reach out just to get them to look her in the eyes (she’s lost the only people who ever saw her as a person rather than a doll)

The first time Elphaba runs downstage and she’s grinning so wide and she has so much hope for herself and for the world

The silence while Elphaba is dancing alone at the Ozdust, but more importantly, the way the music starts all soft and quiet when Glinda starts dancing with her. It’s the most romantic tune in the first act, maybe in the entire show

All the hand holding

The way that Glinda almost goes with her in Defying Gravity

The way Glinda reaches for Elphaba once she starts flying. Not caring at all that the guards and the Ozians and everyone else on stage can see. She’s just trying to reach her one last time

(The way Elphaba reaches back)

Glinda’s solo in Thank Goodness (Celia Hottenstein nails Glinda’s lower parts and she was an absolute dream especially in this song)

When Elphaba returns and Glinda walks into the room, the first thing she does is run into Elphaba’s arms. She’s horrified at the situation later but at that moment she doesn’t even notice anyone but Elphie

As Long As You’re Mine. Look Fiyero and Elphaba are Not It for me but the intensity of that song, the way the music slides into these dark little motifs, the harmonies. It’s so good

Glinda mourning Nessa when no one else is around

Elphaba blaming herself and Glinda immediately trying to comfort her even though they’re mad at each other

Idk if this is a normal thing and I’ve just never caught it before but when Fiyero was holding Glinda at gunpoint Elphaba was shaking her head, she looked so scared

Glinda tossing Elphaba her hat back and telling her to go

The opt up on FiyeeEErroooOOOOOOooooo

(All of No Good Deed)

Especially when she’s further back and the smoke is whirling around her and everything is purple and gold and it’s so sinister and her cape is flying around her and she is well and truly broken

I actually really love March of the Witch Hunters. It sounds sick af and it makes me imagine a world where the musical was closer to Maguire’s book and kept that super eerie, darkly violent vibe

(I feel the same way about when Fiyero is alone after ALAYM, and the music gets all intense and he’s running around the stage, holding up his lantern. idk those scenes hit a very specific vibe and I don’t quite know what it is but I like it)

Before For Good, when Elphaba started to tell Glinda to run, Glinda sobbed her name and it hit so hard

Have I mentioned the hand holding?

The way that they stand so still in For Good. So many songs have such insane movement to them, or even interludes between parts but For Good is just the two of them

(It’s such a love song)

Elphaba blew a kiss to Glinda and then pressed her hand over her heart when she hid her behind the curtain before the melting scene

Glinda’s sad face in NOMTW pt2

Again idk how common this is but before the lil For Good reprise Fiyero started to lead Elphaba away and she was about to take his hand but then Glinda started singing “who can say…” and Elphaba immediately turned away from him to go walk toward Glinda

#wicked #wicked the musical #gelphie #kinda #back on my bullshit I guess #god this show will always have my heart #Celia hottenstein #Olivia valli #was Elphaba and her voice is stunningggggg

[airplanned]

favorite fictional character of ALL TIME, and why? feel free to infodump :))))

Howl Jenkins!!!

Man is a disaster, and I love him.

spoilers for Howl's Moving Castle

So this dude got his PhD in magic, which is a mood. As someone who has on multiple occasions claimed that I want to write a dissertation on angels and who has a sizable library of books on alchemy, I get it. Yes. This man is smart and thoughtful and completely useless.

Then he finds a portal or something to a land where there's magic, and he can do magic, and it's all real! and he's a powerful wizard! So what's the first thing he does? He tells everyone his last name is Pendragon. ... Just for shits and giggles! No one will get the joke! He can't even explain the joke without explaining a bunch of secret things! This is just a thing he's doing! Amazing.

Then a bunch of shit is going down in the country. The prince is missing. The royal wizard is missing. The witch of the waste is flailing around causing problems. And Howl's not a bad guy, so he's quietly going out and looking for these guys, and he's setting things up so he'll be forced to face the witch of the waste. But he's very used to keeping secrets, so he's not going to explain himself to anyone. And then the king comes in ans is like, "I need you to find my brother. And kill the witch of the waste. And be my new royal wizard, because it looks like the last guy got killed or something." And even though, Howl is doing most of this anyway, his response is...Dude! That's going to get me killed! So instead of...idk, anything else, he...packs up and leaves. Moves his whole house. He's like, "Okay team, time to leave. I'm buying Sophie's old house just to be a dick. Hahahaha, don't tell her." So conflict avoidant and such a coward. I love him.

And people move into his house, and he's like, "Who's that? No, nevermind. I don't care." and then a week later he's like, "This child is Michael, my son and heir. He will inherit all my VHS tapes he can't watch and my car he can't drive." And he's like, "That old woman is Sophie, my horrible wife. I'm going to gas her up and make fun of her at the same time. She's going to help me kill the witch of the waste with her powers of being a bossy monster. My bossy monster ❤"

He has this carefully prepared persona that he displays, and that persona is awful. He's my favorite.

#Howl's Moving Castle

[muldermuse]

Halloween Party: Fox Mulder X Reader

A/N: Implied smut??????? IDK, it’s the wrong time of year to post this but I have had the most boring Sunday ever and wanted to share

You sighed as you adjusted your wig again, looking into the mirror you examined every bit of make up that covered your face and let out an exasperated sigh. You slammed your hands onto your cluttered bathroom counter and felt a pang of anger hit your brain.

“If you’re sighing to get my attention, it’s definitely not working” Fox called from the other room. He was laid on the bed, stuffing popcorn into his mouth whilst watching Halloween. “I’ve already told you, you don’t have to go! Just get undressed and get in bed with me” You could hear him smirking from the last comment and despite your anger, you could feel a smile creeping onto your face.

It was your work Halloween party and things had been tough recently. You spent weeks planning and creating a couple’s costume for you and Fox. Hours and hours spent fitting the costumes, urgently searching around thrift stores and having petty arguments that always ended with a kiss. Then, suddenly, the party was downsized meaning that partners could not come. Every one at work was annoyed and no one wanted to go. You knew deep down that Fox was secretly relieved but he never showed it, he never did well with mingling and knew that behind his back your colleagues referred to him as the ’spooky’ one. You were planning on handing your notice in in the new year but you wanted your final Halloween party to go well. So, at the last minute, you decided to be a witch and you hated the idea. So, whilst Fox was watching your favourite horror films, drinking beer and eating popcorn- you would be awkwardly smiling at the rest of your colleagues, having the worst halloween ever.

You felt a presence behind you, there he was, wearing an old Vancouver t shirt you had bought him years ago as a joke and some grey boxers. “You’re the most downcast looking witch I’ve ever seen” he said with a exaggerated frown, he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled his face into your neck. You felt his stubble gently itch your neck and you instinctively moved your head away. “I don’t want to go” you whined with a small stamp of your heeled boot.

“Just don’t” he murmured as he gently laid kisses on your neck. You felt a small moan escape your lips as Fox softly bit the space where your neck connects with your collarbone. His lips felt hot as goosebumps scattered across your neck, “I’ve only met a few witches in my time, you know,” you turned your head to give him more room as he whispered against your skin.

“They’re fascinating, strong, captivating and the opportunity to study one up close…well…” He moved his hands down to your hips and slowly guided you to face him, he gently lifted you and placed you on the counter. “I could not miss that opportunity”. Your hands held his face as you tenderly pressed your lips to his, his grip on your hips tightened as he languidly slipped his tongue into your mouth. The taste of buttery popcorn making you smile into his touch.

You moaned his name into his mouth as your nails raked though his thick hair, breathlessly, you pulled away “I need to call Julia to let her know I’m sick and I’m going to have to stay in bed all night”. You halfheartedly coughed as Fox rolled his eyes with a laugh, he held your hand as you slipped off the counter. You felt his eyes burn into you as you walked over to the bed, he quickly followed and sat on the mattress, holding the phone in his hands. Without words, you stripped off until you were in just your underwear. It was black and lacy, you’d worn it before but it always received the same response from Fox. A giddy smile crossed his face as he positioned you to sit on his knees, he laid open mouthed kisses along your shoulder as he passed the receiver to you, “make the call so I can spend tonight taking care of of you”.

You stifled a moan as you typed Julia’s number, Fox unrelenting in his kisses as the phone dialled. You closed your eyes, trying desperately to ignore Fox’s touch as Julia answered.

“Hi Julia, it’s me…not too good actually, yeah, I don’t know where it’s come from but I really don’t feel well”. You kept your eyes shut as you spoke to your colleague. Fox smiled against your skin as he gently nipped your shoulders, leaving small red marks across you as he gripped his nails into your hips, slowing moving himself against you.

“It is weird but something has been going around the office…just a matter of time until I got ill I suppose”. Your free hand reached behind you to grab Fox’s hair and pull it closer to your neck. You smiled into the receiver as he pressed hard kisses against your neck, the movement of his hips unrelenting and making you feel breathless.

“I’m so upset I can’t make it…how’s Fox? Oh, he’s fine. I think he’s just going to spend tonight looking after me.” Fox quietly groaned into your ear and you could feel your chest growing hot at the thought of what was to come tonight. “Anyway, send my love to everybody and sorry again that I can’t make it…I’ll see you all on Monday”.

You rushed to put the receiver down, as soon as the plastic left your hand, Fox pinned you against the bed. His eyes were glassy as he smiled down at you, “I’m going to take such good care of you tonight”.

#the x files #fox mulder #Fox Mulder fluff #Fox Mulder x reader #Mulder X Reader #The x files fluff #Fox Mulder fanfic #x files #fox mulder smut

[just-a-bit-of-a-nerd]

Idk if you take requests, but if you do I think it would be cool to do a part 2 on your Captain Jack Sparrow x daughter reader if you feel like it. Have a good day 💙

Stolen maps and hurt hearts

(gif not mine)

Warnings: talks of dead mother, boys being mean, and like one curse word

Summary: You get in a small fight with a few boys but when they say something that hits a nerve you dad is there to comfort you.

Parring: Captain Jack Sparrow x daughter Reader

M/N= Your middle name

Enjoy!

You and your fathers crew were making their way to the Faithful Bride Tavern to take a small break from sailing the seas. Your father sat in the corner of the room drinking his rum while you sat at a bar not to far away, talking to some random person you didn't know before today.

All was going quite well until you heard a voice from the entrance.

"Y/N M/N Sparrow," a young boy who you knew as Harry shouted and once he did it seemed the whole place went silent and your fathers eyes were on you.

Before anyone could do anything you got up and ran for the back exit while whispering "Buggar buggar buggar," under your breath.

As you were just about to make it out, one of Harry's friends, Arthur grabbed you by the waist and swung you face to face with Harry who slammed you against the wall.

"Now now lads, that is no way to treat a lady," you joked but no one was in a laughing mood.

"No games Y/N," Harry started, "what did you do with my map?"

So it may be true that the last time you saw Harry you did indeed steal the map to a treasure you and your father were looking for but you sadly no longer have it.

You bit your knuckle as you answered, "Oh yes that map, I'm afraid it was destroyed," you explained with a fake nervous smile, "not that it'd be any use for you now for I've already collected the treasure."

Harry's eyes turned a shade darker in rage, " You little witch!" he shouted in your face.

"See again with this talk, is this how your mother taught you to speak to women?" you smart mouth.

"Well I suppose mine did better than yours, it's a shame yours isn't around to teach you how to be more of a lady," Harry sassed back taking you off guard for a second not long enough for him to notice, but long enough for your father.

"That's quite enough," Jack speaks as he walks out of the watching crow.

"I see," Harry starts, "to much of a daddy's girl to fight her own battles-"

You then cut him off with a swift punch to the jaw and that's when Arthur wrapped his arms around you once more but you managed to aim a kick right for his groin making him fall back in pain.

"Would anyone else like to tic me off?" you question as you look around the crowd and everyone goes back to what they were doing.

You look at your father and you see the worry he has in his eyes and before you could do something you'd regret you walk right out of the bar as your father follows not far behind.

You walk out to the ship where one of the crew mates take watch, "you go have fun, I'll watch the ship," you explain and he just agrees. Everyone takes orders from not only Jack but you as well.

"Have a nice night Miss. Sparrow," he says as he walks into town.

The quite you longed for didn't last long as you saw your father walk up to the boat.

"What?" you asked as he got aboard ship.

"You know what," he stated as he leaned on the railing that you were sitting on, "you have the skills to hide what you feel from everyone in that room but you cannot hide your sadness from me," he explains, "do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Not really," you say honestly.

"Alright then I'll just drink this rum until you do," he states as he takes a swig of his bottle.

You and your father have talked about your mother before, it's not a subject either of you like to discus considering it's a sad topic for the both of you and neither of you like feelings. Though every time you have the talk about your mother Jack reminds you that you had nothing to do with her death though you simply cannot believe that. It's not entirely a regret you have because there's no point in having those, the past is past and you cannot change it so don't wish to. But you do wonder where your mother would be if she never had you. At least she'd be alive and at the end of the day you were the reason she died. Not only that but it was hard for you to grow up without a mother. It was a learning curve for you father needing to learn about all the ladies things and you never had anyone to get first hand advice from, everything Jack knew he had heard or was told.

That's what sent the tears running down your face. You never liked to cry, not even alone and never the less in front of your dad. You've only cried 3 times in your life besides when you were in infant, and every time it's been about your mother, this was the third time and only the second Jacks ever seen you cry.

He takes notice as soon as your first tear falls and he pulls you into a hug as you sob in his chest. It was only you and him, which you did love but sometimes you wished you could see how it felt to have a lady to look up to all your life. And by no means did you strive to be your mother, you knew the kind of person she was and you knew the kind of person you wanted to be. And it sure as hell wasn't her.

"It's alright love," your dad comforts you, "fate can be cruel sometimes."

"Am I really that bad?" you ask feeling waves of insecurities, "Am I in desperate need of a mother?"

"Trust me love I've met odder women than you," he jokes, "you're just stronger and braver than all the women Harry have met, and that's good because those kind are the fun ones," he explains.

That makes you giggle, Jacks not always the best at comforting but he's learned how because of you and he's gotten much better at it over the 14 years he's had with you.

"Anyway, you did good dealing with those two, amazing shot on the big one," he congratulated as you wiped your tears, again neither of you liked feelings that much and it was time to change the subject.

"Thank you, I remembered you teaching me that one."

"That's my girl," he said as he put an arm around you, "do you wanna go back in there?" he asked.

"Sure, lets see if Harry wants a round two," you said with a smirk.

Jack made a face at that, "Yes I'm not sure about that, I wasn't to keen to the way he was grabbing you," he said worry and annoyance in his tone.

"Really? you're afraid he's flirting?" you sarcastically asked.

"That's how I'd do it," he says honestly as he takes another swig of rum.

"You have no need to worry," you reassure, "I'd go on a date with the Kraken before I go on one with Harry."

"Well I'd rather you go on a date with no one," he deadpans.

"Of course you would," you sigh.

#jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow daughter #jack sparrow #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the caribbean x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[yonemurishiroku]

Hiya yone! Recently my brain has been infested with bugs that want me to make a Circe Nico AU (Nico is Circe?? Kinda.) You are the glorious fanfic writer who can conjure up anything from anything, so please do your magic.

I'll try my best, however I only know like. 2 stories about Circe at best? So please don't put too much trust in me lol 😅😅

The first one is when Odysseus visits her during his return voyage to Ithaca. I forgot most of it (typical me) except that she turns his crew into animals, which Odysseus managed to convince her to undo and if I'm not mistaken, they live together for a while?? Let's just go with it.

As for this story, I think it would fit best with Jasico? Mainly bc they have that sort of enemies-to-lovers air (Jason distrusted Nico at first). Jason is best fit to be a returning hero, too. Though the Cupid debacle is like heaven and earth with mere convincing on Odysseus' part, I reckon we can work around it with enough maneuver. Why does Nico accept to turn them back? - Maybe he's feeling generous, maybe he's a petulant lonely witch who wants people to stay but never knows how to voice it, and ppl often run at the first sight of him, so he just turns them into animals to keep them by her side.

In the end, Odysseus leaves Circe. This aligns well with the fact that Jason just dropped dead shortly after he and Nico became friends. Which is a funny (and depressing thought) if you put thoughts into it. Which I can't atm lmoa.

Anw. think of it as a piece of quiet Jason has given Nico in the expanse of his loneliness. That, though he was swept away by the natural order of things at the end, Jason did try his best to alleviate Nico's pain. So I reckon there should be a little bit of affection - if not love - in there.

The second story is, well, Circe and Scylla. And the male lover whose name I forget.

This is a classic case of jealousy - so who fits it better than Percy, the canon epitome of every jealous trope in the history of fiction?

sorry that was my pettiness talking. Anywayyyyy, I suppose I don't need to talk about this... I mean it's pretty clear who is who and how the story transpires: Circe is in love with that-something-sea-god, who is in love with Scylla, so Circe turns her into a monster. The only difference between Circe and Nico in this is that he doesn't do anything to Annabeth (even refuses to hate her still. gosh).

But that wouldn't be Percico, is it? So I say just say fuck it and make Percy a sea monster or something Idk. A witch living secluded in an island with his beloved sea monster? I'm in.

Another choice would be to make Annabeth the bad one but I'm in no position to make that propose.

If you still want to keep the story, and if you're any of an unhinged person like me, just make Nico the villain. Well, Circe is the villain in this story, yeah? Embrace it - Nico as the powerful witch, whose loneliness-induced jealousy wreaks havoc on even a sea god. What's left is not love - because love is the last thing Yone needs in fanfics srsly - but an impression of terror, of how disastrous Nico's love can be.

The concepts mix well in this case btw. I remember a painting of Circe pouring a plate filled with poison into the sea. Just imagine it - a blinding blackness spreading rapidly across the lapping water with just a touch of Nico's dainty finger. The shadows overlap with the roaring waves - the black undercurrents raging all the same - and darkness swallows all those whom he call enemies. If Percy's the sea and Nico's the lightless bottom, dark, mysterious, and full of threats.

That's everything I have atm, I guess. Sorry for not being able to help much :(((

#nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #toa #yone rambling #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #jasico #percico #circe nico au #nico au #pjo au

[lovelylusts]

cloud nine // csb // 03 - d-day

summary: a group of friends form on nsfw twitter, and hijinks ensue. but when jisu starts catching feelings for soobin after filming with him, she has to grapple with her feelings while assuring her close bond with him doesn’t die.

general warnings: choi soobin x oc (moon jisu), smau, smut, fluff, angst, crack, the rest of txt is here too, aespa is also here just bc they serve, no relationships or events in this story reflect real ships and are just for the story, this is a pro sex-work story obv, lowkey probably gonna be filthy as hell considering it’s a sex work au, vague relationships lmao, she/they oc because i’m projecting, genderfluid yeonjun agenda, oc has a not-so-secret thing for soobin’s hands, they use fake names on twt :)

chapter warnings: this one is written!!, there’s a lot of warnings i’m sorry 😭, hard?dom!soobin (with mildly sub thoughts), sub!oc (with mildly dom thoughts), jisu uses she/they pronouns but i only used she while writing this to make reading more seamless, lots of mentions of sexting and nudes and sex work onlyfans and nsfwtwt as per the last chapters), grey sweatpants deserves its own warning tbh, she wears a collar and cat ears but there’s no petplay, filming, dry humping, biting + hickeys, brief mention of edging, obscene amounts of precum mentioned a few times, they’re both pretty needy and fucked out, some pretty messy deepthroating, very brief and vague comparison of jisu to succubus, consensual !! head-pushing, face-fucking, makeup kink?????? idk he likes seeing her makeup get more and more messed up, praise, the tearing of clothes, nipple play, pussy eating, fingering, squirting, protected!!!!! vaginal sex (cowgirl), lil bit of possessiveness but it’s just dirty talk, multiple orgasms (jisu), aftercare

word count: 4.5k

series masterlist // general masterlist

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the weekend came sooner than jisu had expected. she had spent the past couple of days making overpriced coffee for broke college students like herself, and her nights going over video ideas with soobin that led to steamy phone calls. it wasn’t the first time the two had had a sexual exchange - in the early days of being mutuals, as was common in their sphere, they had numerous sporadic conversations that veered into late nights filled with hasty texts riddled with misspellings from having to text with one hand as they aided in getting each other off.

it was always funny to jisu how her friendship with soobin started, and how their group of friends formed. they were all strangers from the internet who all, except for yizhuo, lived in seoul for various reasons, be it living the former idol trainee lifestyle or having been born and raised there. if anything, jisu had been more intimate with these friends than any partner in the past couple of years since she had created her twitter account. their group chats were filled with opinions on racy photos, exchanging stories of hookups, and shamelessly flirting with each other on a platonic level.

so why was jisu so nervous right now? this wasn’t the first collaboration she had ever done - her most popular post to date was a collection of photos of herself and minjeong posing lewdly together in skimpy witch costumes for halloween. was it his height? his versatile personality in sexual situations? jisu eventually landed on the idea that this would be the first time she filmed herself having sex for profit. the idea made her stomach flutter.

soobin lived a short drive away from her, and it was a drive she had been well acquainted with for a while now. beside her in the passenger seat sat a backpack that, during nine months of the year, was filled with textbooks and folders, but was now housing a collection of objects that her fans knew well - some pastel pink rope, a small black bullet vibrator, fluffy pink cat ears with a dainty collar to match, and so on.

neatly on top of these items was a folded set of lingerie. the previous night, while on facetime with soobin, she rummaged through her extensive collection of sexy garments, looking for sets she wouldn’t miss if something were to happen to them. it was a hard decision, but they eventually agreed on a simple lacey set that was quite see-through - there wasn’t really anything special about it, but it still hugged jisu’s body perfectly and made the blood rush out of soobin’s head down to his dick.

jisu felt her heart thumping harshly as she navigated her way around soobin’s apartment complex until she ultimately reached his place, her hand firm against the pale grey door as she knocked three times, the door opening only moments later to reveal her tall friend.

she was always shocked when she saw him in person because, in her words, “he’s basically a giraffe.” she couldn’t help but gaze over him, noticing that he was wearing those damn grey sweatpants that she recognized from late-night photo exchanges. oftentimes, he would be wearing those well-loved sweats when he sent her photos of him grabbing the outline of his hard member. this has to be on purpose, she thought to herself.

“hey, jisu,” he said sweetly as he pulled her in for a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist as she did the same. he couldn’t help but take in her signature scent, a soft mix of vanilla and lavender, and he held her close. maybe it had been due to the days of anticipation and planning, but he could already feels the butterflies in his stomach and the blood rushing down to his cock as he pulled away from her. “you ready?”

“let’s do this.”

⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆

jisu thought that she’d be prepared for this. after so long of filming and taking photos of herself in compromising situations, she truly thought she was ready for this. but as she sat on soobin’s lap on his bed, grinding against him with her back arched away from the rolling camera and her covered chest against his bare one, she had never felt so vulnerable in her entire life - not when she opened her twitter account, not when she sexted a stranger in her dms for the first time, not when she first posted on onlyfans. it seemed that it was soobin’s large hands gripping her ass as he rocked her lace-covered clit against the monster in his precum-soaked boxers that made her feel more exposed than ever. it was her long dyed hair swept over one shoulder so the camera could capture soobin biting and sucking on the sensitive skin of her neck that adorned a fluffy baby pink choker. it was the fact that she was unsure if she had ever been this aroused in her entire life.

soobin himself wasn’t holding up too well either. it was as if there was no blood left in his brain because it had all flowed down to his other head. through all the grinding and grabbing and heavy breathing and sighing against each other, he felt that he could finish at any moment - he was so thankful that he had trained himself in the art of edging, because he was certain that he would have cum at least twice already had that not been the case.

“s-onyx,” she sighed out, being careful to only refer to him as his social media name. “i-i wanna suck your cock. please.” jisu couldn’t help that her request came out as a breathy whimper. she was familiar with his dick from photos and videos, but she had never seen it in person. the thought of finally being able to touch him made her mouth water.

soobin’s brain almost short-circuited upon hearing those words leave her perfect lips, the lips that he had seen wrapped around her own fingers, candies, and sex toys that made him think god, i would give anything to feel them around me. his head lolled back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip due to the combination of her dirty words and a particularly delicious roll of her hips against his own. “fuck, yes.” he almost let a please roll out as well, but with what little control he had over himself at the time, he knew he couldn’t. he couldn’t slip out of the dominant role after all the planning that went into this video of him ruining her.

jisu slid off of his lap, looking down and smirking when she saw the large wet patch that covered his boxers, then grabbed the secondary camera and handed it to soobin as she fixed her lingerie and hair while he turned on the camera, fumbling a little bit due to the arousal that made his brain feel foggy. the camera soon switched on as he held it at his chest, looking into the view finder to see the perfect image of jisu between his thighs, somehow looking so innocent yet so seductive, her nipples poking at the thin lace of the bra she chose for the shoot, and fluffy pink cat ears pinned to her lightly curled hair - he soon decided that no matter how incredible she looked at that moment, her appearance wouldn’t matter by the time he was done with her. his goal was smeared mascara, torn clothes, and cum covering her face and bleached bangs.

her intimidation was overshadowed only by her excitement as she began to tug down the waistband of his underwear, watching as he lightly lifted his hips up to help her, until they were off and discarded somewhere in his bedroom. she swore she could sense soobin’s heart racing as she eyed him up and down with dark eyes before wrapping her right hand around the base of his cock, her other hand resting on his hip bone. she looked up at him through her mascara-coated lashes - she made sure to forgo her usual waterproof mascara in favor of letting the black run down her face in streaks and splotches, maybe even some staining the light blue quilt below her. their eyes met, both of them smiling at each other briefly, before she stuck her tongue out to lick a stripe from right above her hand all the way to his leaking tip. upon her tongue reaching his head, she began to slowly glide her hand up and down his cock, the movements made easy by the obscene amounts of precum released only minutes earlier, while wrapping her lips around the head of his cock, moaning lightly as she took in the taste.

soobin threw his head back, an obscene moan leaving his mouth as his right hand instinctively reached ouch for her, his fingers lacing in the strands of her hair close to her scalp. he wasn’t going to force her movements, not yet at least, though it took everything in him to not do so. they had talked about it - face-fucking, that is - and while she was, to quote, “so down,” he wanted to take in the moment. he wanted to know what she would do while she was in charge of the moment.

jisu was a bit worried about how much of him she could fit in her mouth. she knew he was huge, but seeing it in person, having it in her hands, was way different. fuck it, she decided, and decided to surprise him by taking him as far as she could down his throat, which was considerably far for how long and thick he was, and a loud gag erupted from her throat as she tried to hold his member in place for a second, pulling away when she felt it was too much, an obscene amount of saliva following her lips. she took the moment to recover a bit, stroking her right hand along his length and spreading her saliva as she lightly twisted her wrist.

she reveled in the sight of soobin’s reactions as she did this, seeing that he was already struggling a bit. his cheeks were red, and despite him biting his lip, he was still making quite a bit of sound. she realized that he had never actually filmed with anyone before. she had gotten so used to him either doing fan-service content in the form of dirty talk audios or photos of his really pretty hands, or videos of him simply jerking off, but she had never actually seen or heard him with another person. for a second she tried to convince herself that it was the excitement of not always being able to expect what a partner may do that made him react in such a way, but, for the sake of her ego as well as the throbbing between her thighs, she told herself it was all because of herself. she shot him a small smirk before taking his length back into her mouth, this time bobbing her head, a soft gag leaving her throat each time she took him.

his grip on her hair tightened a bit as he struggled to breathe properly. he had had many sexual ventures in his time being a college student, but this was different. he swore that she was secretly a fuck, what are they called? those hot sex demons. suck something. suck. suck. holy fuck she’s sucking me off so good. he couldn’t think straight as he felt her hot, wet mouth around his painfully hard cock. he was still gripping the camera with one hand, though he no longer cared if the shot was clear or not, whether it was even pointing at her or if the had angle shifted while he struggled to not writhe under her touch. “fuck, baby, it feels so fucking good,” he groaned out.

jisu could feel her cheeks heat up ever-so-slightly at the praise. this entire situation was really bad for her ego. she pulled off of him with a deep, loud inhale, even more saliva pooling around her mouth and fist, as well as along soobin’s length. her momentary stop gave him the slightest moment of clarity, checking to make sure the camera was focused and looking at the view finder to see jisu with flakes of mascara beneath her eyes, the small bit of eyeliner smudged, and the cat ears lopsided from where he had grabbed the hair next to it. he also used this moment of clarity to go through the mental list he had made of things they thought about including - they hadn’t decided on anything concrete, deciding to go with the flow and do whatever felt natural. so jisu wasn’t exactly surprised that soobin had moved his fingers closer to the back of her head to push her down towards his cock. she eagerly let him take control, at first only lightly guiding her movements as she returned to her previous routine of taking him down her throat.

soobin was able to focus better this time around, the small pause having helped him compose himself. he was nearly convinced that this is what heaven felt like. her lips looked so perfect around him, her eyes looked so perfect as they met his with a devious innocence - which was something he was sure would never exist until he saw jisu peer up at him so sweetly while doing such sinful things to him. that’s when he decided to fully grab her hair and hold her head in place, instead pushing his hips up towards her face. the gagging sounds intensified and became shorter as he went at a pace quicker than what she had previously set.

she was loving every second of this. it was fun to be in control, even if just for a moment, to make him lose his mind, but she had to admit that being used as a fucktoy suited her just as well. she felt the tears that had already formed along her waterline begin to drip down her face, her eyes stinging a bit as her mascara began to face its demise. but much to her disappointment he soon pulled his cock out of her mouth, looking at the mess of saliva in awe.

“you did so good for me, jiu,” he said, trying not to sound as breathless as he felt for the sake of his ego. “wanna taste you.” he quickly saved the video and turned the camera off before pulling her back towards him, delivering a hard smack to her ass before pushing her down on the bed, making sure in the view finder that a good amount of her body was shown, then reaching for her lacey bra.

rip.

he had pulled at the seam between her breasts until it tore, pushing the two pieces to the side to reveal her nipples, perky from the cool air now meeting them. he grabbed her soft tits in his hands, lightly squeezing them and running the pads of his thumbs over her nipples, which, judging by the slight whine that came from her, were sensitive. he reached over to suck on one nipple while pinching the other, reveling in the small sounds she made as he did so, switching sides to assure they were both equally loved, before trailing his lips down her torso, making sure to leave hickeys here and there before reaching the waistband of her underwear.

jisu knew was to expect when he sat up briefly, quickly tearing the other half of the lingerie set and letting it fall against the bed before he leaned over, wasting no time and diving in, slipping his tongue between her sticky folds to collect some of the wetness leaking from her pussy. she let out a whiny moan, her hips jerking lightly. he was barely starting, and she was already infatuated by his tongue.

“god, you taste so fucking good,” he growled against her, pushing her legs further apart and bringing her legs over his broad shoulders. he was fully addicted to this, there was no doubt. he felt as good giving her head as he did receiving it from her - how could he not when she tasted that good? and she was so sensitive too, practically just as much of a mess as he was minutes earlier, but way more vocal about it too. her soft, high-pitched moans were so filthy, so pornographic, they were music to his ears. he didn’t care how messy his sheets were becoming beneath him as he lightly ground his cock against the fabric, surely leaving behind a large puddle of saliva and precum as he stimulated his painfully hard cock.

she was sure she had never been this sensitive before. like soobin, she had also had her fair share of sexual escapades in her time as an undergrad student, but nothing was comparable to this. not even close. his tongue moved flawlessly against her wet heat as his large hands dug into her hips as she bucked against him. she felt like she couldn’t even control her hips as her hips lightly jerked, which eventually turned into full-blown grinding against his face when he decided to wrap his plush lips around her clit. she was so far gone that she hadn’t even noticed his right hand leaving her hip, only noticing when she felt a finger or two teasing the entrance of her tight cunt.

the sound she released as he inserted a finger into her pussy was probably the best sound he thought he would ever hear, though this was quickly replaced by the sound she released as he curled the finger against her g-spot. he swore he almost came from taking in her reaction alone. her fingers were entangled in his soft black hair, desperately moving her hips to make him go faster. this only led to another slap being delivered to her ass.

“you’re gonna take what i give you when i give it to you, or else you’re not cumming. have i made myself clear?” he talked to her sternly, making her head spin so much that she could barely let out a cohesive sentence. “i asked you a question, baby.”

“yes,” she squeaked. “i’ll be good, i promise.”

“good girl,” he muttered as he reconnected his lips to her swollen clit, entering another finger into her wet cunt and continuing to finger-fuck her with his digits perfectly angled against her sweet spot. “you’re such a fucking mess for me. i wonder how many times i can make you cum tonight. wanna find out, baby? hm?” his deep voice almost sounded condescending, laced with so much arousal that he was sure he barely sounded like himself.

“please make me cum,” she repeated over and over again like a mantra, more and more tears spilling from her eyes and falling down her temples, her head thrown back against his comforter as she felt the knot in her stomach begin to tighten. already? fuck, how is he capable of this?

her pleading only encouraged him as he sucked harder on her clit and pushed a third finger inside of her, fingers hitting against her g-spot at a pace he didn’t think he was capable of.

“fuck,” she squealed, her first orgasm of the night crashing down on her like a tsunami. she didn’t even notice the wetness that was gushing out of her, hitting not only soobin’s face but also his blanket.

“fuck, jiu, that was so fucking hot. you did so fucking good,” he rambled as he brought his face back closer to hers, pressing a kiss against her lips. the kisses were messy and needy, moaning into each other as they tasted themselves on each other’s tongues. “i need to be inside you, holy fuck.” he wasted no time standing up, making sure to take the scraps of fabric off of jisu’s body and throw them haphazardly across the room before walking towards the camera set-up, making sure that everything was in place for the last scene.

the view finder showed that the camera couldn’t even capture how incredible, how erotic jisu looked to him. hickeys littered her collared neck and pale torso, her eye makeup was everywhere except where it was meant to be, her ass was a soft red from where his hand had met the smooth skin, and a thick sheen of ejaculate and precum slicked her inner thighs. the most devilish angel he could even dream of.

he walked back towards the bed and sat back against the pillows, pulling her towards him to sit her in his lap, both of them shivering as they lightly brushed against each other. he was quick to grab the condom off his nightstand and roll it on his cock before tightly grabbing jisu’s hips and pulling her down to sit on it, watching with a dark gaze as his length disappeared into her pussy. he couldn’t help but pull her close against him, moaning into her neck as her tight, warm, wet walls fluttered around him.

“fuck, you’re so fucking big,” she whined out, raising her hips until he was mostly unsheathed before lowering her hips once again. his cock was filling her perfectly in every way, brushing just right against her g-spot and even hitting lightly against her cervix. it was at that moment that she was almost certain she could die happily.

“you’re so fucking tight. god, this pussy was made just for me, yeah?” soobin kept rambling as she bounced on his cock, her tits jiggling and her perky nipples brushing against his chest every so often. these words weren’t just taken from the random audios he would post - well, he had probably said those words before, but he didn’t actually mean it. this time, though it wasn’t evident to him due to how little he felt his brain worked from how good she felt, he really did mean it. sex was ruined for him forever, he was convinced. no one could make him feel as good as jisu was.

jisu was fairing far worse, basically unable to form words and instead whining an affirmative against the skin of his neck, where she couldn’t even bring herself to return the favor of the numerous bruises littering the skin of her neck, instead pressing soft yet messy kissed in an identical spot. she wasn’t sure if it was her lack of clarity or something else, but his words sparked something in her. it really did feel like he was speaking the truth, after all, she couldn’t disagree that she had never been filled up so perfectly before, how no one had made her feel so incredible it was basically unreal. the feeling, rather than any of this actually forming a coherent thought in her fucked-our brain, was interrupted by soobin’s hand colliding with her ass yet again.

“use your words,” he demanded before bringing his hand down on her once again. as much as he loved hearing her pathetic little sounds, he craved hearing the words struggle to come from her mouth. yeah, this shoot was definitely unhealthy for his ego, but he couldn’t have cared any less when her pussy hugged his throbbing cock so nicely.

“y-yes. my pussy was made just for you.” saying the words out loud brought back the funny feeling, though it was quickly replaced by the rubber band inside of her snapping once again, crying out as she came. soobin lifted her hips up so the camera could see as he reached his fingers between her legs as her orgasm rippled through her, rubbing his fingers against her at a furious speed, making another round of fluids gush out of her hole again. soobin’s cock, thighs, and any of the surrounding blanket was absolutely soaked, but god, they both loved it.

he brought her hips back down, this time taking control completely when he realized she could barely move by herself. his grip on her was intoxicating, sending shivers down her spine as she cried from the overstimulation. “please,” she cried out to him, “i need to cum again.”

he grinned deviously at her. “anything for you, babygirl.” he brought her hips down against his faster and harder, addicted to the way her walls kept constricting around him. his words aided in bringing her closer again already, her moans becoming more and more frequent with her volume becoming harder and harder to control. then he brought his fingers back to her clit and rubbed in small circles.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” jisu kept crying out against him, cumming hard around him once again, squirting all over him before falling limp against his chest. he took the opportunity her current state gave him to push her backwards, making sure her legs weren’t in too uncomfortable of a position before he ripped the condom off and sat his knees on either side of her neck, and began quickly stroke his aching cock. finally, after forcing himself to hold it in for the duration of their filming, soobin finally let go, his cum spurting out and painting her face, hair, and clip-in cat ears in what felt like ounces of cum. he ran his fingers through as much of his cum as he could gather before shoving them in her mouth, whispering praises to her as she licked it all off.

⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆

jisu soon learned that soobin was not only incredible at fucking, but incredible at after care. shortly after removing his fingers from her mouth and taking a moment to regulate his breathing, he got off the bed and made his way to the bathroom connected to his room, coming back with some wet washcloths to clean the messy mix of saliva, precum, and cum off of both of them, making sure to get as much cum out of jisu’s hair as possible so washing it later wouldn’t be as difficult for her. he threw both of the dirty towels somewhere in the room, deciding to pick up the loose articles of clothing later. right now he had to focus on jisu. he grabbed the extra pair of clothes she had packed and helped her put on the pair of boyshorts and the loose t-shirt, though he couldn’t help but notice the many other goodies she brought that they didn’t use.

“i don’t think we needed them,” she said with a small shrug as she sat on the chair he had placed her in so he could change out the sheets on his bed. “you were… wow. i don’t think i can ever sleep with anyone else ever again.”

“same,” he said with a chuckle. “we should do this again. with or without a camera.”

“yeah, i would really like that,” she said with a smile. the entire time he helped her unwind after they finished, she couldn’t help but notice that the weird feelings of butterflies that she had gotten earlier had returned. but they were done filming, there was nothing sexual going on. so what did it mean?

⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆

#txt smut #choi soobin smut #soobin smut #og work #cloud nine

[pedrito-friskito]

the warrior and the witch - part one

summary: tucked away in a quiet village that constantly questions your true nature, pero tovar stumbles his way into your life, and you are both quick to realize that things will truly never be the same.

warnings: a decent amount of worldbuilding/exposition, this is not even slightly a slow burn, depictions of magic (is that a warning? idk), canon-typical violence, blood, cursing, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit), Pero Tovar is a warning all his own cuz fuck me

a/n: the first of the autumn adventures! I’m having so much fun writing these already, and this one has sparked something magical in me let me tell U 🧡 and huge thanks 2 my sweet sil @psychedelic-ink for beta-ing this for me and hyping (and feeding) my pero obsession 🧡

🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂 PART TWO PART THREE

There were whispers about you from the very first day.

It didn’t shock you — nothing did, truly — and you traversed the gossip as you always had: by ignoring it. People ducked across the cobblestones when they saw you coming, refused to meet your eye as you walked through the square, murmured nasty rumours that often made you snicker to yourself.

I hear she killed her last husband. Poisoned him and used his body for her potions. Wretch.

You see that scar on her cheek? A bear. She cursed a man who spurned her and turned him into a beast! What a bitter woman she must be.

You know she’s actually thousands of years old? These witches don’t age like us normal folk. It’s unnatural.

Wretch. Bitter. Unnatural. The taunts were endless, and though you weren’t surprised by the words, and did your best not to take stock in them, they lurked overhead like a looming storm, pricking at the back of your neck like the static that comes just before lightning strikes. It’s not the first place you haven’t felt welcome, but that’s besides the point.

Taunts and names thrown your way each day, and yet, when one of the more soft-spoken women of the village came knocking on the door of your cottage one night, tears on her face and blood on her lips, you didn’t hesitate. The smithy’s wife, you’d often seen her by the fountain in the square, doing her washing with the other wives, a small boy clinging to her skirts.

One look at her, and it was obvious that the smithy had a temper.

You tended to her wounds, bandaged her crushed fingers and wiped the red from her skin. You brewed the tea without question, gave her a warm bed to sleep in for the night, and refused to take her coin when she offered it the next morning.

“I don’t need your money,” you told her, returning her newly mended dress and cloak. You’d spent most of the night scrubbing the woman’s blood from the fabric. “Just your trust.”

She was grateful, you knew it to be true. She promised to tell the town how giving you had been, how safe she had felt in your home, how she was tended to and healed without question. You looked for her in the square the next day, but she was nowhere to be found. Not even two days later, and the smithy was empty, the entire family gone from the residence above the shop.

Of course, the town blamed you.

It was to the point where you considered leaving. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last, but you were loathe to let them force you out. The cottage was comfortable; you’d made it so. It had been abandoned when up first arrived, but you’d felt the pull, known that your ancestors had once tread the land, that the foundations of the house was filled to burst with magical potential. The first night you’d arrived, you’d planted a single apple seed, pulled from a fruit you’d eaten somewhere along your journey.

When you woke the next morning, the tree was full grown, it’s branches laden with the sweetest apples you’d ever tasted. And curled up beneath the trunk, a small black cat with amber eyes, peering up at you, head tilted to the side and a curious chirp reaching your ears.

“Well, hello there.”

You couldn’t leave. Not yet. There was work to be done, something you were meant to do.

After the departure of the smithy, you were more of a pariah than before. The sneers and insults were darker, but you kept your ground. You were determined.

You sold your apples in the square, and the children of the town were your most loyal customers, darting up to your basket and tossing their silver coins at you before running away with their goodies. The cat, who you affectionately named Soot, always accompanied you, and some of the braver children would hang around, petting the cat’s soft fur and giggling when he offered loud purrs and happy meows.

When the seasons began to change, the heat of summer giving way to the chill of autumn, you started baking. Tarts and little pies with faces cut into the top, sprinkled with sugar and making your entire home smell like cinnamon. The children were overjoyed, and a few of the older folk grew curious. The tavern-keep even asked for your recipe.

It didn’t gain you their trust, not entirely. They still whispered, still warned newcomers not to travel past your cottage after dark, to make sure they always paid you in full for your goods if they were to buy from you. The smithy remained empty for a long time until a new man and his young family moved in and took over the shop.

You walked into the shop and requested a set of small knives, to replace the set you currently used for the herbs and plants you collected. The new smithy looked at you for a long moment, scrutinizing you beyond belief, and you found yourself holding your breath until his face softened.

“You know, you’re not nearly as terrifying as they make you out to be.”

You’d actually laughed, grinning at the man. “Good to know.”

You paid him more than he asked for the knives, agreed without question when he said it would take him three days to complete the set, and left one of the larger pies on the tabletop before you left the smithy, happier than you’d felt in a long time.

When you went back three days later, he greeted you with that same smile, and this time, his wife was standing there as well, as soot-covered as her husband, their grins almost identical.

“You must be the witch.”

You grinned back. “You must be the wife.”

It became a quick companionship. Her name was Lena, his was Tomas, their young boy Roland and their girl Wren. Lena was one of the most boisterous women you’d ever met, shouting her way around the smithy, often giving Tomas orders instead of receiving them. A stark contrast to the smithy’s wife that had appeared on your doorstep before the arrival of your new friends.

Lena ran the shop, essentially, and was endlessly curious about your…abilities. She peppered you with questions daily, and was always the first to buy apples or pastries when you arrived in the square.

“I don’t suppose you have a potion that would stop my hair turning grey, would you?”

You’d laughed initially, but the next time you stopped in to the smithy to have new shoes made for your horse, you slipped a small vial of dark liquid that smelled of chestnuts into her hand. “Two drops a day,” you said quietly, and tapped a finger to your head. “Just around the temples.”

Her jaw had dropped, and you’d stifled your chuckle.

You turned away any coin she offered, and in turn, she always did the same for you. Your mare was well taken care of, your knives sharper than ever, and when the chill started to come harder, she sent Tomas over to your cottage with bundles of firewood and two new cast iron pans. Roland came along as well, hiding behind his father’s leg when you offered a tart, Soot twining his way through the child’s legs as you packed up a bushel of apples to send back with them. “I think he likes you,” you commented, winking at the boy, and he blushed crimson, but crouched down and gave the cat plenty of pets before his father called him to leave.

“Oh, I’m meant to ask you,” Tomas said as you walked the dirt path from the cottage to the main road that led back towards the village. “Lena asked if you’d have supper with us at the tavern tomorrow. Her parents are visiting us, and they’ve agreed to watch over the children for the night.”

Soot had followed you out, chasing his new friend Roland down the path, and you laughed as the two zipped past, ruffling Roland’s hair as he went. “A night free of your children and you choose to spend it with the likes of me?” you asked, jesting, and Tomas went red. You touched his arm lightly. “I’m honoured. I wouldn’t miss it.”

And you haven’t, leaving the cottage again shortly after returning from your day in the square, your basket empty. Soot is less than happy to be left behind, perching in the window and yowling loudly as you close the door behind you, shaking your head at the silly creature when he paws at the glass.

The tavern is bustling with people, and you quickly spot Lena and Tomas in the corner, the table laden with large mugs of ale, a spot left open for you to sit. They greet you warmly, Lena getting to her feet and kissing your cheeks before letting you sit. The conversation comes easily, as it always does, the three of you chattering away, drinking your ale and ordering bowls of stew with hunks of bread. It’s a perfect evening, in good company, your chest warmed by the hearty food and ale.

Well, nearly perfect.

You get up from the table to supply the next round of ale, and a large shadow blocks your path.

“The fuck’re you doing here, witch?” a familiar gruff voice growls and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Of all the taunts and torments and dirty looks that still follow you around the village from time to time, Farrell has been the most persistent. You’ve had men despise you before, but the hatred that rolls of the man and coils towards you is more than emotion. It’s dark, the shadow that passes over you in his presence leaving a chill on your skin and a sickly taste in the back of your mouth. It looms like a snake, poised to attack, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Your grip on the glass in your hand grows tighter, and you grit your teeth, electing to ignore him, trying to side-step the large man to reach the bar, but a rough hand grips your shoulder.

“I asked you a question, bitch. You’re no’ welcome here.”

“Oh, that’s very clever of you, Farrell,” you spit, already fed up, your words fuelled mostly by the buzz of ale in the back of your mind. A dangerous thing, for a witch. More dangerous for the man daring to lay hands on you. “The witch and the bitch. You even made it rhyme, how charming.”

In a flash, your back slams into the wall of the tavern, shoulders shaking with the force of it. Magic surges beneath your skin, angry and hot in response to the threat looming over you. The glass in your hand cracks; it doesn’t shatter, but you can feel the edge slice in your skin all the same. Farrell plants his other palm against the wall, making any sort of escape impossible. His grip on your shoulder tightens before it disappears, and you see fingers heading for your throat.

Suddenly, there’s a glint of metal flying through the air, the sharp tip of a blade finding its mark, plunging right into the centre of Farrell’s palm. He shouts loudly, face pinching in pain, and tries to spin towards the source of the knife, but goes the wrong way, finding himself stuck against the wall. You use the flurry of movement to your advantage, ducking under the large man’s arm. But before you make a clean escape, the hand that had been heading for your throat grabs the back of your dress, yanking you back and throwing you to the ground. The glass shatters now, blood dripping from your hand, and all of your breath is knocked out of you as you hit the wooden floor. Faintly, you hear Lena call your name over the commotion.

A different shadow steps over you now, a dark cloak fluttering as the knife-thrower steps between you and Farrell. You slink back across the floor, trying to avoid the shattered glass as you take in your saviour. Dressed in heavy chainmail over plain clothes, a thick leather belt, two swords at his back — one straight blade and one curved. More knives like the one lodged in Farrell’s hand hang from his belt, another fastened to the lace of his boot.

You can barely see his face from your spot on the floor, treated only to the messy dark hair, the patchy beard along his strong jaw. His shoulders are broad, hips tapered slightly beneath the mail, but everything about him just screams strength, protector. A warrior, through and through.

“It would do you well, I think,” the man sneers at Farrell, his voice carrying the trace of an accent, somewhere far from here, “if you let the lady be, don’t you?”

+

He’s only supposed to be passing through.

The village was a speck in the dirt, the name barely legible on the map William had supplied him with. In plotting his course, he’d barely considered the place, planned to pass through it on his way to the larger town down the main roads. But his horse had broken a shoe, the chill in the air was making gooseflesh rise on the back of his neck, and the sky had gone dark. He didn’t have much of a choice but to stop in the village, buying a room for the night from the tavern-keeper, leaving his horse in the stable.

It was quiet when he arrived, the sun starting its descent, the main square mostly empty of people. Someone pointed him in the direction of the tavern, and an hour later, he was sat at table tucked in the corner of the room, a hot meal and a large mug of ale in front of him.

He hadn’t moved from the spot, and was still sat there when you came in, carrying that intoxicating scent with you, and instantly, everything in Pero Tovar’s body was on high alert. His eyes followed you across the room, watched you shrug the cloak from your shoulders, your hair braided down your back. You laughed with your companions, baring sharp white teeth and a wickedly curved grin. You’re beautiful — of course, you are — and he grit his teeth at the thought. He knows what you are.

Witch.

After the Wall, he knew there was nothing in the world that could shock him, not anymore. The Tao Tei had been beyond anything his mind could have imagined, so you are a paltry notion to begin with, but his brow pulls down further as he studies you from afar.

Soon after the dust had settled, before he and William had parted ways, they had came upon a village not unlike the one he has set foot in now. Similar in size, but with fewer inhabitants, most of the buildings abandoned and falling to pieces, some of them still smouldering from a recent fire. William, ever the kindhearted, tried to help, asking those who still remained what had happened, offering food from their saddlebags.

Pero found himself wandering, sword gripped tightly in his hand as he stepped through the rubble. Deeper and deeper into the village, until he could no longer hear the conversation of his travelling companions. Until he was sure he’d passed the same building five times over, and when he turned a corner, a cloth tent stood in the middle of the road, the outside painted with shapes and symbols he had no name for. Smoke billowed out the top — not on fire, but a fire inside — and he could not stop his feet, his body seeming to have a mind of its own, pulling him forward and through the open flap before he even realized what was happening.

I have been waiting for you, Pero Tovar.

The tent was much bigger on in the inside than it appeared on the outside. Darker, too, the large fire in the centre crackling away. Crystals glittered in the firelight everywhere he looked, sparkling like stars on every available surface. Bundles of herbs, jars of liquid, stacks of books. Clutter covered the space, and Pero nearly stumbled backward when he spotted her.

You needn’t be afraid, child.

Her lips didn’t move, but he heard her voice as though she were speaking to him. Old and weathered, eyes like hunks of amethyst glittered at him from the depths of a leathery face. She was covered in necklaces, her thin arms stacked with metallic bracelets, fingers heavy with large rings. A moth-eaten shawl draped her shoulders, a dress made of a patchwork of fabric peeking out. Something in her lap moved, and it took him a moment to realize there was a large white cat curled up there.

A fortune teller? Something darker? He wasn’t sure. The woman smiled, gestured to the seat in front of her, across the table covered with stones and books and cards.

I only wish to tell you what you seek.

His feet carried him to the table, sat him down in the chair that slid out as he approached. He sank onto the cushion, lost in the feeling that his body was not quite his own for the time being. The woman surveyed him, those strange purple eyes taking in every part of him. She reached for a stack of cards, shuffled them in her ring-laden hands, drew two from the pile. She looked at the cards, then at him, then back at the cards again.

Give me your hand, Pero, the strange mind-voice said, and he reached across without a second thought. The woman surged up to grip his hand in her much smaller ones, lurching out of her seat and over the table, upsetting the cat in her lap and earning a loud yowl from the creature. She hissed at the cat, baring her teeth, before turning his hand palm-up and staring down into it. Then she smiled.

You seek a woman. A witch, no less.

He couldn’t stop himself from scoffing. It had been a long while since he’d had a woman, too long a time spent in the company of other men, no time to sneak away to ease his aches by anything other than his own hand. And the women at the Wall had barely given him a second thought, most of them much too preoccupied with William to give his scarred companion a second glance. But a witch?

This one is different, Pero Tovar, the woman continued, and he felt the tip of her finger trace a line in his palm. Her soul calls to yours. She is who you seek. Find her, and find yourself.

Something in him twinged. Dreams riled themselves in the back of his mind, pulling images to the surface. Soft skin bathed in moonlight, hair that sifted like silk between his knuckles, eyes that kept him nailed in place but begged questions and gave answers. A wild woman. His woman.

He’d dreamt of her that first night on the Wall, after he and William had barely scraped by with their lives, everything they thought they knew torn asunder by the strange creatures that attacked. The dreams had come quick, as soon as he’d shut his lids, landscapes he didn’t recognize, the pleats of a dress made of dark silk, and those eyes.

Your eyes.

The same eyes pinning him in place now, staring up at him from your spot on the ground. Your gaze is wild, a fire in your irises he’s never seen before, but ignites something in his chest. He wants to run to you automatically, every muscle in his body screaming for him to move, but then the man he has pinned against the wall barks at him.

“She isn’t welcome here!”

A hand flashes toward him, but Pero is quicker, snatching a knife from his belt and jamming it into the man’s other palm, pinning it to the wall, a mirror of the injury he’s already sustained. The man howls and Pero grins. Something feral in his stomach roils in pleasure, keening and possessive; don’t touch my woman.

“Where I come from,” Pero starts, pulling another knife, getting closer to the man, pressing the tip of the blade into his fat chin, “you know what they do to men who put their hands on a woman?” He grins. “Much worse than what I’ve done to you, amigo, much, much worse.”

He flicks his wrist, leaving a tiny cut in the man’s chin, before sheathing his knife and reaching for the others.

“I want you to listen close, yes?” He curls his hands around the hilts of each dagger, wiggling them slightly. He can still feel you watching. “I’m going to pull these out, and you’re going to run. There’s lots of veins in your hands, you know, so there’s going to be a lot of blood. You’ll be fine, if you move fast. So, you’re going to get out of here, scurry home to whatever sorry woman has been unlucky enough to marry you, and leave the lady alone, you understand me?”

The man whimpers, the sound pitiful, and Pero just grins again, yanking hard on the knives. A path of dripping blood follows the man out, and Pero wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them once more. 

Then he turns to you.

“Tell me your name,” are your first words, your pretty mouth parting as he offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet. Your skirts swish as your body rights itself, your skin warm against his. A wince pulls at your lips as you flex your other hand, and he bristles at the sight of blood pooled in your palm.

“He did this?” he asks, taking your wrist carefully. You’re still watching him.

“I asked for your name.”

“Pero,” he answers instantly this time, eyes flicking up to your face from your palm and back again. “Pero Tovar.” He can feel your pulse racing against his fingertips. “Did he do this to you?”

“In a way,” you reply, glancing at the shattered glass on the floor. “Thank you, for that.”

He says nothing. The dreams rise in his mind. Since the woman told him to find you, he’s played the scenario over and over in his head a hundred different ways. What he would say, what he would do. He should have known it wouldn’t happen any way he imagined.

All eyes in the tavern have turned on the pair of you, the blood on the floor and the stranger in their midst, but no one makes a move to remove Pero from the tavern. A few eyes flicker your way with disdain, but no one says a word. There’s fear in some faces, but he’s more preoccupied with your eyes on his own.

“Sit with us,” you say, your voice soft, melodic to his ears. “Let me buy you a drink for your chivalry.”

Pero opens his mouth to say no, but his body follows you back to the table you’d been sat at before hell had broken loose. “Your hand,” he says as you pull a chair back for him to sit. With a grin, you close your fingers with a flourish, and when you open them again, the blood is gone, the cut sealed, your skin unmarked.

Witch.

The woman you’re with jumps up and hugs you close as soon as you’re within reach, and Pero sinks down into the chair beside you. A man he assumes to be her husband eyes him, but ultimately reaches over and offers his hand. “Tomas,” he says, grunting slightly when Pero grips his hand tight. “That was quite the spectacle.”

“I don’t like men who make games of harming women,” he replies simply. “Witch or not, there’s no reason for cruelty when it’s unwarranted.”

Tomas raises a brow at him. “How do you know it’s unwarranted? You know her?”

You’ve disappeared from his line of sight, and he turns his head to see you standing at the bar with Tomas’s wife, your bottom lip pinched between your thumb and finger, watching him. A chill shoots down his spine when your eyes lock.

“In a way,” Pero replies, mirroring your earlier words.

The night passes quickly, the sky outside darkening further and further until it feels as though a blanket has been draped over the world. There are no stars tonight, the moon hanging behind clouds, offering little light. The tavern empties slowly, a barmaid coming to clean up the blood at some point. Pero watches you shoot up from your chair, helping the girl, watches her eyes go wide and she scurries off, leaving the bucket and cloth. You clean every drop of blood from the wood, and he wonders idly if your magic could do it faster, like you’d healed your hand.

When the hour grows even later, Tomas and his wife — who Pero learns is named Lena — take their leave. Tomas claps Pero on the shoulder as they go, Lena kissing your cheeks before they depart. “Your friends are kind,” he tells you, a nearly awkward silence settling over the two of you, leaving him desperate to break it. “They do not fear you like some of the others in this village.”

“Well,” you say, your voice growing soft. You lean forward on the table, planting your elbows, and his throat grows dry at the way your cleavage shifts with the movement. “They have nothing to fear.”

“Do I?” he asks, his tone nearing suggestive. It’s easy, talking to you, flirtations starting to roll off his tongue. But gods, it’s been a long time since he spoke to a woman like this.

“How did you know what I was?” you ask, one hand reaching down until your fingers brush the back of his, sparks shooting beneath his skin at the feel of your touch.

I’ve been dreaming of you. He almost says it. A woman in a tent told me my future, told me I had to find you. He almost says that as well. But what comes out is: “I heard what he said to you. He called you witch, called you bitch.” He shrugs a shoulder. “I intervened.”

The corner of your mouth quirks in a grin. “And I thank you for it, truly.” Slowly, your finger drags over the back of his hand, tracing the ridges of is knuckles, the ink tattooed into the web between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll have to think of some way to repay you for your chivalry.”

He looks down his nose at you, sinking his teeth into the inside of his cheek at your sultry tone. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

+

He continues his chivalry. The tavern-keep starts to shuffle those who remain inside out onto the street, and Pero fetches your cloak for you, standing all too close as he drapes it around your shoulders. “I would not want you to be cold, amor,” he says, his voice low in your ear, fingers brushing the back of your neck.  

It’s not lost on you, the ember that’s igniting, turning to flame on the kindling of conversation and stolen touches. Something has burrowed itself deep in your chest, spanning through your rib cage and taking root around your heart. It’s foreign, this feeling, but the ache that blooms between your legs at the mere sight of the warrior, your saviour — protector, your hindbrain screams — is all too familiar.

The skies have cleared, and moonlight pours over the both of you as you step onto the cobblestones, and you tip your face towards it, basking in the glow the crescent moon offers. You can feel him watching, those dark eyes on your face, examining your features intensely. He’s standing so close your sides are pressed together, your shoulder at his bicep.

“You’re staring, Pero Tovar,” you comment, keeping your eyes shut, a smile winding across your face.

“I have a habit of staring at beautiful things,” he replies, and you feel his fingers brush against yours.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, blinking up at him. The expression on his face is not lost to you either, the mix of lust and want, the same emotions swirling through your gut with every second you spend in his presence. “A friend in the village?”

He juts his chin towards the tavern behind you. “A room upstairs.”

“Ah.”

You feel his hand twitch against yours now, and his pinky curls around yours, his skin rougher and hotter than your own. “I will not sleep a moment,” he tells you, body turning towards yours completely now, your hands linked and his other coming up to knock a knuckle beneath your chin, lifting your face to his, “until I know you are home safe, amor.”

Your breath is catching, rioting in your chest like a caged bird, and the words fall out of you. “Come home with me.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you wait for the hitch, for him to be pushed away by your forwardness. You curse yourself internally, the voice in your head grating. You couldn’t deny your own attraction, and he hadn’t been shy about his own, but had you crossed a line? Was the heat you felt building still nothing but a farce, a trick of the light, a cruel machination of your own lonely mind?

But then you feel the bad of his thumb across the lower curve of your lip, riding the line until it rests right in the centre, pulling ever so slightly on your skin. You inhale again, your heart climbing up into your throat. “Yes,” he says simply, as if you’d asked the easiest question in the world.

The walk to your cottage from the village has never felt longer. Pero does not let you stray far, your fingers still linked, falling into step with one another. The moon lights the path, and that strange something in your chest only grows heavier, hungrier. As does the ache.

You have a feeling you can cure both with the same antidote.

Soot greets you at the door when you both step through, chirping with interest and coming to inspect your guest. You shrug out of your cloak, stepping through the rooms to light candles. When you turn back, you see Pero crouched on the ground, arms resting on his knees, scratching the cat under the chin with one hand. There’s an almost boyish grin on his face, and you just watch him for a moment, leaning against the wall.

“He’ll never leave you alone if you keep that up,” you say, jutting your chin to the little ball of fur when Pero looks up at you. “He’s a menace for attention.”

Soot meows loudly, as if disagreeing, and you both chuckle. But, surprising to you, as Pero stands, he disappears into the shadows, off to chase a mouse or lounge in a dark corner. You step towards Pero as he lifts the belt holding his swords over his head, hanging them carefully on the hook by your door. His hands lift to unhook his cloak, but you beat him to it, your hands faster than his, knocking his palms away when he tries. He just watches you, dark eyes simmering down at you, as you pull the cloak from his shoulders, folding it and setting it down.

It leaves him in his chainmail and boots, the metal hanging heavily over his frame. You cock your head to the side, searching for some sort of clasp or fastening, but your patience wears thin, and you snap a finger, feeling a surge of magic through your arm. In a flash, the mail is gone, piled atop his cloak, and Pero just continues to stare, a rakish smile pulling on his lips.

You leave him to his boots, unlacing your own and setting them by the door. You ensure the door is properly locked, and when you turn away, you feel hands on your hips a moment later, the growing beast in your chest keening into the touch. The grip isn’t tight, but it promises to be, something possessive in his hands. “Show me to your bedroom,” he murmurs, his mouth by your ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your lobe. It sends a chill down your spine, “or else I will ravish you right here on this floor.”

You wrap one hand around his wrist, stepping far enough out of his grip that you can tug him behind you, leading him through your small home and towards the bedroom. You wave a hand as you enter, the hearth erupting with flame and the door swinging shut. You hear his sharp inhale, releasing your hold on him, and you turn to face him, stepping backward until he follows a step, then another.

“Do I scare you?”

Slowly, he shakes his head.

Your cheeks heat, the gravity of the situation you’ve found yourself in making your mind spin. You turn again, facing away from him, but feeling his gradual approach until his heat covers you one more. With careful fingers, he brushes the braid from the back of your neck until it hangs over your shoulder.

“Tell me where you’ve been hiding, amor,” he whispers, lips nearly touching your skin, your pulse leaping in response. His hand trails up your side, palm flattening against your ribs. “Tell me why I’ve waited so long to find you.”

You can’t hold back any longer. The feeling — the something — is too much.

Spinning on your heel, you startle him, his pretty mouth dropping open as you surge up to meet it. It’s nothing short of euphoric, like every kiss you’ve ever received has lead up to this one. The hand at your ribs stays there, fingers pressing through the fabric of your dress, while the other roves around your body, snaking up your spine until it rests at the back of your neck, spanning so wide you can feel his fingertips press either side of your throat.

He tastes like everything you’ve ever dreamed of, a taste that was only meant for your tongue. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth, a whine tumbling from your lips when he sinks his teeth into your lower one. It’s nearly enough to draw blood, and it only feeds the feeling in your chest, what you can only describe as a beast keening at the attention, rallying for more, making your heart riot harder.

You could snap your fingers and have you both naked as the day you were born, but something stops you. The hurried movement of hands, both his and yours, pulling at ties and pushing at fabric, his fingers hooked into the strings of your corset, yours in the laces of his pants. The way he murmurs slowly in that foreign tongue of his, words you don’t understand but hang off of all the same.

“He viajado por todo el mundo por ti, mi amor. Y con mucho gusto lo volvería a hacer.”

You can’t stop to ask, your mouth too busy gasping for air when he manages you out of your skirts and corset, your shirt nearly shredded by his hand. His lips leave yours only to travel down your chest, tonguing at your collarbone and laving at your nipple. It makes your body react in a way you’ve never known, one hand plunging into his hair, keeping his head at your breast, while your hips push towards him, chasing a feeling that hasn’t been granted yet.

“You are needy, amor,” he murmurs into your skin, licking at your sensitive skin and pressing a soft kiss to the curve. “Tell me, how long has it been since someone touched your body like this, hmm?”

You’re completely bare now, your shirt a puddle of fabric at your feet, the combined heat of Pero Tovar and the fire making sparks shoot across your vision. You’ve managed to divest him of his shirt, his chest a broad expanse of bronze, scarred skin. He looks up at you from his bent position at your chest, the brown of his eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupil. He stares you down, lips closing around your nipple, and you yelp when he gives you the slightest bit of teeth, both hands holding your hips, thumbs rubbing at your bones.

“Tell me.”

“Too long,” you breathe out, head tilting back on your shoulders as he sucks at you, one hand dipping down to squeeze the meat of your ass. “Far too long.”

He descends lower, kissing along your skin like he’s drawing a map of you, outlining every inch. You take another step back and your thighs hit the bed. He uses his grip on you as leverage, tilting you backward until you’re splayed on the blankets. As soon as your shoulders lay flat, your knees are pushed apart by his big hands, and you blink up to see him situated between your legs, his mouth now pressed to the hinge of your knee.

“Then I must fix that,” he murmurs into your skin, palm skimming the outside of your thigh. “Would you let me taste you, amor?”

You barely have a chance to breathe out a yes before he’s dipping his head between your legs, open-mouth kisses pressed along every inch of you. The heat is nearly too much, the beast in your chest screaming for more, and when his tongue finally touches that most intimate part of you, it finally goes silent, sated for the time being.

Instead, all you feel is pleasure.

He’s a skilled man, to be sure. Unsurprisingly good with his hands, and even more talented with his tongue. He draws shapes along the insides of your thighs, sucks on that little bundle of nerves until your back is arching up off the bed, plunges two fingers into your cunt at precisely the right moment. You thrash in the blankets, at the mercy of the man before you, already feeling that sometimes unreachable peak skidding towards you. You’re almost hesitant, not wanting your body to catapult over the edge so quickly, if that means this will all be over sooner.

But then you chance a look down at the bulk of Pero between your legs, broad shoulders keeping your thighs wide. His hair is a mess, the work of your own fingers, and you watch the trail of his free hand over the length of your leg, squeezing in a different place with each pass. He lifts his head slightly, mouth detaching from you, and you catch sight of his fingers disappearing into the very depths of your body, his skin glistening with your slick, and the image makes you gasp. 

His head lifts then, dark eyes locked with yours, and he grins. “You like to watch?”

Mouth dropped open, you just nod.

He thrusts his fingers hard, curling his knuckles, and the pads of his fingers brush against something absolutely devastating inside you, white-hot shocks of pleasure shooting through your limbs. At the same time, he lowers his head, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he does it, going so slow you’re sure you might die with anticipation, until his mouth touches you once more.

The edge is right there, and you have no choice but to tumble over.

It’s the most intense feeling, every muscle going taut and then loose and then taut and then loose. You’re half-sure your eyes roll back, your vision spotted with black dots, and it doesn’t seem to stop. Your vision returns after a moment, body still quaking with pleasure, and Pero grins, pulling his mouth from you, but keeping his fingers in place.

“Tell me what you want, amor,” he breathes, leaning up and over you, his knees keeping your legs wide, offering you a kiss that tastes of your own pleasure. “Tell me what you need.”

His fingers prod that spot again, and your hips lift into his hand.

“More.”

Your orgasm hasn’t stopped, you’re quite sure, spurred on by his fingers still thrusting, your body still twitching. You can barely catch your breath, but then you glance down again, and see he’s as naked as you are, pulling his fingers from you only to coat his cock with your slick, leaning his hips forward to drag the tip through your wet folds. He’s big, thick and achingly hard, the head weeping. When he bumps your clit, you moan. “You want more?” he asks, nearly taunting, and you lift your hips again, trying to notch him inside you.

“Please.”

He gives you exactly what you ask for. As soon as his hot cock slides into you, it’s like the air has been punched from your lungs. You scrabble for him, hauling him down onto you until his chest is pressed to yours. You know you’re leaving scratch marks on his back, but you can’t bring yourself to care, stealing breaths from the man above you as his mouth searches for yours.

His hips snap into you with a ferocity you have no name for, a fervour you’ve never experienced before. You can’t catch your breath, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

None of it, except for him.

As the realization settles over you, the beast in your chest purrs with delight. You hold Pero closer, hips lifting to match his thrusts, doubling the feeling for you both. The sounds he makes are absolutely sinful, but it’s the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard, spurring your body back towards the edge. Your blood is singing in your veins, your mind a mess of pleasure and emotions you cannot describe.

You topple a second time, tossing your head back and baring your throat. He takes the bait, closing his mouth around your pulse, and you fist your hand in the back of his hair, keeping him as close as possible. Your body feels as though it might implode, an impossible amount of pleasure surging through your veins.

His cock twitches hard, and with a groan more akin to a growl, Pero rips himself from you, fisting his cock and cumming in thick ropes across your stomach. You watch his face as he cums, the hard pinch in his brow, the way the scar on his eye ripples with the movement. His lips part, heavy breaths falling from him, and you reach up with one hand, covering his hand with your own as he continues to stroke himself. The other reaches down, and you wait for his eyes to open before you drag two fingers through the mess he’s left on your skin, bringing them to your lips and sucking off the taste of him.

“Mierda.”

Pero collapses beside you a moment later, broad chest heaving with exertion, turning towards you to press a heavy kiss to your mouth. You return it with enthusiasm, testing the bend in your legs a moment later, planting your feet carefully before trusting your shaky knees with your weight. You find a rag to clean yourself with, disappearing down the hall and returning with two cups of water. Pero grumbles his thanks, his voice low and raspy, and steals another kiss when you settle back into the bed with him. It strikes you for a moment how at ease he looks, as though the empty side of your bed is where he’s been his whole life, how perfectly he fits.

He looks up at you, same as he had when he was between your legs, and you reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand. Your thumb rides the ridge of his scar. “What did you say to me earlier?”

You get a roguish grin in return. “I just said a great many things to you, amor. You will have to be more specific.”

“The things you said when you undressed me,” you say, your voice growing soft, still stroking the raised skin of his scar. “I don’t know the language.”

“Ah,” he murmurs, understanding. You shuffle closer to him, and his head leans into your palm, his hand reaching out to trace shapes on your thigh. “He viajado por todo el mundo por ti, mi amor. Y con mucho gusto lo volvería a hacer.”

“Yes,” you nod eagerly. “What does it mean?”

He peers up at you again. “I have travelled a world over for you, amor,” he answers, and the beast in your chest sings happily, “And I would gladly do it again.”

You sink lower until you’re laid out beside him, pulling the blankets over you both, seeking his warmth beneath them. “And amor,” you repeat, trying to mimic his accent best you can, “what does that mean?”

“Love,” he says simply, like it’s obvious. “Mi amor. My love.”

—————

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#pero tovar #kay’s autumn adventures #the warrior and the witch #my fics #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x you #pero tovar smut #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar fic

[spiritofwhitefire]

Well since my last post sort of blew up I actually also have some issues with the way that Sarah j maas calls herself a “feminist Tolkien”. Now she might not mean it this way but it sort of seems like this implies she thinks she’s better than Tolkien which I think even the most die hard fans came admit is not true at all. But beyond that, her books actually don’t even treat women better than tolkiens nor are they “more feminist”.

Now look, there are like, only three named speaking women in LOTR. And none of them speak to each other or any other women. In that way, sjm does better. She has multiple named women who easily pass the bechdel test. However! The way these women are sexualized, if you told me this book was written by a man I would have believed you in a second. Everything they do is sexual, and not in a fun way, in a weird, awkward way that takes away from the plot. There is a beauty standard that they all must fit into and if they don’t, they are ugly and mocked. If they do fit the standard, they are often still mocked. A few of them are friends but these friendships pale in comparison to their fuck buddy boyfriends. And I’d have to make a whole other post to talk about these male characters, Tolkien would be so disappointed.

Because Tolkien treats his male characters as full 3 dimensional people outside of being hot heroes. But he actually treats his female characters very well too! Not a single one of them is sexualized. Their beauty is talked about but it’s appreciated alongside other qualities. They are respected by the male characters and have important arcs of their own. Arwen is a powerful and important figure whose femininity comes as part of her power. Eowin goes to war and kills the witch king. Galadriel is basically a fucking god and at not one point are they treated like pieces of meat by the men around them. Tolkien probably wasn’t feminist (idk but I doubt it), but he treated his female character very well, and certainly better than sjm treats hers

#anti sjm #lord of the rings #jrr tolkien