#moral of the story: do you actually like him or is he just tall? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldenhypen · 8 months

Text

✴︎ ⎯ interrupting them with a kiss

pairing | enhypen x reader

genre | fluff

wc | 1.2k

warnings | kissing lol + some playful teasing/bickering,, lmk if there’s anything else!

a/n | first work since the hiatus omg hope y’all enjoy i haven’t done one of these in a whileee

HEESEUNG ♡

this boy is literally in the middle of answering a question YOU just asked but you can’t help but notice how ADORABLE he looks right now

wearing his oversized hoodie that engulfs his entire tall form somehow manages to make him look so tiny before you

and so you can’t just sit there and act like you’re okay

you can’t hold it in you anymore

so you kiss him

“oh…” he says, blinking at you, pleasantly surprised as you pull away. “do that again, please,” he smirks with more of a demanding voice this time

LEE HEESEUNG????

you’re left there at a loss for words at this reaction you didn’t expect to elicit from him

and so noticing you’re not doing anything, he decides to take things into his own hands

literally thanos’ “fine. i’ll do it myself” but make it intimate, sexy and lee heeseung

and you catch yourself melting under the hot touch of your boyfriend as his lips immediately find yours

JAY ♡

after kissing him all of a sudden, he lowk flinches and looks at you wide-eyed before acting like you didn’t just make his heart suddenly rush at 150 miles per hour whilst simultaneously doing hundreds of flips in his chest

he looks at you with a questioning type of look before laughing, attempting to mask his now flustered state before letting out a confused, “what the…”

“sorry, you were talking, then i realized how pretty your lips were looking as you were talking, and then you talked some more, and i—couldn’t hold back :)”

he scoffs playfully while letting his eyes shut half closed, still looking at you with an unamused (actually, very amused) stare, “so are you gonna let me finish what i was saying—”

“or should we make out for a few minutes? :D”

“y/n!”

no but after exposing him to the idea, soon the only thing leaving his lips were yours every time you had to catch your breath— (oop)

JAKE ♡

honestly,,, he’s barely taken aback??? 😭😭

like jake srsly? 😭 way to ruin the fun 🙄

nO BUT YK WHAT HAPPENS NEXT THO???

okay so you were the one messing with him, right? buT SOMEHOW BEFORE YOU KNOW IT HE’S THE ONE HAVING FUN MAKING YOU FLUSTERED DJDNDJDJ

literally turning this entire thing around like it’s some game

and so now he’s the one having you forming into a useless ball of mush as he suddenly takes hold of your face, kissing you back passionately like he thinks you can handle it or something 😭

lucky for you he’s holding you so even if every muscle in your body shuts down, having you weak under his touch, LIKE IT DOESNT FEEL LIKE IT BUT you are safe and secure with him <3

moral of the story: almost always whenever your lips meet his and you pull away, his brain just automatically takes it that he needs your lips back on his again asap and he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants

this boy puts a whole lot of value on the kisses he gets to share with you. sorry i don’t make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️

SUNGHOON ♡

sunghoon is just smiling as he reminisces out loud some memories you two shared from a while back

and if you’re being honest, the moments he brought back to life through his words started to make you fall in love with him all over again

you smile ear to ear just as he is and suddenly you catch yourself staring at his lips,, maybe it was the pretty smile you were just always so attracted to…

*peck*

“hey! what was that for?!” your boyfriend exclaims, very obviously flustered by your sudden move on his lips and djdjsjsj you catch a glimpse of his cheeks growing red before he turns away to hide his cute face with his hands

is that not just the most adorablejejsjdjd

he takes a few deep breaths in to compose himself before turning back around, ready to scold you (ZJDJDJ yes hoon you go !! dhdjdj)

“y/n, you can’t just do that!”—yup, great one, hoon, keep going—“i—was talking! and that was rude to interrupt me while i was talking…yeah! and actually, i should be the one making you flustered! not the other way around!”

smoothhh

“oh, so i made you flustered then?”

“hey!—you—no! i’m just saying…”

you let out a small chuckle, “cute.”

“what did you just say?”

“i said you’re cu—“ *peck*

“park sunghoon!” you laugh, in shock

“now look who’s getting shy.”

I— ???

SUNOO ♡

when you suddenly kiss him in the middle of his long run down of the latest gossip between his peers, a gasp leaves his lips as a smile automatically graces his face

“hey!” he hides his face in his hands and chuckles unbelievably, whining playfully, “don’t do that!”

“what? you don’t like it?” you tease

“if you do that again, i’m gonna refuse to even bother talking to you. you hear me? got it?”

oh the sassy little sunoo threats

“mhm, it’s just ‘cause you wanna kiss me so bad too, huh?”

“oh my, y/n,” the boy literally face palms, sighing, “yeah, let’s continue this conversation another time.”

he’s so done (nah he actually loves playfully bickering with you) he literally begins walking off, so you shout, “so is that a yes to more kisses, or???”

“no!!!”

“are you sure??”

“ugh, fine!”

he loves you 🙄😔

JUNGWON ♡

HED GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST CUTEST PUPPY KITTY(??) EYES

like full on adoration

he doesn’t care that you just stopped and interrupted everything he was saying

he thinks it was just so cute that you kissed him like that

a smile grows on his face as he asks what that was for

and you tell him how he just looked cute and you apologize you couldn’t help yourself

and that was when he had it

and he immediately leaned in and kissed you right back

YANG JUNGWON CALM DOWN A BIT PLS ITS TOO MUCH FOR OUR WEAK YN HEARTS-

NI-KI ♡

GETS SO FLUSTERED RIGHT ON THE SPOT

right as you pull back and watch for his reaction he’s letting out a chuckle and pressing his lips together, turning his entire body to face away from your view

he’s in his own world for a moment, processing what just happened before getting flustered again and trying to calm down and compose himself

and so you try to get his attention again. you poke him a few times, “riki? riki? riki?!”

he turns around, TRYING TO ACT ALL COOL AS THOUGH HE WASNT JUST STRUCK WITH THE BIGGEST SWARM OF BUTTERFLIES IN HIS STOMACH

like riki your face is all red, you can’t hide nothin 🙄

“hm?” he asks in the most composed voice and with the calmest face he could pull off (p.s. he was not very good at acting “calm” at all whatsoever and you just couldn’t let this boy have his moment)

“you’re so red right now,” you point out and cackle

“do you wanna kiss again?”

SJSNDJ I— ???? NISHIMURA RIKI!?&@:’!

a/n | lol don’t mind if the tenses were all over the place in this one T-T i tried writing in present tense for once,, let’s hope it stayed that way throughout the whole thing djdjd ,, i hope you liked reading this one! first goldenhypen work in how many months?? hope you lovelies enjoyed !! likes and reblogs are very appreciated mwah <3

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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months

Text

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.

A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)

Part 2

You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.

The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory.

You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus.

And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…?

This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you.

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.

And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.

While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.

And they're more than enough.

Or at least they should be…

You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way.

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.

“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”

“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.

Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.

“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”

“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…”

You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”

“...Why not?”

You look at König; he looks straight back.

The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips.

“I can help,” he grins.

Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home.

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.

You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts.

You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night.

…

You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.

You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.

They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.

You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.

You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

It’s not a date, you remind yourself.

It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.

And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…

Can a man of his size even keep quiet?

He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8.

You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.

“Kätzchen...”

“König…?”

You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on.

“Here, kitty, kitty…”

You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".

But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…

Could a grown man get any more silly?

You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it.

SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.

“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.

“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”

You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens.

“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”

“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”

“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?”

You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.

“You’re crazy, did you know that...?”

“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.”

“...What’s that?”

His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.

“You’re cute.”

…

The whole evening is heavenly.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.

He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one.

He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.

König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through.

You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.

“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?”

He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.

“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...

“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh.

“Why not?”

His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.

You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.

“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”

“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...

“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”

Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.

And he does want to.

You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.

It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.

You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…

“This is–”

“Inappropriate?”

His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.

The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back.

It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.

He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.

God… This is better than God…

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.

You can still turn back if you turn back now…

You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”

He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it.

You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”

You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.

“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.

“It was a good dream while it lasted...”

…

The rose withers in your cell.

You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him.

There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him.

In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.

God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.

“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world.

“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.

You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.

The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.

“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?”

“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap.

Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being.

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you.

The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.

“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”

…

Work, time and prayer do ease the pain.

They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.

You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one.

You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.

Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.

And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…

“Kätzchen.”

A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.

You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.

“Dear God… What happened to you?”

You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground.

He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?

“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.

“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”

“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”

His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance.

König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe.

And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need.

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place.

It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one.

When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.

“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”

The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.

“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.”

You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.

You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.

“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.

“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”

The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.

You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt.

You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.

You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.

The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.

“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants.

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...

And it does make you very happy.

You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size.

To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood.

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”

He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.

“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured…

...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.

“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.

“Someone, who?”

“Someone to hold hands with.”

He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”

You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.

“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”

Ouch.

“I… I don’t know.”

His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.

There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose….

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart.

“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.

“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”

You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.

God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.

He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.

There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.

You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.

“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.

You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.

“Are you crying?”

His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.

He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead.

“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.”

You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.

“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.

“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.

In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…

The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.

“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x fem reader

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brianwashere · 9 months

Note

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the spiderverse characters (Miguel, Hobbie, Noir) meeting and reacting to male spider reader who abnormal tall (like 7 foot kinda abnormal) and morally grey for instance will kill if it means that it could be beneficial rather than having the villain go to jail???

(Also who would end up falling for reader?)

FIRST ATSV REQ LETS GO

I made Miguel so submissive and breedable real lmfaooo. Also ignore how many HCs are in Noir’s, I’ve actually never written for him before lol. Oh and since it’s not extremely clear, Hobie’s is platonic

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from marvel or sony**

Summary: go to req

Tw: cussing, death, discussion of murder, stuff like that

~Miguel~

Color Miguel intimidated bcc oh my god

You’re taller than him. With his same morals. He’s fucking reeling

When you stand next to him he’ll cross his arms and puff out his chest

You’ll notice and be like “What’re you doing…?” And he’ll act all ignorant like “hm? What? No I’m not doing anything…”

Once he gets over your sheer largeness he’ll become more comfortable and relaxed around you

He falls HARD and QUICK

Even doing missions with you becomes difficult for him, the first time he got choked up or distracted he immediately stopped doing any missions with you

It was like whiplash for you because you were doing all these high risk missions with Miguel regularly then he suddenly drops you with no explanation

You corner him one day and demand to know why he’s acting so weird

You literally corner him…

Standing over him and all angry

He’s feeling 5 different conflicting emotions all at once

He tried to web away from you and without thinking about it you grab him by his neck and shove him back against the wall

He whimpered. WHIMPERED.

You immediately know what’s up and laugh at him some then tell him you feel the same

And that’s how Miguel O’Hara got a shredded gigantic boyfriend

~Noir~

When he first glanced at you he couldn’t help but stare a bit.

I mean. DAMN. What’re they feeding you?

He couldn’t help but say something

“They make them big in your universe?”

The joke surprised you bcc a Spider-Man dressed in all black and a sick hat and coat just teased you.

You laugh some and respond.

“And they make ‘em cute in yours?”

He chokes some.

You smirk at him and introduce yourself

He collects himself quickly and introduces himself too

When you find out he’s from an older timeline

You can’t help but flirt a bit more

“Oh so I should take you to dinner first?” You say with a grin.

You came on so heavy he stayed silent for a bit, just blinking at you

He avoids you for a bit, not because he doesn’t like you or is weirded out. He’s just trying to learn how to respond to your flirting in a way that isn’t staring owlishly

You two are on a mission together and long story short the villain didn’t need to go back to his universe to restore the timeline and was beyond the standard villain evil

while he was fleeing from you two he flung a child into the air and let them drop, expecting them to distract the both of you

“Noir!” You yelled

“On it.” He immediately responded and caught the kid, taking them to safety and comforting them

When you caught the villain you couldn’t hold yourself back.

Needless to say Noir came back to find you covered in blood and dangerously quiet.

It was a sight to see and not one he’ll forget.

“If you’re gunna give me the whole ‘killing makes you as bad as them’ lecture you can save it. I don’t regret it now and I wont regret it ever.” You said firmly, still not meeting his gaze

He just walked over to you and rested a hand on your shoulder. “Good. You shouldn’t.” Was all he said. The return to the spider society was silent

There was a silent agreement between the two of you not to discuss that mission with anyone else. That it was something too personal, somehow.

A few weeks later he asks you out

“Do you want to go out for egg creams sometime?” He asked

“What the hell is an egg cream.”

It’s like the olive theory but with egg creams

He loves your size and secretly loves it when you rest your arm on his head/shoulder.

~Hobie~

He laughs when he sees you

“You been drinking your milk, mate?” He chuckled

You rolled your eyes at him.

You talk with him when you next see hi ma few days later

He just sort of appears around you and you don’t question it once so ever

Someone asks why you two are always seen together in a rude tone and Hobie just throws an arm around your shoulder and says “see this lad right here, he’s my best friend. We actually sleep in the same bed—“

You scoff at him and push his arm off

You know he’s being sarcastic and just trying to get the person to fuck off but calling you his best friend made something in your heart flutter

Protectiveness? Loyalty? Endearment? Who the hell knew.

All you know is from then on you started seeking him out more

You sort of became a older brother figure to him

You started checking in on him semi regularly

But one time he stopped responding and you hadn’t seen him for over a week

Obviously, you got worried

You decided to go visit his universe to see if something happened

When you got there your eyes were immediately violently assaulted with flashing images and constantly changing scenery

It threw you off mid-swing and you crashed to the ground

You had to shut your eyes so you wouldn’t get nauseous

Then you felt a hand on your shoulder and squint up to see Hobie who looked confused and concerned

He helps you back to his place and basically tosses you down on his beat up couch then asks why you’re there

You just grumble something about him not responding and not seeing anyone for over a week

He flops down next to you and lays his legs on your lap

“Aw you big bloke, you were worried ‘bout me.” He says smirking

You shove his legs off and stand up

“Don’t get used to it” you say with a grin

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 2 months

Text

Happy Ending | EXTRA 02 | Because I love you

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 3,494

Warnings | +18, presence of a lot of blood, a dead body, Jungkook is absolutely crazy here, dark atmosphere, MC is deeply shocked, many tears, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, anger, angst, smut dubcon, raw sex in the shower, vaginal penetration, yandere themes, touches and kisses, this is a yandere story, be careful.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You have finally discovered Jungkook's dark secret, are you ready to accept the man you have come to love?

➢ Author's Note | Happy birthday to me!!! 🥰🥰🥰 To celebrate I decided to post the second extra of Happy Ending, let me know if you like it! 💕

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts, @aiiselle90210, @fewercascade , @mageprincess7, @m00njinnie, @get-that-brain-working, @whipwhoops

➢ EXTRA 01

➢ Main Story

➢ Spin - Off | Dark Moon || PJM

She really didn't want to ignore what Jungkook told her.

But she was alone in that new house, it was so dark, and the storm outside was terrifying her as it had not in a long time.

Something strange vibrated in the air that evening, something that moved under her skin like a snake and caused long chills of frost.

She clutched tightly with her other hand the gold ring that proved their marriage had taken place, it had been strange to see all those unfamiliar faces taking part in the ceremony, it had seemed to her more like a business meeting than actual nuptials, but the most important thing was being together, Jungkook had clutched at her all the time to make her understand.

Now she needed him, who was in the basement working on something, he had not told her exactly what he was working on, he had simply made her promise that she would not go down there for any reason in the world, with or without him.

Deglutinating slightly in front of the door in question, it was tall and dark, imposing and terribly menacing, she was about to turn back to their bedroom when a thunderclap far louder than the previous ones made her jump on the spot with a squeak, she grabbed the handle pulling it toward her and cast a glance at the dimly lit stairs that were supposed to lead downward.

With a sigh she took her first steps, barefoot and with only a thin nightgown to protect her from the drafts of that place, the further she went the more she could hear strange noises expanding throughout the flight of stairs, she squinted wondering what the hell her husband was up to.

"Jungkook?" she whispered with her arms wrapped around her own body in a vain attempt to protect herself from anything that might harm her.

Another painful noise to her strained ears left her speechless, maybe... maybe Jungkook had hurt himself?

She hastened her steps with anxiety painfully gripping her chest, flung open the small door that separated her from the smaller room, and what she saw left her breathless.

There was blood, so much blood, everywhere.

On the work table were scattered numerous weapons, all of them ominous-looking, but even more grotesque was the lifeless form of a man slumped badly in a chair, his feet were bound by a chain and his arms behind his back had received the same treatment, his dark hair and skin were premeared with red, viscous liquid, his swollen, ashen face confirmed what the girl was thinking. He was dead.

A high-pitched, shrill scream left her throat, she brought her trailing hands to her pale lips and began to take small steps backward, her breath coming less and less.

Who was he? No. Why was he there? What the hell had happened in there?!

She turned like lightning to run away from that horrific sight, but blocking her escape she found her husband himself, staring at her with a stern, icy, frightening expression. His imposing shoulders covered the door, preventing her from running away like a terrified mouse.

Y/N sobbed harshly at the sight of his bloodstained clothes; she could not believe it, he... he...

"You promised you'd never come down here," he said reproachfully, furrowing his brow and wondering why she had preferred to leave the warmth of their bed to go down into that hellhole.

Y/N shook her head, "N-No... I-I just wanted to... Please, let me out" she cried with less and less breath, trying to get as far away from him as possible, but in doing so she collided with the table. She was stuck.

Jungkook approached her slowly, holding a threadbare dishcloth in his hands, "Aish...look at your lovely little feet," he huffed, Y/N cast a glance at her bare feet, they were completely soiled, "You shouldn't have seen any of this," he continued with a twinge of displeasure in his gaze.

When he reached her Y/N found herself stiffening, afraid of a possible violent reaction, but nothing of what she feared happened.

Jungkook hugged her to himself, cradling her against his strong chest as if before his eyes he did not have a girl in the throes of a nervous cry, but only a puppy to comfort.

"You didn't have to find out like this, although I'm actually relieved...it's a part of me that I couldn't keep secret forever, I was tired of lying to you in fact," he murmured into her hair, leaving a tender kiss that didn't match the surroundings and situation.

"What does it all mean, Jungkook? What is going on? What are you doing?" she sobbed shakily, terribly shattered by the aberrant sight of the man behind her lifeless.

Jungkook tenderly caressed her cheeks, his expression softened by a note of adoration. Y/N was beautiful even with fear written all over her face.

"That's what I am, my love," he admitted, "I didn't want to scare you, so I never told you anything, I knew it would be hard for you to understand."

A light bulb went off in the young woman's brain, Seokjin and the evenings he made Jungkook spend away from home.

"You kill people," she huffed, lacking strength.

"I don't kill people, I deal with those who deserve punishment," he emphasized harshly, "They are bad men, Y/N...I just clean up."

Y/N cast another glance at the body, but had to look away immediately to prevent herself from vomiting her dinner, she staggered into her husband's arms, close to fainting.

The nauseating smell in the tiny room was making her feel sick.

"Was he a bad person, too?" she whimpered, praying for an affirmative answer, something to help her accept such a truth.

Her heart was torn.

Her husband was a murderer, but the love she felt for him was so strong and suffocating that, even with such knowledge weighing on her small shoulders, she was unable to turn away from him.

Jungkook's dark irises sparkled brightly, understanding the meaning behind his wife's words.

"He was, he hurt a lot of girls before I managed to catch him, I'm sorry I brought him here," he said truly regretful, "Our house should not be infected by certain beings, but tonight I had to make a break from the rule of not bringing work home."

He spoke of killing as to a job, Y/N did not know how long it had been going on or who he was working with, she just wanted to go back and forget whatever she had seen or heard that night.

"I...I don't know who you are," she murmured with tears in her eyes, "I don't know who you are and I'm afraid," she cried harder hitting him in the chest, she didn't even know what she was saying.

She felt split in two, she was scared but also very, very angry.

Why had he not told her such a thing earlier? Why had he forced her to discover his secret in such a revolting way?!

Jungkook let her do it without moving a single muscle; he knew too that it was difficult for her to accept it, but he was also sure that she would.

She was his woman, she would never let him down.

"I'm still the same, Y/N," he whispered in her ear, leaving a small kiss on her temple.

"Jungkook, I have to-" I have to get out of here.

"I'll clean up everything of course! Honey, I'm sorry...I know you hate to see dirt everywhere," he made crucified and sorry, Y/N could not believe her ears, according to him that was what was making her sick to her stomach?, "Come here," he hummed as he brought his face closer to the girl's face, took her gently by the cheeks and pressed his lips to the girl's, heedless of the blood on his fingers that soiled the soft skin, Y/N groaned in disgust.

"Jungkook, what the hell!"

"Y/N" the boy's dark, predatory eyes caged her, his lost expression troubled her, "I need you now," he begged grabbing her by the hips, pushing her against the table he badly scanned away the objects and made her lie down on that hard surface, not giving her a chance to disentangle herself from his grip, so strong was he.

Y/N screamed breathlessly, frightened and confused.

The boy towered over her with his entire size, adoring the sight of his wife now sharing the same secret with him.

"What do you want to do here?!" she shrieked in a high-pitched voice, looking around as if mad.

Her legs were unceremoniously spread wide, she peered breathlessly at her husband's lost face.

There was something they both loved to do sometimes, sex without foreplay.

There was something arousing about entering her still tight and rigid because they were too aroused to give themselves time, it was exciting the way she got wet quickly after the first thrusts, and Y/N loved feeling him hard and mighty in her.

Reduced as he was like that, he could not venture to touch her too much; therefore, he found it was the right time to take advantage of that wild way of joining.

"You like raw sex, don't you, love?" he asked without really expecting an answer, Y/N squeaked looking at him like he was crazy, "Take my cock," he growled leaving her speechless.

He forcefully pushed his taut erection against her covered core and Y/N shuddered breathlessly, her brain shut down at her husband's subtle growl.

"Don't make me repeat myself, sweetheart," he licked his wife's lips, cupping her face in his bloody hands, ignoring how the viscous liquid uncomfortably smeared the woman's soft skin.

She moved like a robot, unzipping his pants and pulling out Jungkook's heavy cock, he practically purred against her mouth, kissing her again, "Look at me, my love, just me" he murmured to her teary eyes, moved his hips against her hand, his cock already stiff and throbbing, spurring her on.

"Jungkook..." she pulled up with her nose, tightening her lips indecisively on what to do, watching the door behind her husband, "Please don't make me do it here," she pleaded, causing him to freeze.

He frowned, he had never forced her to take him and she had never refused sexual intercourse with him, finally fully understanding her discomfort.

He kissed her forehead, sighing against her warm skin, before pulling away disgruntled.

If Y/N thought she was finally free, she had to think again, in front of her Jungkook began to strip off his soiled clothes, throwing them to the ground with a resounding slap! Soon his perfect, blood-stained body was completely naked, heedless of the confusion printed on his young wife's face.

He unceremoniously took her in his arms, Y/N dared not move to refuse the contact, aware that Jungkook could keep calm up to a certain point and then... there was that dark curiosity that made her wonder what he would do next.

They walked back up the stairs to the basement, Y/N took one last look at the lifeless body in the room and shuddered, that would be an image she would never forget, she let her forehead fall back on the boy's smoothly sculpted chest wearily, casting a glance at the hallway they were walking down she noticed that the boy's goal was to get to the shower room they had recently had installed in the new house.

They had moved into a new house after the wedding, she was so happy, she would be able to leave behind those first terrible memories she had of the four walls, too bad that now even those were filthy with a new and terrible event. She swallowed the nonexistent saliva, trying to chase away the stench of death that accompanied them both.

"Y/N," Jungkook began, holding her tenderly in his strong arms, he entered the shower with her before beginning to undress her, the woman shivered from the cold, she had almost forgotten about the storm howling outside, "I would never hurt you, you know that, yes?"

He bent down slightly so he could look into her eyes, but Y/N escaped his scrutinizing gaze.

"Look at me." he intimated firmly, he took her chin between two fingers, forcing her again to point her irises into his dark ones, when they bonded once more Jungkook threw himself on her lips, claiming them with possession and desire, the grip he maintained on her face was soft, however, as if he wanted her to know that she was safe with him and she had to give in to that passion, she returned that contact with desperation, trying to bury in the meanders in her mind what she had discovered that night.

Jungkook groaned smugly, grasping her thighs securely to allow her to bind her legs to his hips, her back stuck to the glass of the cabin, soon after she felt the jet of water hit them and she screamed in surprise, widening her eyes.

At their feet the water began to run crimson, as bewitched she ran her hands over her husband's chest, rubbing away those terrible stains, the signature of the sin committed by the man a few meters away. She did not want to look him in the eye, not at that moment as she passed to clean the arms that held her.

"Y/N-."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed in a broken voice, shedding more tears that mingled with the still flowing water.

Jungkook's wet hair stuck to his forehead and the tips touched his wide-open eyes. He looked like a little fawn caught by surprise.

He should not have had such an innocent look, even his red lips should not have been so sweet and tantalizing.

"You've been lying to me all this time, and just like that you bring a dead body into my house," she hissed, driving her nails into the boy's forearms, "You're a fucking crazy bastard," she continued snarling, exploding for the first time that way.

The boy watched her for a few moments without saying a word, before a grin spread across his otherwise angelic face.

"You may well be right, my sweetest wife," he laughed softly, "But to take you away with me and save you from that miserable life of yours I certainly could not be normal, those who love cannot afford to be normal," the tips of their noses touched as he blew those words at her and entered her with a slow thrust, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as her unready pussy recognized the cock of the man she loves, Jungkook sadistically pushed deeper, enjoying the relaxed progress, he knew that she was experiencing a burning sensation that she secretly adored.

"Those who love cannot be normal," she repeated as she clutched at his chest, that phrase continued countless times in her mind as Jungkook underscored that thought by shaking her body repeatedly with direct and precise strokes, feverishly kissing her lost face.

She rested her head against the glass of the shower, letting the jet of water cloud her vision as her walls moistened around the man's increasingly tense cock, beginning to flicker more and more intoxicated by that forbidden pleasure, accompanying Jungkook's gradually more frequent and devouring moans.

"I fucking love you! You're perfect," he said through clenched teeth in her ear, growling at yet another squeeze of her abused and needy core, "Y/N, without you everything I do would be meaningless," he confessed, kissing her full cheek before brushing her face with his forehead, hiding his expression from her.

But his tears Y/N felt anyway, and it was the first time she could feel him so vulnerable.

Perhaps that night had not been upsetting only for her.

"J-Jungkook," she stammered, stopping short when the thick tip of his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot, her thighs glistening with water trembled as she increased her grip on his sculpted body, "I believe you, but no more secrets or-... work at home," she begged him with a knot in her throat, accepting without more strength what he was.

Those who love cannot be normal.

The boy nodded instantly, leaving small kisses on her chest, taking a sensitive nipple in his mouth, then going up her tender throat to her lips.

"Do you love me?" he rotated his hips expertly, making light contact with the young woman's swollen, tense clitoris, which at that point trembled uncontrollably.

"Mpf! -Kook!"

"Tell me, fuck! Tell me again, like you always do every day and every night; when I hold you, when I look at you, when I fuck you so good you lose your mind," he ordered in a raw voice, ready to make his cock explode inside her womb, wanting to offer her a little life that was already ready to grow with her.

He slammed into her several times violently, the glass shuddered furiously, and Y/N's eyes automatically closed at the powerful orgasm that shook her to her bowels, followed by the boy's copious jets of cum that filled her completely.

"I love you," she whimpered against his neck, trying to block her husband's last thrusts by clutching her walls, making them both gasp, "It's impossible for me to imagine a life without you, I could never leave you," she sobbed, completely exhausted and overcome by that all-consuming awareness.

"That is exactly the effect you have on me, my love... see? Together we are our everything, we don't need anything else."

The water was now flowing clear and clear, every trace of what had taken place in the basement had been buried.

Jungkook shut off the shower spray, got the girl down from his arms and immediately covered her with a large clean towel, helped her gently, kissing every visible patch of skin from time to time as he finished drying it thoroughly, it was a ritual now and there was no trace in him of the crazy man he had been almost an hour before.

In the bedroom he helped her brush out her damp hair, the next day it would be an unwatchable tangle of strands, but she really didn't have the strength or patience to even think of drying it with a hair dryer, she just wanted to sleep for hours on end. Jungkook on the other hand brushed the damp locks with joy, he loved their softness and shine, his little woman was gorgeous in every way.

"Let's go to bed, honey," he crooned, "You're about to collapse," he chuckled, snapping a noisy kiss on her forehead, missing the effect it had on the girl, who watched him with a lighter heart and a blank mind.

She fell asleep wrapped in her husband's arms, her head buried in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, lost in that sweet and inviting body heat, inhaling Jungkook's delicious scent.

He waited patiently for her to fall into Morpheus's arms before moving slowly, untangling their bodies from the firm grip that Y/N unconsciously tried to maintain, he sighed discontentedly.

He did not like the idea of parting with his beloved, but there was a filthy worm that had to be disposed of as soon as possible before it plagued their beautiful home with its stench.

The next day Y/N lazily opened her eyes, the sun's rays had long since penetrated the room, and stretched herself thoroughly before getting up and putting her feet on the floor.

She looked around for her husband, but he was not there.

In return she sensed voices whispering in the living room, frowned remembering that they were expecting no one that day, put on her Stitch slippers, a gift from Jungkook to tease her because of her endless love for the little being, and clasping her arms to her chest went to "investigate" the mysterious guest.

A dark-haired head and a blond-haired head turned in her direction when she gave evidence of her presence, her eyes widened.

Jungkook and Kim Seokjin both looked at her with a smile.

Suddenly memories of the night before flooded her mercilessly, causing her to gasp for breath.

She had accepted that she had to share Jungkook with that life, but the images of what she had seen still remained horrifying, and the smile they were both giving her sent shivers down her spine.

"You're awake!" exclaimed Jungkook cheerfully, leaving her interjected.

He was bursting with happiness for a reason still unknown to her.

"Jungkook, what..."

"Y/N."

Seokjin's quiet voice stopped her, she shifted her gaze to the man in silence, he had always given her the impression that he knew more than he wanted to reveal, her ex-principal had always been a mystery to her and now she had concrete certainty.

"Welcome officially to the family, Mrs. Jeon."

Jungkook's eyes shone euphorically, thus expressing his pride, Y/N instead observing Seokjin's angelic features understood that the devil had a face and a name.

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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 years

Text

The Good Witch of Hawthorne

Summary: Marigold Fletcher is a good witch. However, when her dark past comes knocking, her reputation is on the line.

------

Marigold Fletcher is a good witch.

“No, not a good witch,” she tries to explain to the knight on her doorstep. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I mean good in the sense that I excel in my craft. Morally, I’m more gray.”

“Oh, good,” the man says. He puts the hat he’d been wringing in his hands back on his head. The leather pops back into shape and the desperation he’d been wearing like a cloak melts away. He looks ten years younger when he smiles. “I can drop the act then.”

Marigold gapes. “You were lying? To a witch?”

“I’m a knight,” the man says with a shrug. “We aren’t known for being smart.” He nods towards her living room. “Do you mind if I come in, or…?”

Wordlessly, Marigold lets him duck past her. He finds his way into her living room with prompting and sighs when he sits on her couch.

“Sorry,” he says, tipping his head back against the backrest. “It was tough getting here. I had to climb three separate mountains and fight off at least a dozen griffins. And you were the easiest witch to find, believe it or not.”

Marigold believes it. Most witches are nomadic. Those who put down roots, like her, usually do so in the most inhospitable places. Marigold is lazier than her brethren. She doesn’t live too deep in a forest, though she does live so high on her mountain that the air is a little too thin for most human’s comfort.

“You didn’t give me your name,” she says. She shuts her door and picks a seat in an armchair across from the knight, right by the fireplace. If this turns out to be an elaborate plan to dig out her heart, she’ll throw him into the flames head first. “Awfully rude of a guest.”

“Alas,” the man says gallantly, “I can not give you my name.” He winks at her. “But you may call me Jax.”

Rather than be charmed, Marigold is irritated. “I’m not fae, idiot. I can’t take your name even if you said you were giving it to me.”

Jax continues smiling at her and says nothing.

Marigold pinches the bridge of her nose again. “What do you want? If it’s not my blessing for you to save the princess or whatever your story was?”

“A fair blessing to ease my travels on the way to save the princess from the dragon,” Jax recites. He waves a hand in the air. “For the good of the kingdom, peace of mind of the people, saving a grieving father and rescuing the damsel in distress…yada yada yada.”

“Right,” Marigold says flatly.

“I did come here in hopes of receiving your blessing,” Jax says. He scratches the back of his neck. “Just not to save the princess. I’m here on behalf of the princess, actually.”

Marigold frowns. “Is she not kidnapped by a dragon right now?”

“Technically not,” Jax hedges. He sighs when Marigold glares. “Look, I’m trying to ease you into this, okay? We really do need your help and you won’t want to help if I shock you.”

“Try me.”

“The dragon is the princess’ girlfriend,” Jax says, leaning forward. “Yes, the thirty foot tall dragon is the princess’ girlfriend, yes, the dragon is sentient, yes, the princess is sure. They’d very much appreciate your help turning the dragon into a human so they can run away from the princess’ tyrannical father and live happily ever after.”

The silence that follows after his outburst is very, very loud.

Jax pulls a flask out of his coat. “Take your time processing. Gods know I needed it.” He takes a swig.

Marigold opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “No, I, uh, that’s…” She clears her throat. “A princess and a dragon? Really?”

“Thank you!” Jax points at Marigold. “That’s the right reaction to have! You know what the prince said? He said ‘As long as my sister is happy.’ And the Queen? She named the dragon! As her new daughter-in-law she was aggrieved that it didn’t have a name so she named. The. Dragon.”

Marigold stares. “Dragons don’t have names.”

“Her name is Elisa,” Jax says. He presses a hand to his cheek and bats his eyelashes. “To rhyme with Princess Alicia. Elisa and Alicia.”

“Oh,” Marigold says faintly. She’s never heard of a dragon accepting a name before. While she herself isn’t fae, the line is a little blurry between fae and dragon. “Oh my.”

“I know it’s my fault,” Jax says. He looks mournfully at his flask and then takes another little sip. “It really is. I was supposed to be guarding the princess. If she hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the dragon, she wouldn’t have fallen in love with it.”

“Her,” Marigold corrects automatically.

Jax blinks at her. “What?”

“The dragon is a her,” Marigold says. She feels a headache coming on. “Yes, it’s unusual, but if she’s accepted a name…”

“You’re right,” Jax says. He laughs. “Well, she’s hiding in the woods behind the castle, but that’ll only last for so long. The knights train back there once the snow melts.”

Marigold looks outside her window. The sky is unseasonably clear and she can see the approximate area of the castle over the treetops. “The snow is melting.”

Jax nods. “Very quickly. Princess Alicia wanted to ask you to make the snow last longer. It was the dragon-- sorry, Lady Elisa’s suggestion that she be turned into a human instead.”

“Has Lady Elisa been human before? Or has she always been a dragon?”

Jax slowly screws the top back on his flask. “As far as I’m aware, she’s always been a dragon. An immortal one at that. She’s known as the Golden Calamity in our kingdom.”

Ah. Marigold clears her throat and shifts in her seat. “Does Lady Elisa know that you’re here to seek my help?”

“She’s the reason I knew where to find you,” Jax says. He studies Marigold’s rapidly paling face. “You know her?”

“No,” Marigold squeaks. She fans herself. “Is it hot in here? I’ll open a window, hold on a moment.” She lurches to her feet and staggers to the window, throwing it open in one go. Icy wind whips through the living room. She sags against the windowsill. “Just out of curiosity, did Lady Elisa say how she knew where I was?”

Jax is watching her with something like alarm. “Are you sure you’re warm? You’re shivering.”

Actually, she’s shaking. She waves away his concern. “I’m fine. It’s probably a magic thing you know nothing about. Like too much magic in my core or something.”

“Or something,” Jax echoes dubiously. “As to your question, she said she always knows where to find the Good Witch of Hawthorne.”

“AH!” Marigold cuts off her scream by coughing furiously. She holds out one finger when Jax starts to get up. “I’m fine! I’m fine! Just something in my throat!” She forces herself to breathe.“She always knows? She said those exact words? Always knows?”

“I’m sorry,” Jax says, “you said you didn’t know her but it really sounds like you do.”

“I don’t!” Marigold never had a full conversation with her anyway. After her sneak attack failed, Marigold was too busy running away to talk. “Not really. She wants to be human? I can do that. Absolutely. No problem. It will just take one spell.”

“Really?” Jax lunges to his feet. “That’s wonderful news! She needs to be here for you to perform it, right? I can go get her right away--!”

“NO!”

Jax freezes halfway to the door. “No?”

Marigold scrambles. “I-it’s too difficult to get here for a dragon! The air is so thin, I doubt she’ll be comfortable making the trip. I can make a potion for her--” Wait, would that even work? “--or maybe I can write down the spell for another witch to perform. So she doesn’t have to travel.”

“Maybe you should come with me now,” Jax says. He extends a hand. “That will solve the issue, right? And if a potion is needed, you’ll need ingredients. The princess guarantees the castle’s laboratory.”

“You want me to be in the same room as the Golden Calamity?” Marigold squeaks.

“You definitely know her,” Jax says. He crosses his arms. “Out with it.”

“It wasn’t personal!” Marigold blurts out. She collapses back into her armchair. “I can’t be held accountable after all these years. It wasn’t even my idea. It’s a rite of passage for young witches. O-of a kind. Maybe something more like hazing? My mentor told me I needed a scale from a dragon for my final exam.”

“Exam?” Jax asks incredulously. “Like a school for witches?”

Marigold ignores him. She buries her head in her hands. “Young witches aren’t even supposed to be able to breach the dragon’s outermost ward! But I’ve always been too good! I was just too damn good.” A single tear slips down her cheek.

“Oh no,” Jax says. He takes out his flask and offers it to her. “Here.”

Marigold snatches the container and gulps down two shots worth of the worst liquor she’s ever tasted. “Thanks.” She sniffles. “I caught her unawares, or so I thought. She was sleeping on top of a pile of treasures, belly up. I was on my broom and thought it’d be easy to pluck one from the underside of her chin.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jax says. He’s kneeling by her side now. He pats her on the shoulder. “We’ve all been beaten by stronger opponents before.”

Marigold laughs humorlessly. “Beaten? Ha! I wouldn’t be like this if I was just beaten. I was so confident and she toyed with me. She chased me for three days and three nights through the woods. I thought I was going to die! And then, at the end, when I collapsed on the ground out of exhaustion, you know what she said to me?”

“I can imagine. She told me I should quit being a knight when I tried to rescue Alicia,” Jax says glumly. “Said I’d make a better sloth with how slow I moved.”

“She told me I should work on my stamina,” Marigold cried. “I ran for three days! Three nights! That’s pretty good, right?”

“It’s excellent,” Jax consoles. “I couldn’t ask more of trained knights.”

“Then she said I’d have to run faster if I wanted to avoid being killed by her,” Marigold says. She remembers the way Lady Elisa’s claws dug into the ground. Marigold, parlayzed by fear, had only been able to watch as the razor sharp tips dragged through the earth towards her. “She said dragons hold grudges for a long, long time.”

“If it’s any comfort,” Jax says hesitantly, “she didn’t sound angry when she mentioned you.”

Marigold shakes her head in disgust. “I haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet.”

“There’s more than her threatening your life?”

“If it was just that, I wouldn’t be like this!” She’s been threatened by so many people, she’s lost track. What the dragon did was much worse. Marigold points above the fireplace. “See that?”

Jax twists on his knee, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “The dinner plate on your mantle?”

“It’s not a dinner plate,” Marigold says. Her cheeks burn. “It’s her scale. She said she pitied me to the point she gave me one! For free!”

“Uh.” Jax takes his hand away. “What?”

“I know!” Marigold can’t believe she’s revealing this to some knight after years of pretending it never happened. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”

“I’m confused,” Jax says. “Are you scared of Lady Elisa or not?”

“I’m terrified of her, obviously,” Marigold snaps. She holds out her hands. “Look, I’m shaking! After that day, I promised no one would ever play with me like that ever again. And they haven’t! Because I moved to a place nobody knew that she’d pity-gifted me a scale. Now you’re telling me she’s known where I was this whole time?”

Jax squints at Marigold and then at the scale. “Can’t dragons track their scales?”

“They can what?” Marigold swoons in her seat. It’s only through a careful application of magic and Jax’ quick hands that she doesn’t fall out of her chair. “I didn’t know that. How could I not know that?”

“I don’t know. It seems like a witch should know that,” Jax says. When he’s sure that she won’t collapse again, he sits back on his heels. “Look, I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings, but it seems like you’re the only one holding onto that day. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”

“How can I?” Marigold presses the back of her hand to her forehead. “So you see, I can’t go see Lady Elisa. She’ll just make fun of me. I can’t handle that level of ridicule ever again.”

Jax stares at her. “Are you serious right now?”

“Deadly,” Marigold says. She peeks at Jax through her eyelashes. “I’d rather she kill me than see her again.”

Jax looks up at the ceiling as if praying for patience. He breathes in deeply through his nose and then out through his mouth. Finally, he says, “I think you might be overreacting a little bit.”

“You weren’t there,” Marigold moans. “You weren’t there. I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat remembering my hubris.”

“But isn’t she the one asking you for help now?” Jax asks. When Marigold stills, he presses the advantage. “Maybe she was stronger than you back then, but is that the case now? After all, she can’t turn herself into a human. Only you can do that.”

Marigold shifts her weight. “I am very good.”

“And if you do this for her, won’t she owe you?” Jax gestures to the scale on the mantle. “She’ll owe you more than that scale.”

Marigold sits upright. “She’ll owe me her silence!” She leaps out of her chair and bustles into the kitchen. “Eureka, I’m a genius! If I help Lady Elisa become a human, she’ll be indebted to me! She won’t be able to tell people about my humiliation because she’ll owe me!”

Jax frowns as he watches Marigold start to throw spices and pots onto the table. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“I said it better.” Marigold rummages in the pantry and comes out with a burlap sack. She murmurs a spell under her breath that makes the bag glow for a brief moment. When she starts piling her chosen items into it, it stays remarkably flat. “Turning a dragon into a human is child’s play if it means reclaiming my honor.”

Jax watches a whole bushel of wheat go into the bag. “Did you just make a magic-storage device with one spell?”

“Of course, I’m very good,” Marigold says. She pauses in the act of putting an entire loom into her expanding bag. An eerie smile creeps across her face. “Once I settle this, I might even be the best.”

“Only if you manage to turn Lady Elisa into a human,” Jax says.

Marigold shrugs, throwing her near-empty burlap sack over her shoulder. “They just want to be together right? If the human thing fails, I can just turn the princess into a dragon. There’s already a spell for that.”

Jax splutters as he follows Marigold to the door. “That is not allowed!”

“Ha,” Marigold says. “We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t!”

They set off down the mountain.

----

Thanks for reading!

Next week’s story (part 1) is already up on my Patreon!

Summary: Cinderella is too old for fairytales. But when one is her only chance at escape, she may have to start believing again. TW: child abuse, child neglect

Thank y’all again!

#My writing #my witchcraft #witches #fantasy #one shot #long post

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tiyoin · 2 months

Text

cult of pomefiore au:

vil is the god

rook is the head priest

and you and epel are devoted followers 😌🙏

it’s rook’s job to keep everyone’s moral high, tell stories of their beloved good, and to pick out the sacrifices!!

you and epel get chosen but oh no! epel wasn’t really chosen :/ he’s actually bait!! for you!! so you don’t feel alone when you’re going to get killed off

why does vil, the god of beauty, success, and tragedy need sacrifices? to put it in lamines terms; pretty sacrifices make his skin glow and hair silky 😋

night raven college, a public university where the best of the best go. which includes looks.

thinking about how there’s 7 secret societies / cults ran by the dorm leaders for their respective ‘interest’.

but in today’s episode we’ll be talking about the cult of pomefiore!!

you and epel meet at college, he slowly indoctrinates you into the cult by introducing you to little mementos he uses to ‘pray for good luck’ in exams- which usually always work!!

eek!!! epel targeting pretty girls / handsome men so vil can get his share while simultaneously knocking out the competition- it’s a win-win all around!!

all the hot people get to mingle and they rook themselves with their prided good looks and tall, tall bodies…

you’re a bit… different though. you’re always hovering around epel…

go!! forlick with chad or mindy!! they seem to like you! but no matter how much he encourages you, ignores you, or just plan up ditches you; YOU DINT GET THE FUCKING HINT

sometimes you do, but you’re always subconsciously hovering around him. yapping about how you only feel comfortable around him- IS IT CAUSE HES A- oh it’s not? you like his personality?

…epel bring this up to rook, his college upper class-man who insists on meeting you!

très bien! you’re everything rook hoped to be!! a socially anxious pretty girl who clings to whoever shows them an ounce of kindness!! though he gives you credit about being wary of him, most people are, but you’re still kind to him nonetheless.

that’s very important to rook.

if you turn out to be as rotten as the lot then he’ll have no choice but to😋

but rejoice!! you’re the chosen one! albeit you’re heart is broken and wounded from past experiences, your soul’s true nature always seems to pop through at randomly given moments.

rook has to give epel a pat on the back for finding the diamond in the rough before the other dorms.

though when vil gets a look at you from afar, just to size up his next sacrifice rook provided, he stops. yes you’re a very pretty girl, but there’s so much potential in you! you can’t be sacrificed yet!

it looks eating an apple that half way rotten, he needs to glow you up before he consumes you.

so try not to fight it, or do, it’ll just make them want you sacrificed more. but if you catch on and some how manage to weave your way into their intricate lives, then congrats!

you’ve been promoted! 😋 you’re now an elite employee! a fellow baiter

#pomefiore #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#vil x reader #epel x reader #rook x reader

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arriansarchive · 11 months

Text

Miles Morales/Male!Reader

Going back on my Miles spree after making an absolute trash story about him

REQUESTS PLEASE

A little bit of a bitchy Y/N

I don't care that this might not be how the school actually is. Im not here for canon I'm here to have fun

Summary: You and Miles are roommates, and he has some questions about himself that have something to do with you.

It was a short day at school, time seemingly went by faster for you then normal. You were tired, so no complaining was necessary.

Miles usually waited for you outside your last class for you both to walk to your shared dorm together, but you realized he wasn't in his normal spot.

You ended up deciding that he was in a rush about homework and ended up forgetting. No problems there, just an honest mistake.

You started the trek back to your dorm quietly and subdued. Despite your outgoing personality whenever around people you knew, you didn't really like it much.

The walk was nice, and some people stopped along the way to speak to you, but nothing too invasive really.

Finally you entered the tall building and began to climb the seemingly endless staircases. You contemplated stopping at one of the vending machines to stock up on random junk food to bring but decided against it.

Your door opened with a creak as you turned to key in it's lock. You heard some mumbling coming from the far end on Miles' bunk.

"Miles, I'm here." You announced loudly just in case he had his headphones on.

Scurrying was heard as he peeked his head out. "Hello, Y/N." He quipped.

"You didn't wait on me today. Are you okay?"

He got an avoidant look on his face and turned back to his phone playing music. "I have some questions to ask you."

Miles jumped down from the top bunk and looked you hard in the eye. "I think I'm gay."

You lifted an unimpressed eyebrow; you thought it would be a little more interesting than that. "Alright, dude, it's twenty eighteen. Good job on finding yourself, I guess." You shrugged.

"No, for you!" He shouted.

Your eyes went wide, and you started to rethink that thought that what he said was boring. An evil grin came onto your face.

You turn back to him with your arms crossed. "You're not joking right?"

"No." Miles mumbled.

On a whim you decide to walk quickly towards him. He got a suspicious look on his face as if he was worried that you were going to slap him.

You put on a hand on his cheek and swiftly pushed your lips onto his. You felt it was too soon whenever you pulled away to ask a question.

"Are you sure now?" You inquired.

"Yeah, I think I am." He said and dove in once more.

#across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles x reader #miles x you #miles x male reader #miles x y/n #miles morales #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x male reader #miles morales x reader

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obsessedgayass · 12 days

Text

[🪖] Doing it all for love

Pairing: Yandere dilf army general x framed male!reader

Synopsis: you were framed for selling information to the enemies, happily, your general always believed in your Innocence, because he knew damn well who framed you, and he also knew why.

Warnings: dilf, huge age gap, daddy kink, manipulation, yandere behavior, obsession, betrayal, mentions of death, mentions of torture, aftermath of torture, bad friends, saying no to forgiveness, gay sex, scars, wounds, nsfw, legal trouble, cutting people off, tickling, slightly fetishization of masculinity, use of the word “boy” in a sexual way, using weigh for sex, smell fetish ig? happy ending.

Attention: This is a work of fiction! I'm not saying what happens here is right or moral! Most things here probably won't happen in real life!

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(I don't know too much about the American army, so I'm using the hierarchy from the Brazilian army)

(English isn't my first language, so if I make any grammatical mistakes, please feel free to correct me!)

(really inspired by @obsessivevoidkitten story I saw some time ago!)

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The room was dark and had blood stains, and it was your own blood there, the blood which your “friends” didn't even care to clean, after all, you were a “traitor”.

You don't know how much time has passed, but it all started when your superior called you in to one room, where all your friends and colleagues were there, and he said in clear voice that you was a traitor, and showed proofs, some documents who supposed proved you was giving informations to some terrorist organizations, and when you realized, you was beaten up and dragged to a torture room, where you was tortured for days, and after this they just let you there, rooting.

You should know joining the army was a bad idea, you never actually wanted to be a soldier and fight for the country or some shit, all you wanted was to honor the memory of your dead father, he had died in the army after a terrorist attack, and to think they thought you would betray they for some terrorists…

Suddenly, you heard the sound of the metal door opening, they were back? The was going to torture you again? You didn't know what to expect, but then, you heard a gentle and worried voice.

– oh god… what did they do to you, son? – said the gentle voice looking horrified, and you recognized it immediately, it was General Adam.

General Adam was your general, the superior of your superior, he was a tall tan man, older, but with a muscular body and a pretty yet rugged face, and a mustache you always thought how ticklish would feel if you kissed him.

He had always been nice towards you, a little too nice to be honest, but you really looked up to him, you felt protected towards him, and that's all you wanted now, you wanted to feel protected, to feel safe.

General Adam approached you and looked like he was trying to find a way to hold you without touching your still open wounds, to not hurt you more.

– I'm taking you out of here, son. – said Adam determined, he slowly picked you up, trying to not touch your wounds – after this, I swear I'm going to kick your superior’s ass…

Adam walked with you to the infirmary, and passing through some corridors, you could see some of your so-called friends and colleagues, they all couldn't even look at you, they looked… ashamed?

– they all know you're innocent, son, it's over, you can rest now… – Adam whispered gently in your ear.

Knowing everyone now know you're innocent made you feel better, like when you come back from a hard day of work and can just sleep, and just like this, you let yourself sleep on Adam’s strong arms, knowing now you were safe.

— Years later —

You couldn't help but think how much time has passed, and how so much had happened, now you feel so happy, you couldn't believe how much your life had changed since the day you were framed.

You and Adam made a lawsuit against everyone who hurt you, he stayed with you during all the process, and since he was a general, he had lots of money and could easily pay for a lawyer, and you won!

Your superior and the other soldiers who tortured you were sent to prison, your superior was freed sooner because since he was in the army, he had some benefits, but in any way, he was forced to retire from the military, and it was very improbable he would get another job being superior to someone.

Your old friends and colleagues tried to apologize, but they were trying to downplay their actions, so you didn't forgive them and cut them off for good.

Oh, and the best part, you and Adam are now married! Yes, you heard it right, you two now are husband's.

Well, yes, it was a little strange for people, principally your mom, that you was marrying a man who was much older than you and who was your superior in the past, it smelled like red flag to her, but in the end, she accepted him as her son-in-law and now they have a great relationship.

You honestly couldn't be happier, Adam always makes you feel so safe, so loved, so… good.

And talking about feeling good, you were feeling really good right now, because Adam was rimming you intensely, his tongue and fingers are so skilled, the years of practice before meeting you must have been worthy.

His mustache was tickling the area between your cock and ass, giving a mix of sensations. You just wanted to open yourself more, you wanted him to be deep inside you.

Adam lifted his body, positioning your legs above his shoulders, you admired his body, he was so big, so tall, he has broad shoulders and these manly hairy pecs you feel the urge to bury your face on, his body is hairy and manly, he was truly a man.

His 10 inch cock was hard and throbbing, and he was panting, like an animal in heat, and this turned you on so much, and he looked so needy now, the idea of having such a man needing you made your cock squirt a little.

– fuck… you're so damn hot, boy – panted Adam stroking himself a little – you grew up so fine, I still remember how you was a scrawny boy back then, but look at you now, teasing me just by standing still and looking pretty…

Adam slowly inserted his cock inside you, making you arch your back to try to accommodate his size better. It wasn't your first time with him, but your ass hole always needed to get accustomed again.

But like always, Adam started slowly, just savoring the feeling of his big cock inside your tight hole, but soon, you felt like begging for more, it was so damn slow now, it was torturing at this point! So you started moving your ass back and forth, trying to show you needed more, and Adam gladly understood.

Soon, Adam was thrusting you like a savage, also pressing his big body against your tinier frame, basically crushing you in the bed, everything he did just made you hornier and hornier.

– f-fuck, you're handling it so well, boy! – Adam's voice was deep and needy, praising you to continue – go on, I'm almost cumming! Just a little more and I'll give it to you!

And like promised, Adam soon came inside you, filling you with his seed and making you feel full, like a concluded mission.

You two lay down in the bed, exhausted and satisfied, your bodies sweaty and smelly, but Adam wasn't totally satisfied, his cock was still hard.

– Are you down for another round? – asked Adam smiling gently, you was tired, but you needed more.

You just stuck your ass out, still sideways and still full of cum, towards Adam, who just smirked.

— 03:29 —

Adam woke up with the sound of his phone ringing, happily you didn't wake up, but when Adam saw the number of the contact, he instantly recognized it, so he got up and went to the living room.

– what a surprise to get a call from you, Sergeant Mason – said Adam coldly yet calmly.

– “I know what you did” – said Mason through the call – “you were the one who framed that boy, weren't you?” – Mason's voice had a clear hint of anger.

– oh, I'm surprised you discovered it just now – Adam chuckled dryly – but why are you calling me about this? It was years ago, get a life.

– “how… How could you?! You know damn well I cared about that boy! I saw him as my own son!” – Mason was almost yelling.

– that's a really bad lie, you don't send a person who you saw as a son to be tortured. – said Adam coldly.

– “I…” – mason stayed in silence for some moments – “you manipulated everyone…”

Adam stayed in silence for some seconds before answering.

– maybe yes, but it doesn't matter, you made my boy be tortured, you almost broke him in a way I didn't know if I could fix, and now that he's okay again, you wanted to ruin everything? – said Adam with a harsh tone – I'm gonna give you advice, Sargeant, stay away from my boy, or I swear I'll ruin your life again and again if needed. – and with this threat, Adam ended the call and blocked the number.

Adam took a deep breath and came back to the room, where his boy was calmly sleeping, Adam smiled tenderly and caressed your hair.

“It was all for love, I would do it all again” thought Adam, he lay at your side and slept with you, proud of all his work.

— The End —

#daddy k!nk #manipulation #yandere #yandere behavior #yandere stories #yandere writing #obssesion #betrayal #mentions of death #bad friend #saying no #forgiveness #gay #male reader #happy ending #oc #my ocs #my oc

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dkakapizzaboy · 8 months

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Darling I’m a Nightmare Dressed Like a Daydream (Part 1)

Masterlist || Taglist Form

Pairing: Conman! Minghao x Fem! Reader

Words:1.2k Genre: Crime/Mystery (Suggestive! MDNI) Synopsis: Minghao has had a pretty easy life…partly due to his sharp looks, but mostly due to his even sharper mind. His day job, you ask? Oh, just your average little joe conning wealthy women out of thousands of dollars …until he meets you. Warnings: Deception, lying, Morally Grey Hao, Morally Grey Reader A/N: Hello, this is extremely overdue but this is my contribution to @svthub's 70steen Collab! Please read the rest of the stories as well! I really wanted to finish the story in one go but I wanted to do it justice and take my time with it. So, it is just Part 1 for now, but nonetheless, I hope it still is a fun read!

A big thanks to @playmetheclassics for your input on the banner 🌼

Feedback always helps!

Minghao saw you through the front window of Tiffany's, purchasing a pair of solitaire studs, which were, from his guess, at least 1.5 carats each. His eyes scanned through your appearance next, mid to late 20s, affluent, judging by the Chanel briefcase and tweed suit, understated in jewelry except for the dainty yet elegantly crafted diamond bracelet.

He'd found his next target.

He made his way into the store and immediately caught your eye, along with everyone else's. Well, it was pretty easy: a tall, handsomely dressed man with a striking long neck and sharp features who would give Elvis a run for his money.

He made his way to the counter you were standing by, his leather boots clicking on the wooden floor- drawing even more attention to him, and timidly made eye contact.

"Sorry to do this miss, but can I ask you for a favour?"

He maintained eye contact, his gaze had started to make you uncannily hot on a chilly autumn evening.

"Y-yes" you stuttered, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so frail.

"It is my mom's 60th birthday and I want to buy her something special but so many choices confuse me. Could you please help me pick something?"

The group of girls standing on the necklace counter audibly swooned, making your upper lip twitch in amusement.

"Oh, umm sure... I guess."

He took your shyness as a sign of apprehension and decided to persuade you further.

"Sorry I wouldn't have asked but my brother and I have this unspoken competition every year, who will get Mother the better gift. I've been losing for the past 3 years but this time, with your help hopefully (he looked down and gave a shy smile, a seasoned move on his part), I have a feeling I can win against him."

He knew he was bullshitting his way through, but it'd always worked in his favor. ‘Just charm your way forward: the key is eye contact.’ was his mantra in life.

Little did he imagine that his further explanation had created more trouble for him than he bargained for.

"Oh really, and how do you decide who wins?" You asked, with your eyes full of suspicion.

It's funny because you were just messing with him but since Minghao had almost never been cross-questioned by one of his targets, he was completely caught off guard.

He racked his brain, looking for the best answer to give you... he didn't want to blow his cover but the more time he took thinking of an answer, the more nervous he became- internally of course, as it hadn't even been a few seconds.

He suddenly gave you a crooked smile, unknowingly making your heartbeat a bit faster and your underwear a tad bit wetter.

He'd found the perfect answer.

"Oh, believe me…….. you know." He said, boring those beautiful cat-like eyes into yours, sirening you to him.

This story is actually full of funny things. While Hao was trying to seduce you with those smoldering looks of his, there was a mischievous twinkle in your eyes that sucked him in. It was like he was drowning deeper and deeper into those beautiful orbs, only realizing he was sinking into you when you averted your gaze.

This was weird.

But Minghao was here for work so he didn’t ponder too much.

You helped him pick out a beautiful set of white pearl earrings, with diamonds encrusted around the pearl.

“I think you should give them a try, just to see if they’re as beautiful as they’re on the display.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and proceeded to grab your wrist and slide the earrings in your hand, his fingertips gently brushing against your palm, sending a jolt of buzzing current down your spine.

Well, I guess I have to try on the pretty earrings, you thought bemusingly.

After he had purchased his earrings, he insisted on getting you dinner, or breakfast, or lunch, or whatever you preferred. You blushed as he confessed he’d really really like to see you again.

You made plans with him for the weekend. Since night had already fallen and, in his words, it would be against every fiber of his moral being to let a pretty lady like you go unescorted home in the crime-ridden streets, he basically forced you to let him drive you home.

He opened the passenger side door of his shiny black impala with a cheeky ‘M’lady’. You talked all the way home, about anything and everything. You also observed how his boot cut trousers hugged his thighs, and the slight indent of his-

Yeah, focus on something else girl! You turned to look out the window, hoping that the cool air of the night will calm your hot face, and even hotter heart.

He pulled up to your front porch, impressed at the location of the street and the size of the house.

You would be his most prized possession till date.

He smiled at you as you thanked him, and then gulped audibly as the skirt of your suit hiked up a little to reveal, what he could describe as probably the softest skin he had ever seen, as you got out of the car. He got an almost primal urge to pull you back to the seat and feel if the skin of your thighs was as soft as it looked.

He got out of his daze as you said, “I meant to say this earlier, but you honestly don’t really look like a Jun, I don’t know, just something funny that came to mind. Bye now, see you Saturday.”

Good thing you didn’t see his shocked face as you skipped back into your house.

….

Minghao made his way back into Tiffany’s, looking for his liaison.

“Here you go. Come’on now hyung, you really think I’ll cheat on you, It’s been five fucking years.”

“And one can never be too careful” Wonwoo replied as he inspected the pearl earrings though a microscope, who knew, the conman could very well con his partner. After inspecting its authenticity, he gave Minghao his money back, after taking a 5% cut, the usual fees for ignoring his shenanigans at his store.

“So, do you want to grab a beer?” Minghao asked hopefully.

He didn’t really know why, but since dropping you off, he’d been feeling uncannily lonely.

“I really don’t want to extend our relationship beyond business, sorry.” Wonwoo replied quite blandly as he put back the pearl earrings on display, and to be very honest, it broke Minghao’s heart a little bit.

But Minghao knew life wasn’t really sunshine and roses all the time.

…

You made your way into the living room after taking a shower, a cold one as your nerves still sizzled thinking about Jun.

“So, did the asshole buy it?” Your best friend asked as you handed her the beautiful, shiny studs you’d purchased earlier using her cheque book.

“He ate it from the palm of my hand, darling,” you replied coyly.

No matter how sexy you thought he was, or how gorgeous his long neck was, or how stunningly captivating his eyes were, it was time for payback, Xu Minghao.

A/n: this is loosely inspired by a Bollywood movie Ladies vs Ricky Bahl!

#svthub #svthub.collab #svt fic #svt smut #seventeen #xu minghao #the8 #minghao #svt #minghao x you #minghao x reader #minghao x y/n #the8 smut #minghao smut #the8 scenarios #sam writes svt #xu minghao smut

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jessicas-pi · 10 months

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MANDALORIANAKIN AU INCORRECT QUOTES

Anakin: You have your weirdly sincere humility. Bo-Katan: I prefer the term "self-loathing", actually.

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Korkie: I’m not being weird. Am I being weird? Anakin: Yes, and that’s coming from me.

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Anakin: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity? Bo-Katan, turning to Fenn: How tall are you?

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Anakin: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL- Satine: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

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Satine: I think you're still suffering the effects of your party last night. Anakin: All I drank was Space Redbull! Satine: How many? Anakin: Eighteen.

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Anakin: Never gonna make you cry! Korkie: Never gonna say goodbye! Anakin: Never gonna tell a lie— Bo-Katan: I will hurt you.

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Korkie: Hey, Auntie Bo? I need advice. Bo-Katan: I’m pretty useless at giving advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment instead?

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*Satine brings Anakin to the Jedi Temple for a visit while she's on Coruscant* Obi-Wan: Would you like to stay for dinner? Qui-Gon, fron the kitchen: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

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Fenn: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river. Bo-Katan: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in their own pool. Big difference.

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Fenn: Why are you on fire? Anakin: This is just how my day is going.

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Anakin (age 9): Miss Satine, I want a bedtime story! Satine: I’ve got a speech to write for a meeting in the morning. I’ll tell you one tomorrow, okay? Anakin: If you don’t tell me a story, I won’t go to bed! Satine: Satine: Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Anakin, who always wanted things his way. One day, his friends got sick of it and locked him in the basement for the rest of their life. Everyone else lived happily ever after. The end. Anakin: I don’t like these stories with morals.

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Satine: Fenn, gather the others. We need to have another Anakin-is-doing-something-stupid-again-and-we-have-to-stop-him-before-he-hurts-someone convention.

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Korkie and Anakin (when they're kids): Can we go out to get ice cream? Bo-Katan: Did you ask Satine? Korkie: She said no. Bo-Katan: Then why did you ask me? Anakin: She's not the boss of you! Bo-Katan, internally: It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a trap.

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Fenn: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night? Bo-Katan: It was autocorrect. Fenn: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."? Bo-Katan: Yes.

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Anakin: Padme and I are having another child! Sabine Wren: Aww, congrats! I bet Leia and Luke are so exci— Anakin: *slams down adoption papers* it's you, sign here

#mando anakin au #mandalorianakin au #SEE I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN THIS AU AFTER ALL #star wars #incorrect quotes #anakin skywalker #bo katan kryze #korkie kryze #fenn rau #satine kryze #obi wan kenobi #obitine #qui gon jinn #sabine wren

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layce2015 · 11 months

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Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Tall Tales

Masterlist

(A/N: So since this episode likes to flashback and through different point of views as they explain what happened to Bobby, here's what I'm gonna do. The bold paragraphs are gonna be in Dean's point of view. The italics paragraph are gonna be in (y/n)'s point of view. The bold italics paragraph are gonna be Sam's point of view. I forgot how crazy this episode is until I watched it the other day and this was the best way of writing it I could think of. Anyway, that is all and I hope you guys enjoy!)

Sam and I were sitting on the couch, looking through books, when he rubs his face tiredly. Dean was sitting up on the bed behind us, listening to the radio and eating from a disposable plate. "Dude. You mind not eating those on MY bed?" Sam asked, annoyed. "No, I don't mind." Dean said as he continues to eat.

"How's research going?" He asked us and I sighed in annoyance. "You know how it's going? Slow. You know how it would go a heck of a lot faster? If (y/n) and I had our computers." Sam shouted at him and Dean nods, sarcastically.

"Can you turn that down please?" I asked him, gesturing towards the radio. "Yeah, absolutely." Dean said and he turns the music up louder and I sit still, annoyed again. "You know what? Maybe, uh, maybe you should just go somewhere for a while." I said to him and he shuts off the radio and looks up, snappish. "Hey, I'd love to. That's a great idea. Unfortunately, my car's all screwed to hell." He said as he glares at me. "Dean, I told you, I have nothing to do wi—" I started to explain when I was cut off by a loud knock on the door.

Sam stands and goes to the door; he looks through the peephole and then back at us, then opens the door. "Hey, Bobby." Sam said as Bobby comes through the door. "Boys. (Y/n)." He greets and Dean and I approach him. "Hey, Bobby." We greet.

"It's good to see you again so soon." Bobby said. "Yeah, uh, thanks for coming. Come on in." Sam said as Dean shakes Bobby's hand, firmly. "Thank God you're here." Dean said. "So um, what didn't you want to talk to me on the phone about?" Bobby asked. "It's this job we're working. We— We weren't sure you'd believe us." I said and Bobby scoffs. "Well, I can believe a lot." He said.

"Yeah, no, no, it's just, we've never seen anything like it—" Sam said as I shake my head. "Not even close." Dean said. "And we thought we could use some fresh eyes." I said and Bobby looks between us. "Well, why don't you begin at the beginning?" He asked.

"Yeah, um, all right." Sam said and he gestures to the bed. Bobby picks up the empty takeout tray and peers at it, sets it aside, and sits down. "So, it all started when we caught wind of an obit. See, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pretexted as reporters from the local paper." Sam begins to explain.

Sam and (y/n) were sitting at a table with a stocky jock boy, Curtis, and an attractive girl, Jen. Sam sets a voice recorder down on the table before they began the interview. "Yeah, we both had the professor for Ethics and Morality." Curtis said.

"Yeah? So why do you think he did it?" (Y/n) asked them. "Who knows? I mean, he was tenured, wife and kids. His book is like a really big deal. Then again..." Jen said then she leans in conspiratorially. "Who's to say it was suicide?" She asked, making her friend scoff. "Jen, come on." said Curtis.

"Well, what else could it be?" Sam asked, feigning surprise. "Well, you guys know about Crawford Hall?" Jen asked Sam and (y/n). "No, we don't, actually." (Y/n) replied. "It's a bunch of crap, it's a total urban legend." Curtis said. "Yeah well, Heather's mom went to school here, and she knew the girl?" Jen said and Sam and (y/n) look between the kids.

"Wait, what girl?" (Y/n) asked. "Thirty years ago, this girl was having an affair with some professor. He broke it off, she jumped out the window and killed herself." Jen replied. "You know her name?" Sam asked. "No. But they say she jumped from room six-six-nine. Get it? You turn the nine upside down?" Jen said, snickering, and Sam and (y/n) nod while Curtis laughs.

"So now she haunts the building. And anyone who sees her? They don't live to tell the tale." Jen explains. "Well if no one lives to tell the tale, then how does the tale get told?" Curtis asked. "Curtis! Shut up!" Jen yells.

"You know what, uh – Thanks a lot guys. Excuse us." Sam said and he nods at (y/n) and they get up.

Elsewhere in the bar, Dean picks up one of the three shot glasses, filled with dark bluish-purple liquid, then slams all three in succession. Sam and (y/n) approaches. "Dean. Dean, what are you drinking?" Sam asked as Dean burps. "I don't know, man, I think they're called purple nurples?" Dean replied, chuckling.

"Okay, well listen. Sam and I were thinking maybe we should go check out the professor's office." (Y/n) said to him. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no I can't right now, I've got some feisty little wildcat on the hook, I'm about to – zzzzp – reel her in. I'll introduce you guys." Dean said and a heavily made up blonde girl, sloppily drunk and wearing fishnet stockings and a tight miniskirt, walks up behind him.

"Dean—" Sam and (y/n) said, exasperated. "Starla! Starla, hey. These are my shuttle co-pilots Major Tom and Major Val. Major Tom and Val, Starla." Dean introduced as Starla draps an arm around Dean "Enchanté." She said, smiling. "Hi." Sam and (y/n) greet, unsure.

Starla begins to gag, cover her mouth, then looks up grinning. Sam and (y/n) look really skeptical and dubious at her. "Sorry. Just trying to keep my liquor down!" She said, laughing. "Yeah! Good job." Dean said to hef then he turns to Sam, confidentially. "Hey. Good news. She's got a sister." He said and he leans back into Starla's arm again, both of them grinning suggestively.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute." Dean said. "What?" Sam asked. "Come on, dude, that's not how it happened." Dean said to him. "No? So you never drank a purple nurple?" I asked him. "Yeah, maybe that, but I don't say things like feisty little wildcat. And her name wasn't Starla." Dean said, offended.

"Then what was it?" Sam asked him and Dean sits there and thinks. "I don't know." He said then he turns to Bobby. "But she was a classy chick. She was a grad student, anthropology and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories." He said as Bobby listens.

The girl, now wearing black heels and a sleek black cocktail dress, and Dean each hold a purple nurple and toast with them. "Here's to..." the girl said until Dean finishes it. "Here's to us." He said and they toast. "My God, you are attractive." The girl compliments.

"Thanks. But no time for that now. You need to tell me about this urban legend. Please. Lives are at stake." Dean said to her. "Sorry, I just...can't even concentrate. It's like staring...into the sun." She said then she reaches up and pulls his head towards her for a slow kiss.

Sam approaches behind them with an extremely dubious expression and his jacket slung over his shoulder. "Dean! What do you think you're doing?" He asked in an exaggerated prissy tone and Dean breaks away from the kiss to turn to his brother.

"Sam, please. If you wouldn't mind, give me five minutes here." He said in a very smooth and casual voice. "Dean, this is a very serious investigation. We don't have any time for any of your blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah Blah!" Sam said and Dean leans into kiss the girl again as Sam continues blabidiblahing behind him.

"Right! And that's how it really happened." Sam said, sarcastically, as Dean shrugs. "I don't sound like that, Dean!" Sam shouts. "That's what you sound like to me." Dean said and I scoff. "And where was I, smart guy?" I asked him. "Probably hooking up with a guy at the bar." Dean said, shrugging, and my jaw drops slightly. "Oh, is that what you think of me?!" I asked, angrily.

"Okay. What's going on with you three?" Bobby asked us. "Nothing. No— it's nothing." Sam replied, quickly. "No, come on. You're bickering like an old married couple but with three people." Bobby said as Dean gets up and crosses over to the kitchenette. "No, see married couples can get divorced. Me and these two, we're like, uh, Siamese triplets." Dean said.

"It's conjoined triplets!" I shouted af him, annoyed. "See what I mean?" Dean said and I rolled my eyes. "Look, it, we've just been on the road for too long. Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it." Sam said to Bobby after he let's out a sigh. "Okay." Bobby said, still concerned but continues to listen.

"So anyway. We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime." I explained.

The Janitor lets Sam, (y/n) and Dean, now posing as electricians, into the professor's office. "So, how long've you been working here?" Sam asked. "I've been mopping this floor for six years." the janitor replied as he turns on a light as the four walk into the professor's office. "There you go, guys." He said and hd sees Sam's EMF reader.

"What the heck's that for?" He asked. "Just find a wire in the walls." Sam said. "Huh. Wow. Not sure why you're wiring up this office. Not gonna do the professor much good." said the Janitor. "Why's that?" Dean asked. "He's dead." The janitor said, bluntly.

"Oh. What happened?" (Y/n) asked. "He went out that window. Right there." the janitor said as he points at the window behind the desk. "Yeah? Were you working that night?" Sam asked. "I'm the one who found him." said the janitor.

"You see it happen?" (Y/n) asked as Dean sees a bowl of nuts on the side table and eats one. "Nope. I just saw him come up here, and uh...well." the janitor said as he grimaced. "What?" Sam asked. "He wasn't alone." The janitor said as Dean comes up next to (y/n), his cheeks stuffed with nuts and he was holding the bowl.

"Who was he with?" Dean asked, muffled.

"Come on! I ate one, maybe two!" Dean yells at me and I roll my eyes again. "Just let me tell it, okay?" I said and Dean scoffs at me.

"He was with a young lady. I told the cops about her, but uh, I guess they never found her." The janitor said. "You saw this girl go in, huh? But did you ever see her come out?" Sam asked him. "Now that you mention it, no." The janitor said, slightly shocked. "You ever see her before, around?" (Y/n) asked. "Well, not her." he said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, his mouth still full of nuts, and Sam and (y/n) glare at him. "I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy, but uh...Mister Morality here? He brought a lot of girls up here. Got more ass than a toilet seat." The janitor said and Dean, laughs delightedly, while Sam glares and (y/n) runs her hands over her eyes and the Janitor grins.

"One more thing. This building, it only has four stories, right?" Sam asked. "Yeah." replied the Janitor. "So there wouldn't be a room six-six-nine?" Sam asked him. "'Course not. Why do you ask?" The janitor asked. "Aw, just curious. Thanks." Sam said as Dean chews with his mouth open, stuffed full of nuts.

The trio return to the hotel and Sam and (y/n) sit at the table; Dean gets a beer out of the fridge for each of them. "Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure." Sam said, disappointed. "And the room six-six-nine's a load of crap." Dean said. "So what do you think? The professor's just a jumper? A legend's just a legend?" (Y/n) asked. "I don't know. I mean, the uh, girl the janitor described, that's pretty weird." Dean said.

"Yeah." Sam and (y/n) said, in unison.

"We oughta check out the history of the building. See if any co-ed ganked herself there." Dean said as he heads to the bathroom. "Yeah, you're right." I said as Sam opens up his laptop, then stares at the screen, confused. "Dude. Were you on my computer?" He asked and Dean comes back out of the bathroom, confused.

"No." Dean said. "Oh really? 'Cause it's frozen now. On uh, Bustyasianbeauties.com." Sam said. Dean thinks for a moment, frowns, winces, and retreats. "Dean! Would you – just – don't touch my stuff anymore, okay?" Sam shouts at him. "Why don't you control your O.C.D.?" Dean calls out to him.

"But did you dig up anything about the building? Or on the suicidal co-ed?" Bobby asked us. "No. History's clean." Sam said. "Then it's not a haunting." Bobby said. "Maybe not. Tell you the truth, we're not really sure." I said to him.

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Bobby asked. "Well...it's weird." Sam said. "What's weird?" Bobby asked. "This next part, we uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly, but it's pretty friggin weird. Even for us." Dean said.

Curtis walks alone through the campus when he hears a noise. He turns, startled, then keeps walking, laughing at himself when he hears another noise and stops, looking straight up. He walks more carefully, hands in pockets.

Suddenly a bright light whooshes on overhead and he cringes, arms over his head. He starts running, but trips and falls; a bright beam of light shoots down and grabs him like a tractor beam, pulling him up. He screams and flails.

"Aliens?" Bobby asked, confused. "Yeah." Dean said as we give Bobby the I told you so look. "Look, even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people." Bobby said to us. "Hey, believe me. We know." I said.

"My whole life I've never found evidence of an honest-to-God abduction. It's all just cranks and pranks." Bobby said. "Yeah, that's what we thought. But...we figured we'd at least talk to the guy." Sam said.

Dean and (y/n) were seated next to Curtis, who has three full shot glasses lined up in front of him. Sam is standing nearby as Curtis takes a shot. "Hey, you ought to give those purple nurples a shot." Dean said and (y/n) punches his arm, making him shut up.

"So, what happened, Curtis?" (Y/n) asked him. "You won't believe me. Nobody does." Curtis said, upset. "Give us a chance." Sam said and Curtis looks down and sighs. "I do not want this in the papers." He said to us. "Off the record, then." Dean said and Curtis nods.

"I, uh...I blacked out, and...I lost time, and when I woke up, I don't know where I was." Curtis said and he explains how he was on a medical table, bright lights shining on him then seeing the face of an alien appearing above him.

"Then what?" Sam asked as he sits down. "They did tests on me. And, uh..." Curtis stammers then takes another shot. "They, uh...They probed me." He said and Sam turns his face away, struggling not to laugh, while (y/n) raises an eyebrow at him.

"They probed you?" Dean asked Curtis. "Yeah, they probed me. Again and a— Again and – And again." Curtis said then he takes another shot. "And again and again and again... And then one more time." He said.

"Yikes." Dean mutters. "And that's not even the worst of it." Curtis said. "How could it get any worse? Some alien made you his bitch." (Y/n) said and her and Dean smirk until Curtis glares at them.

"They...They made me...Slow dance!" Curtis exclaims and the trio exchange confused but shock looks.

"You guys are exaggerating again, huh?" Bobby asked us. "No no." I said, shaking my head. "Then this frat boy's just nuts." Bobby said. "We're not so sure." Dean said.

The trio stand over a large, perfectly round scorch mark in the ground. "I'm telling you, Dean, This was made by some kind of jet engine." Sam said. "You mean some saucer-shaped jet engine?" Dean asked him. "What else could it be?" (y/n) asked as the three look at the mark and try to think.

"What the hell?" Dean asked. "I don't know." Sam and (y/n) said. "Seriously, guys– What the hell?" Dean asked, confused. "I don't know." Sam said, shrugging. "I mean, first the haunting. Now this? The timing alone – There's got to be some kind of connection." (Y/n) said, as she thinks. "You mean between the angry spirit and the sexed-Up E.T.? What could the connection possibly be?" Dean asked.

"But what could we do? So we just kept on digging." Dean said to Bobby and he continues with the story.

"So, you and this guy, Curtis – You were in the same house?" (Y/n) asked this other kid after the three meet up with him. "Yeah." The kid said. "You heard what happened to him, right?" Dean asked. "Yeah, he says it was aliens, but, you know, whatever." the kid said.

"Look, man, I – I know this all has to be so hard." Sam said in an exaggerated concern. "Um, not so much." the kid said. "But I want you to know...I'm here for you. You brave little soldier. I acknowledge your pain. Come here." Sam said and he grabs the kid in a hug. "You're too precious for this world." He said, softly.

"I never said that!" Sam shouts at Dean. "You're always saying pansy stuff like that." Dean said and I shake my head.

"Well, um...Yeah, uh, thanks." The kid said and Sam releases him. "Thanks for the hug, but, uh, I'm okay. Really. To tell you the truth, whatever happened to Curtis, he had it coming." The kid said.

"Why is that?" Dean asked him. "He's our pledge master. Put us through hell this semester, and got off on it. So now he knows how we feel." The kid replied and Sam keeps giving a worried and concerned look at the kid. "It's okay." Dean said.

"Still doesn't make a lick of sense. But, hey, at least there's one connection." Dean said as the three return to the hotel. "Between what?" (Y/n) asked. "The victims. The professor and the frat guy – They're both dicks." Dean replied.

"That's a connection?" Sam asked. "You got anything better to go on, I'd love to hear it." Dean said as (y/n) looks in her bag. "Where's my laptop?" She asked. "I don't know." Dean said as (y/n) continues to search, getting more frustrated.

"Think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl. A pledge master gets hazed." Dean said. "I left it in here." (Y/n) said as she continues to look for her laptop, Sam helps her. "You obviously didn't. I mean, these punishments—they're almost poetic. Actually, it'd be more like a limerick, but still–" Dean said and (y/n) approaches Dean.

"Okay, hilarious. Ha ha. Where'd you hide it?" She asked, annoyed. "What, your computer?" Dean asked. "Yeah, where'd you hide it?" She asked. "Why would I take your computer?" Dean asked her.

"Because no one else could have, Dean! We keep the door locked. We never let any maids in." (Y/n) yells. "Looks like you lost it, Poindexter." Dean mutters.

"Dude, you know something? We put up with a lot from you." Sam yells. "What are you talking about? I'm a joy to be around." Dean said. "Yeah? Your dirty socks in the sink, your food in the fridge." (Y/n) yells.

"What's wrong with my food?" Dean asked. "It's not food anymore, Dean! It's Darwinism. All we ask from you, the one thing, is that you don't mess with mine and (y/n)'s stuff!" Sam yells and Dean just stares at him. "You done?" Dean asked.

"You know, how would you feel if I screwed with the Impala?" (Y/n) asked him and Dean glares at her. "It'd be the last thing you ever did." He said in a low voice.

"Did you take her computer?" Bobby asked Dean. "Serves her right, but, no." Dean said. "Well, I didn't lose it. 'Cause I don't lose things." I said to him, angrily. "Oh, that's right, yeah, 'cause she's Lil' Miss Perfect." Dean said and I scoff. "And I didn't take it either. In fact, my laptop is missing as well." Sam said.

"Well I didn't take that either!" Dean said and Bobby shakes his head. "Okay, okay. Why don't you just tell me what happened next?" Bobby asked us. "There was one more victim." Dean said. "Right. Now, we, we didn't see this one ourselves, either. We kind of put it together from the evidence. But this guy – He was, uh, he was a research scientist. Animal testing." Sam explains.

"Yeah, you know – a dick. Which fits the pattern." Dean said.

The Research Scientist leaves a campus building, heading towards the street when he sees something shiny in the gutter and stops. He looks around cautiously, then gets down on hands and knees to see it better. It is a gold watch. He smiles and looks excited.

He gets all the way down and sticks and arm through the gutter bars, trying to reach it. He struggles when something grabs him. He begins screaming and struggling as blood spatters on his face.

"Cops didn't release the cause of death 'cause they had no clue what the cause was." Dean explains to Bobby. "So, we checked it ourselves." Sam said and we continue.

After opening the window to a building, Sam crawls through the window. "Hey." Dean said and he tosses his flashlight to Sam, then climbs through and helps (y/n) through before he shuts the window.

Dean opens a body drawer and shines his light through, he grimaces. "Well, this oughta be quick." He said as they slide the drawer out and gingerly peel off the bloody blanket, revealing extremely mangled remains.

"OK, that is just nasty." (Y/n) said, disgusted, as Sam holds his hand to his mouth and nose. "Uh, yeah." He said, speaking muffled while trying not to breathe through his nose. "Mutilated?" Dean said. "Looks to me like something was hungry." (y/n) said.

"They identify him yet?" Dean asked. "Yeah, uh, a research scientist at the college. Guess where his office was, by the way. Crawford Hall, same as the professor." Sam said. "That's right where the frat boy had his close encounter." Dean said. "Yeah. Hey, grab me that thing, would you?" Sam asked and Dean slides a magnifying light over to Sam, who peers through it at the corpse. "Thanks." Sam said as he looks through the corpse.

"What is it?" Dean asked. "Looks like a...A belly scale?" Sam said, confused. "A belly scale? From what?" (y/n) asked. "Uh...An alligator?" Sam replied and Dean and (y/n) look at him, confused.

"An alligator in the sewer. Come on." Dean said. "What? Well, Dean, it's a classic urban legend. A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels." Sam said. "But no one's ever really found one. I mean, th – they're not real." (Y/n) said. "Well, neither's alien abduction, but something chomped on this guy." Sam said and Dean shakes his head.

"This couldn't get any weirder." Dean mutters. "Maybe we should get some help. I'll call Bobby. Maybe he's run into something like this before." Sam said. "Oh, I'm sure he has. Just your typical haunted campus, alien abduction, alligator-in-the-sewer gig. Yeah, it's simple." Dean said with sarcasm.

"We decided to search the sewer anyway, so we split up, each taking one end of campus." I said. "D'you find anything?" Bobby asked. "Yeah, I found something, just not in the sewer." Dean said.

Dean emerges from the sewer and enteres the alley where the Impala is parked. All four tires are flat. "Son of a bitch!" He exclaims in anger. He circles the car and finds a money clip on the ground, engraved with (your initials). "(y/n)!" Dean growls.

Back at the hotel, Sam and (y/n) were reading some books as Dean enters. "You think this is funny, (y/n)?" Dean asked, angrily, and she looks up at him, confused. "It depends. What?" she asked. "Th-th-th-the car!" Dean said, angrily.

"What about the car?" (y/n) asked as Sam looks between his friend and his brother. "You can't let the air out of the tires, you idiot. You're gonna bend the rims!" Dean yells. "Whoa, wait a minute. I didn't go near your car." She said, getting angry.

"Oh, yeah? Huh. Then how'd I find this?" Dean asked as he holds up the money clip. (Y/n) pats her pocket then she stands up. "Hey. Give me back my money!" She demands. "Oh, no, no. Consider it reparations. For, uh, emotional trauma." Dean said as (y/n) comes up to him.

"Yeah, very funny. Now, give it back." She said and she reaches for it. "No." Dean said, firmly, as he holds the money up and away from her. "Dean, c'mon!" Sam said, annoyed.

"Dean, I have had it up to here with you." (Y/n) said, angrily. "Yeah? Right back at you!" He spat at her. (Y/n) reaches for the money again; Dean avoids her. Sam then goes to grab it but Dean avoids him then (y/n) tackles him to the bed. They scuffle and fight like kids.

"Come on! Get off me!" Dean yells at her. "Give it back!" (y/n) shouts and Sam tries to help and the three begin to fight and scuffle.

"Okay, I've heard enough." Bobby said, interrupting. "You showed up about an hour after that." Dean said. "I'm surprised at you three. I really am. Sam...(y/n), first off, Dean did not steal your computers." Bobby said to us. "But I –" Sam started to say but Bobby holds out his hand to him.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh! And, Dean, (y/n) did not touch your car." He said to Dean. "Yeah!" I sneered at Dean as I look at him. "And if you three bothered to pull your heads outta your asses, it all would have been pretty clear." Bobby said. "What?" Dean asked.

"What you're dealing with." Bobby said and we look at him, confused. "I got nothing." Dean said. "Me neither." Sam said. "Same here." I said.

"You got a trickster on your hands." Bobby said and Dean snaps his fingers. "That's what I thought." Dean said. "What?! No, you didn't." Sam shouts at him.

"I got to tell you...you guys were the biggest clue." Bobby said. "What do you mean?" I asked him. "These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight." Bobby said to us.

"The laptops." Sam said.

"The tires." Dean mutters.

"It knows you're onto him, and it's been playing you like fiddles." Bobby said. "So, what is it, what, what, spirit, demon, what?" I asked him. "Well, more like demigods, really. There's Loki in Scandinavia. There's Anansi in West Africa. Dozens of them. They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Things as real as you and me. Make them vanish just as quick." Bobby replied.

"You mean like an angry spirit or an alien or an alligator." Dean said and Bobby nods. "The victims fit the M.O., too. Tricksters target the high and the mighty, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor – deadly pranks, things like that." Bobby said.

"Bobby, what do these things look like?" I asked him. "Lots of things, but human, mostly." Bobby said. "And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?" Dean asked and Sam and I frown, thinking and then I come to the realization.

It was the Janitor.

The Janitor locks a gate with a key attached to his belt as the boys and I follow him up a staircase. "Sorry I'm dragging a little ass today, guys. Had quite the night last night." He said as he turns to look at them. "Lots of sex, if you catch my drift." He said, chuckling.

"Yeah, hard not to. Listen, we won't be long." Dean said then the Janitor turns his back to us and Dean signals to me. "We just need to check a couple offices up on three." Dean said. "No problem." The janitor said. "I, uh, forgot something in the truck. You know what? I'll catch up with you guys." I said to them. "Okay." Sam and Dean said and they turn and begin ascending the stairs again.

I wait until they're out of sight, then hurried back to the locked gate. I pull out my lockpicking tools and begin to pick the lock. Moments later, I enter and rummages through the lockers until I find a copy of the Weekly World News, with the headline Aliens Abduct Cheerleaders, in one of the lockers.

Later, after meeting up with them, the boys and I exit the building. "Just 'cause he reads the Weekly World News doesn't mean he's our guy. I mean, you guys read it, too." Sam said to me and Dean. "I'm telling you, it's him." Dean argues.

"Look, I just think we need some hard proof. That's all." Sam said to us. "Okay, another thing Bobby mentioned was that these suckers have a metabolism like an insect, a real sweet tooth." Dean said. "Well, I didn't find any candy bars or sugar. Not even Equal." I said. "Eh, that's probably 'cause you missed something." Dean said to me.

"I don't miss things." I said, firmly. "Oh, right, 'cause you're Miss Perfect." Dean growls. "What? Are you really still pissed at me 'cause of what the trickster did?" I asked him. "You been a tight ass long before that trickster showed up." Dean grumbles and Sam and I stare at him

"Look, just...stay here, keep an eye on the janitor. (Y/n) and I'll go to his place to see if we can find any actual evidence before you go barging in and staking the man! Just wait till we get back, okay? Okay?" Sam asked him. "Okay!" Dean yells and Sam and I leave.

*3rd Person POV*

Dean paces along while The trickster watches, a serious expression on his face. As the sun goes down and turns into night, Dean stood by waiting, impatiently. "Ah, screw this." He growls.

Dean enters the building, poking around cautiously with his flashlight. As he goes up the last staircase, he puts the flashlight away and pulls out a large wooden stake. He hears something behind him then tucks the stake into his jacket, and enters the theater.

On the stage is a round red bed with a tacky canopy and a slowly rotating disco ball. Two women were sprawled on it seductively, both in lingerie. As Dean gets to the stage, they crawl towards him. "We've been waiting for you, Dean." The brunette girl said.

"Y-Y-You guys aren't real." Dean stammers as he stares at them. "Trust me, sugar, it's gonna feel real." Brunette said and Dean laughs nervously. "Come on. Let us give you a massage." Blondie begs.

"Wha...You know, I'm a – I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Really, I am, but...I-I'm gonna have to pass." Dean stammers. "They're a peace offering." A voice said and Dean turns to see the Trickster sitting in the seats. "I know what you, your brother and the girl do. I've been around a while. Run into your kind before." He said.

"Well, then you know that I...can't let you just keep hurting people." Dean said to him. "Come on! Those people got what was coming to them. Hoisted on their own petards. But you and Sam and (y/n)– I like you. I do. So treat yourself...Long as you want. Just long enough for me to move on to the next town." The trickster said.

"Yeah, I don't think I can let you do that." Dean said, firmly. "I don't wanna hurt you. And you know that I can." said the Trickster. "Look, man, I – I got to tell you, I dig your style, all right? I mean..." Dean chuckles. "I do. I mean... the slow-dancing alien –"

"One of my personal favorites. Yeah." The trickster said, laughing. "But, uh, I can't let you go." Dean said. "Too bad. Like I said, I like you. Sam was right. You shouldn't've come alone." The trickster said. "Well, I'll agree with you there." Dean said and the door slams shut.

The Trickster looks back up the stairs to see Sam and (y/n) had just entered, with a large stake of their own. Bobby stands at the top of the next aisle, also with a stake. "That fight you guys had outside – that was a trick?" The trickster asked and Dean smiles. "Hm. Not bad. But you want to see a real trick? " he asked.

A masked man with a chainsaw appears near Sam and (y/n) and attackz then the brunette attacks Dean. The Trickster watches, entertained, as (y/n) and Sam grapple with Chainsaw man and Dean and Bobby fight the two women.

The trickster laughs and watches the fight and gives commentary of things that was going on. Then one of the women throws Dean into the seats near the Trickster, who applauds. "Nice toss, ladies! Nice show." He said as he stands up then looks down at Dean. "I did not want to have to do this." The trickster said when (y/n) pops up behind him and stab him in the back, through the chest.

"Me neither." She said. As she grinds in the stake, Chainsaw man and the women disappear. (Y/n) pulls the stake out, and the Trickster falls, dead, into a seat.

*(y/n)'s POV*

"You guys okay?" I asked the boys as Sam and Bobby comes up while I help Dean to his feet. "Yeah. I guess." Sam said. "Well, I gotta say...he had style." Dean said as he looks down at the dead body then he groans, and we stagger outside.

"Bobby, thanks a lot. We really couldn't've—" Sam started to say and Bobby waves a hand. "Hey, save it! Let's just get the hell out of dodge before somebody finds that body." Bobby said. "Yeah." Dean said and we go outside and head to the Impala.

"Look, Dean, um...I just want to say that I'm, uh...Um..." I started to say to Dean before he says. "Hey. Me too."

"Same here." Sam said and we look at each other and each nod. "You guys are breaking my heart. Could we please just leave?" Bobby said and the boys and I exchange a look over the top of the car, get in, and drive away.

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topazshadowwolf · 8 months

Text

GoopTales: Part 17

Time for the kids to go to bed. (again... but this time in their room)

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17(you are here)

AO3: Ch 1 (1-4), Ch 2 (4-8), Ch 3 (9-12), Ch 4 (13-16)

---

The bedrooms the boys usually slept in were close to his chambers but not right next door. They were in the same hall, just further down and clustered together. They chose them like mildly rebellious teenagers who wanted to strike out on their own while only moving a block away. With them currently being so small, Nightmare didn’t want them even that far away. Besides, their rooms were far too much of a mess as well. (Except for Cross’ room, but that is beside the point.)

No, Nightmare wanted these younger versions of his boys closer to his room and in a cleaner space. Also, with how clingy they were towards each other, they would be best all together in one room versus separated in four different ones like normal.

So he picked a room right next to his. While Lyra got them washed up for the night, he got the room ready for them. Their favorite blankets he did fetch from their rooms with pictures or other items each boy seemed fond of. They might not remember these objects, but if those items bring any amount of comfort, then the effort is worth it. As he was doing this, it was starting to hit him.

Obviously, he knew and understood what happened, but all this time, he had been reacting to the situation. He did ponder it before… but as he was setting up a room for them, the realness of this was sinking further in. He sat on a chair he set near the bed to read from as he needed a moment to settle the complex feelings within him.

This evening had been nice. They ate dinner together, played a board game, and enjoyed each other's company. But the fact is that his boys were different. As enjoyable as this afternoon and evening were, he wanted the adults back. He even missed the chaos of them. He would know they were alright if they were their true selves again. Additionally, they would know who he was and not be wondering why they couldn’t go home.

(Except for Dust, that one could use being raised by him. A far better option than his actual childhood.)

But even the adult Dust he sorely missed.

“Here we are!” Said Lyra as she guided the boys into the room. They were all dressed for bed and looking around with wide, bright sockets.

“wow! we get to sleep here?!” Killer asked as he looked up at Lyra.

“Yes, you do! It is the room Mr. Night chose for you to sleep in. Was that nice of him?” She asked.

“yes!” Cross replied as he then ran in and over to the bed.

It was a tall bed, so Nightmare had put a step stool for the children to use. Cross, though, being the adventurous child he is, decided to disregard the stool and try climbing up on his own. The heavy emotions Nightmare had been feeling were replaced by amusement as he watched the child struggle to climb up to the top.

“Do you want help, Cross?” Nightmare asked.

“mm, nah… i got… it,” Cross huffed as he finally squirmed and pulled his way up.

“oh! I wanna try!” Killer said as he started climbing.

Horror used the step stool and then helped Dust up as well. They sat on the bed, watching Killer struggle his way up and join Cross in laying on his back and catching his breath.

Breath finally caught, Cross sat up and smiled at Nightmare, “thank you, mr. night!”

“what… he said,” Killer wheezed.

Horror and Dust also said their thank yous, though Dust’s was more mumbled than anything. He picked up one of the books Lyra had previously bought and opened it. The story was very… simple… so was the wording. He frowned for a moment and then looked at the Toriel in question. “This is really meant for children?”

“Well… yes,” She replied, looking confused.

“There is nothing here to challenge the mind,” He stated with a frown.

“They are getting ready for bed, not school. You can read something to offer a challenge in the morning. For now, a simple story, with a simple moral, is best for sleeping,” She explained, and Nightmare had to admit that made sense. Still, he had been reading far more advanced books when he was just a little older than them.

“i wanna be challenged!” Killer protested.

“what kind of challenge?” Cross asked as he sat up. “is it a test of strength?”

“or speed?” Killer asked.

“It is a test to see,” Lyra started, but Nightmare could see the nervousness in Dust’s eyelights.

“Not a test,” Nightmare said quickly to cut off. “Also, no challenges tonight. What Lyra was saying is right. You four need sleep.”

“but i don’t wanna,” Killer huffed.

“Well, if you do not sleep, then you will not be able to do anything fun tomorrow,” Nightmare stated flatly.

“what?! why not?!” Killer then demanded, sitting up, “that’s mean! why won’t you let me do anything fun tomorrow just for not sleeping?”

“It will not be me not letting you. It will be you being too tired to do anything fun,” Nightmare replied. He then mused and set the book aside. “I think I have the perfect story for the night. It is one that actually happened, and I was there to see.”

“Did it happen last week?” Killer asked.

“Longer than that,” Nightmare replied.

“Last month?” Cross then asked, wanting to join in this game.

“Longer,” Nightmare answered.

Horror was now curious and spoke up, “two years ago?”

“Still longer,” Nightmare replied.

“how old are you, mr. night?” Dust asked quietly.

“I am both very old and not at the same time,” Nightmare answered, “Now, will you let me tell my story?”

“how can you be very old and not very old?” Killer asked.

“are you like the boss monsters? they stop aging unless they have kids.” Horror asked.

“We are like that, yes,” Lyra replied. She then smiled at Nightmare. “I will go clean up and let you tell your story.”

She left the room, and he stood and readjusted the blankets. As Nightmare tucked them each in, he started his story. “Settle in, comfy cozy, as they say. Now, once upon a time, a very long time ago, there was a tiny sun and a tiny moon. They were brothers, and they got along very well, sharing what they had and protecting a great planet that was their mother.”

Killer gasped quietly and whispered, “i love space!”

“shhh,” Replied Horror.

“Now the sun was always bright and happy, and all the mortals that lived on their mother were happy to see him. They were so glad to see him that one day, this tiny sun asked if he could stay up with his brother, the moon, all night long. The moon wasn’t sure if that was wise and asked the sun if he would still be able to warm the planet the next day if he did that. Too excited to think about the consequences, the sun assured the moon he could. That night, the sun played all night with the moon, and the moon had so much fun playing with his brother, the sun.

“Then the morning came, and the sun was so tired that he fell asleep. Worried for his brother, the moon tried to help, but his light wasn’t as strong as the sun’s. The mortals became cold, and that made them angry.”

“Moon!” Nightmare snapped in a more gruff voice. “Where is Sun? We need him, not you!”

The next voice he did was more youthful, and he felt odd hearing it. Still, he continued, as the children seemed happy, “I am sorry, cried Moon. I am trying my best, but my brother is tired and needs to sleep. I will help you the best I can.”

“It is your fault! You tricked him into being active at night when we need to sleep. Now, when we need his light and warmth, we are in the dark and cold! The mortals yelled at the small moon. They continued to insult and threaten the moon until he ran and hid. Soon, the sun woke, and he saw his brother was gone.”

“Sun! The mortal called, We have chased off the wicked moon who dared to steal your place.”

“This surprised the sun, and he then ran. The mortals yelled after the sun as they were left in darkness without Sun providing his light. They did not even have the tiny moon there to give his light. Still, that did not matter to Sun as he wanted to find his brother, Moon. So, he left the mortals in their darkness.

“He searched and searched, finding the small moon eventually by a stream of stardust. He apologized to the moon for breaking his promise and said that he would do his best to complete his duties so the mortals would never talk to him like that ever again.”

“did the moon forgive him?” Killer asked.

“Yes, he did,” Nightmare answered.

“the mortals should have apologized!” Cross frowned and folded his arms.

“what are mortals anyway?” Killer asked.

“i don’t know what they are either,” Cross frowned.

“None of you know what mortals are?” Nightmare asked. And all but one shook their heads. “Dust?”

“they… are any creature that can grow old and die…,” Dust said softly.

“That is correct. Humans and monsters are all mortals,” Nightmare praised.

“are there things that don’t?” Killer asked, looking at Dust.

“immortal is the word for a thing that doesn’t grow old and die,” Dust answered.

“Well done,” Nightmare nodded.

“are you in-mortal?” Cross asked Nightmare.

Killer then gasped and sat up, “is that how you’re old and not old?”

“It is pronounced immortal, but yes,” Nightmare said before he had Killer lie back to tuck him in again. “Now, we can discuss this more in the morning. Good night.”

He reached over to turn off the light when Killer whined, “don’t we get a kiss goodnight?”

“A what?” Nightmare frowned as he looked at Killer.

“dad always gives me a kiss on the head right here,” Killer pointed at a spot in the middle of his forehead. “i can’t go to sleep without it.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You did last night,” Nightmare corrected.

“that was a slumber party, that’s different,” Killer whined.

“Is this not also, in a way, a ‘slumber party?’” Nightmare frowned.

“nuh-uh! this is different,” Killer frowned and folded his arms.

“slumber parties have games, and you stay up late and watch movies and stuff,” Cross explained.

“this is ‘mommy and daddy wanna do fun stuff without the kids, so we have to go to bed when they want,’” Killer huffed, and Horror snorted back a laugh.

“what?! what kinda fun stuff do they do?” Cross said while looking shocked at the idea that what Killer said could be true.

“stuff that isn’t even fun, like kissing,” Killer complained.

“If kissing is an issue, why are you asking for one?” Nightmare inquired.

“it’s diiiiiifferent!” Killer threw his arms up as he spoke with an exasperated tone. As annoying as this was, Nightmare could not help but find amusement. “i want a bedtime kiss. adult do gross mouth kissing!” Killer frowned and glared at the ceiling as he folded his arms again.

“ewww, do they brush their teeth first?” Cross asked.

“i don’t think they do since they just kiss each other on the lips. or teeth for skeletons or non-lip monsters,” Horror added.

“nuh-uh! i saw some kissing before, and they were opening their mouths and-” Killer started.

“That is enough,” Nightmare interjected as this was getting out of hand. He highly doubted he would hear the end of this if he didn’t surrender to Killer’s demands. “Here,” he said as he bent over and kissed Kill’s forehead. Then he did the same for Cross, Horror, and Dust. “Now, go to sleep.”

“thank you, and good night, mr. night!” Killer said with a big smile before rolling to his side and closing his sockets. The others added their own thank yous and settled into bed to sleep. Nightmare turned off the light and then turned to leave. The cartoon-style dragon night light illuminated the way, even though he didn’t need it to see.

He stepped out into the hall, noticing Lyra was standing nearby as he closed the door most of the way. She leaned closer to him and said softly, “I thought I was going to have to save you.”

“You already have,” He smiled at her. “Thank you”

“I will ask you one more time. Are you sure?” She asked as she looked at him calmly. “My room is just right over there. The very room you gave me so I would feel more welcomed here. I can stay… I will stay however long you need me.”

He looked away, thinking about that. If there was no cure? What then? She would be stuck being the mother of his sons… his henchmen who would truly be his sons. No. He knows Toriel’s are motherly, but he highly doubted the boys sleeping in the room behind him were the type of children she would want to be the mother of. If he lets her stay, she will accept that fate… just as she has allowed him to cling to her.

“Lyra, I will call you when I need help, I guarantee that. But let me at least try,” He said.

She hummed softly and nodded, “Alright, I understand. They are your boys.”

Lyra then did something he did not expect as she placed her hand on his face, along his left jawline. She directed his head to tilt up as she leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. “Good night, Moonbeam.”

He blinked at her as she pulled away and gave him a mischievous smile. All the while, his mind struggled to get caught up with the act that just occurred. It took longer than it should have to register that she kissed him good night.

Not once in his long life had he ever been kissed goodnight before. And now…

Her portal was open, and she was walking towards it. His mind snapped out of its daze just in time for Nightmare to say, “Good night, Lyra.” She gave him another smile before walking through and leaving his castle.

…

Nightmare should go to his office, where he stashed the dating advice books. He was not as ready for that as he should have been. It was such a… soft and platonic kiss that it should not have startled him. Leaning against the castle wall, he sighed… it was likely just him being tired and honestly not used to acts of affection beyond initiating hugs with others.

He needed sleep… and while the boys were asleep, he should sleep too.

---

#UTMV #GoopTales #Dadmare #nightmare!sans #killer!sans #cross!sans #dust!sans #horror!sans #Lyra!toriel #Balance!toriel #Nightmare flavored soriel #Fuzzynight #Nightmare tells the boys a bedtime story #domestic fluff #dadmare fluff

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no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist · 8 months

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Something that I find very, very interesting about FLF is the theme of perception vs reality when it comes to people, especially from Rosalind's pov.

Even going into reading the book, it's practically an expectation that when you start the book that you probably aren't going in as a super big fan of the main character. Even though Rosalind does have a very short pov in the TVD duology and there are definitely quite a few hints that she didn't really know what she was doing and that there's a lot more to her character, most people, just like pretty much all of the characters in TVD, don't see that because it's very subtle. And because Rosalind isn't very forward about it until you actually get into her head. When you read FLF, you get a much deeper understanding of her character and start to see that most of her characterization in TVD comes from a very warped understanding of what was going on with her.

This is also made very interesting by the fact that Rosalind's biggest character flaw is her propensity for holding grudges. If she has been wronged, she tends to cling to the anger she gets from that. It also takes a lot for her to start to see beyond her initial impressions of people, which is greatly reflected by the different ways that you begin to view the different characters in FLF.

Orion is a very good example of this. In this first pov chapter we initially see him as this,,, very unbothered average YA Hot BoyTM character. And even within that first chapter, that is very quickly disproven. Which is very interesting because that switch in perception that you have of Orion during that one chapter is essentially the same switch in perception Rosalind has of him over the course of the entire book.

This same theme is likely relevant to some extent in pretty much all of the other characters as well. With Phoebe, she's painted as a very naive, nonthreatening person only to be revealed to be the assassin who has been lurking in the background the entire time. And the more you reflect on her character, the more you realize how deeply everything that happened with her family has affected her.

Even though Alisa, at first glance, seems to be relatively unconcerned about the sides of the war and therefore likely lacking any strong morals or personal values, this is disproven when she refuses to trust Oliver, turning against the side she chose out of convenience to better align herself with the beliefs that she holds very closely to her, even though that deprives herself of the support of any formal side. She is no longer the little sister who plays a passive "watcher" role in the story.

This also applies to Silas and how Rosalind's first impression when he meets him is a memory of how she heard his father bragging about him years ago and therefore assumes that he has a good relationship with his family which I doubt is accurate.

I can also see this applying to Oliver when we see things from his point of view. My guess is that he's going to end up being absolutely terrified of his mom and that is going to contrast with the Tall Scary Communist AgentTM thing, but we'll see.

As far as Celia, I think this applies to how while she is often portrayed as a very caring kind person who only wants peace and stability, this also translates into her being willing to fight for it, which we see in TVD when she very closely aligns herself with Juliette and again when she defects to the Communists.

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gotafewtricks · 7 months

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Omg hellooo!

Hc's for an oni reader? The shimadas (plus kiriko) meet such a muscle mommy reader as she's taller and obviously has mad muscles as well as horns. I imagine it like the demon hanzo and oni genji and maybe witch kiriko?

★ Meeting an oni

Aww, hey !! & thank you for the request !! I'm unsure what you meant on the last sentence, but I presume you meant an oni reader with demon!Hanzo, oni!Genji, and witch!Kiriko? Or just referring to how similar they are, in essence? I'll try to write both versions:3

But, this request is so unique; I hopefully do it justiceee<3

★ Hanzo

Hanzo was no stranger to the spirits, considering his clan found pride in their kinship with dragons. The superstitious essence that enriched the Shimadas' family life feels as if it was something straight out of a fictitious reality for them, but the idea of such was not outlandish. Occupations within the more religious communities of Japan were reliant on someone's belief, for reasons that do not need to be explained. Even if Hanzo was not one to study among the field in his own leisure, ghosts, and among which of those are yōkai, have owned a special place of respect in his heart.

I like to believe that the dragons expressed in his ultimate, and in Genji's, are spirits themselves—even though there are popular theories surrounding that they may just be a channel of energy through technology; I just want to look cool and make the story more interesting by introducing another very well-known idea that they are actually sentient. Think of Kiriko's kitsune companion, in a way.

Although, Hanzo was not exactly ready to meet such a hulking figure before him.

I do not write Hanzo the best as I do with his brother and Kiriko, but I do believe that his reaction would be rather varied. He is extremely used to the spirits, as he has grown accustomed to them, and it feels natural, almost. I'd say that, due to his upbringing within his family, being rather forced into such a position to be made comfortable with those ideas.

Upon your arrival, Hanzo did feel his breath hitch at just how tall you were. It wasn't a foreign concepr for him to be shorter than a person, even if he was of a formidable height—many, many others were vast in their stature. With your strong appearance, he knew that you could've easily have bench pressed triple his weight. Hanzo doesn't know either to be flustered with the thought, or intimidated. He takes it as his cue to feel both.

If we are talking more in terms with a more demonic Hanzo, the archer would still feel those very same emotions. In one hand, he knew to take you seriously—given that you could easily overpower him in a physical scenario. In the other, he was reassured by the safety of his range, knowing his excellence in his bow was an advantage. There was something nagging at him, however, for always thinking about those more violent outcomes. The more he would look over your well-built body, the more he could feel his face flush; lying to himself that he's just trying to study his opponent.

★ Genji

Similar to Hanzo's scenario, Genji is no stranger to the world of yōkai. Him and his dragon companion held a very, very tight bond together; not viewing the lessons and morals the male had to learn over all of those years as boredom, however, a better understanding of the spirit. As Genji would practice further sparring in the comfort of a training session in the comfort of his own solitude, the philosophy he has earned from sharpening his mentality has later enriched his relationship with the dragon.

On occasion, he would also see the fox spirit trail alongside Kiriko, knowing that it was taking care of the girl. Even if most of Genji's interactions with the apparition were of mischevious intent, he knew better not to underestimate the power of the kitsune; their wisdom spanning across multiple generation's length of centuries.

Upon meeting you, the ninja would take a moment to study your physique, and depending on if he was truly in the mood to jab a few playful sayings here and there, Genji would ask for your exercising routine. He's seen how people in the modern times have grown to be so exponentially tall; and with the amount of muscles you have, he couldn't help but feel rather jealous over the fact you were in such great shape. Plus, being seen as smaller was something Genji would often laugh at to himself, but it was something you could always tease him about it later.

Regarding yōkai and their mystical properties, Genji ought to know better than to view it as anything different. He was a cybernetic ninja, after all—he is still human, and still Genji, but he did not choose this body of his. As much as he would be taken aback, considering you do not meet the demons that horror movies love to accentuate every day, he would make a genuine effort to get to know you better. You couldn't help but notice how he would be fascinated with your horns.

If he is an oni himself, however, things would be different, in the sense of meeting another one of his kind. Also, different in the sense that the author knows jackshit about writing Genji in this form, so please forgive them for whatever out of character mess this could escalate to. You cannot see it behind his mask, but the smile in both his eyes and on his face could tell a person that he's very interested—and would love to see what you could really do. He'll try to paraphrase his words to make it seem as if he isn't begging you to spar with him; his tone giving away his true emotion laced through his dialogue—his eagerness.

★ Kiriko

With her background with her grandmother introducing her to the ideas of the spirits, and with Kiriko being familiar with the work that shrine maidens have such high responsibilities of—she has substantial knowledge about the subject. Through performing specific rituals, either that is studying how the ancient Japanese would go about them, or guiding these events herself; the woman would then have a better awareness in regards to the yōkai. As she does surround herself with friends who have kinship to these mythological legends, it's difficult for Kiriko to be surprised with these sorts of events.

As she knows that there are malicious spirits out to target the good will of other's, thus, that being another reason why she is trying her hardest ro train, not to better herself—but for the people that she has sworn to protect. Whenever she laid sights on you, however, she tries to gauge her reaction based on the actions that you were to lay out, at first. Kiriko knows a thing or two about judging others based on their looks alone, considering she gets underestimated with her being a young adult in such a high-stakes type of environment nearly 24/7.

She would be more openly joking about it, not in a way to ever be derogatory or to be offensive ok any shape or form. Rather, making verbal comments to herself. These would mostly be her voicing her opinions on your build, and she would be lying that if seeing your form does make her a bit self-conscious of her stature. Kiriko would be very interested, and she would try to see it as more of a challange to try and best you out of different regimens—either in sports, exercising, etc.; Kiriko knew damn well that if she ever wanted to each the top shelf of anything, she'd need to as for your assistance—making herself feel as if she was a child all over again.

With witch Kiriko (rather, fortune teller), the girl would be pleasantly surprised to come across an oni; it's not the most outlandish thing that she's seen. The familiarity with your kind would somehow put Kiriko at ease, as she can easily predict what coukd happen next with you. She says that it's because of her expertise in her abilities as an oracle, trying to boast her skills in front of you. You may think she is trying to get another customer to pay for a vague, "foretold" explanation of their time ahead. However, she just wants to try to show off in front of you; as she needs to do something to distract her mind—Kiriko knows it's rude to stare, after all. Even if she could look at you for hours, at least.

Though, rest assured, Kiriko already knows what lies ahead in store for her; as the future certainly has you in it.

#overwatch x reader #ow x reader #hanzo x reader #genji x reader #kiriko x reader #hanzo shimada x reader #genji shimada x reader #kiriko kamori x reader #x reader #oni!reader #demon hanzo #oni genji #witch kiriko #fortune teller kiriko

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