#Just let me travel across the ocean!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
I VOLUNTEER!
Watch the interview here: https://youtube.com/watch?v=fTopKgqQ9kA&feature=share7
#jere pöyhönen#look at him#käärijä#Jere#jere from vantaa#jere is my babygirl#I am right here baby!#Just let me travel across the ocean!#eurovison 2023
146 notes
·
View notes
Text
pspspspsps. how many mutuals do i have here who live in the uk
#i'll be in england for thoughtbubble in mid-november and i'm trying to figure out if i wanna try to travel a bit more while im there#it feels like a waste to fly across a whole ocean just to do one convention and immediately leave yknow#so. if u are in the uk or ireland and might potentially have a couch i could crash on sometime in november. let me know?#kaylee.txt
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
picture perfect - lhs
pairing: ex!heeseung x midnight rain!reader genre: angst, exes meeting again in a different circumstance, heeseung is getting married, the one that got away word count: 2.5k summary: what's worse than interviewing your ex-fiancé for his wedding while tormented by the life you could have had? especially when you couldn't stop glancing on the ring on his finger.
My boy was a montage A slow-motion, love potion Jumping off things in the ocean I broke his heart 'cause he was nice
“When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?”
The room was colder than you expected, or maybe it was the weight of the moment that made you shiver. Five years had passed since you left Heeseung behind, but here you were, standing across from him again. He stood in a pristine tuxedo, tailored to perfection, like the life he now led—polished, flawless, but distant. Heeseung, heir to a powerful conglomerate, and you, the broadcast journalist in a media uniform tasked with interviewing him for what was being called the "wedding of the century."
It had been an impossible love, one you knew couldn’t last. But that didn’t stop you from falling hard for him.
Back in college, it felt like the stars had aligned just for you two. You met by chance in a quiet library, studying late at night. You were flipping through notes, while he sat across from you, struggling to stay awake after hours of classes and business meetings for his family’s company. He caught your eye when he nearly fell asleep, knocking a stack of books to the floor.
“You alright there?” you had teased, a soft smile playing on your lips.
Heeseung rubbed his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, just tired. Guess business majors don’t get to sleep, huh?”
That small interaction turned into late-night study sessions and shared meals at the local café, hiding from the world that seemed to have already decided your places. The more you learned about him, the more the quiet, gentle side of him drew you in—the side that wasn’t always front and center in the media’s image of him.
“Let’s keep this just between us,” Heeseung had said once, eyes soft as the two of you sat together in a dimly lit restaurant far off campus, tucked into a corner where no one would recognize him. “The world outside… it’s too complicated.”
You agreed, understanding the stakes. His family had expectations, and you were just an ordinary student. Yet, it didn’t stop the stolen glances in class or the secret hand-holding when no one was watching.
Those were some of the happiest moments of your life. No matter how fleeting, they felt like something real, something lasting.
And then there was that night—your last trip together before everything changed. The two of you had gone to a secluded beach, the sound of waves crashing against the shore the only witness to your love. Underneath a sky full of stars, Heeseung pulled out a ring, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at you, eyes wide with hope.
“I know it’s crazy… but marry me,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “I want you to be the person I come home to. The one who knows me when the rest of the world only sees… him.”
You had said yes without hesitation. How could you not? In that moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. You had both once pictured yourselves at opposite ends of the aisle—him in a crisp, white tuxedo, and you in the wedding dress of your dreams. It was this memory of him that still kept you awake at night.
But reality didn’t wait long to rear its ugly head. Graduation came, and with it, responsibilities neither of you could ignore. You got your dream job as a news presenter, but it meant constant travel. Heeseung, meanwhile, was tied to his family’s legacy, the weight of it pressing down on him, anchoring him to a life you couldn’t share.
"I can’t leave everything behind," he had told you one night, frustration evident in his voice. "This is who I am."
"I know," you replied quietly, staring down at the engagement ring on your finger, feeling its weight more than ever. "And I’m not asking you to. But I… I need to be someone too. I can’t just be… your shadow."
Heeseung had pleaded with you to stay, to make it work somehow, but deep down, you both knew it wasn’t possible. The worlds you came from were too far apart, the demands on you both too great.
When you took off the ring that night in his car, your hands trembling, the look in his eyes broke you. Heeseung had always been composed, even under pressure, but that night, he cried. You watched as his tears fell, and the ache in your chest felt unbearable.
"I’m sorry," you whispered, voice barely holding steady as you placed the ring in his palm. "I love you, but I can’t… I can’t do this."
Heeseung had tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. All he could do was watch as you opened the car door and walked away.
Now, five years later, that past stood between you like an invisible wall.
The soft murmur of crew members adjusting lights and setting up cameras filled the studio, but all you could hear was the steady, rhythmic pounding of your heart. Heeseung sat in front of you, the gleam of his dark wedding tuxedo catching the artificial light. His hand rested on his knee, the gold band on his ring finger gleaming—a silent reminder of everything that had changed.
You cleared your throat, shuffling your notes, attempting to shake off the unease settling over you. This was supposed to be just another interview—routine, professional. But the tension in the air was palpable, an invisible thread tugging at memories you thought you’d buried.
"Mr. Lee?," you asked again, your voice steady, eyes fixed on the paper in front of you to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "A lot of people are curious about your relationship with Ms. Choi. When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?"
Heeseung shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes flickering to yours before looking down at his hands. For a moment, he hesitated, and you found yourself unconsciously glancing at his left hand again—the wedding band glinting under the lights. The sight of it made your stomach twist.
"When did I know…" Heeseung trailed off, his voice quiet, reflective. He took a deep breath before answering, his eyes still focused on his hand. "I think love can be complicated. Sometimes, it’s not about a single moment, but a series of small ones. You come to realize what's expected of you, and you grow into it, bit by bit."
It was a carefully worded response—safe, diplomatic. He wasn’t answering the question. Not really. And that tugged at something deep inside you, pulling at threads you didn’t want to unravel.
You nodded, trying to move forward, but your thoughts were slipping. "But… when did it feel like more than just expectation? When did it feel like love?"
The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. Too personal. Too revealing. Heeseung’s eyes snapped to yours, surprised at the sudden shift, the edge in your voice. For a second, the air between you thickened, the unspoken past rising to the surface.
"When did it feel like love?" Heeseung repeated slowly, his eyes lingering on your face, as if searching for something. His voice softened. "There was a time I thought I knew… what love felt like."
You blinked, the space between his words loaded with meaning. There was an implicit sadness in the way he spoke, a crack in the façade he’d been holding up for so long.
You felt yourself sinking deeper into the moment, losing grip on the professional veneer you had worked so hard to maintain. Your gaze dropped to his left hand again, to the gold ring encircling his finger. It felt suffocating, knowing it symbolized a future you once imagined would be yours.
Your own fingers absentmindedly brushed against your ring finger, where once a promise had been worn but was now bare. Heeseung’s eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but he closed them again.
The camera’s blinking red light reminded you where you were. You cleared your throat, refocusing on the script, but your mind was still spiraling.
You hesitated before asking the next question, feeling the weight of it before the words even left your mouth. It wasn’t on the script—it wasn’t the kind of thing you were supposed to ask in an interview like this. But it was the question you had to ask, the one lingering at the back of your mind since you stepped into the room.
You swallowed, feeling your pulse in your throat. "Are you happy?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you, and for the briefest moment, his polished composure cracked. His eyes softened, as if searching for something in yours.
He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to the ring on his finger again—gleaming and perfect, a stark contrast to your own bare hand. The ring you had taken off five years ago.
"I... I have everything I’m supposed to want," he began, voice quiet, almost too quiet for the room. His answer was measured, careful, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you. "I’ve built a life, a career... I’m where I’m supposed to be."
But then his eyes met yours again, and for a heartbeat, something vulnerable passed between you. "But happiness?" He let the question hang in the air, not answering it fully, but leaving the meaning clear. His gaze lingered a second longer, unspoken words filling the silence.
You bit your lip, trying to keep your emotions in check as the weight of what wasn’t said between you pressed down. His answer, or lack of one, told you everything.
You glanced down at your next question, but your voice betrayed you, trailing off as you asked, "Do you… ever think about the life you could have had? If things had been different?"
Heeseung’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression unreadable. The question hadn’t been on the script. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it until it was too late. A deafening silence filled the room, every crew member, every camera operator feeling the tension brewing between you both.
His jaw clenched slightly, and for a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came, soft, barely above a whisper, yet laced with emotion. "Sometimes… I think about the life I could have had. The life I almost had."
The way he said it made your breath hitch. You weren’t sure if anyone else in the room could hear it, but to you, it felt like the only thing that mattered. His words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a weight too heavy to ignore.
You tried to regain control, but you were slipping further, your thoughts clouded by the memories you had worked so hard to forget. "Do you have any regrets about the past?” you asked, the question intended more for your own sake than for the magazine.
Heeseung's expression softened, and for the first time throughout the interview, his voice wavered. ‘Regret... it's complicated. There are times when you make choices because you believe they’re what’s best for everyone. Yet there are nights when you can’t help but think… what if?’"
His words hit you like a wave, washing over you with the force of all the unspoken feelings between you. What if. Two simple words, yet they carried the weight of everything you had left behind.
Your breath hitched, and you glanced down at your notes, trying to steer the interview back to safer ground. But the damage was done. You couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.
You felt your eyes well up, memories flooding back of the days when Heeseung had been your world. The secret rendezvous, the promises whispered under moonlit skies, the proposal on the beach—the life you almost had. You swallowed hard, pushing the memories down.
"Two weeks until the wedding," you said, your voice hollow, desperate to pull the conversation back to the present. "Are you… ready?"
Heeseung didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing past the years, past the distance, and straight into the heart of the girl he had once loved. His lips parted, but the answer you expected didn’t come.
"Are you?" he asked quietly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline.
Your breath caught in your throat. The room felt too small, the walls too close. You blinked, shaking your head slightly as if that could shake off the weight of the moment.
The tension between you was unbearable now. You could feel every unsaid word, every lingering regret, every what-if stretching between you, filling the space with a heaviness you could no longer ignore.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Lee," you said, your voice tight, trying to wrap up the interview before you completely unraveled.
But as you stood to leave, Heeseung’s voice stopped you.
"Y/N…"
He adjusted his cufflinks, and the air between you grew heavier. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Do you ever think about… that time?”
You looked at him, surprised he had asked. The cameras aren’t rolling anymore. “All the time,” you admitted, the truth slipping out before you could stop it.
Heeseung nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah… me too.”
You paused, not daring to turn around, your heart in your throat.
"If I had another chance…" His voice was barely a whisper now, but it sliced through the room like a knife. "I would risk everything."
Your hand hovered on the door handle, but you couldn’t move. His words clung to you, wrapping themselves around your heart like a vice. You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.
But you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t.
Instead, you stepped out of the studio, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you, knowing that you’d leave this room just as you had left him five years ago—heartbroken and haunted by what could have been.
About an hour after the interview, you found yourself standing at the back of the studio, watching as Heeseung and his fiancée posed for their couple shots. He looked effortlessly handsome in his pristine black tuxedo, while she glimmered in a flowing gown, radiant and picture-perfect.
“Smile a little wider, Heeseung!” the photographer urged, and your heart ached as you watched him comply, his smile lighting up the scene in a way that had once been reserved for you.
You swallowed hard, the memories flooding back—late-night laughter, whispered secrets, and the way he’d promised you the world. A crew member nudged you, breaking your reverie. “They really are the perfect couple,” he said.
“Yeah,” you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears.
As you turned away, the sight of them—the life you had once envisioned—felt like a dagger to your heart. It was time to leave, to step back into your own reality, but a lingering question haunted you: What if things had been different?
#heeseung#heeseung angst#heeseung fluff#lee heeseung#fanfiction#jungwon#enhypen au#fluff#kpop#sunghoon#sunoo#enhypen#yang jungwon#ni ki#heeseung smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen smut#heeseung hard hours#sunghoon smut#angst#light angst#enhypen angst#one shot#drabble#wedding#queen of hearts#lhs#park jay#enhypen x reader
435 notes
·
View notes
Text
A WORLD AWAY — Jude Bellingham
— pairing • dad!jude bellingham x mom!reader
— requested by anon (18 jan 2023)
— summary • Exhausted from the daily demands of taking care of their children, you feels overwhelmed and drained. Jude notices your fatigue and takes matters into his own hands, whisking you away on a surprise vacation to the other side of the world. In the serenity of a private paradise, you and Jude reconnect as a couple, far from the responsibilities of parenthood, finding comfort in each other’s company and rekindling their romance.
— warnings • Fluff, explicit sexual content (vanilla), mentions of exhaustion, emotional intimacy.
— charlotte’s note: i’m kinda bad at writing smut or like write about have sex in general 🙇🏻♀️
Life had become a whirlwind of responsibilities. You hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in months, between managing the house, chasing after your two children, and trying to carve out a moment of peace for yourself. Every morning, you felt like you were running on fumes, moving from one task to the next, just trying to keep everything afloat. Jude had been supportive, as always, but even with his help, the weight of motherhood was starting to overwhelm you.
You loved your children with all your heart, but it felt like you’d lost a part of yourself in the process. The exhaustion was more than just physical; it was emotional. Every day, you gave and gave, until there was nothing left for yourself. The spark in your eyes had dimmed, and Jude noticed.
One night, after the kids were finally asleep, you collapsed on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. Jude sat beside you, gently rubbing your back as you rested your head on his shoulder. You didn’t say much. You didn’t need to. He could feel how tired you were, how much you were struggling, even if you didn’t complain.
“Love,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of concern. “You’re completely drained. I can see it, and I hate seeing you like this. You’re always giving so much. Let me take care of you.”
You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “I’m just… tired, Jude. The kids, the house, everything. It’s like I haven’t had a second to just breathe.”
Jude pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got an idea. Let me spoil you for a bit, yeah?”
You looked up at him, confused but intrigued. “What do you mean?”
A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Pack a bag. Just the two of us. I’m taking you away.”
“Jude, we can’t. What about the kids?”
“My mum’s already agreed to take care of them for a few days. You need this, and so do I.” He gave you a reassuring grin. “Trust me. You deserve a break, love.”
Before you knew it, you were on a plane, flying halfway across the world to an unknown destination. Jude had kept everything a secret, and despite your initial reservations, excitement started to bubble inside you. The idea of leaving behind the chaos of everyday life — even just for a short while — was exhilarating.
After hours of travel, you finally arrived at your destination. When you stepped out of the plane, the warm ocean breeze hit your face, and you gasped. You were on a private island, the kind you’d only ever seen in travel magazines. The beach stretched out before you, with powdery white sand and crystal-clear waters that shimmered under the sun. A luxurious villa was nestled just a short walk from the shore, secluded and surrounded by lush greenery.
“Jude,” you breathed, unable to believe your eyes. “This… this is amazing.”
He smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist as he guided you towards the villa. “I wanted to take you somewhere where we could just be us. No kids, no stress. Just you and me.”
The villa was even more stunning inside, with its open-plan design, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, and a spacious balcony where you could watch the sunset. Everything felt perfect, like a dream.
For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe. There were no little feet running around, no toys to pick up, no diapers to change. It was just you and Jude, with nothing but time.
The days passed slowly, in the best possible way. You and Jude fell into a rhythm that was all about relaxation. Mornings were spent walking along the beach, the gentle waves lapping at your feet as Jude held your hand, laughing and stealing kisses like you were a pair of teenagers in love. Afternoons were for lounging by the pool, with the sun warming your skin and Jude’s voice softly teasing you as he splashed water playfully. You’d laugh, feeling lighter than you had in months.
But it was the nights that felt the most intimate. After quiet dinners under the stars, you’d retreat to your villa, where the sound of the ocean lulled you into a sense of calm. It was in those moments that you and Jude reconnected, finding each other in the quiet spaces where your lives had been too loud before.
One particular evening, after a long day of exploring the island, you stood on the balcony of your villa, gazing out at the moonlit ocean. The air was warm, and the gentle breeze made the palm trees sway. Jude joined you, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as he pulled you close, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve missed seeing you like this.”
You closed your eyes, leaning back against him, feeling the tension in your body melt away. “I feel like I can finally relax,” you whispered. “Thank you, Jude. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”
He turned you around to face him, his hands resting on your hips as his eyes searched yours. “You’ve been incredible with the kids, with everything. But I want to take care of you too. You deserve that.”
You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
His eyes darkened with a mixture of love and desire as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was the kind of kiss that reminded you of how deeply connected the two of you were, even after all the years and everything you’d been through. Slowly, his hands began to explore your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine.
Jude pulled you inside, his kisses growing more passionate as he guided you toward the bed. The air between you was thick with desire, but there was no rush. This was about the two of you, taking your time to rediscover each other.
You could feel the soft fabric of your dress falling away as Jude’s hands roamed over your skin. His touch was familiar, yet electric, igniting a fire inside you that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, his gaze full of adoration and love.
As he lowered you onto the bed, his lips never leaving yours, your body responded to his touch with an intensity that surprised you. Each caress, each kiss, was slow and deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every moment with you. The way his hands moved over your body made you feel cherished, desired, and more connected to him than ever before.
When he finally joined you, his weight was a comforting presence above you, grounding you in the moment. The intimacy between you was sweet and slow, a reaffirmation of the love you shared. Every touch, every movement was filled with tenderness, a silent conversation between two people who had been through so much together and come out stronger on the other side.
Afterwards, as you lay in his arms, your head resting on his chest, you felt a deep sense of peace wash over you. The sound of his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, lulled you into a state of complete contentment. For the first time in months, you felt truly relaxed, as if all the weight you’d been carrying had been lifted.
“Thank you,” you whispered into the quiet, your voice soft but filled with emotion.
Jude kissed the top of your head, his arm tightening around you protectively. “For what, love?”
“For bringing me here. For taking care of me. For everything.”
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You take care of everyone else. It’s my turn to take care of you. I’ll always be here for you. Always.”
In that moment, wrapped in his embrace and the tranquility of your surroundings, you felt completely at peace. The exhaustion that had once seemed insurmountable was gone, replaced by a deep sense of love and connection. You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Jude would face them together.
And as you drifted off to sleep, listening to the soothing sound of the waves and the steady beat of Jude’s heart, you knew that you were right where you were meant to be — loved, cherished, and never alone.
#football imagines#football fanfic#jude bellingham#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham imagines#jude bellingham x y/n#jude bellingham smau#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you
411 notes
·
View notes
Note
can you write about reader riding paige's face 🙈 only if you're comfortable with it 💞
all of you… as always, enjoy loves <3
uconn just celebrated their win against usc, leading them into the final four. the whole world was left in shock as uconn defied all the odds. you had met paige years ago, when she first came to uconn. you guys had met from mutual friends, but slowly grew closer, becoming fuck buddies. you had a no strings attached rule, but something about the way your heart stopped whenever paige called, said differently. you honestly didnt expect anything from her. you were at her beck and call, ready for whenever she needed you. it was coincidental that you both crossed paths that night..
somehow, you guys both ended up at teds, a few drinks in and ready to have fun. once she locked eyes with you she swiftly made her way over to you, smirking. she soon told her teammates she had to take you home, because you had “too much to drink” bullshit. as soon as you got in the uber she pounced on you, pulling you into a deep kiss. she lightly bit your lip, causing you to moan. she slipped her tongue into your mouth, exploring you while her hands traveled up your dress.
as soon as she led you into her hotel room, your arms were above your head, and your body pinned against the wall. paige moved to take off your shirt, breaking the kiss for a moment. “off.” she commanded, “arms up.” she pulled the shirt off, throwing it to the floor. her knee slipped in between your legs, as she applied pressure, leaning into you. you elicited a deep moan, making paige grin against you as she moved to kiss and leave love bites on your neck. “like that?” she asked teasingly, creating friction once again with her knee. you whined “please, paige now..”
“jump.” she grabbed you by the waist and you jumped into her arms as she carried you closer to the bed. “these, come off now.” she said, moving her fingers to unbutton your jean skirt. soon you were left in just your underwear and bra, as paige looked at you hungrily. “oh.. and these can come off too,” she said pulling your underwear down to your ankles in one swift move, making you flinch at the sudden movement. she grinned down at you “lucky me..” she moved to lie down on the bed, pulling you down with her. “i have you all to myself” you swung a leg across her abdomen, to straddle her. “what do you want me to do paige?” she smirks, playing with a strand of your hair, her other hand sitting comfortably on your hip. “i want to taste you baby, do you think you can help me?” you nod eagerly, your core aching for attention from the blonde. “whatever you want paige..” you breath. “good girl, thats what i thought. now, sit up and grab the headboard for me, okay darling?” you nod sitting up on your knees and grabbing the headboard as you feel paiges hands navigating your hips. she moves you so that your hovering over her face. you can feel her ragged breathing against your sensitive skin, giving you goosebumps. you let out a shakey exhale. “now,” paige starts, “sit down baby, i got you..” her hands push down on your hips, as her mouth attaches to your clit. you immediately roll your eyes at the sudden sensation. “p-paige oh my! yes!” she grins against you, her tongue working under you. her tongue darts in and out of your slick folds, lapping you up. your moans grow louder and more frequent as she continues to eat you out. “paige! i cant take it.. im going to cum” you manage to say, now riding her face gripping the headboard for support. her hands are back on your hips, guiding them to move against her mouth, as you ride her. “cum for me baby” she managed to let out, her voice husky and strained.
as you ride out your high you lean your forehead onto the headboard, taking dee breathes still coming down from the high. you slowly sit back down to straddle paiges abs, looking her in the eyes. her eyes arent her usual ocean blue, but now a dark and icy blue color. her mouth and chin are dripping with your juices as she brings her wrist to her face, to wipe it clean. “you did so good for me baby,” she says putting a kiss on your forehead gently. your still trying to form words, breathless from your release. “i, i think i need to lie down..” you say letting out a deep breath. paiges hands move to your waist, placing you to lie down on the bed next to her. you put your head on her chest slowly drifting off to sleep exhausted, but over the moon.
#paige bueckers#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers x reader#paige smut#paige bueckers smut#paige x reader#wlw#uconn x reader#wbb fanfiction#wbb x reader
475 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Subnautica of other fears
Subnautica is a game infamous for it's almost all ocean planet, underwater worldbuilding, and deep sea gameplay. It's also the bane of all thalassaphobia peeps.
So here's the subnautica of other phobias
Claustrophobia Fear of Tight/Cramped Spaces - The Forest Series : After a plane crash leaves you stranded in a strange forests, something increasingly becomes... wrong. The caves around don't help.
Scopophobia Fear of being watched or the center of attention - Brighter Day : A weirdcore horror game where something is definitely watching you and definitely following you.
Entomophobia/Arachnophobia - Grounded : You play a group of kids who are stuck in a "honey I shrunk the kids" incident. They are forced to venture across their yard, and survive the various common insects around.
Megalophobia Fear of very very very big things - The Utility Room : An experience. More of an experience then a game and fever dreamish, worth it, and mysterious all the way. It's almost as if the universe accidentally left one strange dev room behind.
Nyctophobia Fear of darkness - Amnesia: The Bunker (from the Amnesia series) : It's a first-person survival horror. You play a French man trapped in a bunker during WW1, while being hunted by something inside its darkness.
Autophobia Fear of being/feeling alone - Firewatch : You work in a national park in order to watch out for fires. Traveling across the Wyoming wilderness takes a complicated turn.
Hemophobia Fear of blood or bleeding - Iron Lung : What awaits you in the deep of a strange moon. Trapped in a submarine you have no choice but to find out.
Amaxophobia Fear of car accidents or being run over - Decimate Drive : After freeing yourself from a kidnapping, the world you wake up to is full of hostile cars.
Final Boss Games:
Lethal Company
Fun with friends :D
Genre: Indie Comedy Horror
Takes place on alien planets in outerspace
It's multiplayer, and very fun, but as soon as it hits the fan the sound design works hard to immerse you in the sudden loneliness. The games sound design is one the major players of Lethal Company's fear. As soon as a friend walks away the proximity chat teaches you just how separated you now are.
Before you know it you have had something unfriendly following behind you, and finally finding the silhouette of a friend in the dark you are betrayed by the creatures of the Lethal Company universe.
Fear of Darkness
Fear of Loneliness
Fear of Being Watched
Fear of Outerspace
The Metro Series
Genre: Survival Horror Shooter
You play the beautiful and amazing Artyom Chynornyj in the post-apocalyptic world of Metro. Developed by Ukrainians and based off the Russian book series + Polish fanon writing community.
The world of Metro is unfair and unforgiving, full of mutated creatures, and the leftover souls that the destruction of humanity left in it's wake. Crawl across the underground of Russian cities, or panic across the even more dangerous world of the destroyed above.
Fear of Darkness
Fear of Wild Animals
Fear of Deep Water
Fear of Ghost/The Supernatural
Fear of Insects/Spider
Fear of Heights
Fear of Dead Bodies
Fear of the Cold
No Man's Sky
The scariest game I've ever played. I don't know why, but this game freaks me out. I know the picture I chose was harmless, but I did that on purpose.
This game is beautiful, but don't let that fool ya. This world will leave you no hesitation lost in the unpredictable randomly generated horrors of space. From planet that are all water, to colossus creatures you see for only a split second, to the infinite colorless expanse of space.
Megalphobes and astrophobes, this is your subnautica
Fear of Outerspace
Fear of Darkness
Fear of Cramped Spaces
Fear of the Unknown
Fear of Very Very Very Big Things
Fear of Deep Water
Fear of Loneliness
Fear of Caves
Fear of the Supernatural
811 notes
·
View notes
Text
Astro observations 💜✨
💜 Scorpio placements are the types to dish but can’t take. So they’ll be telling you some ish and expect you to take it lightly and laugh but if you do it back to them, they be mad and defensive af😭 and I’ve seen this with so many Scorpio placements it’s insane.
💜Speaking of Scorpio placements, they can be shit talkers too, especially if they have Gemini and Sagittarius placements. Gemini and Sagittarius kind of have that reputation, esp geminis but y’all have no idea how conniving scorpios can be, especially if they feel like they’ve been done wrong/things don’t work out the way they wanted it to.
💜Promise this isn’t a Scorpio roast lol I’ve just been noticing some patterns especially with the whole drake and Kendrick thing 💀
💜the sign you have in your seventh house is who you’ll be naturally drawn to, to some extent your fifth house too (you’d be attracted to them). For example, if you have Pisces seventh house, you’d be attracted to Pisces placements. If you have Capricorn fifth house, you’d be attracted to Capricorn placements. It could also work for the planets in that house. So if you have Sun in seventh in Pisces you could also like Leo placements.
💜Your best friend(s) could either have one or more of your big three in their big three too. For example if you have an Aquarius moon, your best friend could have an Aquarius Sun or Rising. It could even be the exact same placement, so if you have a Virgo moon, your best friend could also have a Virgo moon.
💜Aquarius, Aries and Pisces placements are most likely to experiment with their hair and try wild styles/colours.
💜Saturn in 8th house could mean a delay in intimacy, especially sexual intimacy. It could also indicate a fear of death/losing someone close to them.
💜Chiron in third house can show a difficulty in early learning phases and issues with siblings.
💜Lilith and Pluto in first house come across as very intimidating (they are).
💜Aries and Sagittarius mercuries are some of the most blunt people I’ve ever met.
💜Let me love some Scorpios a bit because I feel like I’ve done y’all dirty I’m sorry 😭🫶🏽 Scorpios are very protective over their friends. If you mess with someone close to them, you mess with them too.
💜Libra, Aquarius and Leo placements like to take random pictures of everything. Their camera roll is probably filled with sunset pics then a random pic of a fire hydrant.
💜I’m still learning about solar return charts but it’s definitely true what they say about a ninth house stellium. You could plan a trip and travel during that year and also consider furthering your education, especially tertiary education. I’ve already planned a trip and am going to do my honours lol.
💜Gemini and Virgo placements love reading. They’re fr proper bookworms. Ruled by mercury, it’s not surprising that they do.
💜Honestly, Sagittarius placements are some of the most optimistic and happiest people I’ve met. (Yes even mercuries). They’re always looking at the brighter side of things and are more of a “glass half full” type of person. I don’t think I’ve ever met a pessimistic Sagittarius placement person.
💜Ruler of the fourth house in the ninth in your solar return could indicate moving away/out of your house and possibly abroad.
💜I’m sorry but Leo placements cannot take a hint 😭 especially if they’re rejected in some way, they’ll still try their luck and flirt with someone even after they’ve rejected them.
💜Venus in 11th have a lot of their friends that develop a crush on them. They’re alluring and unique and it draws a lot of their friends in.
💜Aquarius, Pisces and Cancer placements LOVE the beach. They feel the best when they’re in the ocean.
💜Right then after a lot of debate, the signs that can really hold a grudge are Cancer placements, Scorpio placements and Libras(yes Libras!! Especially Mars, they’ll be hella passive aggressive).
💜Don’t piss off Aquarius placements. They may be sweet but if you ever piss one off, they’ll act like you don’t exist. Especially Aquarius Moon and Mars.
thank you for reading!
893 notes
·
View notes
Text
By the rocks!
pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite’s!daughter reader
summary: Luke knows that you sneak around at night to go to the lake, and he decides to play around by ‘coincidentally’ bumping into you, hoping to grab your attention.
warning/s: fluff, luke sortve dark, suggestive, a few (more than a few) kisses, lots of teasing, strong language, semi-public making out and shi, soft!reader, soft!luke, friends to lovers, implications of sex, sexual tension
authors note: please tell me people are still hung up on luke, cause i am holding onto him. endings quite abrupt so don’t attack me !! (btw reqs are open, don’t be shy<3)
Rays of moonlight kissed the lake, ripples cascading onto the rocks, tall, bodies of grass surrounding your figure, and your hand limp in the water.
Evenings were always peaceful for you, no distractions, no loud, whiny voices, just a serene environment.
As the night passed you expected no interruptions - as always - but you heard leaves rustled behind you, your eyebrows narrowed with curiosity as you turned your head around.
Luke Castellan. Someone you were familiar with, dusting himself off. “Castellan?” Your tranquil voice asked as he neared you, “shouldn’t you be in your cabin?” You added with genuine confusion.
“Shouldn’t you?” He replied in a witty manner. You smiled at him, and he swore he saw an angel in your grin but it was just his amazing visualisation.
“Ptf, I’m always here, don’t worry about me” you said as you dropped your head back to the sight of the ocean, leaning one side of your face on your knee. “I should come here more often then” he shrugged, sitting down on a patch of soft grass.
“I wouldn’t mind that” you stated, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.
His cheeks reacted immediately, and he was astound by the fact that he was a mess around you but a well disciplined guy in front of others.
“Why are you here” he was here for you - duh - but he was also here to bring himself at ease, the stressful day that was brought upon him absolutely destroyed his mindset.
“Rough day, one of the fuckfaces— I mean ares kids nicked me” he sighed lightly before he noticed your eyes drop down to the scar on his forearm. Your nimble fingers ran across his stitches, “are you okay?” Concern present in your demeanour.
“Mhm” he hummed, staring at you longingly. “You sure? your stich is really…” You moved close absentmindedly, scrutinising his cut before looking up at him, realising the proximity between your faces.
You felt frozen, he felt frozen. None of you’s were speaking, he was only inching closer till his top lip grazed yours.
Finally, with lots of anticipation, you closed the gap, grabbing his cheek with your palm. He let his hands travel to your waist, squeezing it ever so softly.
“Luke…” your voice breathless as he gently pushed you down to the grass.
Your fingers left his face, going down to the hem of his shirt and under to get a feel of his toned abdomen. A quiet groan left his mouth as he reciprocated the action, going down to lift your camp shirt off. You helped him by pulling it over your head and reconnecting your lips.
Somehow you felt comfortable: relaxed under his presence, so you unclamped the two pieces of metal of your bra, slowly sliding it off. Luke was mesmerised, in-fact he was intoxicated.
“So beautiful” his breath fanning your neck, “soo, soo, beautiful” Luke trailed back up to your mouth before placing a hand on one of your breast. Your breathed hitched as you continued to indulged in his lips.
“Take this off” you ordered, stretching the hem of his shirt as he took it off. A smile poked at your lips when you finally saw him exposed, you explored his chest, your fingers going up and down over every bump. “Are you done?” Before you could even let out an answer he stuffed his mouth back to yours, making you laugh.
#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan smut#luke castellan#pjo x reader#pjo series
586 notes
·
View notes
Text
Saved Again-Sanji x Fem Reader (One Piece Netflix)
Summary: You've been Luffy's friend for years. Being the first member to join Luffy's crew, together they are off to become pirates,.later on a certain chef has his eyes on you. And a fond memory of you and a boy after a shipwreck comes to mind when arriving at the Baratie.
(A/N: I'm so excited for the One Piece live action do I decided to write this!! I'll start on a Part 2 once the series is released. I absolutely love Sanji and he's my favorite of the Straw Hats. I relate to him a lot too since I was training to become a chef as well…anyways the one shot might be slightly changed once I watch the series.)
(A/N: Oh and also the reader is often confused as a boy but Nami and Sanji know she's a girl.)
"That's why I'm gonna be king of the pirates!!" Luffy exclaimed enthusiastically, even though we were in the middle of nowhere.
I turned around and frowned looking at him being too cheery and loud as usual. "Can you be any louder?' I glare before pulling my head out of the small boat we were in and I continued to throw up out into the ocean.
I heard a hum coming from Luffy and saw him tilting his head a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"
This is the downside of wanting to become a pirate and sail across the Grand Line. Well, not many people get sea sick and start to pour their guts out.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and sighed. "If only Coby didn't accept in becoming a Marine. He would've maybe given me some of the medicine he was carrying."
"He did offer some yet you said you'd be alright without it." Luffy reminds me making me groan.
"Don't make me throw up on you." I warn.
"Will you two shut up already?" I glared and looked back at the green haired man who I forgot had joined us.
"Huh? Why don't you make me, Zoro? Our friend here might be dying." Luffy said patting my back a bit too rough.
Zoro looked at us with a bored expression on his face and went back to closing his eyes. "You guys are insufferable, would've been nicer if I was still tied up."
I point and glared at him. "You should be thankful that we saved your ass."
"Luffy was the one who did. You're too weak to save anyone anyway, kid."
"I'm not a kid! I'm older than you think believe it or not!!" I shout getting defensive and forgetting that I had be throwing up.
"Then why are you acting like a kid?!"
"Guys will you stop arguing for once?" Luffy said stepping between us and calming Zoro as well when we saw an island up ahead.
Idiots are they really dumb and don't know I am secretly a girl. The reason why I like to crossdress if for fun, but mostly because I've seen the way pirates who are men are more respected.
I once had cut my hair short but decided to let it grow and use a wig instead, besides being in disguise had helped me with stealing from people.
Luffy with his devil fruit power stretched all the way until his feet hit the sand and he looked around in enthusiasm.
"Wow this island seems so cool! But why is it so quiet?!" He asked loudly.
"Maybe this is an island inhabited with ghosts." I muttered and heard Zoro scoff and began to grab his swords when the boat hit the sand below us.
Zoro jumped off of the boat and began to follow Luffy. "Hey, (Y/N). Are you coming or staying?"
I raised my head and tilted my head looking at Luffy. "You guys can go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."
He nodded and I saw both guys beginning to walk further into the island. Slowly I got up on my feet and jumped out of the boat as well. I was deep in my thoughts imagining what it will be like to travel across the world and get to know other famous pirates.
Luffy's dream has always been to become king of the pirates and his number 1 person he's always looked up to was Shanks, maybe Gold D. Roger in second place.
As for me..I really don't have a dream. I've just been following Luffy around. I don't have a family. Shanks was the one who raised me along with Luffy, I came along later in the picture and don't have any memories of my past, only a few glimpses here and there but maybe it's just me reliving someone else's dream.
"So he's also a devil fruit user?"
I stopped walking and ran to hide behind a building and I looked over and saw a group of pirates, my eyes were set on the one between all of them. Buggy the clown. I've seen his Wanted poster.. wait!
My eyes widened and then I glared when I spotted Luffy in a cage. Are you serious?! He got caught..huh? I looked and saw someone else with them too, a red headed girl.
Where is Zoro anyways?
I frowned even more when I saw he and Luffy were caught. God damn it. It's up to me now, now all I gotta do is find out if this girl is an enemy of ally.
I got out of my hiding place and prepared to face the gang of pirate clowns…
"Hang on!!"
Someone shouted and tried to reach for my hands but I was pulled away by the harsh tides of the sea. My eyes and lungs began to sting, I felt like it was the end for me. Just a few minutes ago I was with my family, are they dead? Will I die as well and meet them again?
I couldn't swim so I felt myself sinking lower into the dark cold sea. I wanted to cry but couldn't and right when I was ready accept my death I felt someone grab onto me and I was being pulled up again.
I gasped along with the person who had saved me. A man about the same age as my dad saved me, I continued to gasp and began to cough up the salty water I had in my lungs.
The sky was dark with clouds covering the sky, it was heavily raining with thunder.
"Don't die just yet kid! Hold onto this." The man exclaimed.
The man could swim with ease and he had placed me on top of a wooden piece of what I assumed was part of the ship that had exploded. I looked to my right and saw a boy my age, with blonde hair and green eyes, his eyes seemed scared as well.
Are we the only survivors?
My answer was clear the more we got away from the shipwreck and landed on an island. The man easily picked us up and placed us on his shoulder, but the more he continued to walk the more I felt he was struggling, it wasn't until we made it inside a cave that I realized he lost his leg.
I was about to comment on it but didn't when the man seemed angry at something. The boy and I exchanged looks and didn't say a word, we only saw the man lighting up a small fire place as we continued to hear thunder and lightning.
I don't know who this man is, this boy surely isn't his son…mom..dad…my eyes began to sting and I began to cry out loudly with tears running down my face along with a runny nose.
The man didn't say anything and the little boy seemed to stiffen and I saw a few tears forming in his eyes as well and he began to silently cry…
By the next morning the man, the pirate who saved us said he wanted to be alone so he left the boy and I a large bag of food. "We refuse to eat this because you're a pirate and pirates are bad people!!" The boy had shouted earlier.
The man said almost nothing and left me alone with the boy. The boy and I looked at each other and we both didn't say a word about the man.
"Umm do you think we can make a boat somehow and leave the island?" I quietly asked nervous and shy to ask this stranger for help.
"Does it look like we have a way out of this island?! The boy shouted glaring at me. "What would a girl know about sailing anyways?"
I began to cry again and I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I had punched him. "All I want is to see my parents again!"
The boy seemed surprised by my action and began to hold onto his swollen cheek. "H-hey don't cry. You're gonna make me cry again!"
It was too late. He was crying again….
It had been many days until the three of us were rescued. An odd boat with some friendly men were the one who saved us, the man who rescued the boys and us took the boy in as his own in a way, and he was about to send me off to live a normal life with someone who was willing to raise me.
The man somehow got a nice dress for me to wear, as a last send-off he had done a dessert for me. A strawberry cake I came to love at first bite.
He along with the men on the ship all were outside ready to say their goodbyes to me. I even saw a man or two begin to cry.
"I always wanted a small girl."
"You can't even feed yourself properly how are you supposed to raise a kid." I heard one of them say to another.
"You ready, kid?" I heard the man ask making me turn to look at him. I shook my head and the man sighed and patted my head once. "You'll soon understand why I'm sending you off. You'll have a proper life."
My eyes wandered over to the man and over to the small boy I was saved with. The boy stiffened when I looked at him, and I saw his pale cheeks turn to a pink color.
"I-I…" I didn't know exactly what to say, that's until he spoke up.
"I d-do hope you enjoyed the cake I made with help! Next time if we meet again I'll bake you a whole lot more..also…if we meet again I'll make you my wife!!" He exclaimed.
The men behind the boy groaned and one of them lightly hit his head. "That's no way of a send-off!"
I shyly smiled at all of them and the boy….
"Usopp!! Nami!! Are we there yet?!"
"How many times do we have to say, no!!"
I squinted my eyes when I opened them. "That was a strange dream." I muttered to myself and glared at the three who woke me up.
Few days have gone by since he fought Buggy and his crew along with a few more pirates. Usopp was the new crew member. He's a bit odd and a scaredy cat but he means well. If it wasn't for him. Luffy wouldn't have his new and proper ship, officially presenting himself as a pirate.
The sailing ship was huge and fitted with us do well. Luffy named it the Going Merry. A fitting name for a ship.
I looked to my left and saw Zoro fast asleep, I felt envious that he could sleep through this much talking and noise. I made sure my wig was still in place and I got up to join Nami up front. At least it's nice to have another girl around.
"So…you don't have trouble with sharing a room filled with guys?" I asked and saw Nami giving me an odd bur serious look.
"No?" She squinted her eyes looking at me and looked back at the tides.
Weird…It's a shame I can't talk about girl things with her.
Luffy said he was searching for the last member to our team. Luffy is Captain, we have a navigator..well kinda that being Nami, the main fighter being Zoro, Usopp as the sniper and I fix anything on the ship
Since none of us are cooks. Luffy suggested on finding a chef. I offered to be the one to fill everyone's stomach, but everything I cook always ends up burnt.
The rest of us began to get things done on the ship until a fight began with another ship and the Going Merry crashed into a ship. My mouth fell open when we crashed and accidently directed a cannon ball into the ship that wasn't even attacking us.
"Crap…Luffy!" I shouted and saw him smiling shamefully.
All of us walked closer to the deck and saw the great damage the other ship received. "We better head in there and talk to the person in charge. And you are going to apologize." I said grabbing onto Luffy's straw hat and he quickly grabbed it back and placed it on his head.
He said nothing and began to follow us. We got onto the other ship and read the ships name, The Baratie.
I looked around and this seemed familiar. "You okay?" Nami stopped and asked glancing back at me.
"Yeah.. everything's fine." I said still looking around and ran over to her side and began to follow the rest of the crew.
We all entered the ship and wow was it beautiful and extremely fancy. "Wow..this is something else. It doesn't feel like we're in the middle of the sea." I said in awe and stared around.
Everything looked so expensive. I saw people around sharing their meals and couples smiling at each other and drinking fancy wine. Not to mention the smell, I wonder how the food must taste!
I was practically drooling when I saw a huge meal in a table. Nami had grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me away from a couple who was staring at me weirded out.
"Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N)." Nami muttered and went to sit down on an empty table.
I nodded at myself then went back to checking the place out. This seems so familiar…I started to walk around and peeked over and saw many chefs cooking the meals and they seemed to make it so easy.
"I have an order for a large plate of seafood rice, potato pallie and medium sized bowl of sea pork soup. I need it done in less than 10 minutes!" My mouth began to water even more.
"All have it done in 5." Someone said on the other side with a British accent.
"(Y/N)!" Someone hissed my name and I quickly went over to sit next to Nami and Zoro. Luffy came in as well while we sat down and patiently waited to talk to someone.
I had excused myself after waiting for a bit and went to the bathroom. When I returned I saw Nami still sitting down and she raised an eyebrow looking not pleased when a man began walking towards her.
I felt my heart race when I saw a tall figure standing just a few inches away from her. A handsome man with blonde hair with one of his eyes being a bit hidden by it. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue and white striped shirt under it with a black tie and matching dress pants.
"Would the lady like something sweet?" I saw a smirk spread across his face and Nami just stared at him and rolled her eyes.
Who is he?? And does he know Nami? The man was clearly flirting with her.
"You gotta be joking." I heard Nami ssy. She then turned to look at me.
I didn't know what to do or say. I simply stared at her confused then looked to see the man look at me, he glanced for a second then once again and was now looking directly at me. He immediately walked away from Nami and began to walk towards me.
I began to take a few steps back and I gasped when he took hold of my hand with both of his hands and saw him get down on one knee.
"You are the most gorgeous being I've laid my eyes on. A sight no other I've come across in the Grand Line.."
Thank goodness Nami couldn't listen but it was quiet clear to anyone that this man was flirting with me.
"Y-You've got it all wrong!" I said trying to pull back and felt my cheeks turning red. I can't let anyone know at the moment that I was crossdressing as a guy!!
"I'm never wrong. My eyes never fail when I see a beautiful lady as yourself."
If I weren't in this situation I would be falling on my knees. He's so cute and handsome! My lips began to quiver and I felt my entire body freeze. I've never met a man who shameless at flirting with a stranger.
The man rose up to his feet now towering me and smiling down at me. "I-I…"
He smiled and Introduced himself. "My name is Sanji."
#netflix#anime#one piece#one piece netflix#one piece live action#vinsmoke sanji#one piece sanji#sanji x reader#one piece x reader#taz skylar#one piece netflix x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sleeping Beauty
Jake Kiszka x reader
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: graphic sexual contact, language, somnophilia (nothing drastic), subby jake, etc.
In response to this ask. I loved it so much and I’m terribly sorry for your wait, lovely anon. I hope you’ll forgive me ❤️
Jake should leave you in peace, and he knows it.
He’s melted into you twice already tonight, gently working you into a quiet euphoria…nails stinging into his back, soft moans and delicate sighs a song against the shell of his ear.
Yes, he knows he ought to let you rest - and don’t you sound so pretty resting? With your rhythmic breaths and gentle hint of a snore?
He should, but he won’t. Can’t.
You’re too warm, skin like satin bared to his hungry, wandering touch. Your hair, freshly washed and smelling of perfumed fruit. Your shoulder, of the loveliness that is so innately you.
If he could render it down, that intoxicating scent, he would inject it into his veins like an addict…let you swim inside him until he was buried under and lost. Comfortably numb.
Your thigh twitches. Just a blip of a movement, but it makes him smile. What is his girl dreaming about?
His grip has pulled you nearer now, tucked in close - a little spoon cradled safely in his love. His fingers, tender, yet insistent, kneading at the swell of your breasts, sweeping across your nipples, feather-light, until they begin to respond to him.
He wants them in his mouth, under his tongue, but he doesn’t want to disturb you any further than he already has, so this will do just fine.
A slight arch in your back tugs a tiny grin to life upon his lips, he wonders if his touch has made its way into whatever dreamworld you happen to be floating through. Do you search for him even while stumbling through strange and unfamiliar terrains?
He would like to think you do. He dreams of you more often than not.
Your nipples are drawn up tightly now, pebbled and peaked, as you press forward again, almost imperceptibly.
But on you slumber. His very own sleeping beauty.
With a slow pinch, he allows himself a bit more boldness. Perhaps, as he gives way to his need, he cares a little less about your rest.
All hope is lost when an airy sigh slips off your pretty tongue, and his hands begin traveling in languid earnest. Squeezing and tugging and pressing as his hips rock into you just barely.
He whispers your name as his mouth travels along your neck, and then groans into the crook of it when your hand reaches back, searching to bury into his tangled waves.
You hum a breathy, “Hi, baby,” into the night, eyes still closed.
”Hello, sleeping beauty,” he answers with a dreamy simper coloring his tone. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You sure about that?” Even with your toes still dipped into the ocean of drowsiness you can’t help but quietly tease him.
”You just feel so good,” he sounds like he is positively aching for you, and that’s because he is. He always is.
His tongue laps lightly over your shoulder just before his teeth find purchase, sinking in with a slow suck that brings a blushing bruise to life.
Admiring it in the moonlight, a lazy, satisfied warmth fills his chest, “Looks pretty on you, my love.”
Nose nuzzling into your tousled locks, he draws in a lungful of you, pressing your breasts together and running the pad of his thumb down the seam they create.
He’s imagining that perfect place, slick with sweat, and his cock - hard and desperate, sliding back and forth, pillowed and snug. How soft you would feel, how warm, how fucking perfect, how you might lick at the tip each time it slipped upwards to say hello.
”I really did want to let you sleep,” His words ghost over the shell of your ear and you long for him to whisper to you this way forever. “You snore, you know?”
The quietest giggle, hardly a sound at all, escapes you, “I don’t snore, Jacob Thomas, stop making things up.”
”Yes, you do,” it’s a sing-song argument, still but a whisper. “It’s adorable. And endearing. I like it.”
Confession too innocent for the way he’s making love to your breasts with his talented hands, you roll to face him…his arms wrapped around you all the while.
“Hi, liar,” you smile once you’re nose to nose.
“M’not a liar,” his voice is gravelly, and he’s a little thirsty with sleep, but not enough to leave your side in search of a glass of water. “You do snore. But it sounds dainty, and sweet. Everything you do is pretty.”
Your cheeks warm, ever the shy one under the spotlight of a compliment. Instead of enduring more - no matter how you secretly treasure them, you guide his mouth downward with a gentle grip fisted in his hair.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he nuzzles against you like a sleek and stunning house cat, and then curls the tip of his tongue over your nipple…sucking the bead of it into his kiss for just a moment. “Is this what you want?”
”I think this is what you want.” The challenge you’d hoped for in your tone drifts off into a shivering sigh when he nips at you.
“I do.” He nods, licking and lapping his tongue over them, suckling and biting. “My pretty girls…my exquisite, pretty girls.”
“Exquisite?” You smile, eyes drifting closed. He responds with a soft sound of confirmation, but can’t be bothered to stop.
A particularly nice flick of his tongue drags a shaky moan from your lungs and he hums right along with you, blissfully. “Feel good?”
”Really good,” your fist tightens in his hair, but your touch remains gentle in this languid and lazy moment. “Do it again?”
You offer it up as a question, which seems absurd to him…as if he would ever deny you. As if you don’t own him completely. As if you hadn’t stolen his heart the moment he laid eyes on you.
He does it again for you, because of course he does, and then again and again, until you’re pressing closer into him and whining so timidly it makes his heart ache and his cock throb.
It twitches against your thigh, hard and flushed hot, sweeping against your skin like velvet. You close your eyes and picture it resting between your bodies, so thick, and thrumming with his frantic pulse, cashmere skin stretched taught with his want, and all for you.
You suddenly need it more than you could ever put into words. Great scholars and poets alike couldn’t begin to describe your ache for him.
You burn and your stomach twists, somersaulting over itself for Jake. For everything he is. For everything he ever will or won’t be.
”Can I touch it?” You whisper, peppering kisses into his bed head as he contentedly licks and sucks away at you, kneading at the soft swell of your breasts carefully. Babying them as though he is tragically in love…and he is. God, how he loves them.
In lieu of tearing his mouth away to respond, he backs his hips away from you just far enough to allow your hand to slip down and wrap around the root of his cock.
You find him fiery to the touch and so hard as a breath huffs out of his nose with a palpable fever.
Thumbing over his head, you find it soaked and swollen as you press into the slit gingerly, just the way he likes. “Your cock is so wet, baby…” you’re trying to tease him, but the words tremble, sounding as needy as you feel, “So hard.”
Thick and pulsing, he strains and flexes in your grip, and then there are those beautiful words. Words no more than a whimper that is bordering upon shy, “Make me cum…”
”Yeah?” Your hand, slick with his need, begins a slow journey up and down the length of him, twisting off at the head before sliding back down. “Does Jakey need it with my tits in his mouth?”
A muffled ‘fuck’ is buried against you as he sucks harder with a nod.
“Are you sore?” He knows he’s already fucked you blind tonight, and he’d rather die than hurt you.
And maybe you are sore, but not enough to not want this, so you offer a soft ‘no’ and then there are his fingers, nudging between your thighs, slipping inside of you, curling and beckoning like a beacon into your favorite spot.
”Goddamn,” he groans, teeth clenched into the tip of your breast, “You’re so warm inside…pretty little pussy opens right up for me. Faster, sweetheart.”
He goes right back to making love to your tits with his gorgeous mouth as your tightened fist flies rapidly over his cock. Squeezing at the head, thumb paying close attention to his favorite spot.
Rolling into his touch, your clit, swollen and soaked, presses flush against the heel of his palm, and it earns a groan of lust-drenched gratitude from somewhere deep in his chest, “That’s my girl, fucking use me.”
Jerking wildly into your palm, he finally gives up and rests his cheek against your chest, panting into your glistening skin.
“Just like that,” he’s thrusting in time with you now, hunting down his release fervently “Fuck, please, just like that.”
”Come on, baby,” you coax quietly, kissing over the crown of his head, gentle demand falling hushed into his tangles, “Cum for me.”
Further into your breasts his face presses as his fingers fuck you closer and closer to the edge, “You, too, sweetheart. Give it to me… I need you to— fuck, please, please…”
The soft pads of his fingers are circling inside you like he sculpted your body with his very own hands. He knows every inch of you. Where to touch, Where to press and tease. Where to pinch and smack and bite when you ask for it to hurt a little.
But when he leans into a touch of submission, as he is now? That lights you up with a frenzied, crazed fire that only he can extinguish.
He feels you tightening, strangling his fingers so forcefully he absently wonders how he ever fits his cock inside the heaven that lives between your thighs, “That’s it…” his face is shoved between your breasts, rendering his praise muffled, “That’s my fucking girl. C’mon, you just relax and let me make you cum. Let me, sweetheart,” he’s babbling now, repeating himself, whining, betraying how close he is, “just wanna make you feel good, let me get you off, just— let me, come on, baby, please…”
Like some sort of twisted, subby bully, he’s shoving you closer and closer, until, with a wild sob of his name, you let go, spilling into his palm as he, in turn, spills over your fist.
A wandering stream of expletives tumbles off of his warm, pink tongue as he sucks and mouths at your overheated skin…fingers tucked up into that lovely place inside you until you can stand it no longer.
“It’s too much, Jake…” your voice is a mirage of itself, “too much.”
With a sound that says he’s sad to leave, he slips out of your fluttering grip, and then shudders with a gentle, sleepy laugh when you squeeze and tug at his softening, sensitive cock. “You’re an evil woman.”
”But I’m your evil woman.” You counter, pulling away, if only to lick at the milky white pearl of him that is rolling down your wrist.
”Yes,” he nods, watching in the darkness with rapt attention, “You’re mine.”
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @sarakay-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @theweightofjake @joshsmama @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama @alwaysonthemend @moralmorbid @welllauragvf
#greta van fleet#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet smut#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van fic#fanfic#greta van smut#gvf fic#jake kiszka fanfiction#jake kiskza#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka smut#jake greta van fleet#jake gvf
257 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY: THE CRACK HEADCANON THAT RUINED ME FOREVER
HI. you might know me as the kingphie divorce guy. or as the guy who wrote the 6k ludonarrative essay. Today i am going to introduce to YOU @the-bitter-ocean's fantabulous ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY!!!
DISCLAIMER
This post contains SPOILERS for ALL of In Stars and Time. INCLUDING THE ACT 6 SECRET!!
You have been warned.
ALSO!!!!
The original headcanon/theory is VERY MUCH Ocean's fantastic work! I am merely rehashing all the arguments for it that have been laid out across various chats into one cohesive thing people can look at. Also citations! Who doesn't love those.
WHAT IS IT?
Well, it's quite simple. It's the theory that Euphrasie, love of my life and Head Housemaiden of Dormont, is from the forgotten island, same as Siffrin and the King.
(Yes, this is why divorce AU exists.)
WHY DO YOU EVEN BELIEVE THIS?
Quite a lot of reasons, actually.
It's really funny
Let us begin with: the basics.
SUPERFLOUS AESTHETIC DETAIL
HAIR COLOR
This is Euphrasie. She's very pretty. I love her.
You might notice several things about her, like her fantabulous white hair.
Well. What other characters have white hair?
You have guessed correctly. The ONLY OTHER white haired characters with actual artwork are Siffrin and the King, both from The Island The World Forgot. Thus we can assume that it's a typical hair color for islanders. Makes it stand out very much that Euphie also has it.
(What about the beautiful one- sh sh sh he's blonde. He's blonde.) (Well, actually, considering that they are the only one who acknowledges that Vaugardians are also weird, what if he's from the island as well? Checkmate atheists.)
EYELASHES
(EDIT!!!!! FINALLY PUTTING THIS ON THE MAIN POST!!!
Turns out I was incorrect in this. Some characters (Mira, Isa) also have eyelashes on SOME portraits. The mentioned chars r still notable for Always Having Em, + the Loop lashes are like, literally intended as plot twist foreshadowing, but, hey.
That's what you get for writing essays at 1am.
IN RETURN!!! Someone pointed out to me [i forgot who sorry] that Euphrasie's capelet.... has stars on it!! It's speckled like the starry sky!! Now isn't that a neat coinkydink.)
(Original text left up because I respect my past self's artistic vision. And his lunacy.)
Correct. Eyelashes.
Going back to our portrait of Euphie, she is drawn with precisely three eyelashes. Why is this notable? Because Siffrin and Loop are.
So much so, that being drawn with three eyelashes, is specifically an element of foreshadowing to Loop's true identity.
(squints at character portraits) literally no characters besides Siffrin, Loop, and Euphrasie have eyelashes? Oh my god. What? Nobody has eyelashes? What the fuck? (okay, some moments later: Mirabelle has eyelashes in some battle artwork, but these three are the only ones specifically with eyelashes in dialogue portraits, which is still incredibly odd.)
SPEAKING HABITS
(EDIT!!! Another Point that is Kind Of Off, in that other characters [e.g. Odile] also do this occasionally. Again, keeping the text for my creative vision.
In return I get to inform you that the King makes the "not so bright, Bright One" pun TWICE in different loops, thus implying the King likes puns. Take this as you will. That's been my psychic damage, buhbyeeee~)
Hey, so, you know when you talk to people in Dormont, a lot of the NPCS will have a nametag that just says "[something] One" right? Daydreaming One, Castle-Loving One, Beautiful One?
And I've seen people wonder, are these titles? Nicknames?
And I bring you this: Siffrin addresses these people with these epithets in his head, because they have no fucking clue what anyone's name is.
So Siffrin just naturally lapses into this style of nicknaming strangers.
Which two other people also do.
Bright one... ...... Do you remember? Traveling one! Are you done talking with your companions? Yes, wonderful, wonderful!
Funny little tidbit that these three characters all speak alike isn't it :)
Okay. With aesthetics out of the way, let's move onto the next tier of this iceberg:
THE MECHANICS OF FORGETTING AND BEING FORGOTTEN
I realize in the process of writing that we must outline the nature of the curse. What gets forgotten and what gets to stay?
The particularity that's important to us right now is: what people get forgotten?
All evidence points toward this: an entire person is only forgotten if they were physically present on the island when it vanished.
I'm pulling up two example cases to prove it: Siffrin and the Daydreaming One.
The thing with Siffrin is: we know he witnessed the exact moment the island vanished. And, very notably, Siffrin was in a boat.
You can get the dialogue that proves this only in ACT 2 in a secret room most people don't find on their first playthroughs, which is both very funny and very evil. Here's the dialogue.
Siffrin: "I ran away from home once!" [...] Siffrin: "And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit!" [...]
Siffrin: "I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I... I... ..." Isabeau: ... Sif? Siffrin: (Woah! What?) "Um, yes?" Isabeau: Um... You were telling us how you ran away from home? Siffrin: "I... was?" Odile: You... Were. Bonnie: DID YOU FORGET WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT WHILE TALKING ABOUT IT?!?
Siffrin is from the island, but was not physically present when it disappeared. This resulted in Siffrin forgetting their entire identity, including given name and spoken/written language.
Additionally, this is confirmed via Word of God to be the exact moment the island disappeared, so here's proof I'm not reading into it:
Shoutout to bibliomaniac's insane google spreadsheet for the easily searchable screenshot. god bless. Brinny, ily.
On the other hand, with the Daydreaming One, we have proof of a person who is not originally from the island, but was physically on it at the time of disappearance.
Siffrin: "Don't you have a sister?" Daydreaming One: I... I don't? I just said I'm an only child, silly!
(For her to forget someone like her sister, so easily... Her sister must've traveled to...)
Secondly, we know that remnants of the island were not completely forgotten immediately.
Memory faded gradually, starting with the ability to still speak and think about it with accompanying headaches, until it ramped up in intensity and everything is simply gone.
The Sparkling Diary in the library is more or less proof. Memory of the island was gone, but... people still remembered that they forgot something. People still knew what they were talking about, (an island north of Vaugarde), just without the specifics.
"Urgh. Also, Dad noticed no one can say the name of the island north of here anymore?" "I tried to say it yesterday and I got like the WEIRDEST headache for HOURS."
And Odile also remarks the following
Odile: We also know that people could remember that country clearly, before.
This will be relevant later. Moving on.
CONTRIVANCES
THE HOUSE'S OBSERVATORY
SO. The House of Change of Dormont has this funny little room on the third floor. It's an observatory. To look at stars with. When entering this room for the first time, Mirabelle says this:
Mirabelle: What...? Was there a room like this in the House? Y-yeah, I remember! Someone was working here... Studying... They looked like... ... Um... Sorry, I can't remember.
This reveals to us several things:
This room is innate to the House, and not brought here by the King's weird redecorating
Someone from the House was using it for study
All memory of who or what was studying and being studied was erased alongside the island's existence
Of course we can say, "yo, what if Euphrasie was using this room and just forgot?" but that is. a headcanon. I ADMIT! It is a stipulation
However, I find the general presence of the Island written all over the House incredibly interesting.
Inside the Observatory, there's a pile of papers with messy handwriting. You can't read these in until ACT 4. Even in ACT 4, you can't read them. But you do learn what's written on them.
(A pile of papers.) (It looks like someone was trying to write your country's name.)
Inside the observatory is also a globe. Upon repeated interaction in... act 4, i think, you get this:
(You see a spot on the globe where the paint has started wearing out, like someone kept dragging their finger on it.) (You drag your finger there too.) (Erased. You almost want to look for lightless paint.)
BOOKS
During the various quests to discover the truth of the loops, you run into a lot of books, written in the forgotten language. Now, Dormont is not close to the island. Dormont is not close to the coast.
Bambouche is. That's why Bonnie has heard about the island before and knows it was a big deal - they lived really close to it.
Bonnie (and then1): I think, I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!! Mirabelle (anxious1): That's so frightening... I'm glad that whatever happened, she didn't get caught up in it!
As we can see in this map, Dormont is in the southern half of the country, and very centrally at that, meaning it has basically maximum distance from all waters and ports. So why does this landlocked small town have so many books in this language?
These aren't just dry books, either. In Dormont's library, there's actually a translated version of volume 2 of The Cursing of Chateau Castle.
(You take the book out again.) (You can read its title, now...) (Your heart is beating, badump, badump, badump.) (It's...) (... A translated copy of "The Cursing of Château Castle", issue #2.) (You start laughing.)
CONCLUSION OF THIS SECTION
Islanders lived in Dormont. Maybe even multiple! We've established that whoever is in Dormont when it vanished would not simply disapper, instead
they forgot where they're from.
One day, the islanders in Dormont could no longer remember being anywhere but Dormont. Being anything but Vaugardian. The observatory fell into disuse, as the person studying there gradually forgot what they used it for, even as they desparately tried to hold onto it, boring holes into the globe, and scribbling its name over and over until its unintelligible.
And, in all likelihood, eventually that knowledge was just gone forever. They simply became part of Dormont, none the wiser to their own history.
Books slipped into cracks. Rooms fell into disuse. Nobody remembered to clean out the remnants.
Now. The real cinch of this.
Why, in particular, do I think Euphrasie is one of them?
Answer me this, then.
How does Euphie know what Wish Craft is?
1. How could she read it?
Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft exists, when all books on it are written in a language nobody can read.
The book in the storage room? The diary in the room behind the star door? The book in the secret library? None of them are legible.
There are no legible records of Wish Craft.
2. What about the Favor Tree?
Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft is related to the Favor Tree. It's also a Vaugardian practice to make requests of the Favor Tree, but they're just that - requests. Nobody thinks they actually have power.
Only Euphrasie does. She thinks it's the key to defeating the King.
(This is... A list of people who wished to save Vaugarde!!!) (You look around her desk, trying to find out more.) (Why would she record the people who wished to save Vaugarde?) (... There!!!) (It's a little notebook, jammed between random boring paperwork...) (In it, the Head Housemaiden talks about Wish Craft... How in the days before the King attacked, she noticed everyone was wishing to the Favor Tree for the same thing:) (To save Vaugarde.) (And she started wondering if this wish could be the key to the King's defeat, somehow...) (So the Head Housemaiden knew about Wish Craft!!!)
Except, when Isabeau talks about it...
Isabeau: Well, it's just a random big tree. But when you're a believer of the House of Change, the biggest tree in a certain place is called a Favor Tree! It's like, it’s the tree with the most power, so you can ask it things? As a favor?
He struggles a little to explain it. Almost, as though the tradition came from some other culture, imported into Vaugarde, and no one can definetely remember where it came from.
To note, here, is that the Favor Tree is hugely associated with Loop, and wishes in general. Wishing on a Favor Tree is such a hugely powerful ritual when executed correctly, that it caused the entire timeloops.
And I'm not even gonna break out citations to prove that Wish Craft is associated with the island. Come on. You know that. You played the game. It's required to beat the game.
If you haven't beaten the game, what the fuck are you doing here. Go back and play it, baka.
3. Something's breaking, failing, rotting
At the end of ACT 4, when Siffrin confronts Euphrasie about her knowledge of Wish Craft, Euphrasie is distinctly aware of this: the people of Vaugarde are wishing wrong.
It's true. All of Vaugarde wished to the Favor Tree, wished for us to be saved. We wished for a savior. A way for us to win against the King. And Wish Craft gave us the means to do it, didn't it? Made sure it'd work? [...] But... But something went wrong, didn't it? Something goes wrong, every time!!! [...] The only answer I can find... Is it's because we did it wrong. I don't know what happened But we must've done it wrong!!! None of us in Vaugarde knew the exact ritual, but-- But we must have done it so wrong, it broke, and it doesn't answer to us at all anymore!!! [...] I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!!!
There's only one person who knew how to make a Wish correctly. And he made it by sheer instinct. Something they could not place even if they tried. Just... a forgotten ritual, dredged back up by muscle memory. Something he's probably been doing since he's a little kid, something that's so backed into their habits they use Wish Craft to carve figurines out of wood.
To end, I leave you with this. Dialogue you get when you try to talk to Euphrasie again, before you talked to everybody else.
If you talk to me... REALLY talk to me... It's all over. What "it" is, I have no idea... I know... I can feel that... I couldn't change whatever comes next, even if I wanted to. But I know it is the will of the Change God. Or, no, perhaps... The will of something even bigger... ... Something will end, once you talk to me.
There is a way for Euphrasie to know all of this. To know Wish Craft exists, to be aware she's doing it wrong, but not knowing, remembering quite enough to get it right.
If she knew it all beforehand already.
#Feli speaks#in stars and time#isat spoilers#isat#euphrasie isat#head housemaiden#ALL THE TAGS. I NEED PEOPLE TO LOOK AT THIS. PLEASE. IT'S 1:30 IN THE MORNING.#i spent two hours on this i think
589 notes
·
View notes
Text
In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 1: Amethyst]
Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can't seem to get away from...
Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don't like Titanic you won't like this fic!!! 😉
Word count: 5.2k
💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜
Tagging: @arcielee @nightvyre @camsdaae @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama
Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰
A note goes sharp, and you swim up through colorless currents—indistinct conversation, an iron-grey draft each time the front door opens, cigar smoke like fog over the ocean—and turn to the viola player. His eyes have caught on the place where your left hand rests on the table by a glass of pear cider, still cold from the icebox, misty with condensation. Rain pours outside. Logs fracture and hiss in the fireplace. Your gown is thick velvet, indigo like the night sky, and the ruffles of your sleeve have slipped back to reveal the evidence roped around your wrist: shadows of trapped blood, rubies that sicken and turn to sapphires and amethysts.
You hurriedly adjust your sleeve. Now the viola player’s eyes are on yours, an overcast blue and improperly direct, and something flies between you: his shock, your shame. You look away and pretend to ignore him. His horsehair bow finds its rhythm again, a tempo like a racing pulse. The quartet is playing The Wild Rover.
Daemon hasn’t noticed. He has ensnared the reporter entirely, here in O’Connell’s Bar in the heart of Galway, just across the street from Eyre Square and only a few blocks west of the Docks and the North Atlantic Ocean. The young man writes for The Irish Times and has traveled from Dublin to interview your husband, once a celebrated newcomer but soon departing and taking you with him. Five years ago a storm blew him in; now the gleam of distant treasure catches his eye and beckons him like the moon calls the tides. He has been this way all his life. You were mad to believe he’d change.
“Lord Targaryen,” the reporter says with his felt-tip pen hovering over his notebook, gazing at Daemon worshipfully, firelight dancing on both of their faces. You glance at the viola player again. He’s still watching you, and this is bad. “You’ve been described as a cowboy by numerous publications and business associates. Do you consider that a compliment?”
Daemon chuckles, smirking and imperious. He puffs on his pipe, elbows propped on the table. His eyes are a deep-set reptilian green, emeralds glinting from the mouth of a mine. Strands of dark blonde hair fall roguishly down over his forehead. “Oh, it’s a massive compliment, isn’t it? A cowboy eschews the safe and the predictable. A cowboy makes his own way in the world. My father was a duke, and now my brother is a duke, and one day my nephew will be a duke, God help us all. And so I always knew that if I wanted anything for myself, I’d have to go out and find it.”
The reporter is smiling, enraptured. He asks, already knowing the answer: “And what was it you found?”
“In the Wah Wah Mountains of Utah, we discovered red beryl.” Daemon talks with his hands, magnetic fields, incantations, spells that once worked on you. “It’s exceptionally rare and a gorgeous stone, high color saturation, not as hard as a diamond but durable enough for jewelry, essentially a blood-colored emerald. I was twenty-five years old and had just put together my first small mining expedition, and here we were sitting on the only known supply of red beryl on the planet. And it was then that I realized that there are these sorts of…natural monopolies that exist scattered across the globe, gemstones that can be found in only one location, and thus if you are the man who owns the mine…every single stone must pass through your hands before it ends up in retail establishments in London or Paris or Milan or wherever.”
“And so you took the lesson you learned from red beryl and applied it to other minerals,” the reporter says as he scribbles in his notebook.
Daemon grins, puffing on his pipe, exhaling smoke like a dragon. And how remarkable he is to have agreed to meet here in this pub like a common man, so unpretentious, so unafraid of the world’s dirt, effortless and yet untouchable, and this is why his miners love Daemon, why they will break their spines and poison their lungs for him. “We kept the Utah mine, of course, and bought up rights to thousands of acres of land surrounding it. I hired more workers. And then I investigated reports of mysterious, unnamed, brand new stones that had been stumbled upon in far-flung places, untamed by civilized men, the earth just waiting to be slit open and butchered like a fat hog. In Madagascar, we found Grandidierite, a bewitching blue-green, the Indian Ocean in miniature, crystalized form. In Tanzania, we discovered Tanzanite, halfway between an amethyst and a sapphire.”
The reporter nods to you as he says: “I believe Lady Targaryen is wearing some this evening, is she not?”
“Indeed,” Daemon replies without much interest. You touch your fingertips to your teardrop-shaped earrings and give the reporter a polite smile. You steal a glimpse of the viola player; he isn’t staring at you anymore—a blessing, a relief—but he frowns distractedly as his bow glides over the strings. “In Australia there was black opal, and in the Dominican Republic we were the first mining operation to encounter Larimar, and then…well, then I heard of Connemara marble.”
“Native to Ireland,” the reporter says proudly. “The lone quarry that’s still producing is right here in Galway.”
“So of course that intrigued me.” Daemon taps on the tabletop with his right hand, and now he is watching you, curling lips, taunting eyes. “And when I crossed the Atlantic to acquaint myself with this quarry and inquire into purchasing it, I was intrigued by the quarry owner’s daughter as well.”
His pen scratching against parchment; black rivers of ink filling up the page. “How would you describe the courtship?”
“Brief,” Daemon says, then laughs. He points to you with his smoldering pipe. “How about you, dear? How would you describe it?”
“Flattering,” you answer honestly, and the reporter makes his notes. “Daemon already had a reputation by then. A captain of industry, a staggering success story, a man who refused to rest idly on his family’s titles, which he could have easily done.” And a man who also refused to marry, rejecting Rockefellers and Morgans and Astors, duchesses and countesses, but asked your father for your hand in marriage after only a few weeks of tours of the quarry and dinners set alight with charismatic retellings of his travels. You knew the Connemara marble was part of the allure, but you took this as a common interest rather than the only thing Daemon wanted from you. Well…one of two things.
“You’ve resided in Galway ever since,” the reporter is saying to Daemon. “Barring a few trips for business. But that is about to change.”
Daemon sucks on his pipe. “I’ve received a very generous offer from Tiffany & Co. in Manhattan. They’ve been around for almost a century, did you know they supplied the Union Army with swords and surgical tools during the Civil War? Real patriots. Not afraid to get bloody. They want to expand into the sale of colored gemstones, not just diamonds and pearls and gold, the same unimaginative pieces peddled by their competitors. And after some long and arduous negotiations, Tiffany has agreed to pay a fair price for the exclusive rights to specimens originating from my mines, and I have agreed relocate to New York City for the foreseeable future to consult with them as a gemstone expert.”
“It’s my understanding that you have family in New York too, Lord Targaryen. Perhaps a reunion is part of the appeal of a move across the pond.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t assume that,” Daemon says impishly. “I haven’t seen Alicent Hightower or her children in years and years. I wouldn’t even know them if I passed them on the street.”
“Is that right?” The reporter’s pen hovers uncertainly over his notebook; he doesn’t think this is the sort of familial disharmony that should be printed in a newspaper.
“But my wife and I will have some company for the voyage,” Daemon continues. “My niece Rhaenyra and her charming husband Laenor will be joining us on Titanic. They’ve been on holiday in the Mediterranean and have several social engagements on the East Coast before they return to summer in England with my brother.”
“Viserys Targaryen, the 9th Duke of Beaufort.”
Daemon grins, not kindly at all. “One man earns a title, eight others wear it.”
The reporter shifts awkwardly in his chair. It’s not the sort of joke he’s allowed to laugh at. Changing the topic, he looks to the string quartet, which is now playing Danny Boy. The viola player’s eyes flick to you; you drink you pear cider and pretend you are unaware. “You’ll be sorely missed in Galway. But what a proper Irish sendoff you’re receiving here at O’Connell’s tonight!”
“Yes,” Daemon muses, the bit of the pipe in his mouth. “A week from now, tugboats will be hauling us out of Cork Harbor and into the Atlantic Ocean, perhaps never to return.”
You shudder as a man enters the pub and a cold draft blows through you. You are terrified of ships, tiny metal buckets at the mercy of bottomless blue, unnatural incursions into inhuman spaces. You have sailed twice before with your parents—once to Le Havre to visit Paris and again on a cruise of the Aegean—and both times you were consumed by visions of water rising up over your feet, bodies thrashing in the waves, bones turning to silt. You don’t want to cross the Atlantic. You don’t want to leave home.
“You look a bit familiar, boy,” Daemon says, and you realize he’s talking to the viola player. You startle, then are relieved to see that your husband has only a dim curiosity in the musician. The reporter has bored him, and Daemon’s eyes are wandering. He is a man of short and restless attention. You have learned this the hard way. “Have we met before?”
The viola player—early twenties, around your age, sandy blond hair and a beard trimmed close to the skin—pauses his fiddling as his three companions carry on. His accent is English, not Irish. “Well I’ve played all over Ireland, sir. All over Europe, in fact.”
“Were you by chance at the McPherson wedding back in February?”
You don’t believe he was, you think you’d remember him; but the viola player nods eagerly. “Yes sir, that was me.”
“Ah! That was a fine night. Excellent duck. Wasn’t the duck good, dear?” But Daemon only half-listens for your response. He has turned back to the reporter and is recounting how he and his expedition hacked through the jungles of Tanzania to reach the location of suspected gemstone deposits, how they endured attacks from crocodiles and chimpanzees and burned up from fevers.
“Please excuse me for a moment,” you say as you rise from the table. The reporter scrambles to his feet to stand as decorum demands.
“Yes yes,” Daemon replies abruptly, not looking at you, then continues his stories.
You escape from the pub through the front door and stand beneath the awning just out of the rain, watching the reflections of streetlights glow in puddles like stars. Across the street in Eyre Square, a public park established in 1710, shadows of ash trees rock in the wind. With trembling fingers, you fumble a Kerry Blue and your cigarette holder out of your black handbag, then realize you don’t have a lighter. Someone else always does that part for you. You sigh and stare out into the rain, taking deep breaths of Irish night, early April, cold and wet and green, the only air you know how to take painlessly into your lungs, blood, bones, the dark damp earth that built you. You cannot imagine living amongst metal skyscrapers and rumbling automobiles instead of verdant rolling hills dotted with sheep.
You hear the pub door open, and you assume it is one of the waiters or perhaps Rush—Edward Rushton, Daemon’s valet and bodyguard, ever-watchful and unwaveringly stern—bringing you the black mink coat you left inside. But to your horror, it is the viola player, carrying his instrument by its neck. You gape at him as rain continues to fall.
“Hi,” he says.
You are clutching your handbag, a cigarette and holder still tucked between your fingers. “What are you doing?”
“I just…I was…uh…” He spots the cigarette. “Oh, do you need a lighter? I have one, hold on…” He begins rooting around in the pockets of his olive green tweed jacket.
“No, I don’t need a lighter,” you snap, glancing anxiously at the door. “I need you to go back inside.”
“Wait a minute, I wanted to—”
“Why are you speaking to me?” Your eyes are wide and petrified, your voice is a sharp whisper. No musician has ever addressed you beyond pleasantries: Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, thank you ma’am, my pleasure ma’am. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Look, I came out here because…I just wanted to ask…” He struggles to find the words. His eyes fall to your left wrist, now fully obscured by the ruffles of your sleeve, then return to your face. “Are you okay?”
“What?”
“Do you…you know…do you need some kind of help or something?”
It’s improper, it’s unthinkable, it’s dangerous. “You’re deranged,” you say as you breeze past him towards the door. “You’ve clearly escaped from an asylum somewhere. I wish you all the best in your recovery.”
He does not grab you—that would be absurd—but he does get between you and the front door of the pub. “Wait, please, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude or to overstep or anything, I’m trying to see if there’s anything I can do—”
“You will make it worse for me,” you hiss, and only then does the viola player go quiet and let you pass. You shove by him into O’Connell’s Bar.
Back at the table, Daemon and the reporter are engrossed in conversation. When you rejoin them, neither of the men take any notice of you beyond the reporter’s momentary rise to his feet. After a minute or two, the viola player returns to the quartet and slips seamlessly into the song they’re playing, Star of the County Down. You gaze into your pear cider, determined not to glance at him even once.
Daemon is saying as the reporter jots franticly: “I am reminded of something I read once in a French fashion critic’s guide from the 1870s. In the gloomy depths of the mineral world, stars are concealed that rival in their beauty those of the firmament. The fresh splendors of dawn, the sun’s incandescent rays, the magnificent sunsets, the brilliant colors of the rainbow, all are found enclosed in a morsel of pure carbon or in the center of a stone. Not everyone can see the potential, not everyone has the skill or the willpower to move the earth and free the treasures trapped beneath. But I found stars no one else knew existed. And my work isn’t finished yet.”
~~~~~~~~~~
At home in Lough Cutra Castle, your family’s estate since 1817, your parents are asleep and Fern is waiting up for you and Daemon, yawning into the back of her hand to try to hide it. She is your maid but she was hired by Daemon, and she scurries around the property like a mouse, eternally picking up toys and articles of clothing and papers that have slid off of tables, head bowed, footsteps so light you often don’t realize she’s walked into a room until she’s spoken.
“Care for some tea, my lady?” Fern asks as she takes your mink coat. Daemon goes directly to his study; you watch him leave with some feeling you couldn’t name, loss, relief, loneliness, resignation.
“No, thank you, Fern. I’m exhausted. Is Draco upstairs?”
“He is,” she says, but with hesitation, as if she is sending you into the lion’s den. You know what that means. You climb the staircase and find him in his bedroom sound asleep, four years old, surrounded by an army of teddy bears. Bears are his favorite animal; he likes the way they roar and brandish their teeth. He is named after the crest of Daemon’s family; Draco is the Latin word for dragon. His hair is white-blonde, a Targaryen trait. As they age it fades to an ordinary sand-like color, and by the time they are middle-aged—Daemon is forty, nearly two decades older than you are—their hair is a blonde so dark it’s almost brunette.
You stand in the doorway watching Draco for a long time. When you think of him, this is the image that comes to mind: your son across a room, or a lawn, or a garden, and you lurking on the periphery, longing to be a part of his existence, feeling so palpably unneeded. Already, he is becoming a stranger. He thinks it’s funny when Daemon insults people and breaks things. He stomps his little feet when he doesn’t get his way and rips flowers from the garden, tosses rocks through the windows of the greenhouse, hurls sticks at hissing geese.
“He’s asleep,” Dagmar says as if she’s scolding you. You whirl to see her behind you in the hall, glowering with those icy Nordic eyes, her hair grey and twisted into a tight bun, her face angular and cold-blooded. Legend has it that Saint Patrick expelled all the snakes from Ireland; you think he must have missed one.
“Yes, I can see that.”
“You’ll wake him.”
“I certainly won’t.”
“A boy that age needs his rest.” And this is how Dagmar has been since Draco was born: You can’t hold a baby like that, you can’t feed a baby like that, you can’t play with a baby like that, never showing you how to do things but only alienating you further and further until you looped around on some hopelessly remote orbit like Neptune circles the sun.
“Yes. Like I said, I won’t disturb him.”
But she does not leave; she only scowls at you with her bony arms crossed over her chest. She is ancient; she was Viserys and Daemon’s governess when they were boys, and your husband wrote to her immediately after Draco was born. She idolizes Daemon. The three of them are a family unto themselves, sardonic and spiteful and fiercely loyal, an oath you can’t figure out how to break. She wins this battle, as she’s won them all. It is not a war but an insurgency, a perpetual struggle for independence, sabotages and hunger strikes that amount to nothing. You retreat from Draco’s doorway and go to find Daemon in his study, bent low over his desk and sketching designs for jewelry men will buy for their wives, sisters, mothers, daughters, mistresses.
He glances over at you impatiently. “What is it?”
“You promised I’d never have to leave Ireland.”
Daemon shrugs, smiling wryly. “And yet…”
“Draco and I could stay here,” you say, as if this has not already occurred to him.
“And people would say my house is not in order. How am I to command the respect of American businessmen when my own wife does not obey me?”
You are desperate. “Half the year,” you plead. “I’ll spend winters in Manhattan and summers here.”
“Absolutely not.”
“What if I won’t go?”
“I don’t see how you’d accomplish that,” Daemon says, as if he’s already bored of this conversation. “You could throw yourself over the ship’s railing and into the Atlantic Ocean, I suppose. But that’s the only way you’re not ending up in New York.”
“You don’t even really want me there,” you reply, your voice quivering. “You don’t care where I am or what I do. Lots of men live separately from their wives, you can as well.” And even now—horribly, humiliatingly—you want him to contradict you, to swear that he does care, that he wants you, that he loves you in the sick brutal way he knows how.
Daemon picks up the dagger he keeps on his desk and uses it as a letter opener to unseal a piece of correspondence from one of his many mines, left in the care of managers just as your father’s Connemara marble quarry soon will be. The hilt is made of gold and has seven small gemstones imbedded in it, one on top of the other: amethyst, tiger’s eye, black opal, emerald, ruby, bloodstone, sapphire. “You know,” Daemon says offhandedly as he skims the letter. “Draco is getting old enough for boarding school.”
“What?” You are shellshocked; it takes a moment for you to sputter a reply. “He’s…he’s four, Daemon. He can’t read more than a handful of words. He just learned how to write his own name.”
“I was only five when my father sent me away.”
“And you turned out to be so normal.”
“No,” Daemon says, a blade-sharp warning, his eyes burning into yours, ruthless green fire. He aims the point of his dagger at you. “I turned out to be extraordinary.”
Draco. Draco sent away. If I lose him now, I’ll lose him forever. He’ll never know me. He’ll never love me. “Please let me have a few more years with him.”
“Sure. In New York.”
“I’ll go,” you surrender. “Fine, fine, I understand. I’ll go. No more complaints.”
“Good.” He sets down his dagger and the letter and resumes his sketching. You’ve been dismissed, but you can’t look away from him: cunning hands that won’t touch you, blood that runs hot enough to scald.
What is this feeling, this hunger, this hatred, all gnarled up together, dark earth glimmering with flecks of jewel-tone light, constellations of subterranean stars? He has hurt you, but he has given you pleasure too, this man who is so impossible to know, to predict, the only man who has ever been inside you. It’s not that you want him, not exactly; you want what he can give you, and the cold truth is that if it’s not him it’s not anyone, never again for as long as he lives. You’ve never craved another body, another soul. If you ever took a lover, you believe Daemon would kill you.
He grins, mocking and cruel. And you are transported back to your wedding night, still euphoric and flushed and panting on the bed as Daemon sighed and got up to go to the washroom, the satisfaction and the shame, the inescapable sense that you have disappointed him. “Did you only come here to be vexing and disobedient, or did you have something else in mind?”
“No,” you say softly, turning away, leaving him with his drawings of rocks stolen from distant corners of the world.
At breakfast the next morning—Fern cracking Draco’s soft-boiled egg and feeding him careful spoonfuls, Dagmar reading aloud to him from The Three Billy Goats Gruff, giving him smiles radiant with warmth you’ve never received from her—you sip tea and spread butter over your soda bread, gazing listlessly at the mist that hangs cool and heavy beyond the windows. Daemon is at the quarry already. You are suddenly acutely aware of the absence of music.
“Hey, lassie?” your father says as your mother tries to coax him into eating his full Irish breakfast: fried eggs, bacon, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, white pudding.
You look to him, clearing the fog from your skull. “Yes, Daddy.”
“I saw the luggage. Where are you going?”
You keep telling him, but he doesn’t remember; he was becoming forgetful five years ago but now he can’t work at all, can barely even carry conversations. You had a brother who died in infancy and a sister who was taken at eight years old by convulsions. You are the only child left, and there are no other evident heirs to the quarry. This must have been something that occurred to Daemon when he met you, seventeen and overwhelmed by the black magic of him. He had seemed like the right choice: dashing, capable, from an illustrious family, a man who could take charge of the quarry as your father’s health continued to fail.
“Daddy, I told you. We’re going to Manhattan.”
He is stunned, grief-stricken. “What? That far?”
“Yes, on Titanic. It’s the largest ship ever built.”
“Who the hell cares about the ship?” your father says. “When will you be back?”
Never. You and your mother exchange a heartsick glance. She tries to be strong for him; she tries not to show you that her world is ending as you and Draco are taken across the ocean like gemstones mined and smuggled away for cutting. “Soon, Daddy,” you lie. He won’t remember anyway. “We’ll be back really soon.”
And then again ten minutes later, and then again after a half hour, and then again at lunchtime:
Where are you going?
When will you be back?
~~~~~~~~~~
Titanic is not a ship but a wonder of the world, unbreakable like the pyramids, towering like the Colossus of Rhodes, beckoning seafaring travelers like the Lighthouse of Alexandria. It is too large to dock in Cork Harbor, and so two tenders—named, quite appropriately, Ireland and America—are used to shuttle the passengers to the anchored goliath waiting to carry you across the ocean. Aboard, a five-piece string ensemble greets the first-class passengers with The Sunny South, and beaming stewards distribute flutes of champagne, liquid gold freckled with bubbles of trapped air. The men are chucking and shaking Captain Smith’s hand and the women are sighing with soft, feminine awe at the soaring funnels and the sprawling Promenade Deck, steel overlaid with yellow pine and teak, and you stare vacuously back at the shadow of the shore, speaking to no one, noticed by no one, alone in a wonderstruck crowd on a cloud-covered, warm afternoon, April 11th, 1912.
Rush is giving bellboys instructions for the luggage to be taken to your rooms. Daemon disappears with Rhaenyra to inspect the accommodations, their steps swift and careless, laughing like children, Rhaenyra’s blonde hair—yellow jasper, yellow jade—streaming out behind her, her gown a shallow-water bluish-green like the Grandidierite Daemon found in Madagascar. Fern skitters after them to unpack the bags when they arrive in the staterooms and offer to make tea. Laenor, wearing a deep and dignified shade of blue, immediately makes the acquaintance of several Parisian passengers and sets about to stroll the deck with them, smoking their pipes and remarking on the ingenuity of the ship’s design, planning to enjoy the Turkish Baths together this evening. Draco is getting tired and ill-tempered; Dagmar merrily whisks him off to see the Grand Staircase and distract him until the rooms are ready.
Meandering, rudderless, you walk to the deck railing and look down into the water as the ship weighs anchor, unmooring itself from Ireland, stealing you away forever. Trying to distract yourself from weeping—tears burn in your eyes like a stoked furnace—you pretend to adjust your earrings. You wear amethysts to match your gown, dark mauve, a color not long ago only owned by royalty. One of the musicians has appeared to soothe your maladies, desperate terror and melancholy he perhaps mistakes for seasickness. But no, it’s not one of the men from the ensemble that welcomed you aboard; he is not wearing a pristine black suit but a pale green tweed waistcoat and unceremonious plaid trousers. He isn’t a crewmember of Titanic at all. He’s the viola player from Galway.
You jolt away from him, spinning around to ensure no one from Daemon’s party has reappeared to witness this. Then you whisper furiously: “What are you doing here?!”
The viola player stops fiddling and holds his instrument by its neck. His answer is amiable and innocent. “Playing viola.”
“No, why are you on this ship?!”
He shrugs, smiling, his hair blowing in the wind as the tugboats pull Titanic out to sea. “Heard it was the biggest one ever built, unsinkable, extravagant beyond compare. Seemed like something I’d like to experience given the opportunity.”
“You followed me,” you say flatly.
He winks, resting an elbow on the railing. His teeth are small and white; there are lines from the sun around his eyes.
“You overheard our arrangements at O’Connell’s Bar and bought a ticket for yourself? Crossed Ireland, travelled south to Cork, all to stalk me like some lunatic? A nautical Jack the Ripper?”
“Well…I wouldn’t say I bought a ticket.” He is playful, teasing you. “I found one.”
“How did you manage to by pure happenstance find a ticket for Titanic’s maiden voyage?”
“I ran into an aspiring passenger at a pub in Cork,” the viola player explains. “A very nice man, his name was Fergal. Unfortunately for poor Fergal, when the time came to board the tenders, he was…indisposed, and I found myself in possession of his third-class ticket. A strange coincidence!”
“Indisposed?” you say, squinting suspiciously.
“Perhaps he had a few too many pints in celebration and passed out somewhere. Perhaps he got lost on his way to the harbor. Or perhaps he was locked in the pub’s storage room and therefore unable to make it to the tenders in time to sail blissfully away on his trans-Atlantic journey. Who could say for sure?”
“So you stole a ticket.”
“I think that’s a cynical way to put it.”
You are incredulous. “How would you put it?”
“Fortune brought me a ticket. The stars aligned, the saints were looking out for me.”
“If you hold a third-class ticket, you are on the wrong deck of the ship.”
“Shh!” He holds a finger to his lips. “No one knows that, I just wander around playing songs for the rich people and they assume I’m supposed to be here.”
“You have to stay away from me,” you plead, staring out over the ocean. “Daemon can’t see us talking, he can’t know you followed me from Galway, he can’t find out that you saw…” The bruise, the evidence, the betrayal of you not keeping his secrets.
“Relax, I’m not here for you,” the viola player says, and of course he is lying. “I have family in New York City. I left home and haven’t been back in years, and I think now’s a good time for a visit.”
You roll your eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”
He grins, slow and mischievous, and you are alarmed to realize some part of you wants to smile too. “You know what?”
“What,” you offer resentfully.
“I think you want me to be here for you.”
You turn away from the railing to make your escape. “I want you to leave me alone.”
“I’ll think about it,” the viola player quips. And when you glance back at him from the end of the Promenade Deck, ocean wind tearing your hair out of its pins and salt stinging on your skin, he’s still watching you.
#aegon x reader#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii x you#aegon ii fanfic#aegon targaryen x you#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen ii#aegon targaryen
228 notes
·
View notes
Text
− Devour
✎ sanji x obsessive! reader
♦︎ fic type: smut
♦︎summary: the love you have for him is deep and might be concerning, but he doesn't have to know.
♦︎word count: 1.7k +
♦︎warnings: Obsessive thoughts, no use of y/n, gender neutral reader, penetration
He was yours, it didn't matter if he knew of not, he was your and nothing he or anyone could say would ever make you think differently. From the moment he walked onto the sandy beach of your home island and helped you liberate your people; to the moment he asked you to be his, he belonged to you.
Some of his crewmates seemed reluctant to have you join them, the time it took for them to learn eachother and their mannerisms was long. They didn't want to go through that process all over again, but Luffy recognized you for your strength and saw what you could bring to his crew which had previously been missing. And so you became the Strawhat's very own Alchemist, your expertise being in chemicals, toxins, and medicines.
This had to be the universe's way of paying you back for all the trouble you'd went through. You wouldn't dream of passing up this offer, especially if you could be with the blonde cook. After months of traveling with the crew, you were able to form solid friendships with everyone. While Sanji was your main goal, you couldn't lie and say that you didn't care about the rest of the Strawhat Family. Sanji just held a special place in your deep and twisted soul.
This aspect about yourself you hid pretty well, years of trial, error and rejection had made you see that the world wasn't truly ready to understand you as a person. Neither was your new family, despite how accepting they were. Maybe one day you'd let them see, but the inner workings of your mind were not for any normal person to comprehend. You were okay with this arrangement though, because the more normal you seemed the closer you could become to him.
He didn't have to know how deep the black void in your heart seeped. Sanji in all of his beautiful, perfect glory didn't need to burden himself with your brokenness. When he smiled at you from across the deck, he didn't have to know. When he brought you, Nami and Robin special treats, he didn't have to know. When his soft, peach colored lips touched your knuckles delicately, his ocean blue orbs meeting your; although his lustrous golden hair covered one. His perfectly curled eyebrow raised 1 1/3 cm away from his eye which locked you in his gave. The feel of his perfectly manicured hand grasping yours lightly; you wished you could clip his fingernails and keep them in a small locket next to you heart- he didn't have to know.
You continued to keep it from him, even as he knelt before you, asking you to finally hold the keys to his heart. Those raw, dark emotions resurfaced for a split second which you quickly suppressed before he could notice. Like you'd practiced over and over again, you happily wrapped your arms around him, inhaling the scent of his cologne mixed with natural kitchen spices. He didn’t need to see the depths of your obsession, all he needed to know was that you loved him, and that you would do anything to keep his attention on you.
Sanji didn't have to know, not even as your nails marking his back as he slowly plunged into your tight canal; letting the world know who he belongs to. He seemed to have the same agenda; the way his mushroom tip bruised that desired spot was better than you could ever imagine. The times you've touched yourself to the thought of him couldn't begin to compare to this moment. "Ngh- my love you feel so- so heavenly."
His hips moved with purpose and to an unknown rhythm that was synced to the beating on your heart. Sensual touching exchanged between you two, further solidifying you in this moment. The intensity of it all makes your mask crack just a little, enough for Sanji to see a sliver of your dark heart but not enough that we could ever think of pulling away from you. "Mine your all mine...Sanji tell me you're mine- shit..Tell me...tell me you'll never leave me!"
His pace intensified even more, your obsessiveness pulling him evermore closer to you. This being the first time he'd ever truly felt desired the way he wanted to be. Finally the love he had could finally be truly shared and reciprocated back. He felt his member twitch inside of you, more cum leaking into your canal. "I'm yours mon amour- I promise you I'm yours-fuck-"
Loads of cum seeped from when you two were connected, his fast pace pushing more into you weeping hole. You'd lost count of the orgasms you'd had but anytime he saw your mixed essence trailing onto the sheets beneath you he'd quickly fuck the liquid back into your tight canal. Slutty groans leaving his kiss bruised lips as he tips into the brink of overstimulation. “You feel so good! ‘So good!”
“Oh my fuck—!” The whines escaping your throat were drowned out by Sanji's soft lips pressing against yours hungrily. You returned the same level of intensity, more of your darkness seeping through in the moment. His pace was controlled but the way he drilled his hips into your own was delicious.
Sanji's breathing increases in pace; trailing light kisses down you burning skin. The heart from you bodies makes you both feel drowsy but Sanji won't cease until he's pulled one more release from you. "M'gonna cum-fuck-," He locks eyes with you, the moment becoming increasingly more intimate. His lithe hand lifts on of your legs, placing it over his shoulder to reach even deeper, but not before placing a warm kiss in you ankle.
"Come with me, mon amour, please." He coos at you; the bed shaking with every thrust. The friction, each precise thrust, his burning skin pressing ever more closely against yours. The sight of his chest rising and falling, jagged breaths leaving his lungs. That gaze, like you were the only being in the world as his tip pressed further into you slutty hole. These were all factors pushing you over the edge, whimpers leaving both of you. His stuttering hips pushing his finally load deep while simultaneously ridding you through your most intense orgasm yet.
Lingering marking across his pale skin, hushed whimpers leaving his pink lips at the contact of your lips again his neck. Sucking the red beneath his skin towards the surface, imagining yourself sucking that sweet red nectar of his, devouring what was truly yours. Letting any woman, who dared to set their eye on him as a suitor see, that he belonged to someone. And if they dared to ignore the physical signs of your possession, they would simply have to leave the face of this earth. Sanji wouldn't miss them, he didn't need to when he had you and you were all he would ever need. He didn't have to know.
He was yours to devour.
#koriiwrites#one piece x reader#one piece#sanji x reader#black leg sanji#sanji x reader smut#x reader#one piece imagine#one piece x you#one piece smut#vinsmoke sanji#vinsmoke sanji x reader#x black reader#x female reader#x male reader#x gender neutral reader
228 notes
·
View notes
Text
❝THOUGHT THAT I WAS DREAMIN’ WHEN YOU SAID YOU LOVE ME❞➝ CHRIS STURNIOLO
“He’s just a beautiful boy, with a beautiful soul. and I love him.”
Pair; Chris sturniolo x f!reader (best friends to lovers)
genre:fluff
cw; none.
a/n: This is part 2 of “tell your baby, that im your baby.” you can find part one here! with much love, alondra💋.
You felt better.
finally, after months of crying and not sleeping.
You’d gotten over Matt, you were hanging out with Chris alot more.
you finally felt happy.
“y/n, you did so good!” Chris hugged you. “Oh, thank you!” you smiled, hugging him back. You had just finished your scene on set filming your new movie. “Thank you for being here Chris.” You spoke, pulling away from him. “Of course, pretty girl you know I'm always happy to watch you on set.” He kissed your forehead. A pink/reddish tint started to appear across your cheeks. “How about we go get some food, hm?” Chris suggested. “yeah, I would like that.” you responded. “Just let me get my stuff, yeah?” he nodded, you walked towards the back of the set.
Walking back you thought about how Matt and Flo were going. Ever since Matt had confronted you, you haven’t heard from him. In all honesty, you didn’t really care. you were over him, and had feelings for someone else. someone better. someone who saw you as a gift made from god. He appreciates you, and loves you like no one ever has. and you were so grateful for that. With him, you felt happy, like you could talk for hours on end without him getting bored. Chris made you feel like no one ever has.
“Alright, I'm ready.” You spoke, walking towards chris. “Alright, c’mon.” He smiled at you before taking you hand in hand. His hands were soft and delicate. like they were meant to be, and you wouldn't have it any other way. “Where do you wanna go to eat?” Chris hopped in the Driver's seat. “Well, I was thinking we could just go get something and head home, that way we can watch a movie and eat together.” You responded, looking at him. “Of course, we can do that.” He replied, turning on the car and putting it in reverse.
Eventually, you two got food and headed back home. You were exhausted from having to film all day. You were glad you didn’t have to travel much due to you being based in LA. Which, you weren't complaining about at all. That meant you had time to spend with Nick and Chris. especially with chris. Ever since your situation with Matt, Chris has always been there for you. The nights you cried, had nightmares, or just wanted to be in his presence. Chris really didn’t care, as long as it meant he could be with you all the time.
you kicked your shoes off and plopped down onto the couch. Chris doing the same. “Alright, what do you want to watch?” Chris picked up the TV remote to turn it on. “How about inside out?” Yes asked. “Again?” He chuckled. Everytime he asked you what movie to watch, you would always Inside out. Maybe, it’s because you could relate to Riley. Who knows, but you really loved that movie. “Yes! you know i love that movie, god i can't wait to go watch inside out 2.” You remarked. Chris clicked on the movie and it began to play. you scooted closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder. These types of moments were your favorite. Where it was just you and Chris together, watching movies, eating, and gossiping.
Chris looked over at you, noticing that you were asleep. He paused the movie, standing up to pick you up. That’s when you stirred awake. “mm, did i miss the movie?” you whispered. “Shh, you just fell asleep sweet girl.” Chris responded, walking up the stairs up to his room. “mm.” you hummed, falling back asleep. Chris set you down on his bed, walking over to where some of your pajamas that you left in his room were. He walked back, your pajamas in hand. He carefully undressed you, putting on your pajamas. He covered you up in his blankets, before settling in the bed next to you.
Chris turned off the light, turning to kiss your forehead. “Goodnight sweet girl.” He whispered, falling asleep under the blankets. If he could have it this way, where he’d sleep next to you. He would do it in a heartbeat.
The next morning you woke up, only to realize you were sleeping in Chris’ bed. You slipped on one of his hoodies, walking out of his room, closing the door behind you. “There she is. Good Morning sleeping beauty.” Nick spoke, walking to give you a hug. “What time is it?” you groaned, still getting adjusted to the light. “It’s 2 in the afternoon missy.” Chris laughed, going in to hug you as well, kissing your forehead.
“God, I really need to start sleeping earlier.” you sighed, grabbing a piece of bacon. “Ah, ah, ah. Those are for when all the food is done.” Chris stated. you just laughed, rolling your eyes. God, he loved hearing your laugh. It made his heart flutter, and fill with enjoyment. Chris wanted to hear your laugh on a daily basis. He loved making you laugh, it was something he enjoyed.
When breakfast was served, everyone sat at the table discussing their plans for the day. “y/n?” Nick spoke, looking up at you. “Yes nick?” you responded, biting your bacon. “Would you like to join our podcast episode since Matt isn’t here?” Nick asked, going back to eating his food. “Yes, I would love to!” You smiled. you’d never been on one of their podcast episodes. Sure, you’d been talked about or mentioned but never actually been in one. So, you took the opportunity.
“Alright, well we’re all going to get ready. you should too.” Chris Responded. you nodded, standing to wash your dish.
If Chris had to be honest, he’s extremely excited to have you on the podcast. He loved to talk about you on the podcast anytime someone asked or brought you up. He could talk about you for hours, but nobody needed to know that because they already knew he could. Nick knew Chris liked you before Chris even knew. Nick could read him like an open book.
Chris watched as you walked up to your room, knowing you were about to get ready. “We should probably start getting ready too.” Nick spoke, walking towards the stairs. Chris just nodded, doing the same.
He made it up to his room, choosing out an outfit. Since it was chilly outside and they were going to drive to the studio he chose to wear a black sweater, camo cargos, and his Air Force ones. He finished getting ready, walking out his room. Chris spotted Nick waiting on the couch, he sat next to him.
“So…you and y/n?” Nick started. “hm? What about us?” Chris questioned. “You like her?” Nick asked, staring at Chris. “U-uh i don't know what you're talking about.” Chris stammered, a red tint across his cheeks. “Chris it’s obvious you like her.” Nick chuckled. “I mean, I do but she just got over Matt. I want to ask her out so bad, but I want to give her space. You know, respect her boundaries. Plus, I don't even think she likes me.” Chris responded.
“Chris, are you slow?”
“What?”
“You can tell she likes you.”
“Why don't you just ask her?”
You interrupted them, as you walked over to them. “Ask me what?” you questioned, going to grab your shoes. Chris was quick to respond, “Nothing.”
It caught you off guard but you didn't think much of it. You kind of just shrugged it off. “Alright, are you guys ready to go?” You asked, grabbing your car keys. They both nodded, grabbing their phones before walking out the door. You were the last one to walk out which meant it’d take you a minute to get to the car. So, Nick took the opportunity to ask Chris a question. “Chris, why don't you just ask her out?”
“I don’t know nick. Do you think i should?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. You guys would be adorable.”
“Maybe I'll ask her later.”
They heard you opening the Driver side door. You hopped in, Turning on the car. “alright, we good?”
They both reassured you, “Yup.”
The whole drive to the studio was filled with laughter, jokes, gossip, and Nick screaming of course. You could never not have that. You loved when it was just you and your friends. They were your home, your safe space. That’s something you were never willing to sacrifice. never.
Eventually, you made it to the studio. you turned off the car, and hopped out. you unlocked the doors and walked in, Nick and Chris following behind. “I’m going to go setup, i’ll be right back. you two can wait here.” Nick spoke, walking towards the podcast room. You and Chris nodded.
If Chris had to be honest, he was getting nervous. This was his time to ask you the question. His palms were getting sweaty, he felt hot. He’s scared that if he asked you out, you would say no and that you felt a different way. Chris didn’t really want to ask you out, if it meant it was going to ruin the friendship. But, what was the worst thing you could say? No.
“Y/n…” Chris said in a nervous tone. You turned to look at him, “Yes Chris?” “I have to tell you something.”
“What is it?” you asked, a sound of anxiousness could be heard in your voice. “I…I wanted to ask if…” He stammered. Chris couldn’t seem to finish his sentence. He was way too nervous to ask, afraid of what you were going to say. He just stared at you, he felt like kissing you right in that moment. You started to lean into him, the urge to kiss him in the moment grew stronger and stronger. You couldn’t wait any longer. you placed your hands on both of his cheeks, your lips touching. Chris leaned in, placing his lips on yours. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Chris was kissing the girl he’d liked for years. He was nervous but he wasn’t scared to ask anymore.
Chris whined as you pulled away from his Kiss. You looked up at him through your eyelashes. “what did you want to ask?” you sighed, smiling at him in the process. “I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend.” He muttered softly. “Yes chris, yes i’ll be your girlfriend!” You shouted, kissing him all over his face, and eventually his lips.
His lips were soft, and juicy. When you kissed him, it felt like they were meant to be kissed by one another. Butterflies started to develop in your tummy, the boy you caught feelings for months prior finally asked you out. you were extremely happy. Chris treated you like a queen, the way you deserved. He gave you the love you deserved.
“C’mon we have a podcast episode to get too.” He stood, holding his hand out for you to grab. You held his hand, walking with him to the podcast room. “There you two are, come sit.” Nick spoke.
you two sat in your designated spot, Nick recording on the camera. “Good morning campers, Welcome back to the cut the camera’s podcast. I’m Nicolas sturniolo.”
“I’m Chris.”
“and i’m y/n”
“Matt couldn’t make it today as he was too busy with his lady.” Nick spoke. “This is our cut the camera’s podcast. Today we’re going to be talking about how we came to meet y/n. I feel like that’s the most asked question just because we talk about her so much. Even though she’s never been in one of our episodes, so I feel like she can tell her part now that she’s here.” Nick Explained.
“I’m gonna have to agree on that too. I feel like we talk about her so much that it’s really difficult to even talk about anything else.” Chris commented, bringing the Mic closer to his mouth.
To say the least you were very nervous to speak, but you thought this would be fun. To talk about how you came about to meet them.
“So, y/n i would like for you to start us off. How has life been?” Nick asked, looking at you. “Life’s been great. I’ve been really happy recently. um, i also just got into a relationship not too long ago. He’s a great person, and he sees me as more than just a fling. I’ve been filming for my new movie too. I mean really, life’s just been great.” You explained, smiling at chris.
Nick noticed this, he wasn’t slow. He could see right through you and Chris. That's when he asked Chris, “How about you Chris? How’s life.”
“It’s good. I recently just got into a relationship as well with a gorgeous girl. I mean, she’s beautiful. There’s no one else I could ever ask for. She’s great.” Chris Rambled, smiling the whole time. He was so happy he could finally tell the world he was someone.
“Well, I'm so happy for you both. I also wanted to point out to the viewers that no, y/n and matt aren’t dating anymore. It was never public but, I thought that maybe I should've told you guys that before all our fans went out of their way to speak on that.” Nick Explained. He didn’t want the fans to go out their way to personally text you and ask.
“So, y/n everyone wants to know how we met. I think that’s definitely our most asked question.” Chris mentioned. “Oh yeah, I met all the triplets back when I was acting for a movie in LA while I was in elementary school. I would invite them to watch me on set, and since then we’ve really just hung out everyday after that.” You explained. It was hard to focus since you talked a lot with your hands out of nervousness. but, you tried your best.
The rest of the podcast you guys just talked about life, what it’s like being content creators, and you being an actress. You liked being a part of the podcast, it gave you the opportunity to talk about life, and how it was. You liked talking about other things amongst your friends.
Chris was barely paying attention the whole time, listening to your laughs and smiling at you. He loved you. He loved the way that you talked about certain things, your laugh, just you in general. Now, he could finally call you his, and that's all he’d ever wanted. Was to call you his.
“Alright, I have a question for you y/n.” Chris stated. you hummed, waiting for him to ask you, smiling at him. “If you could describe the boy you’re dating, how would you?” Chris asked, a red tint appearing across his cheeks. He was so in love with you, and he hoped you knew that. He was going to love you forever, no matter what.
“He’s just a beautiful boy, with a beautiful soul. and i love him.”
a/n: this only took a day because i didn’t get writers block this timeee, anyways i hope you enjoy part 2, lmk if you want another parttt
with lots of love, Alondra💋
taglisttt!!
@bernardsbendystraws @inkyray @soupuurr @sturnthepot @sturniolosarethebest @chrisgetsmewet @flouvela @luvs4matt @christophersgf @nickgetsmewetter @watercolorskyy (if i forgot anyone pls lmkk)
#Spotify#artists on tumblr#writers on tumblr#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fic#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo#fluff#sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#smut#angst#falling in love
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jeong Yunho ✧ A Heartbeat Away
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader Genre: Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst Synopsis: You and Yunho face a temporary long-distance relationship as he tours overseas. Each phone call becomes a lifeline, and as you pick up his daily phone call, you realize you need him more than you thought. Wordcount: 3.1K+ Warnings: Reader Has F. Anatomy; Phone Sex; Voice Kink; Dirty Talk; Praise Kink; Use of "Baby," "Pretty Girl" and "Good Girl;" Note: Okay so I woke up this morning and was inspired by this golden retriever of a man. I'll try to answer all the asks and get to requests soon as well! Please give this love and I hope you all enjoy it!
♡︎ follow, provide feedback, or reblog if you enjoyed but please don't repost or translate!♡︎
MDNI, 18+ CONTENT
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
Despite expecting the call, the sound of your phone ringing still made you jump. His name on your screen gave you equal pleasure and anxiety, knowing that any of these calls could be the one where he told you that he couldn't do this anymore. That the ocean which separated you while he was on tour was too wide, too deep, too impossible to cross. That the stolen phone calls and midnight texts were no longer enough for him, no matter how much they sustained you.
Pushing your doubts down inside, you swiped your finger across the screen, taking a deep breath as if it could somehow prepare you for whatever he had to say.
"Good morning, cutie!" His voice was bright and you pictured his face bathed in the sunshine, the golden light cascading over his tousled hair, making him look like something out of a dream. You wished you could reach through the phone and touch his cheek, feel the warmth of his smile.
"Good morning! How are you, babe?" Walking from your kitchen to your living room and dropping onto the couch, you looked at the clock on the wall - 8:00 AM where he was. The tea you had been nursing sat on the table, a reminder of the quiet routine you had developed in his absence.
"Better now," he replied, his simple words giving you a euphoric sense that completed and terrified you at the same time, dreading the day that they no longer came. You could hear the faint sounds of chatter and doors closing in the background, perhaps his bandmates grabbing breakfast before another long day of travel and performances.
"I miss you," you said with a small smile, hugging a pillow to your chest as if it were a stand-in for him.
"I miss you too," he replied, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Where are you?"
"I’m at home, just wishing you were here with me," you confessed, looking around the room that felt so much emptier without him. Your eyes landed on the framed photo of both of you from the day before he left, your faces pressed together, countless memories flooding back. "I was just thinking about the day we took that hike up the canyon, remember? And we ended up getting lost for hours, but it was so much fun."
He laughed softly, the sound like a balm for your aching heart. "How could I forget? You kept making me take turns so you could pick wildflowers. I still have the one you tucked behind my ear."
You could almost feel his arms around you as you remembered. "Yeah, I can't wait to go on more adventures with you when you get back."
"Me too," he said, the longing in his voice matching yours. "Just a few more weeks, and we'll be back to our late-night movie marathons and Sunday brunches."
"I'll make sure to save you a seat at our favorite café," you said, trying to keep the conversation light, though your heart ached for him.
"Always," he promised. "Until then, let’s make the most of these moments, okay?"
"Okay," you whispered, closing your eyes and holding on to his voice, the connection bridging the distance between you, even if just for a little while.
"How'd your day go?" he asked. He'd almost always ask about your day before talking about his and genuinely made sure to let you know how interested he was everytime he'd hear it.
"It went okay," you paused, unable to hide a hint of sadness in your voice, "but I wish I was there with you."
"I wish you were too," he replied, trying to hide the emotion her statement brought up in him. While he loved touring with the other members, he couldn't help but miss you the longer the tour went on. And he would take a lifetime of these stolen moments over not having her at all, "what time is it there?"
"It's 6PM here," you replied, realizing that his voice wasn't as hushed or hurried as it often was. "Where are you?"
"I'm in the dorm now," he replied, his voice still sounding bright. "The others just went out on an early morning coffee run, but I wanted to stay here and talk to you. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Yunho," you didn't know whether it was the tiredness hitting you or just pure delusion from him being on your mind all day, but before you could even think about it, you continued, "You know, maybe we can find other ways to stay...connected."
"I've been thinking about that too," Yunho said softly, after what felt like an eternity. His voice had dropped to a low, intimate whisper that felt like a caress even through the phone.
You continued, "It's been so hard being apart, but I think we can find ways to make the distance feel smaller."
Yunho caught on this time, his breath hitching audibly, "Connected, like now? Over the phone?" The sound of Yunho's voice, rough with desire, permeated the stillness of your apartment, making your pulse quicken.
You shifted slightly, the fabric of your clothes suddenly feeling too restrictive. "I miss your touch so much," you whispered, the words catching in your throat. "Every single night, I think about you."
His breath hitched again, the intimacy of his presence filling every corner of your mind. "I think about you too, baby. Sometimes during my shows, I'll close my eyes and picture you in the front row, just waiting for me to come down and kiss you senseless."
"God, Yunho," you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush even more deeply. "When you're up there performing, I imagine your hands on me, your lips against mine. It's like the whole world fades away and it's just us."
"That's exactly what I want," Yunho said, his voice taking on a sense of urgency. "When I'm back, I want to make every fantasy we have a reality. No more distance, no more longing, just you and me making up for all this lost time."
You could almost feel his hands on you, the way they would wander with a tantalizing slowness, mapping out your body as if he'd never felt anything more precious. "What would you do if you were here right now, Yunho?" you asked, your voice thick with anticipation.
"I'd push you up against the wall, kiss you until you can't think straight. Then I'd carry you to the bed—no, to the couch," he said, his words coming quicker, more heated. "I'd strip you down piece by piece, worship every inch of you. You deserve to be loved like that, pretty girl. Completely, without any reservation."
Your breaths came quick and shallow, your fingers ghosting over your skin in place of his. "It drives me insane knowing you're so far away but feeling so close," you confessed, the longing in your voice unmistakable.
"Close your eyes and listen to my voice," Yunho instructed, his tone laced with lust. "Imagine my mouth on you, my hands exploring every curve and hollow of your body. How I'd kiss you, lick you, make you beg for more."
You bit your lip, eyes fluttering closed as you obeyed. "I can feel it, Yunho. I can feel you here with me," you whispered.
His voice deepened, sending shivers down your spine. "Fuck, pretty girl. I'd start by kissing that spot on your neck that drives you wild. You know the one."
Your hand drifted to your neck, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin just below your ear. The memory of his lips there, how they softly grazed and nipped, flashed vividly in your mind. "The one that makes me melt in your arms? Mmm, then what?" you breathed, your voice becoming huskier as the warmth of desire unfurled within you.
"I'd slide my hand under your shirt, cup that perfect breast of yours," Yunho continued, his voice dropping even lower, taking on a commanding edge. "You're not wearing a bra, are you, pretty girl?"
"Nope," you breathed, mimicking his actions and slipping your hand under your shirt. You could almost feel the ghost of his touch, the way he expertly sent jolts of pleasure through you with just his fingertips. "God, I wish it was your hand instead of mine touching me right now. Your touch is magic, you know?"
"I'm glad it is, baby" he spoke, confidence oozing from his words. "I'm hard just thinking about you. About your gorgeous tits, your soft skin." His words painted a picture in your mind, bold strokes of him leaning in, his eyes darkened with desire, the way his pupils dilate when he’s turned on.
Your other hand slipped between your legs, heat pooling in your core. The ache for him grew stronger, almost unbearable. "Oh yeah? Prove it, big boy. Send me a pic." Your challenge was playful, flirtatious, but the underlying urgency was unmistakable.
"You're in for it now," he teased, followed by the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting. Within moments, a photo popped up on your screen. Your breath caught in your throat as you opened it, eyes widening at the sight of him, undeniable evidence of his arousal.
"Fuck, Yunho baby, I want you so bad. I wish I could feel that hardness pressing against me," you whispered, your fingers moving deftly, as if trying to simulate the touch you desperately craved. "Tell me what you'd do next, Yunho. Make me feel like you're here with me."
There was a pause, a tantalizing moment of silence that crackled with anticipation before he spoke again, his voice a low, seductive rumble, "I'd pull those cute little panties aside and slide my fingers inside you, just to feel how wet you are for me. Is that what you want, baby?"
You bit your lip, a soft moan escaping as you imagined his hands on you, his breath hot against your skin. "God, yes. I need you. I need you so bad," you pleaded, every cell in your body tingling with the electric promise of his touch.
"Touch yourself for me, pretty girl," he commented, his voice rough with desire. "Pretend it's my fingers."
You complied, gasping as you slid your fingers through your slick folds. As you moved, you could almost feel his presence, could almost hear his heavy breaths and see that intense gaze that always made you feel like you were the only person in the room. "It feels so good. But not as good as your tongue."
"You love when I eat you out, don't you?" His voice was thick with lust. "The way I tease you with the tip of my tongue before diving deep and tasting every bit of you?"
"Yes," you moaned, arching your back. The memory of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could almost feel the ghost of his lips brushing against your inner thighs. "The way you use your tongue, fuck Yunnie, it's magic."
"Tell me more," he urged, his breathing heavy. "What else do you love about when we're together?"
You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the memory. "I love how you look at me like I'm the only woman in the world. I love the way your hands feel on my skin, rough but gentle."
"God, pretty girl," he groaned, "You're killing me here. I wish I could touch you right now."
"Soon," you promised, your voice cracking with a mixture of longing and love. "Only a few more weeks before you can come back and do whatever you want to me." The loneliness of the empty apartment seeped into the room, accentuating the distance that separated you both, but you held onto the anticipation of his return like a lifeline.
"Yeah?" His voice was hopeful, a spark of eagerness lighting up his words. "What did you have in mind?"
You grinned, despite the ache in your chest. "Well, for starters, I think I need to christen your Anewz office. Bend me over that fancy new desk of yours." You could almost hear his delighted chuckle, imagining the way his eyes would darken with desire at your suggestion.
His laugh was warm and rich, a sound that felt like home. "Fuck, pretty girl. You're insatiable."
"Only for you," you purred. "Now where were we? Oh yeah, you were about to fuck me senseless." As you moved your fingers in deeper, you could almost feel the phantom touch of his hands guiding you, the memory of your shared nights filling the silence, making you feel like he was right there with you.
"Right," Yunho's voice dropped an octave, dripping with raw need. "I'm stroking, thinking about burying my cock deep inside you. Feeling how tight and wet you are around me as I fill you up." The image of his strong, lean body pressing against yours replayed in your mind, each word tangling you further in the web of your shared longing.
You gasped, breath catching in your throat as your fingers circled your clit with increasing pressure. "Tell me exactly what you'd do to me if you were here." Your body ached in anticipation, skin tingling as if his breath was fanning over it.
His voice was rough with desire, the connection crackling despite the distance. "I'd start by kissing down your body, tasting every inch of your skin," he whispered, his every word painting vivid images in your mind. "Then I'd spread your legs wide and bury my face between them."
You moaned, your back arching off the bed as your free hand clutched at the sheets. You swore you could almost feel his tongue teasing you. "God, yes. And then what?"
"I'd lick you slowly at first, teasing you," Yunho continued, his breathing heavy and ragged in your ear. "Then I'd slide two fingers inside you, curling them just the way you like." His voice was like a dark, sensual caress, surrounding you completely.
You mimicked his words, sliding two fingers into your wet heat, your entire body quivering with pleasure. "Fuck, baby. It feels so good," you breathed, your words coming out in broken, uneven gasps.
"I bet you're so wet for me right now," he groaned, his voice thick with longing. "Aren't you?" The intensity of his need mirrored your own, amplifying the connection between you.
"Yes," you panted, lost in the sensation, your breath coming out in shallow bursts. "So wet. Wishing it was your cock inside me instead of my fingers." You could almost hear the rustle of his clothing, the physical manifestation of his own desperate need to be with you, making you moan louder, caught up in the wave of shared desire.
"Soon, baby," he promised, his voice laced with an eagerness that sent shivers down your spine. "I'd fuck you so hard. Pinning your hands above your head, pounding into you until you scream my name." You could almost visualize his smirk, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes that always made your knees weak.
Your movements grew more urgent, hips bucking against your hand. "Yunnie, baby, I'm so- so close." You could hear the distant hum of traffic outside, but it seemed a world away as you focused solely on his voice and the heat pooling in your core.
"That's it, pretty girl," he encouraged. "Imagine it's me there with you. My hands on your breasts, my mouth on your neck, my cock deep inside you." The electric thrill of his words heightened your arousal, and you could almost feel the ghost of his lips trailing fiery kisses down your skin.
You whimpered, heat building in your core. Your fingers moved frantically, chasing your release. "Yunnie baby, I'm almost there. Please talk me through it." You tilted your head back, your eyes fluttering closed as you surrendered to the sensations coursing through your body.
"You're so beautiful when you're about to finish for me," his voice was strained, clearly close to unraveling himself. "I love watching your face, feeling your body tense around me as I fill you up. Let go for me, baby. Let me hear you." His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, grounding you even as your body began to soar.
You teetered on the edge, your body wound tight like a spring ready to snap. "Promise?" you gasped, your climax just out of reach. "Promise you'll be mine, no matter the distance?" Your heart clenched with the vulnerability of your plea, and you bit your lip, waiting for his reply.
"I swear," he groaned, his breathing labored and heavy. "You're mine and I'm yours. Forever. Now cum for me. Cum with me, pretty girl." There was something almost sacred in his vow, the certainty in his words sending your pulse racing.
You moaned loudly, your back arching off the couch. "Yes, yes, baby, please." Your body tensed, every nerve ending ablaze.
"That's it, be a good girl and cum for me," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I need to hear you. I need to feel you."
"Oh god," you whimpered, muscles tensing as you stood on the precipice of release. "Yunnie, I'm gonna-"
Your cries mingled through the phone as you reached your peak, an ecstasy that felt both infinite and fleeting. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as you called out Yunho's name, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You could hear his deep, guttural moans, punctuated by gasps and curses as he found his release.
"Fuck, baby," he panted, riding out the aftershocks with you, the intimacy of the moment transcending the miles between you. "I can feel you clenching around me." His voice was raspy with satisfaction.
Your hips bucked involuntarily, your fingers still moving slowly, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure. "Yunho," you breathed, "That was incredible."
You stayed connected, listening to each other's ragged breathing as it slowly came down from your shared high. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, even through the distance separating you both.
"I love you," he murmured, his voice warm and satisfied.
You smiled, your body tingling with residual pleasure. "I love you too," you whispered back, feeling closer to him than ever despite the miles between you.
After catching his breath, he spoke softly, his voice tender. "We'll make this work, baby, I promise. I love you too much to let you go."
Your body tingled with anticipation, the promise of his return hanging like a sweet allure. "I can't wait, baby," you replied, your voice soft yet resolute. "Hurry back to me."
"I will, pretty girl. And when I do, I won't ever want to let you go." His voice was a vow, wrapping around your heart and tethering you to him even more tightly.
The call ended with a final flurry of tender "I love yous," and as you lay back, a small smile graced your lips. The distance was brutal, but moments like this turned the ache into something bearable, something meaningful.
And with the promise of Yunho's touch just a heartbeat away, you knew that you could hold on a little longer.
#ateez#atz#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez fluff#ateez fanfic#ateez scenarios#jeong yunho#yunho#ateez yunho#atz yunho#yunho fanfic#ateez smut#yunho smut#ateez angst#yunho angst#kpop smut#ateez hard hours#yunho x reader#smut#ateez hard thoughts#emerald smut ✧
176 notes
·
View notes
Text
SNOW ON THE BEACH | tasm!peter parker
PREQUEL TO A WALK TO REMEMBER.
CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.
PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader
WORD COUNT: 1.8k
SUMMARY: you start to see your best friend in a different way at the same time the snow starts to fall.
WARNINGS: doubts and unspoken feelings. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]
AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. as written above, this is a prequel to another fic of mine but this can also be read as a standalone. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC but if you see something that pertains to a specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it!
DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS SOTB (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).
It was late November and the neighborhood was gearing up for the upcoming winter season. Normally, you would stay home for moments like this, staring at the window as you waited for the snow to fall. However, this time was different because your best friend had other plans. He all but pulled you up from your couch where you were peacefully taking a nap to lead you out of your house. Apparently, for him, this kind of weather was perfect for walking along the beach.
You and Peter have known each other ever since you were children. The moment your family moved into his town, he was the first kid who wanted to be your friend. There was no question why you instantly became best friends. Since then, you have shared everything from secrets to dreams.
Always inseparable, rarely without the other.
Always been “just best friends.”
But a shift has shown itself—unspoken feelings that simmered beneath the surface that neither of you fully understood or dared to acknowledge. For you, it started in your third year of high school, and since then have lingered every time you were with him. As much as you hoped it would go away at some point, it unfortunately didn’t. And it certainly wouldn’t go away right now as he walked with you along the coast, your hand in his, intertwined.
The beach was secluded under the cloak of night, where the only light came from the stars scattered across the sky like pocketfuls of glitter. The ocean whispered against the shore, the waves reflecting the moonlight in a soft, silver glow. The air was cool, almost cold, but not unwelcoming, like the gentle feeling of his hand. The atmosphere is filled with indescribable magic, a surreal blend of familiarity and something entirely new. You recognized a spot you used to visit as kids—a large driftwood log, half-buried in the sand—and nudged Peter to look at it.
“Remember when we used to sit at that spot when we were kids?” you asked.
“How can I possibly forget? That’s where you first told me you wanted to travel the world,” he chuckled. “Remember that spot?” he pointed at the spot to the side of the large driftwood log.
“That’s where we built that crazy sandcastle,” you giggled, cheeks flushed from the chill in the air. “I swear, we thought we could actually live in it forever.”
Peter laughed, his breath was visible in the night air. “And then the tide came in and washed it away. We were probably devastated for like, what—ten minutes?”
“More like ten seconds,” you replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. You turned to him, a playful grin on your face. “We just ran back into the water, forgetting all about it.”
He smiled at the memory, squeezing your hand gently. The temperature dropped as you strolled further down the beach, sending a shiver down your spine. Peter noticed and let go of your hand so he could shrug off his jacket and drape it around your shoulders. The warmth of his gesture seeped through, but you didn’t miss how he decided not to hold your hand again.
“Thanks, Pete,” you said softly. Your heart fluttered in your chest for the kind gesture but you already missed holding his hand. For a second, you were about to reach for his hand but he pulled it away from you to stuff it in his jeans.
In the quiet of the moment, you felt a sudden ache in your chest. You turned to look at him but he was staring straight ahead. He seemed deep in thought and you didn’t bother interrupting him. Besides, thoughts of your own began to find their way into your head at the same time.
You didn’t know what was wrong with you lately. Every time you see him, you feel this… weird flutter in your chest. It was like your heart was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t understand it. You have been best friends for so long. He was always there, always the one you could count on, always the one who made you laugh when you were feeling down. But now… now it felt different. You couldn’t help but notice the little things when he was around. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. And when he wasn’t around, you’d find yourself missing him more than you ever did before. But missing your best friend was normal, right?
But then, why did it hurt so much every time you saw him with someone else? Why did it feel like your heart was being squeezed when he talked to other girls? You should be happy for him, you should want him to be happy. But instead, you feel… jealous? Was it jealousy? You didn’t even know… but you hated it. You hated that you felt this way because it didn’t make any sense.
Life was emotionally abusive but he was the one guiding light that gave you inspiration to wake up every day. You’ve been through everything together, from heartbreaks to triumphs, and you always leaned on each other for support—because that’s what best friends did.
Just best friends. It was all you've ever been.
So, why couldn’t you stop thinking about what it would be like if… if you were more than that? What would it feel like to touch his hair when he sleeps, to look into his eyes that were reminiscent of flying saucers from another planet for hours, to know the feeling of his lips on yours? But then, what if you were wrong? What if this was just some passing thing, and you would ruin everything by saying something? What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you lose him? You couldn’t stand that. You couldn’t stand losing him. But if you didn’t say anything, how would you ever know? How would you ever figure out what these feelings were? Maybe… you were just overthinking everything. Maybe this was just a phase that would pass if you just ignored it long enough… but what if it wasn’t? What if this was something real, something worth risking everything for?
You wished you could figure out what your heart was trying to tell you. Because right now, it felt like it was screaming, and you were too scared to listen.
You just wished you knew what to do.
Then, unexpectedly, delicate flakes began to fall from the darkened sky, dancing down like tiny stars coming to rest on the earth. At first, it felt unreal—a gentle winter blanket spreading across the beach, contrasting the warm feeling that was in your chest. Other than the falling snow, the sky above was clear, except for a faint, otherworldly glow on the horizon, it reminded you of the aurora borealis, though neither of you have ever seen it in person.
“It’s snowing,” Peter whispered as he looked up, his eyes wide with wonder. The snow gathered in his tousled hair, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his astonishment. You both paused, turning your faces to the sky, letting the soft flakes melt on both of your skin.
“Snow on the beach,” he mused.
“I know. It’s weird… but beautiful,” you replied.
Peter looked at you without you noticing, catching a fleeting moment when the moonlight seemed to illuminate your face from within, making your features soft and almost ethereal. He smiled.
“It is beautiful…” he agreed.
You turned your face just to see him staring at you.
For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, everything around the two of you faded into a serene silence. You saw that the same wonder you had was reflected in his eyes. And suddenly, all your doubts were cast aside. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you had never noticed before, a silent question that mirrored your own feelings.
Peter reached out, enveloping your hands with his. The touch was electric, sending a shockwave of awareness through both of you. You paused, holding your breath, afraid to move, afraid to speak, as if knowing that this moment might shatter everything between the two of you.
The snow fell heavier and your hearts synchronized with the rhythm of the ocean. You shared a knowing smile, the kind that held a thousand unspoken words as you both realized what was happening.
Peter broke the silence first, his voice quiet but steady. “Do you ever wonder…” he started, the words hanging in the air like the snowflakes drifting down. He hesitated, searching for the right way to express the feelings in his heart. “If we could… be more?”
You felt your heart race at his words, a warmth that was stronger than any chill of the winter night spread through your body. “Yeah, I do,” you whispered, nervous yet elated.
It was as if, for the first time, you were seeing each other in a new light, one that revealed what has always been there but was hidden beneath layers of friendship. It was beautiful, but also terrifying, like seeing snow on the beach—something that you felt shouldn't exist, yet here it was, impossibly real.
“Maybe we could try?” Peter suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’d like that,” you replied, smiling.
In an instant, everything changed. The world blurred, the periphery fading away until all that existed was the space between you. The stars, the moon, the endless ocean—they all receded into the background, insignificant compared to the look you shared. At that moment, everything clicked into place. The memories of your secret smiles and late-night conversations flooded back, but now they carried a different weight.
“So…” he started. “Be mine?”
Peter raised a hand to brush a snowflake from your hair and you leaned into his touch with your heart pounding.
“Yes,” you answered with no hesitation.
As the snowflakes continued to drift down, you leaned into each other, closing the gap between the two of you. It was a kiss that felt like everything and nothing at the same time—gentle, hesitant, but full of the promise of what could be. The world around you seemed to hold its breath as if the very stars were watching and waiting to see what would happen next.
When you finally pulled away, the world resumed its quiet motion, but something had definitely shifted. The snow, the beach, the stars—all of it felt different, it was like the universe itself knew and played a part in what just happened and what would happen.
Neither of you spoke, afraid that words might break the spell or jinx everything.
And in truth, you didn’t need to say anything more. The way you looked at each other, the way your forehead rested against his—said it all.
You continued to walk along the shore hand in hand, the snow crunching softly beneath your feet, leaving a trail that would soon be covered by fresh snow. The future was uncertain, but for now, you were contented in the knowledge that you’d found something beautiful—like snow on the beach.
SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011
TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs
#tasm!peter parker imagine#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter x you#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter imagine#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm!peter fluff#tasm!peter parker fluff#tasm!peter parker x you#peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker#peter parker#tasm fanfiction#tasm peter x reader#tasm spiderman#the amazing spider man#spiderman#spiderman fanfiction#spiderman x reader#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker andrew garfield#peter parker fanfic#spider man#andrew garfield#andrew garfield fanfiction#snow on the beach#taylor swift#snow on the beach: the fic#rheignwrites: sweet street#spotify
143 notes
·
View notes