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mytheoristavenue · 5 months ago

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MHA Fumikage Tokoyami x Reader x Dark Shadow 🍋 - Curiosity Killed the Crow

Summary: This was your fault for asking too many questions, really. You and Tokoyami had been dating for several months now and it had crossed your mind to ask: did that make Dark Shadow your boyfriend too?

Warnings: porn with plot, selfcest, fem!reader, tokoyami x reader x dark shadow, poly relationship, cum eating, fingering, fish hooking, oral fixation, dirty talk, threesome, masterbation

The question had caught him off guard when you'd asked it so nonchalantly. "Hey so...is Dark Shadow part of oyu or like, a separate entity?"

"I like to think of him as a separate being, we just share the same body and soul." Tokoyami replied, briefly glancing up at you from the book he was reading on the couch. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," you lied, chopping up vegetables for dinner. "Just crossed my mind the other day while I was at work."

"Well, I hope that answer is sufficient." He nodded, setting the book down and standing up to join you in the kitchen. "Anything else on your mind, dove?"

"I was just wondering... does that make me Dark Shadow's girlfriend too?" you pondered, missing how he froze behind you. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"I-I'm not sure, to be quite honest." He answered, glancing away awkwardly. "Do you want it to be that way?"

"I don't guess I'd be opposed to it," you shrugged, not giving it the same level of thought as he was. "Does he even have senses like that?"

"I don't know," he repeated, distracting his racing thoughts by putting away the dishes you'd washed before starting dinner. "He has likes and dislikes, he can feel pain and pleasure, so..."

"You mean like sexual pleasure?" you blurted so nonchalantly it gave him chills. "Or like the pleasure you get from eating something tasty? I know he likes sweets."

"I-I really don't know, dove." he blushed, unsure of how to answer any of your questions. "I've never asked and he's never told me so..."

"I'm sorry, 'Yami," you apologized sheepishly, giving him a sympathetic grin. "I didn't mean to make it weird, we can drop it."

-----

Needless to say, for the next week, your questioning riled Tokoyami up significantly, and he could feel his other half stir within him. After an admittedly quite awkward conversation with the entity, he promised himself the matter would get sorted when you came to his apartment for the night next.

-----

"Hey, Toko, I'm here!" you called, slipping into the apartment, and kicking the door behind you as your hands were full. "I picked up dinner on the way home, hope you're in the mood for pork cutlet!"

You blinked at the stillness of the apartment as you set everything down on the island, kicking out of your shoes by the door before heading deeper inside. "'Yami?" you called out, inching toward the bedroom, freezing in the doorway.

His bedroom was barely different from how it typically was, aglow with ambient candles and soft purple neon lights, gothic music playing quietly from a record player in the corner. What was different was the way he lounged on the bed, fully clothed, but scandalous way, void colored button up undone to his toned stomach with silver chains hanging against his chest. He wore matching slacks and polished loafers, much to your surprise. Tokoyami was typically such a stickler for not wearing shoes indoors, which meant he was wearing them, for a reason. He was dressed up for you, presenting his best self like all birds do.

The part of his peacocking that really intrigued you, however was how his vermillion stare never left you, seemingly trained on you before you'd even arrived. That and the way his calloused hand palmed his crotch, painted nails getting lost in the inky shadows on his slacks, and thick pewter watch catching the moonlight. "Welcome home, my dove."

"T-Tokoyami...?" you stuttered, knees quaking as you waited in the doorway like a deer stuck in the high beams of a truck. "W-What are you...?"

"Come forth, my love," he beckoned poetically, prompting your to naturally gravitate towards him. "How was work?" He asked, ignoring you, simply pulling you into him gently, making you sit down with him, rubbing your shoulders. "Hard day?"

"I-It was fine..." you replied, melting at his touch, moaning as he worked the knots from your neck. "I brought dinner... I didn't feel like cooking so I got us something on the way."

"So generous, my lark," He cooed, nuzzling his beak into hair, preening your locks. "Always thinking of others..."

"I-I guess..." you shrugged, embarrassed of the sudden praise, tickled slightly when his beak dragged against your nape.

"Such a sweet darling," your boyfriend hummed, grooming you lovingly. "We've missed you so much this week..."

"Raven..." you whispered, melting against him before tensing once more. "W-We? D-Did you invite someone else over?" you asked, the color draining from your face. "I-I don't know if I'm comfortable with-"

"Dark Shadow and I have been... talking about what you asked last week." He finally confessed, fingers running through your hair. "And we both agree that, if it were the will of her highness..." he smirked, nudging you from behind. "We'd like to share..."

You were speechless, wondering if this was real or a fantasy come to life. You had to admit, you'd always thought of his quirk being involved but you never thought it'd even be on the table, let alone handed to you on a silver platter. "Of course, the decision is yours, my lark."

"A-Alright..." you finally piped up, nodding. "I-I'd like to try..."

Tokoyami released a low, dark chuckle into your ear as his other half began to materialize from his back. "Divine..."

-----

"Fumi, look how she squirms..." Dark Shadow squealed with delight, abyssal claws squeezing your wrists as he pinned you to the bed. "So cute..."

"Don't tell me," Tokoyami laughed from between your thighs. "Tell her, she's yours now too, you know."

"Right, I keep forgetting..." The entity purred, face dipping into the crook of your neck, nipping at your flesh. "You're so, so cute, baby..." You writhed under their touch, Tokoyami's fingers working on digging an orgasm out of your core as he nipped softly at your plush thighs, coupled with Dark Shadow's relentless teasing. It was entirely too much for you and neither one of them seemed to care.

"A-Ah, fuck..." you cried, overstimulated tears slipping down your cheeks and being absorbed by the shadow as your hips bucked upwards against your first lover's face.

"Keep going, Fumi," the staticky voice teased. "I think she might cum right into your hand."

"You think she could?" Tokoyami replied, digging deeper, curled fingers grazing that special spot that made you see stars.

"Mhm," the abyss chirped against your throat, working his way down to your naked chest. Clawed hands settled on your upper stomach, shaking up and down as he giggled at the way your breasts bounced on your ribcage. "Can you do that, pretty girl? Can you cum on Fumi's hand for us?"

"T-Trying-!" you shrieked through gritted teeth. "W-Wanna so bad, Shadow!" Both of your boyfriends shivered at your words, reveling in your willingness to call the quirk out specifically by name. Your blissful cries made him feel so individual, like his own separate person.

"C'mon, princess, you can do it," Dark Shadow purred, indigo teeth nibbling at your earlobe as he talked you through it. "You like getting fucked on Fumi's fingers, don't you?" you simply nodded in response, mouth hanging open and eyes screwed shut as you chased your orgasm. "Oh, baby, I know you do. Look how well she takes your abuse, Fumi."

You couldn't take it anymore, vision going white as an embarrassingly lewd, cracky scream ripped from your drooly and kiss bitten lips. "That's it, dove," Tokoyami sighed, sore fingers never faltering through the strain as your hips rolled against them. "Ride it out, there you go, such a good girl for us."

"There she is," Shadow commented with delight, taking in the way your body quaked and face distorted. "Right into his hand, so perfect, yeah, baby..." He praised, pressing his beak to your forehead as a reward for hold out for him.

-----

"Shhh, we'll be gentle," the entity promised, wrapping around your torso so you could lean your back to his chest as Tokoyami kneeled over you both. "We'll do all the work, you just gotta lay here and take it, 'kay, sweetness?" You nodded, exhausted, looking up at the crow with droopy eyes. The way he stroked himself looked delicious, but having just come down from your own high, you were in no kind of shape to savor it.

You laid limp in Dark Shadow's arms, his abyssal claws kneading at your breast while his beak nipped into your shoulder from behind. "You look so divine, my love..." the raven cooed down to you, ruby eyes begging you for satisfaction. "Doesn't she, Shadow?"

"So pretty, so soft..." the entity answered with a soft chuckle. "Especially these titties and this tummy..." he added, groping the excess on your body. "Love having all this in my hands..."

Humiliation, exhaustion, and overstimulation dropped your chin to your collarbone, tearing away the sweet eye contact that had your pro hero boyfriend on the ropes. "No, darling, look at me, please..." he begged, having been well on his way. "Shadow, help her..."

Delighted to help, clawed hands roamed up your body, one settling under your chin to keep your head up, and the other settled in your hair, gently clenching a fistful to angle your head properly. "Awe, I know you're sleepy, sweets, but you have to help Fumi get there too. You wanna be a good girl, don't you?"

"M-Mhm..." was all you could choke out, mouth hung open as he squeezed your cheeks together. Your eyes fluttered open to see Tokoyami unravelling above you, his head falling back in bliss before returning his gaze back to you.

"Fuck, yes, light, that's it..." he sighed, fucking into his hand, leaning his pelvis in closer. It was this, coupled with the way Shadow's hands shifted to cup your cheeks, that made you realize what they wanted.

"Stick out that cute little tongue..." The abyss ordered playfully, pinching the tip of it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out further. "So slobbery..." he mused, letting it go as he reached out to his host, who licked your saliva off his fingertips.

"A-Ah, fuck-!" Tokoyami grunted sharply, overcoming another wall, bringing him closer to climax. "O-Open up, lark..."

Dark Shadow's two index fingers then hooked into your cheeks like he was catching a fish, using his knuckles to force your top jaw wide while his middle fingers did the same to the bottom. "Say 'ahhh'..." he purred into your ear.

"A-Ahhh!" you tried to mimic, cheeks burning at how the thing laughed at your pathetic, muffled attempt.

"Say 'Please, Fumi, cum on my tongue!'" Shadow continued, relishing in how he position he had your mouth in made your tongue flop out, dripping drool into the spaces between your fingers.

"P-Pleash ch-cum on my chongue!" you slurred, love drunk and needy.

Suddenly, Tokoyami let out a pained grunt, leaning in close as his hips jerked against his closed fist. "A-As you... w-wish, my dove!" he cried as ropes shot out of his swollen bell, landing in your hair and on your face, tits, and tongue.

"Good job, Fumi," Shadow praised, petting your hair soothingly. "And you did so perfectly catching as much as you could, princess." he dragged his fingers across your tongue to remove as much of his host's seed as he could. "Taste good, baby?" You nodded, reveling in the icky feeling of jizz congealing in your lashes, preparing to swallow what of the load made it into your mouth. "Ah ah, don't you swallow that."

Your first lover leaned forward, head tilted and tongue out before he met your lips, initiating a tired but needy make-out that was all slobber and see and tongue as he tried to avoid poking his sharp beak into your plush lips. Before you could even realize what was happening, Tokoyami had eaten his own cum from your mouth, or as much of it as he could.

"How was that, Fumi?" The more playful partner chirped, wiping his hands off on your tummy.

"Divine..." The other heaved, collapsing next to you, pulling your in close.

"Playtime's over?" Shadow asked, a bit saddened to have not been able to climax himself, but then again, he didn't have the ability.

"For now, friend..." the host replied, barely conscious as you were already beginning to drift off. "I-I promise next time, you'll be more involved. We can work on seeing what you can really do in the future..." he swore as his soulmate began to dissipate back within himself, feeling a bit guilty for having all the fun.

"Can't wait to play with sweets again," the entity accepted, now almost totally absorbed into Tokoyami's back. "Goodnight, baby, I love you..."

The crow could help but feel his heart swell at the small confession. Although you'd only been dating for a few months, he had already long since decided he wanted you to be his wife one day, and knowing you and the other part of himself were falling in love meant everything to him. It was a brand new level of acceptance he never thought possible. He had known you were the one but this night only resolidified his belief in that.

"Goodnight, my light..." He purred softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he snuggled up with you. "I-" He suddenly paused before smiling serenely at you. "We... love you to death and beyond."

#mha #mha smut #tokoyami smut #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami fumikage #fumikage tokoyami #dark shadow x reader #tokoyami x reader x dark shadow #tokoyami x reader x dark shadow smut

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ EVERWINTER WITHOUT MERCY — TARTAGLIA.

contents. fluff + established relationships, fishing with ajax’s siblings bc they’re everything <3, ajax being a terrible flirt lolsjdjd, he’s implied to be taller than reader, gn! reader, kisses in the snezhnayan cold <3

he’s done it again, you think exasperatedly—teucer’s neck is bare as he walks through the harsh snow, the fabric of his scarf hanging loosely from his shoulders.

“hey, make sure you keep this around your neck,” you scold, wrapping the scarf tightly around teucer’s neck, “you’ll catch a cold.”

he groans a little—but he’s a good kid, listens to you when you tell him enough times, leaning into your hand as you ruffle his hair. you smile fondly as you look down—and then a weight presses against you from behind.

“yeah, teucer,” ajax hums, “you don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”

“i won’t,” the younger boy insists, “colds are for the weak.”

ajax laughs. you can feel the rumble from his chest against your back as he murmurs, “it’s colder than usual teucer. make sure you keep it on.”

“that goes for you too, y’know,” you huff, spinning around to stare unimpressed at him as his own scarf is loose around his neck—ajax has the decency to at least attempt to look guilty.

“oh, i guess you’re right,” he nods, “can’t set a bad example for the kids.”

“and you can’t get sick,” you scoff, “i’m not in the mood to get sick from you.”

“i never get sick,” he says confidently with a wave of his hand, “but—” he starts with a drawl. his words as sickeningly sweet, enough to make your head spin a little from how decadent it is, “it does always stay in place when you do it.”

of course. he’s loosened it on purpose, just so you’ll wrap it for him. he’s exhausting, just a bit—as sly as he is painfully obvious, and it never ceases to make your eyes roll in that way he loves. in that way that makes him chuckle as he leans down a little closer, brows raised.

so you sigh—but there’s the beginning of a smile on your face, the start of a giggle in your voice as you say, “honestly, ajax. you’re shameless.”

“am i?” he grins, hands finding your hips as you reach over and secure the scarf around his neck.

it’s gentle, the way you touch him. the way you carefully work the fabric around his neck. the way you make sure it’s just tight enough to stay in place so he doesn’t catch a cold, but not so tight that it’s uncomfortable.

not many people touch ajax gently—he doesn’t want them to, even. he needs the rush of people giving him their worst, just so he knows he can give it back tenfold. but you…well, he likes that soft way you trace his cheek with your thumb. that careful way you brush a few strands of hair from his face and admire his eyes for a moment.

they’re cold most of the time, his eyes—dead without a shine. not around you, though. in fact, you think the stars create themselves right there in his pupils and reflect across the sky. it makes being away from him a little less unbearable, you suppose: when it feels like the stars are his and he brings them to you.

it makes it feel like he’s not so far away.

“there,” you mumble quietly, cupping his cheeks once you’re done. he looks adorable, you think, wrapped tightly in a long coat and a thick, red scarf. he looks comfortable enough that you can’t help but squeeze his cheeks together a bit as you giggle. “all warm,” you smile.

“but my lips, i’m afraid,” he sighs dramatically, “are achingly cold in this harsh, snezhnayan weather. if only there was some way to warm them up.”

he eyes your lips hungrily—a little thirsty in a way that makes you wonder just how insatiable ajax really is. something about him always seems thirsty for more, always ready to devour in a way that makes you wonder if there’s a side to him you haven’t quite yet seen. a more carnal one, perhaps. or maybe, one that’s helplessly in love, that he never quite gets enough.

you like to think it’s the latter.

“teucer is right there, ajax,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“so now it’s a crime to show affection to those you love?” he gasps, “you want teucer to grow up unable to show his true feelings?”

“no,” you deadpan, “i want teucer to grow up less of a handful than you.”

“i’ll be less of a handful if you warm my lips,” he chuckles, boyish and young and all the things he should be. all the things the world should let him be. “they’re bitterly numb, right now.”

and…well, you can’t deny him—you never could. so you shake your head and trace the swell of his cheek one more time with your thumb, rubbing warmth back into his skin even as the harsh blows of frigid air slice against him.

it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s warm in your hold. it never won’t be.

“you’re insufferable,” you huff through a laugh.

and then you kiss him, delicately so. your lips press against his perfectly enough that it never felt like he was away. it feels like you kissed him yesterday and the day before that. it’s so familiar, you don’t need to ingrain the feeling into your memory for when he inevitably leaves again. you’d never forget the way ajax feels—not how he tastes or sounds when you meet him, skin to skin.

he hums against you, traces circles into your hips with his thumbs as he pulls you closer by the waist.

it’s cold in snezhnaya. it always is. it’s bearable in ajax’s warmth. it never won’t be.

“much better,” he nods as he pulls away, “i feel warm already. but you should stay close by…you know, just in case i get cold again.

“well, lucky for you—”

“are we going to fish now?” teucer calls, tonia and anthon waiting patiently in the distance. ajax sighs—you giggle, leaning closer and pressing one last peck to his lips.

“well, let’s not keep them waiting,” you grin, “i’ll keep you warm later.”

he grins widely at that, raising a brow. “is that so? well then, i’ll hold you to that.”

he has stolen my heart and i am deeply unwell. painfully. sickeningly. psychotically. unwell.

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #tartaglia fluff #childe x reader #childe x you #childe fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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wheeboo · 7 months ago

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hand in hand | lee jihoon

SYNOPSIS. in which you take your boyfriend to a work outing. PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, a lil comfort WARNINGS. mention of alcohol and reader being a lil tipsy, just jihoon's love language secretly being physical touch w the right person, some self-doubt n insecurity on his side :(( WORD COUNT. 1.5k

requested by anon: woozi + #43 list 1 - #43: "I love your laugh."

notes: i promised myself i would try to write n post a fic for the event every 2 days but i'm def not sticking to that .. anyway i hope u all enjoy this 😔🫶 not entirely proud of how this was written dijdissnnd

join the 2k celebration!

Jihoon doesn't know why he's here, knowing that he doesn't share any hint of knowledge about finance and corporate interests. All of it makes him feel like he's a fish out of water.

The food is good, though. He won't lie about that. But the air reeks of alcohol and burnt meat at this point, and Jihoon is genuinely surprised no one has passed out drunk yet. He can feel the tiredness seeping into his eyelids as he peers around tensely, knowing that he definitely only exchanged a singular hi, nice to meet you with everyone before sitting down.

He checks his watch for the time, and also mindlessly checks the time on his phone too as if it was going to miraculously display a different hour. But it doesn't. It's still 10:34 PM, and Jihoon contemplates how much longer he must endure this social ordeal as he'd rather be in the comfort of his place...

...with you.

Jihoon barely processes the way his face lights up when his eyes land back on you emerging from the restroom. He's already picking up his body from how slouched he was sitting down moments ago. A small smile stretches across his face, momentarily erasing the look of social exhaustion.

His eyes follow you until you sit yourself down in the seat next to him, a cute, eager grin plastered across your face. Jihoon catches the slightly flushed look to your features from some of the drinking you've done earlier, but it only adds to your charm even more.

Under the table, he feels your hand sliding into his even while you're goofily greeting everyone for the third time tonight, fingers intertwining together as if you've never left. Jihoon's heart does a little jump at the touch, glancing around the table to see if anyone has noticed. But everyone seems too engrossed in their own conversations to pay much attention.

Jihoon knows that you're popular at work, and it's hard not to see why. The entire restaurant glows at the sight of you, or perhaps that's only what he sees.

It kind of makes him wonder if it was really necessary to let you drag him along. He hasn't contributed much to the entire outing except for being able to fill an empty chair. And yet, you were very excited to invite him as your plus one when everyone else only brought themselves.

But then again, he doesn't seem to mind that much𑁋he gets to hold your hand, gets to steal endless glances at your face and watch you enjoy yourself, knowing that at the end of the night you'll be coming home with him, and that's enough to make this evening bearable.

There's a squeeze to his hand, and Jihoon glances down before flickering back up to your face. You're peering at him with sleepy eyes, a lopsided smile, a small bit of dried sauce at the corners of your lips. Yet, there's some worry in there etched between the lines. He knows it's directed towards him.

He squeezes back your hand reassuringly, and before you can say anything, one of your coworkers taps on your shoulder to redirect your attention. Jihoon hardly catches what they say, but the laugh you let out a minute later is music to his ears. It's a hearty, genuine laugh that fills the air around the restaurant; it's the only sound he could discern among everyone else's' laugh.

However, his chest tightens ever so slightly, and his smile falters a little. His grip on your hand tightens subconsciously.

"And didn't Y/N have to hide under Seokmin's desk? Just because they were eating when it wasn't their break?"

"But I ended up getting in trouble anyways!" Your hand lets go of Jihoon's briefly to swat playfully at your coworker, then it isn't long until your hands lock together again. He really likes it when you do that. "And it's all because Seokmin couldn't keep his mouth shut!"

Jihoon doesn't know how much longer the conversation lasts because he's too busy playing with your hand, tracing aimlessly along the lines of your palm with his thumb. There's a nagging feeling tugging at the seams of his mind that's a bit too hard to brush off. He continues stealing glances at you, catching the way your eyes sparkle as you listen intently to another story from a coworker.

You look happy, genuinely happy, and a part of him wants nothing more than to keep that smile on your face.

When it was finally time for your coworkers to all start leaving one-by-one, Jihoon finds himself lingering near you, practically hovering as you bid your goodbyes and exchange your hugs with everyone. By the time it was the two of you left outside the restaurant, you trail towards your boyfriend laggardly, nearly collapsing on him in the process.

"I'm so tired," You mumble into his shoulder, before pulling away and reaching for his hand. "Think I'm going to pass out when we get home."

Jihoon just chuckles quietly. "But you had a lot of fun, right?"

A dreamy curve makes its way across your lips as you nod.

"Hmm, yeah," You reply lazily, somewhat tipsily. "Lots of fun."

The cool night air brushes against your skin as you walk together, the streets quiet and empty save for the occasional passing car. Jihoon can feel the weight of exhaustion in his bones as well, and the weight of your body leaning on him only adds to it, but he doesn't mind.

Your hands swing back and forth together as you stroll along the sidewalk, the soft glow of streetlights casting gentle shadows around you. Despite the tiredness, a warm contentment settles over Jihoon.

"Are you okay?"

Jihoon turns to you. "What?"

"I asked if you were okay," You repeat, a bit more softer this time. "You were just a bit quiet earlier."

He blinks a few times.

"Ah," is all Jihoon could respond with right now, because he doesn't know exactly how to answer that. He's fine, he knows he is, but there's a bit of unease in each step he takes.

You hang your head low to the ground as if in guilt. "I'm sorry for kind of forcing you to come with me. Just wanted your company, you know?"

Jihoon just shakes his head. "No, it's okay." Then he brings his eyes down too. "Seeing you happy made me happy. It was worth it."

You smile at that, just barely, though you swear there's still something else he isn't telling you. But you don't press on though, choosing to let some quietness roll over instead. The heaviness in your head had manage to slither its way to your own footsteps. You really can't wait to finally sleep.

Jihoon's grip on your hand is somewhat loose. Even though on the outside it may appear normal, you've held his hand one too many times to know when something is amiss.

"I don't... bore you, right?"

You stop in your tracks to face him. "Bore me?"

"It's ridiculous, I know," Jihoon says bashfully, immediately regretting asking that. "It's just... You were laughing a lot earlier. It's been a while since I've heard you laugh that much."

Your eyes wander over him, peering at him as if he's said the most strangest thing ever. Then you let out lighthearted scoff, letting yourself step closer to him.

"Hey, look at me," You urge him, tugging slightly on his hand for him to bring his eyes up to you. "Please?"

And so he does, meeting your gaze with a flicker of confusion. You hold his eyes for a few moments before you start to struggle, almost like you’re in a staring contest. Then a blush creeps up your cheeks, blossoming across your face like a freshly bloomed flower. A soft, nervous giggle escapes your lips, starting as a quiet chuckle before growing into a hearty blend of laughter.

For a second, Jihoon is a bit puzzled, before he feels a laugh of his own tumble out of his chest. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're cute."

"And that... makes you laugh?"

"It makes me happy," You answer witfully. "You make me happy. And just because I'm not laughing doesn't mean you're boring me."

Jihoon just gazes at you both dazedly and fondly, and the more he does so, the more it has you giggling even more. It could be from the alcohol earlier and it's a sign that you should really get back home this instant, but he's simply just standing there like a confused toddler, and you're happy.

"And your laugh... Gosh, your laugh," You continue on, and there's an affectionate look in your eyes. "I love your laugh. Please laugh more like that around me or I will go insane, Jihoonie."

A small grin spreads across Jihoon's face. "Then be cute, like you are now."

"Deal," You quip tauntingly, bringing his hand up to your lips to place a small kiss on before the two of you continue strolling down the sidewalk.

The silence takes over for some time, a comfortable silence that isn't heavy or awkward this time, only the tapping of your shoes against the pavement and the occasional rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze filling the space.

"I love your laugh, too."

You pick your head back up, gazing at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. "What did you say?"

Jihoon hesitates, before smiling bashfully.

"I said that I love you."

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koishua · 8 months ago

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★. 𝐄𝐍— and the orange peel theory.

! © 𝗞𝗢𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗔 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰, 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗗.

starring hee, jay, jake. + their version of the orange peel theory

━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

he doesn't think anything of it when he snaps your chopsticks in two for you from where he is positioned across you. the plastic chairs in front of the convenience store upon which you're seated on aren't the most comfortable, the sharp edges digging into your skin on occasions when you fidget around trying to find a way to strike up a conversation with the man you can't bare to label as your friend now.

the bamboo sticks now rest on top of the lid of your bowl of instant ramen, currently waiting to be fully cooked within the three minute time frame the instructions had given you. you notice how they hadn't split equally, one having snapped away a small portion of the other side with it. the irony of it all feels comical when you detach yourself from the situation you're currently trying not to run away from.

heeseung doesn't say much as you hesitantly take the broken utensil. he can only pretend to awkwardly observe the engravings in the table, occasionally glancing at the dainty chain of the necklace hiding under your collar. it had been his fingers to graze against the skin of your neck to clasp it together for you. he wonders what hurts more; remembering, or having to force himself to forget about it all?

━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐉𝐀𝐘

the house is quiet, had been for hours now, except for your frantic breaths and hurried stomps while darting from room to room, trying to find your bearings as the time ticks by much too quickly for your liking. the alarms you'd set for your lecture hadn't rung (they had, actually— no one would dare to disagree, however), which had naturally resulted in you running late for it yet again.

your lips lift lopsidedly moments after the neatly framed picture of the happiest moment of your life catches your eye as you try to put on the stubborn socks you'd fished out from the drawer on your side of the bed. jay had always been beautiful, even back when he still had that boyish smirk constantly plastered over his face, hair a mess.

you make a mental note to wipe away the dust that had started to form a thin sheet over the wooden frame, though that too is quickly forgotten when you realize that he'd very kindly filled up your bottle with water and placed it next to the most comfortable shoes you owned he'd laid nearly on the floor by the door, certain of your forgetful habits.

━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

layla's tail wags excitedly at the sight of the treat in your hands that you leave for her to enjoy. smoothing over the gingham sheet before laying back on the lap of your favourite person in this universe and the next, from where you look up at him, the sun blazing in the sky makes it look like he's emitting a heavenly glow. fitting for someone like sim jake.

days like this don't come by often for either of you, so having you right by him, the weather as beautiful as it could ever get. this is what he'd describe heaven to feel like. every part of his body beats with the insatiable desire to always have you as close to him as possible, day and night.

the cool breeze is a constant visitor to your little spot by the beach, a welcome addition to the already magical day. realising that he'd gotten lost in his thoughts, he looks down at your serene expression, off somewhere in dreamland, most likely. his thumb gently traces under your eyes, a ghostly touch afraid of waking you up from your deserved rest. he unclips the hair accessories he can see tugging and digging into your skin before adjusting the shade to cover your eyes.

this is his dreamland.

notes from vie: couldn't help it with the hee angst y'all im sorry it's a koishua must. it was very mild tho so yeah enjoy please i haven't exercised my enha writing skills in ages and as always pls reblog muah muah ignore any errors i haven't got the energy to correct them myself 🍊🍊

#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #jake imagines #jake fluff #jay imagines #jay fluff #jay x reader #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen headcanons

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illubean · 4 months ago

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Hi ! Can I request a famous cook reader with Kurapika,Killua,Gon and Feitan?

HXH W/ a FamousCook!Reader

Characters: Gon Freecs, Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika Kurta, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!Reader

I FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE GRADIENT TEXT OH YEAH

Warnings: none

Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck

these kids literally beg you to cook for them all the time

they both can eat a LOT; they're growing boys and your food is good so you can't blame them

every time you are available there is a new food request and you would be evil to tell these sweet boys no especially when they ask you so nicely >:(

if Killua actually liked his family he'd hire you to be a personal in home chef

the white haired boy probs likes to brag about you to Leorio (or anyone else who will listen, really)

he just likes the eating part but Gon on the other hand can be a big help

he will go out and find the freshest ingredients for you every time he has a request because he is such a sweetheart

you need fish? he will go catch some for you. you need a very specific herb that only grows on the side of high cliffs? gear up Killua, they're going rock climbing

Kurapika Kurta

he never really cared much about cooking and saw it more as a chore if anything

before meeting you that is

he's not the best cook and knows enough to get by and survive; meaning he doesn't really pay much mind to taste

but when he tries your cooking for the first time; a well renowned PROFESSIONAL; he cannot go back

like no wonder why your famous this shit is DELECTABLE

he may ask you politely to cook for him every blue moon but he usually waits until you offer or show up with something new for him to try

since you both are usually busy with work, most of the time when you use him as a guinea pig for new recipes its in your restaurant's kitchen, way after closing

it's almost like it becomes your guys' weekly date night ^__^

Feitan Portor

another one who only cooks for survival and still barely knows what he's doing..

pls don't let him anywhere near the kitchen he will burn the entire building down

he is only allowed to watch from a safe distance. do not let him near any kitchen appliance.

if he REALLY wants to help though maybe he can chop veggies or something

the guy really knows how to use a knife...

you probably have to cook for him all the time if you care about him getting enough nutrition because this guy probably just survives off of packaged stuff

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luxaofhesperides · 20 days ago

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for the Ghost Lights prompt thingy(if you’re still doing it)…

Fish?

Danny doesn't mean to witness a fight, but it's taken up the entire road and he's been stuck hiding in an alley for the past ten minutes, watching the Signal take out gang members.

More keep coming to fight, and Danny can tell that the Signal is flagging, his energy waning as he's forced to defend himself against the countless gangsters rushing him. Part of him wants to jump in and help, but being kidnapped and nearly trafficked after the wrong person caught sight of him using his powers has Danny hesitating, fearful of being caught again.

The Signal's a hero, he tells himself, If anyone can handle this, it's him.

And, to be fair, the Signal is handling it pretty well. He takes people down quickly with hard hits and pressure point strikes, his shadow rearing up behind him to crash down on people. But it's still one versus too many, and Danny watches, barely breathing, as the Signal is pushed back to the edge of the road. There's only a small iron rail separating him from the ocean and Danny tenses, ready to spring into action despite his apprehension if things go sideways.

Sure enough, a few lucky hits disorient the Signal, leave him off balance, and all it takes is one strong push to have him toppling over the railing and into the dark waters below.

The gangsters wait to see if the vigilante will resurface. No sign of his signature yellow appears from beneath the waves. They cheer and walk off, congratulating each other, groaning about bruises and broken bones. Danny doesn't bother paying any attention to them as he goes invisible and sprints for the railing, jumping over it to dive in.

Using his powers in Gotham is always dangerous, and going full ghost even more so. He hasn't transformed since he first arrived, too focused on keeping his head down and getting out of the city alive once he graduates from university.

But saving a hero is a good reason to throw away all his caution and common sense. Danny pulls on his power, goes ghost just as the waves swallow him whole, and he flies down through the water in search of the Signal.

The water is dark and brackish, polluted and full of filth. He's sure if he looks closer to the bottom, he'd only find bodies from people who's names only appear in cold cases. He's all too aware of the time ticking away as he searching, desperate to catch a glimpse of the yellow armor the Signal is so known for. He almost misses it when he does spot it, just a small flash closer to the edge of the city than he expected. Danny aims for it, cutting through the waters with ease.

The Signal is struggling weakly as he tries to swim up to the surface. His armor is weighing him down and Danny can see small wisps of blood rising into the water around him.

Danny doesn't hesitate. He can't afford to, not with the Signal's life on the line.

He grabs the Signal's arms and flies them up. He stops when their heads are above the water to give the Signal a moment to breathe, then he warps his arms around the Signal's waist and flies them out of the water.

"Do you have someplace safe to go to?" Danny asks, taking them to the top of an apartment building a few streets over.

The Signal collapses once Danny lets go of him, coughing up water. Danny hovers nearby, offering what little comfort he could by rubbing small circles onto the vigilante's back.

"Is there someone I can call? Someone who can help you?"

The Signal shakes his head. He curls into himself, taking deep breaths. A hand goes to his wrist and grips it for a moment, then he slumps over, rolling onto his back. He definitely shouldn't be alone right now, so Danny sits next him, staying in ghost form just in case he has to fly them away, and wonders if he should try shouting for Batman. That would get his attention right? A glowing ghost boy yelling for him above the streets of Gotham?

Of course, he's rather not do that, but this isn't about him. This is about getting the Signal the help he needs to recover from almost drowning.

Batman would be lenient on him once he hears that Danny fished the Signal out of the ocean, right?

"Thanks," the Signal rasps, turning his head to face Danny. Water still trails down his face, no doubt trapped under his helmet.

"No problem," Danny replies. "You should probably take that off, you know. I'll look away, so don't worry."

He turns and closes his eyes for good measure, and is glad to hear Signal mutter a weak thanks. It's followed by a deep sigh and the sound of something being dropped onto the roof of the apartment. They stay in silence for many long minutes and Danny keeps his eyes closed, the back of his neck itching. The Signal must be looking at him, and the thought makes Danny want to hide away.

So much for hiding his powers.

"Seriously, thank you," the Signal says again. His voice is much steadier now, stronger.

"It's really no problem. I wasn't about to just leave you to drown when I could do something about it."

Behind him, Danny hears the Signal moving and tenses, worried about what happens next.

"You can look now."

Slowly, Danny turns and opens his eyes. The Signal is sitting up now, helmet back on, looking much better. "I'll need to finish dealing with that gang later, but for right now, I'm going to get someplace safe to crash. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean, you were in the water too. You should probably take a shower as soon as possible," the Signal adds. "Who knows what's in the water we swam in?"

Danny grimaces, imagining all the pollution and bodies that contaminate the bay. "Good point. You'll be alright on your own?"

"Yeah, man, don't worry about me. I'll be right as rain in no time."

He takes a step back, glancing around to make sure no other Bats are going to pop out of nowhere to get him. "Cool. I'll just go now so you can do... whatever it is you need to do now. Bye!"

Danny flies away before the Signal can say anything else, going invisible to avoid any curious eyes looking up from the streets. He circles around the block just to make sure none of the gang members are still lingering outside, then heads to his and Jazz's apartment as soon as he determines that the coast is clear. He goes straight to his bedroom, goes back to being a normal human, and collapses face first into his bed. The stress of the day hits him all at once and Danny can only hope that the Signal forgets about him and they can go on without their paths ever crossing again. The last thing he needs is attention from a vigilante; getting mixed up in the hero business will only endanger Jazz, and Danny will do anything to make sure she has a peaceful, normal college experience in Gotham.

Yeah, surely there are better things that will keep the Signal preoccupied. Danny will be fine.

(A week later, Danny curses his past self for jinxing him when he turns down an alley to take a shortcut from the library home and finds the Signal leaning against a wall.

"Hey," the vigilante greets, "Mind if we chat for a sec? I still need to thank you for saving me."

He'd really rather not, but the Signal would probably just come back if Danny ran away. He sighs and agrees, following after the Signal as he leads them somewhere quieter.

He's expecting a light interrogation on his powers, what he's doing in Gotham, his reasons for saving the Signal. What he gets instead is a few worried questions about his safety and the promise of a lunch date.

...Maybe he can hold off cursing his past self. When else is he going to get a date with a hero?)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #ghostlights #prompt fill #danny quickly goes from avoiding vigilantes to going on dates w the signal. jazz is judging him very hard

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naffeclipse · 4 months ago

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naff plz, I'm weak and and I hunger 👀

Turns out I am too. This was supposed to only be 500 words. Now we're here smh

Minnow

Reader x Shark!Eclipse

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

You have a problem on your hands.

Sitting on the edge of a sea-salt slick rock in your dark wetsuit, the ocean breeze sweeping your hair into tangles, you stare. A whale carcass sits heavy and rotting. The edges of the waves roll up on the flat, tan sand of your seaside home and tug at the giant, dead beast, but one fin is only loosened slightly before the water returns without its passenger. The scent of a festering body hangs in the air and coats the back of your throat.

A sharp fin cuts through the wave farther from shore. You glance at it, but whatever fish swims near dives below, out of sight.

You turn back to the very big problem. It will ruin the beach for the tourists. You’re a council member only in name—more of a glorified intern, despite your best efforts to not only fetch coffee. Whenever there’s a job that doesn’t involve sitting inside around a table, away from the heat and humidity of a summery, oceanic day, it’s pushed into your lap to fix.

You have no idea how to remove a 40-ton whale from the sands.

Your right leg slips off of the rock and your foot splashes into the sea. Before you can fix your stance, tug your knees up to balance on the rock while the tide splashes at the base of your little watery perch, a clawed hand seizes your ankle.

A sharp gasp rips from you. Ripped downwards, you brace yourself, screwing your eyes shut as the ocean water rushes up your body, but something plants itself on either side of you. Pinned to the rock, you shiver at the fresh touch of the sea lapping at your ribs. Your feet barely find the purchase of sand. A shadow falls over your eyelids, and a soft hum spins through the breeze.

“Hello,” a voice growls deep, rumbling through the air and brushing against it. “Might I ask why you’re frowning so much?”

You slowly pry open one eye, then the other before your jaw loosens in wonder and fear.

A creature looms above you. His head is wide and flat, colored a dark gray. Strange cartilaginous fins frame his head in a crown of sharp, red, and black spikes. The moment you gawk, he flashes a dangerous row of curved teeth with serrated edges. The very breath catches in your throat while his arms, sleek and barred with burnt red stripes, hold you against the sleek rock.

Your eyes fall down his body. His lithe frame melts from a very human torso into the body of a predatory fishtail—a shark. His underside is pale gray while his back is dark, bearing a wicked dorsal fin with the same barred patterns down his sides in burnt red. Just below the surface, you catch a swishing of a caudal fin. Long and pointed, it cuts through the ocean as if it were mere seafoam.

“What—who are you?” you sputter. Your hands hold defensively to your chest while you return to his unearthly but memorizing face. His eyes burn low in a sharp orange light.

“I am Eclipse.” He lifts one hand from the rock. A dark talon tips his long, thin finger before he hooks your chin, tilting your head up. The sharp edge teases your skin with how easily it can slice you. You swallow apprehension. His eyes fall to your throat, his teeth flashing in the sunlight. “And I asked you a question.”

Your pulse picks up in your ears, beating double time against the tide. What did he ask you? The echo of his words returns. You slowly form an ‘O’ with your lips.

“I’m not, um, frowning?” Certainly not now, if the terror you hide behind says anything. You curl your fingers into tight balls. “Were you watching me?”

The strange man-fish chuckles a low sound—as if you’re very silly. “I was. You’re quite a lovely sight, perched on this rock like a seabird. But you seemed troubled. You still do.”

He slowly forces your head to tilt this way and that, moving you under the sunlight while he examines you with his piercing gaze. You let him, utterly, horribly confused about how this all came to be. Does he intend to devour you like a tiger shark? Or is it a very strange ‘hello’?

A hum of satisfaction arises, but he is no less intrigued by what he’s captured in his hand. You try to turn away but he holds firm and clicks his tongue.

“There is still something vexing you” he concludes, “Tell me, so I might make it right.”

You almost level a look at him, as if the very interesting occurrence of a fish-man grabbing you and pulling you into the water isn’t vexing enough, but mind your manners. His claws press along your mouthbone. Your heart beats heavy in your chest, against the splashing waters, but your eyes flick towards the beach. Eclipse follows your gaze with narrowed eyes.

“Dead whale,” you say, hoping he doesn’t decide to cut your face with his claws, “I need it off the beach, but, um, I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Oh,” he laughs, and you stop to soak in the echo of his shoulder, melodic and growling. “Is that all? A simple solution, minnow, but I do ask for a small token in return for my help.”

You stiffen. A skip in your chest sends a coldness into your legs and fingertips. You look down, staring at the thin corded strength of his chest, the lissom power of his tail, and how easily he could drag you out to sea should you not give an answer he wants to hear.

How could a herculean task be so easy in his eyes? You almost don’t believe him.

“Minnow,” he rumbles softly and forces your head up higher to capture your gaze. You shiver in the brine. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. I will help you, and you will give me what I desire.”

Desire can be very, very dangerous.

“I’m not giving you people’s souls or whatever,” you say firmly, even if your eyes grow wet with terror.

Eclipse swipes a thumb along your cheek, wetting it with sea salt and foam. His grin stretches wide until you see into his massive jaws.

“What use would I have of souls?” His tongue swipes over his row of serrated teeth. “No, I want something much more tangible.”

He squeezes your mouth softly until your lips are pushed into a pout, and realization jolts straight into your stomach. A dreaded blood rush fills your cheeks. You burn. Eclipse tilts his head, his eyes widening, flashing with the hunger of a shark in the depths.

“What do you want?” you whisper, your eyelids trembling as you nearly squeeze them shut again.

He leans in closer. You smell the sharp tang of iron and salt upon his breath.

“Seven kisses.”

Your eyes fly open, relieved and mortified. Unfurling your fingers, you try to shake your head but your jaw remains caught in the vice of his grips.

“Seven?” You sputter before spewing, “That’s—that’s a lot!”

“It’s a perfectly natural amount for the task I will undertake for you.” He draws the pad of his finger down the line of your jaw. A shiver overtakes your shoulders as you close your eyes for a heartbeat.

“And if I say no?” you ask quietly, watching him in the way you fear a minnow might watch a shark.

He leans back. The corners of his mouth pull down.

“Then we shall both be disappointed, and I will leave.”

Your mind whirls at the thought—an easy ‘no’, but you don’t know if you trust him. Why would he do such a task? Why kisses of all things? Will he turn you into a fish after the seventh one? Will he devour you when you get too close?

“How do I know you’re not going to eat me or down me or something?” you ask, pushing past the rattle in your throat.

Eclipse chuckles but there’s much less mirth in the echo, and your gut twists within you.

“If I wanted to take a bite out of you, I would have forgone the introductions.” His smile spreads wide.

A cold, unflinching intuition within you agrees.

“Got it,” you murmur. “Just, uh, no biting, okay?”

He looms over you. His claws take you by the shoulders and hold you tighter to the rock. Your lungs freeze. Your rapid pulse fills your head in the same way you hear ocean waves when you hold a seashell up to your ear.

“Minnow, do you accept my price?” Eclipse’s thumbs rub circles into your wetsuit.

He did not agree to your no-biting rule. Still, you swallow roughly and try to find some sensibility in agreeing to give a fish man kisses. The dead whale will be gone if Eclipse is true to his word. And it’s only a kiss—seven of them.

You press your lips together and close your eyes.

“I do,” you say. You open them again. “How do you want to do this? All at once or—”

A sharp flick of a tail pushes Eclipse against you. A bleeding blush takes over your face, pinned between him and the rock as he gathers your face in his hands. He holds your gaze, orange eyes blazing like a sunset. Your chest heaves. Water laps up against you as his pinky finger brushes against your throat.

“Slowly,” he answers, voice lowering into a husky growl, “One by one.”

Your insides bubble at the sight of his teeth. A tumble of your heart knocks into your ribs. He lowers himself closer until you close your eyes. The ocean tugs at both of you but he keeps you firmly in place. His lips touch yours. A taste of something sharp and brackish spills into your mouth and you make a soft sound in the back of your throat. He purrs. The vibration touches you before he gently pushes and pulls against your lips like the tide. He gives and he takes, swallowing your affection. A hungry touch of his tongue swipes the inside of your mouth. You find your hands falling to his shoulders and holding on as if upon a lifesaver, lost out at sea.

Then he unhooks his jaws and frees you. A taste of sea salt remains on your tongue. You gasp softly, realizing how much fresh air you crave after his kiss. Your head falls back against the rock as your lungs heave. He still holds above you, tall and towering, but content.

Eclipse's eyes are half-lidded, gentle in his gaze as his claw gently brushes your bottom lip. His tongue swipes back over his own teeth as if savoring the taste of your flesh.

“Thank you for the kiss,” he rasps. “The whale carcass will be gone come morning light.”

“Okay,” you give, still lost in the salty haze the impression of his mouth left on you, “What about the other kisses?”

“Soon, minnow,” he gives with a sharp grin. “I will call upon you soon.”

He takes you by the hips. You gasp, your hands flying to his arms as he lifts you effortlessly out of the water and sets you back upon the rock. You sit, dripping in your stupor, eyes wide at how easily his palms fit over your waist. He rests his talons on the slick edge. His orange eyes upturn as he smiles one last time.

“Goodbye,” he growls gently. His teeth flash as he slips down, and you catch the full length of his impressive tail and sharp, pointed fins. A sharp flip of his body turns him in an instant, the water bending to his whim, and he slowly swims. The tip of his dorsal carries over the waves until at last, he disappears into the depth.

And you are left sitting with a pink heat in your face and a ghostly tang behind your teeth. His kiss leaves you spellbound.

You have an entirely new problem on your hands.

#i'm so weak for eclipse being scary but also wanting so many kisses ahhh #he's going to come back don't worry #y/n wakes up the next morning with the whale carcass gone and wonders when eclipse will want the rest of his payment #minnow #shark!eclipse #eclipse x reader #naff writing

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drgnflyteabox · 2 months ago

Text

red ochre [2]

series masterlist previous || part two -> woad and weld || part three -> tbd

pairing: viking goap x fem! nun reader summary: you recover from the boat, and wonder why you were taken w.c: 3.9k tags/warnings: pain, caretaking, food, stomach issues, threats, mean simon, fears of rape (doesn't happen), viking-typical slavery, unwanted cuddling / massage / touching, alcohol, scars, violence, hunting, laswell hello!, reader has some puritanical attitudes / assumptions but she was a nun so, power imbalance, dubcon comfort, crying, religious themes (dldr)

You're a stone sunk to the bottom of the ocean, pulled under by exhaustion and turmoil. It's the sleep of the dead, dreamless and unreachable.

Vaguely, in moments of semi-consciousness, you hear voices and feel softness against your skin, warmth all around you. The brush of fingers against your cheeks.

When you do wake, it's like crossing between different worlds, with a head full of cotton and fog. Your sense of smell comes alive before anything else, the smell of food permeating the air around you.

Fish. Cream. Something herbaceous, something earthy. A fire crackles closeby, warming the air, warming you. You can feel fur touching your arms and legs, draped over you and flat underneath you.

It only serves to soften to blow of pain, overwhelming pain. True awareness comes then, waking you with a gasp that alerts-

"Did she just-"

"Sh!" Simon's voice, coming closer. "You awake?" his face comes into view above - you only recognize him by voice.

He's scarred, big and small, but the most eye-catching one bisects his face, splitting it into two from his cheekbone to his jaw on the other side. It's deep, raised, angry even if you can tell it's healed.

You scream.

It's a weak sound, the cry of somebody that knows it's pointless and yet can't help but shout into the void and hope that something will answer.

Before, that would have been god. You'd have prayed, lived as a hermit, sequestered yourself to a cave and live as one of the great ascetic saints. A life even further dedicated than nunhood.

Since he had refused to answer you on the boat, you turn away, and whimper like an injured dog when that scarred face turns to a mask of stone.

"Ha!" Johnny doesn't pick up on the tension that's rising, slowly, as you tremble under Simons gaze. Or maybe he does, and he doesn't care. "Havnae seen his ugly mug yet, have ye? Dinnae worry, lamb."

Guilt curls in your belly, dampening your fear. Simon doesn't look shamed, but you weren't afraid of his scars - truly, you were disoriented, barely clothed and towered over by the same man that took you.

"He won't bite," Johnny continues. He walks over and lays a hand on Simons waist, fingers curling in the off-white fabric. "Well, not ye."

A wink.

"Hush!" Simon barks. "Get her up, she needs to eat."

There's no hesitation. Johnny leans down to you, pulling you until you sit up with a wince. You bite your lips to keep from crying out again, pain lancing through your muscles. You're seized by muscle spasms, by the fiery hot pain of your chafed wrists and a gnawing, deep hunger in your stomach.

"How-" you choke, throat dry and voice unused. Johnny pauses helping you up to listen. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Few days, lass. It's the evening," he grins. "Ye should thank us. Kept ye warm, washed, slipped ye broth into that lovely mouth-"

Simon puts a wooden bowl down onto the table, louder than necessary. There's a grumble from Johnny, but he gets you up and waits while your legs get used to weight on them again.

You're half-dragged, mostly carried to the table. All you're wearing is that shirt, nipples pebbled against the front from the cold. Hard to care too much when your muscles scream even holding yourself sitting up.

You lean on Johnny as Simon ladles soup into bowls, hunched over the kitchen hearth, silent as the grave.

"Eat slowly," is all he says.

It smells good, herby and warm. Your stomach groans and gurgles and begs you to eat, but you're weary. Afraid. Only when the men eat that you pick up a carved wooden spoon and hesitantly slurp.

Heat. Satisfaction. Eating is incredible, and you discover the wonderous ingredients loaded into the soap; salmon, potatoes, a green herb that tastes like sharp, citrussy grass.

Then your stomach cramps, and you tilt with nausea.

"Too fast?" Johnny coos, rubbing a big palm up and down your back. "Awe."

"That's enough, then," Simon goes to take your bowl, but you're too fast. You pull it close to your chest, spilling a little onto the table and drops soak into your shirt. "You can have some later. I said that's enough."

You hold fast. Your stomach hurts, but you're desperate for some form of control. All the terror and all the uncertainty rises, rushing through your finally conscious brain into a battle of strength. You took me but I have agency! it says. You took me but I can take this!

He's too strong.

The wood bowl clatters against the ground with a crack, hot soup spilling on the floor. You heave with the force of your breathing, afraid and too-aware of your predicament.

Taken, snatched, at the mercy of men whose intentions are unclear.

You're too slow to cower when Simon's arm shoots forward and grabs your jaw, hard and mean, giving you a squeeze.

"Now we've been nice to you," he starts. His voice is as solid as his arm. You start to shake. "But I can just as easily put you over my knee. That what you want?"

You shake your head.

"That's what I thought."

Johnny leaves after the soup is cleaned and you're tucked back into the bed again, muscles trembling still with the exertion of your first meal. Small, electric spasms make you wince every one in a while. Your wrists are bruised and scabbed, but healing. They feel hot and itchy, but Simon tells you as he rubs an ointment into the wound that they're healing well.

You try to shy away, hide yourself, when he notices your grimace and reaches for a calf. The look he gives you stops you, takes your breath, until he shakes his head and starts rubbing deep circles into the tenderest spot of your muscle.

"God!" you should. A wonder how badly you can hurt from just laying in bed. He snorts. "Ow!"

"Don't be dramatic," his thumb presses deeply, moving down, then back up. Squeezing. The bed dips with his weight as he scoots closer to you.

You take a moment to look around you. The cabin is made of wood, warmed by the fire, and is full to the brim. Clay pots, furs, tools, a couple barrels- they're everywhere, unorganized. Makes you wonder about the sacred items they'd stolen from your convent.

"Why did you take me?" someone bolder has possessed you. Your mouth twists when Simon's eyes find yours.

His hands don't stop moving. They switch legs, pulling the finished one onto his big thigh. It does feel better, relaxed and tender in a good sort of way, pain not so unbearable anymore.

"You're our spoils," he moves down, digging into your arch. You almost yelp. "D'you know what we gave up for you?"

Something in your chest squeezes, something scared and unpleasant. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"That's alright," Simon murmurs. Your anxiety fights against the comfort he's giving you. "You'll be alright."

He flits his gaze downwards, eyeing you. Your breath catches when you realize that the position has left your legs open, shirt ridden up, and he's looking right at your bare cunt.

"Ah!" you pull your knees shut, hands finding where you're exposed and folding over, cupping yourself, face ablaze. Tears prick at your eyes again, fear winning over comfort.

Simon doesn't let you panic for long.

"I won't force myself on you, pet," he grunts. "We won't."

There isn't much choice but to hang on to his words for dear life, to believe that he won't force you. The hope is fragile, but it's there. You take the chance to pull a soft, worn blanket over your body.

"Am I to be your slave?" your voice wavers.

"No," he says simply.

For a long time, you watch him. He putters about, moving things, unloading boxes no doubt full of supplies used for raids. You wonder if that means he doesn't intend to go on another one, then wonder what they'll do with you if they do leave.

Johnny comes back flushed, smiling. You smell sweetness under his sweat, something you can't recognize. His eyes crinkle when he sees you.

"Two nights," he breathes, looking at you but talking to Simon. "They'll celebrate in two nights."

Your stomach tenses, roiling, eyes fluttering with the effort to stay awake. Even a short time is much for you after your journey.

"Price's back?" Simon asks. He's pulling a sealskin from a burlap bag, smoothing it out with his hands onto the table. The silvery, spotted skin reflects the fireplace.

"Tomorrow," Johnny pulls leather boots off his feet, then thick socks. He wipes himself down with a rag from a tub, shuffling to the bed when he finishes. "Then we feast."

Your eyes are heavy slits, mouth open. You hardly move even when Johnny sits next to you and brushes a thumb over your cheek, smiling toothily down at you.

"Awe, she's precious," he says, lowering his voice. "Go to sleep now, little lamb."

You wake the same way as before. A tilt of one world into the next, sliding down into consciousness as slow as thick porridge.

Only this time, you're surrounded by a warmth not brought by thick furs. It's skin, all around you, boxing you in. On your face you feel hair, prickly and soft, comforting and frightening all at once.

Behind you, a chest breaths against your back. Your eyes open, alarm cutting through grogginess.

Johnnys big hand is clutching your breast, squeezing every few moments, snuffling into your neck like a sleepy animal.

You try to extricate yourself, lifting yourself to find Simon looking down at you, eyes half lidded but aware. There's warning there, but there's also contentment. Scars big and small litter his skin, pocked and torn and scraped, all shapes and sizes. Some are silvery while others are such a deep red you'd think they were still fresh.

He looks past you at Johnny, and turns to his side.

"Weren't planning on running, where you?" his voice is low, so as to not wake the other man.

"No," you whisper. Johnny shuffles behind you, sliding a thigh between your legs. "Please help me." you wiggle, trying to move.

Simon sighs, sitting up. He shuffles to the edge of the bed, then reaches to peel Johnnys hands off you. His hand slides against the soft spring of your breast, hands sliding under Johnnys to pull, brushing your nipple on the way up.

"Thank you," you're still whispering, not wanting to wake Johnny up lest it irritate Simon. You roll until you're out of his grasp, body feeling less pained than it did the day before.

"Hungry?" Simon moves towards the kitchen. "Got one more day to relax."

The feast, you think. The divide, the celebration. Frissons climb your skin until your scalp prickles.

"Yes, please," you sit up, weary of Johnny finding your heat in the bed.

The smell of animal fat and the sound of sizzling fills the cottage then. You look around, noting an improvement for the clutter. The sealskin is gone, replaced by two standing up boots.

"They're yours," Johnny says. You startle, almost leap, but he catches you by the hips and puts his face into your hair. "Simon stayed up all night."

"Gets cold," he dismisses. Eggs jump in the pan in front of him, popping in the hot tallow.

You have to be helped again to the table, but it's not so bad this time. You arm goes around Johnnys waist, his under yours, fingers barely brushing the underside of your breast.

Breakfast is good. Fried eggs, seasoned by the fat, over gruel. It fills you with an internal sense of strength, and you can actually finish it all today.

"Good girl!" Johnny claps your back. "Gonnae be choppin all our wood for winter, eh?"

After, Simon has you change into a simple brown wool dress. You try to ignore them looking at your nakedness as you drop the other shirt, but the wool is nice and warm and there's even a soft pale shift to go underneath it.

Then he slips pants on your legs, tied at the waist under the dress, and wraps wool around your calves.

"You're gonna run errands with me," Simon says. He wraps your feet again in wool, securing them with leather twine. "Get your strength up."

His eyes find yours where he's kneeling, squinting at you, expression turning stormy.

"I don't want to re-injure your wrists," he motions to them, and you look at the healing scabs. "But if you try to run, I'll drag you back by your hair n' tie 'em back up. You pick."

Outside, you wince against the light. Simon holds you by the elbow, walking at your weak pace. It's a tight village, houses clumped together, shops close. It's a wonder you haven't heard anyone from inside Johnny and Simons home, until you see how thickly the walls are built when the door opens.

The street is wet with mud, and you're grateful for the footwraps. They're warm against the chill, sliding through the mud beneath you when you lose your footing, legs feeling as new as a fawn.

"Here," Simon leads you to a market-like stall. Dried meats hang from the ceiling in bunches. The smell is pungent.

"Nik!" He shouts. A huge, burly man steps out.

They talk like they've known each other a long time, though not quite friends. An image of two great bears crosses your imagination, both big and still respecting the other. A rare alliance.

Simon hangs a bag off of you, a salty-smelling bag full of cured and fermented meats. The man looks down at you and grins as you leave, laughing lowly.

You bristle, but follow - what else is there to do?

The next stop is a real shop, only you can see a homestead behind a wooden counter.

It's a girl this time, lovely and soft. She smiles at Simon, wordlessly fetching another man from the homestead behind the store.

"Big man!" it's one of the raiders - the young one. Gaz. "And the nun." his brown eyes find yours, friendlier than the last time you saw him.

They talk, too, more amicably than the other man. Gaz folds his forearms over the counter and laughs, peeking at you every once in a while with intense eyes.

"Right," he claps his hands together. "I won't keep you."

You're starting to feel tired, overexerted.

Gaz comes back out with a wrapped package, the soft girl from before on his arm. The apples of her cheeks are high with a smile.

"See you!" she sits back down on her stool, wide hips wiggling until she's comfortable.

"See ya around," Gaz says. He winks at you.

Simon carries this package himself, not looking at you as he leads you further into the village.

People make way for him, not in fear, but because of his size. He's bigger than most, even some of the other men.

The third and final place has you panting, hunched with the effort of keeping yourself up.

It's a house not unlike Simon and Johnny's, just bigger. A wide, squat wooden house with a wide open door and goats bleating from a pen closeby.

Simon glances at you out of the corner of his eye, putting his hand on your lower back as somebody steps out of the doorway.

"Hello again, Simon," it's Price. The leader, or perhaps the chief. It would make sense - his authority, his size, the number of scars on his skin. Nearly as many as Simon. "You bring your end of the bargain?"

Straight to the point then. Price doesn't look at you once, which doesn't do much to assuage the fear that you're the end of the bargain.

"If you've got yours," Simon leaves you behind to follow him inside, where you can hear them talking. Jovial, like old friends.

By the time you get back home, you're wiped. Exhaustion pulls at you like invisible strings dragging you to the bed. Even Johnny with his smarmy expression and his patting the mattress doesn't stop you from crashing.

The men have brought you to a celebration. After letting you sleep a majority of the day after your errands, Simon dressed you in the same wool dress and wrapped a thick cape around your shoulders to ward off the chill.

It's a welcome home. Simon had been the first to see Price at his home - he and a band of fledgling warriors had sailed right past the village and gone hunting.

Price is not the chief, as you had assumed. He is a leader, an explorer, the ambitious spearhead of overseas raids. Nodding heads and a sense of respect, of deference, follows him wherever he goes. Even as an outsider you can see it.

The chief is a woman. It's not something you expected, not with the sheer size of the men around you, not with the brutality in which they regale their exploits. Many of them have wives that trail them, welcome them, carry their children on their hips, or are welcomed as fellow warriors.

These are the fledglings?

You're in a wild, barbaric place.

When you reach the longhouse, a building as short as all the others but stretched much farther and lit orange with light and the smell of honey, you're bathed in warmth.

No, not honey. Alcohol, sweet and cloying on the breath of each viking. Their depravity seems to know no bounds. It's the same sweet smell you'd smelled on Johnny that night he'd left - presumably to speak to the chief.

Laswell, they call her. The chief. She stands on a raised dais with Price, murmuring between themselves, nodding toward Simon and Johnny when they take their seats.

"Right here," Simon spreads his thighs. There are no other spaces on the bench.

"I don't mind standing," you try. He pinches the back of your knee until you buckle into him, tucked into the cradle of his arms. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Not lettin' ye sit apart from us," Johnny brushes your cheek, and you look past him to the rest of the people gathered.

Decorated, scarred, hardened warriors. Price joins the group, taking a heavy seat by the man from before - Nik - and exchanging claps on the back. Gaz, a woman with dark hair, but Gaz's soft girl is nowhere to be found.

"Welcome!" Laswell shouts. The hall goes silent. "Drink, eat - celebrate a job well done by our boys."

Eruption; noise all around. She's a carefully controlled, steady woman, yet she's inspired this group of a few hundred into the loudest cacophony you've ever heard.

Simon cups his hands over your ears. You try not to be grateful.

Debauchery. You witness debauchery- drinking beyond your most twisted imagination, dancing surely enough to summon a demon, maybe the devil himself. It's enough to make you pray under your breath, turning away from public displays of affection.

Above you, in front of you, conversation. It doesn't slip your mind how high up on the table Simon and Johnny are, right across from Price and Gaz and next to Laswell at the head of the table.

Even she laughs, imbibes, discusses the distribution of goods with a content sort of smile.

"And the nun?" eyes turn to you. Laswell has focused her gaze on you, sharper than before. "You're satisfied with just her?"

Johnny takes a long pull of his mead, before pressing his shoulder to Simons.

"Thas'right!" he only slurs a little. "Found ourselves a proper little wife, we did."

A chill moves through you. A slow freezing. You tense in Simons lap, spine rigid, heart flipping in your chest. Carefully, you try not to show a reaction.

Wife?

"Och! Sorry, lamb," he turns to you and takes your hands. "Didnae mean to ruin the surprise."

"Quite the surprise," Gaz chirps. His girl has found him, and he's made a place for her beside him. You're jealous of her autonomy, especially now. Taken as prisoner, as spoils, and now?

"You promised," you mumble. "You said you wouldn't."

"What's that, love?" Gaz again, but you aren't listening. Blood rushes through your ears.

"You said you wouldn't force me," you look up now, at Simon and his deeply scarred face. He betrays nothing. "Why lie?"

"Didn't lie," he grunts. "Now be quiet."

"When's that, then?" Price asks.

"Before winter."

The walk back is silent except for the wet slaps of your feet against the mud. The chill is worse at night, biting at your nose and your fingers. At least your future husband - husbands - don't want you to freeze.

The thought hits you like a boulder, heavy and immovable. You stop walking, drawing the attention of the observant men.

"Too tired?" Johnny asks.

You run.

Or try to, as fast as you can.

It's hard in this terrain, slippery and with the cold burning your cheeks. You have no direction in mind, only obeying the mindless terror coursing through your blood, unleashed by this night of truths.

Simon is the one to catch up to you not ten feet from where you started, grabbing the back of your cape and pulling hard until you fall on your butt.

It hurts, the ground has slowly been freezing with the onset of fall and Simon is not nice as he captures you back.

"Ow," you sniffle, fingers wet and muddy.

"Yeah I bet that hurt," his voice has gone hard. "Where did you think you were going?" a laugh, harsh and grating.

"Didnae mean to scare ye," Johnny says. He helps Simon in dragging you back to to cottage.

"In!" Simon barks when you reach the door. You plant your feet, frustrated tears prickling hot and then falling down your cheeks in heavy droplets. "Stupid girl- get inside."

The insult adds salt to the wound as you stumble onto your hands and knees. Pain lances up your wrists.

"Did'ya think you'd be able to what, survive by yourself?" he scoffs. Johnny helps, but mostly just acts as if you're a doll, in removing your cape and sodden woolen dress.

The shift is wet, too. Less muddy than the dress, but still wet. Johnny slips it over your head and you cross your arms to hide your nakedness, still crying.

"Hey," Simon crouches. He puts his face close to yours, noses touching, eyes deadly. "I didn't lie. We won't force you, you'll come to us."

"You'll go to hell," you're upset now, but it only serves to make them shake their heads and laugh breathily, silently. "You stole me."

"Aye, we did," you're wiped dry by big hands. "And you'll be our wife."

Another slip goes over your head, thin and rough on your skin, well-worn.

"Get in bed."

Johnny listens and brings you with him, wiping the tears from your face as he lays you down. You're as helpless as a lamb.

"If I have any choice," you start. "I won't be your wife, and I won't-"

"Wheesht!" Johnny pulls you to him, hand over your mouth, making room for Simon. His other hand goes over your stomach, squeezing. Warmth surrounds you. "You're overexcited, ye need some rest."

God help you, you're so tired you do.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #soap cod #goap x reader #soap x ghost #drgnfly writes #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #honestly feels filler-y but #feels good to get it out #2am posting #hopefully not everyone is asleep ahaaaahaa #red ochre

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groundzerosgirlfriend · 8 months ago

Text

A/n: Just binge watched all three seasons of Dr. Stone and Senku and Tsukasa can do whatever they want to me! Bark Bakrk woof Awooga!

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: That revived you in this new stone world with the 'miracle fluid' after gathering a strong enough army, to ensure your safety at all times.

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: That barely wants his right-hand man Hyoga to be around you unless it's absolutely necessary going out of way to forage, fish, and hunt with you.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That sits beside you for quality time as you sew and talk his ear off about everything that runs his mind and although he could spend his time elsewhere, where else would he want to be.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That is still as sweet as he was 3,700 years ago instead of carrying your books to school, he carries any prey you caught, any basket of mushrooms, and any firewood (He doesn't want his gorgeous girl working hard, what type of boyfriend would he be).

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That ignores all the other attractive women (much to the disappointment of Minami) in his empire throwing themselves at him much preferring to keep his sights set on you. His one and only.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Whose heart breaks as you finally see him firsthand destroy a statue of an older gentleman the crumbled rock around his feet and his gut twisting as your eyes prick the slightest tears.

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: Who doesn't follow after you when your quick leave his vicinity not wanting to pressure you into talking to him, knowing how empathetic you are about a lot of things (It's one of the things he loves about you, but right now it's biting him in the ass).

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Whose heart beats harder than it ever has when comparing it to any of his grueling wrestling matches after a week of silence on your end you sit next to him at the campfire site just leaning your head on his shoulder.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who's about to apologize for slaughtering those statues in front of you and explain his reasoning behind his uncouth action is surprised when you tell him 'You don't mind.'

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who stays quiet with ears open as you express that although you don't like what he's doing, you condone killing innocent people statues or not, but you won't question it or force him to stop knowing it has to be for good reason.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who places his huge hands-on top of yours just giving a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement and thankfulness, because in this moment no words need to be said as the fire crackles in front of you two.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who is now happier than he thinks he's ever been having both you and his newly revived sister free from her dreaded comatose (with the help of Senku) at his side.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who smiles the slightest bit and chuckles softly as he watches from the sidelines you entertain and play with his younger sister grateful that the two of you get along so well and even wondering if one day you would want a family with him. A blend of both of your genes.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That sacrifices his life with a spear piercing through his lung at the river side when Hyoga attempts to attack you and Miria. The last thing he sees before he falls into the river is you and Senku reaching out for him in a desperate attempt to catch him.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: After his epic battle with Senku at his side he spends his last minutes alive breathing ragged and hoarse with you and the renowned scientist. His head in your lap and holding each other hands as he chuckles at Senku's attempt at small talk.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That whispers out a barely heard "I love you" but before you can even comprehend it and much less respond his eyes softly close, and his breathing comes to a permanent stop.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who unknowingly has you and his sister by his side the entire time he is in cold sleep. Barely leaving the makeshift refrigerator as you tell him stories and talk his ear off knowing that you won't get a response.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who when he's finally revived and healed from what were once permanent wounds hugs his teary-eyed little sister and looks around the cave space for you inconspicuously knowing you couldn't be far.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who finally spots you in the very back of the group your lip quivering as he cracks the softest of smiles and hold his arms open for you to rush into as you cry and snot all over his bare chest comforting you with the fact that he was alive and well now.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who even though was dead for months on end in that cold refrigerator somehow knew that you were by his side the entire time thanking you for never giving up on him.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who sits with you on the cave floor simply murmuring low sweet nothings in your ear as you cling onto him as if to make sure he's really alive and well, your head pressed against his chest to hear his heart beating once more.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who says "Let me say it properly this time, my dear. I love you."

Extra: Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who could most definitely manhandle you like a little ragdoll but refrains from it since you've never expressed interest in such rough treatment. But after he tosses you over his shoulder to carry you out the cave without asking in the heat of the moment and hears your delighted giggle, he'll be sure to bring that up with you.

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revasserium · 10 months ago

Note

In case you hadn’t noticed I utterly ADORE your LaDS fics 🫣 You write the boys so well I squeal when I read them!

Can I request prompts 27 and 142 from the prompt lists for our boy Raf? Could it be nsfw? 👉👈

Eagerly awaiting all of your fics about Raf and Xavier especially!

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

eventide (27. follow me + 142. in the still of the night)

rafayel; 2,413; nsfw !!!, lvl 55 spoilers, piv sex, fem!reader, no "y/n", riding, heat??? adjacent sex???, smut with feelings, fluff and smut, pwp-ish

summary: "my life? what if you just take it instead?" said the sailor to the mermaid.

a/n: this is probably the best i've felt about a smut piece i've written. that ebb & flow lvl 55 story has me in a chokehold, i tell you.

“Maybe from the start… it was all a trap. Maybe the mermaid was after the sailor’s life all along.”

You reach forward to press your palm to the side of Rafayel’s face, feeling the heat of his skin burning against yours. Gently, you run your knuckles along the sparkling scales dotting the tops of his cheeks like so many pieces of a misplaced sea. You see his eyes go wide, feel his breath quicken impossibly in his chest.

“Okay.”

Rafayel blinks, and the barest hint of a frown creases his eyebrows as he turns to look at you.

“Okay?”

You smile, leaning forward with a soft sigh, letting your fingers trail down to his neck, where his pulse beats hummingbird fast beneath your touch.

“Mhm… you were saying earlier that you’d be so weak tonight that I could take your life if I wanted it…” you slowly shift your leg, one and then the other, over till you’re straddling Rafayel’s lap, both your hands resting on his shoulders. Fish-tail flashes of emotions flicker behind his eyes as he holds his breath, his fingers trembling as he reaches up to catch your wrists; he holds them tight, but he makes no move to either pull you closer or push you away.

You can feel his uncertainty thrumming in the air between you, static — electric.

“I — did…”

You let your head fall sideways as you flash him a sweet, helpless smile, “Then… if it were all a trap for my life… I’m saying that you can have it.”

You lean forward, and like this, your eye line is just a bit higher than his, forcing him to crane his head upwards to keep ahold of your gaze.

He is so warm beneath you that for a moment, you wonder if he’s activated his Evol by accident.

“I can…” for a moment, he seems confused, even drunk as he stares up at you, and then, the flicker of something behind his eyes as he goes stiff beneath you. Then, his fingers are digging into your hips and his breath is nearly searing across your lips. Your newly released wrists burn where his grip had been just seconds before, and you slowly sink your fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean — or make promises you’ve no intention of keeping.” There’s a razor’s edge glinting beneath the soft hiss of his voice as he glares at you, a longing as deep as the sea roiling behind his gaze.

You steel yourself, shifting slightly in his lap, your cheeks warming as you feel him quivering beneath you. He’s still hot, too hot, but he holds impossibly still as you lean in, your lips ghosting over his in a phantom kiss.

“Please…” it comes out as a ragged plea, and you’ve never known him to sound so desperate or so utterly broken, “if you don’t — if you’re not —“

You run your thumb along his jaw as you force him to look at you.

“Rafayel… kiss me.”

It is a breaking dam, a cresting wave, crashing against the crumbling edges of his self-restraint — his lips on yours, his tongue pressing, hungry and demanding, into your mouth as he surges up to kiss you. It’s all you can do to cling to him, your hands looping behind his neck as he crushes you to him, his hands suddenly everywhere as he tugs at the hem of your clothes, rucking them up just to press his palm to the bare skin of your waist, your back, to trail them up the ridges of your spine.

He tastes of salt and desire as he groans against your mouth, your fingers tangling in his foam-soft hair, heat tingling through you as he forces your hips against his and you feel him — hot and hard. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls back, panting, his eyes misty and dark as he watches you with a wildness that chases shivers down your spine.

“Are you scared?” he asks, his voice low and just a little breathless, “do you regret staying?”

You swallow and shake your head, trailing your fingers down into the already-opened front of his shirt, grazing your nails along the skin there. A delicious, heart-rending anticipation sizzles through you at the way his stomach flexes, and the next moment, he’s dropping his lips to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into the bare skin there even as he grabs your hand and forces it lower — and then lower.

Heat pulses through you as your palm meets his clothed cock and his head drops back with a moan. Like this, the scales on his neck and jaw are even more pronounced, glimmering in the dim, moonless night. You loosen his belt with one hand before tugging it down with the other, but before you can reach for him, he catches your wrists and pulls you bodily back up the length of his torso.

You almost yelp, shocked by his strength and the ease with which he’d hauled you over his lap once more. There’s an intensity to his hooded eyes, so much darker than their usual lost-treasure brightness, but he smirks as he sees the obvious blush marring your cheeks.

“Already embarrassed? Didn’t you say you were going to give me your life?”

You purse your lips, “I — I am.”

A strange expression crosses his face as he scoffs, “I told you… don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

And then he’s kissing you again, harsh and hungering, a ravenousness carving through him into the hollow of you as you roll your clothed core down over his throbbing cock with a loud, hapless moan.

“S-says who I don’t plan on keeping them?” you ask, breathless and panting as he lifts your hips with a hiss and literally tears away your underwear. Shivers shake through you at this blatant display of strength — you’d always known he was strong, stronger than he lets on but you hadn’t expected this. It caves your stomach and curves your spine as a want so carnal it sears your mind threatens to take you over.

“Mm — fuck —”

He swears as he shoves down his own pants and his cock springs free, thick and leaking as it slaps against the tight muscle of his lower abdomen. You can’t help the way your eyes wide or your breath hitches at the sight — your mouth waters, your throat tightens.

Heat pulses between your thighs as you press your lips and reach down to wrap your fingers around his base, giving him a soft, experimental tug.

The low, guttural moan that spills from you threatens to steal your sanity from you entirely. And suddenly, it’s not only him feeling the effects of the eventide night — you too start to wonder if there’s something in the thick heat of the air, in dark moonless skies.

“Come here, princess —” Rafayel’s fingers dig into your arms as he jerks you up again, pulling you up till you’re hovering over his weeping cock, your core throbbing with want, the nickname somehow sending another thrill tingling through you. You wonder if you had been a princess in another life — if Rafayel had known you then too — if you’d also wanted each other as you do now —

“R-Raf — ay — yel — ah!” you brace your arms against his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself over him, both of your eyes caught on the intoxicating sight of him sinking into you, inch by inch, thick and unrelenting, until finally you’re seated fully in his lap again, your breaths coming in quick, harsh gasps as you try to adjust to the sting, the stretch.

“H-hey…” Rafayel strokes a hand along your cheek, his own chest heaving even as he checks in on you, “how — how do you feel?”

You keen, rolling your hips down over him just to watch him shudder, “G-good — ah — fuck — there —!”

You plant your palms on his chest and lift yourself up a few inches before sinking down again. The friction nearly drives all coherence from your brain as Rafayel’s hands fall to your hips, his nails digging crescent moon marks into the plush above your ass.

He groans, “Y-you’re squeezing m-me so… so tight — ngh — fuck fuck fuck — do — do you feel that — right — right there?”

He lets out a panting breath as he forces your hips forward and back as he flicks his eyes down at the place where his cock is disappearing into your cunt over and over, a ring of sticky white collecting round the base as he watches, his eyes glazed over with want.

“Yes — yes — I f-feel it —” you force your thighs to go faster, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as you try to ride him harder, keening when he dips down to catch one of your nipples between his lips, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh, his tongue circling your sensitive nub. Fire chases down the length of your spine as pleasure explodes in your lower belly as Rafayel rucks up into you faster and faster, reaching up a hand to squeeze at your other breast, thumb kneading at the sensitive nipple till you’re twitching, falling forward into his embrace.

“You really — really like it when I fuck you deep like this, hm?” and he’s just as breathless as he should be, there’s sweat beading at his brow, an almost crazed, unfocused look in his eyes as he pulls back to look up at you, but it only serves you spur you on as you ride him faster and harder, tossing your head back, slamming your hips down into his to chase your own high as you cry out before falling forward against his feverish skin.

He shifts his hips and you go rigid above him, the tip of his cock hitting a particular place inside you that makes the entire world go fuzzy around the edges. Once, twice, three times — and then you’re collapsing, shaking and shuddering as you come undone around him, and he’s swearing beneath you, squeezing you to him with a thick, bitten-off groan.

“Fuck — i-if you keep — squeezing — around me l-like that — ah-ah-hah…!”

You let out a soft whine as you feel him spilling hot inside you, his cock twitching as he shivers, his forehead falling against your shoulder as he sighs.

“Mm… how… how do you… feel?” you ask, your voice hazy with tiredness as you pull back, grinning lazily down at him, twisting your fingers absently through the hairs at the nape of his neck. Rafayel peers up at you after a second, half-reproachful, half-amazed.

“You… really have no idea… do you?”

“No idea… of what?” you ask, cocking your head to the side even as he tugs you in, his softening cock still sheathed inside you, the sticky heat of your juices cooling against your skin.

“Don’t you know what it means to have sex with a Lemurian?”

You laugh, shaking your head, leaning forward to nuzzle into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You rest your head against the sofa and dig your nose into his skin.

“No… tell me.”

Rafayel’s arms wrap around you, sweet and solid, even as a soft squishing sound alerts you both to the mess you’ve undoubtedly made on his artisanal couch. Neither of you pay it much mind.

“It means that you’re tied to me forever — for this lifetime at least, and that… if you ever try to have sex with anyone else…” Rafayel drops his voice, murmuring into the shell of your ear as you shy away at giggle, “You’ll suffer dire consequences.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Well, good thing I wasn’t planning on having sex with anyone else then. In this lifetime… or the next.”

Rafayel goes still beneath you. And for a second, it’s just you and him and the catching of lost breaths, the remembering of things once forgotten, lives once lived and yet to be lived again.

“Haven’t I told you? Don’t say things you don’t mean…”

You lift your head to look at him, a soft smile lifting your cheeks as you sigh.

“You keep saying that… but I’ve meant everything I said,” you say, trailing your fingers along the high of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw. You feel his skin burn fire-hot beneath the pads of your thumbs as you run them along his bottom lip.

“Promise you’re not lying,” he says, and he’s not indignant any longer, but reverent and eager, almost anxious.

“I promise.”

“Can your promises be trusted?”

You smile before leaning in to run your lips along his neck, tracing his pulse all the way up to his lips with a light, lingering kiss.

“You tell me, sly merman… weren’t you just saying that the mermaid of legend had set a clever trap for the sailor? So tell me, clever, clever merman… if you’ve bound me to you forever… what power would I have to lie to you, hm?”

Rafayel scoffs, pouting as he looks away, “Unbelievable.”

You laugh, lying your cheek back against his chest with a small sigh, “You should learn to believe it… I mean, I did just willingly give you my life.”

Rafayel makes a soft tsk-ing noise as he pinches you lightly on the thigh, “You really don’t know what you’re saying, do you?”

You shake your head, “No… I know exactly what I’m saying.”

Rafayel grunts, though you know by the sound of his voice that he’s grinning, even as he turns to face away from you. You fancy you can feel the heat as it kisses pink the tips of his ears. You reach up to run a finger along the bright scales still pressing up from beneath his skin as he lets out a soft hiss, turning back to look at you.

“You might not believe me but… at least… I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.”

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featherandferns · 3 months ago

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covet (drabble)

jj maybank x fem!reader | short and not exactly sweet ;)

content warnings: sexual content

word count: 4k.

There are certain things on this earth that can soothe the soul. A warm blanket that has a smell which reminds you of childhood; the incessant, repetitive come and go of the ocean waves on a sandy beach; when the sunset hits just so and everything feels at peace. It seems that the warmth of JJ Maybank’s skin against yours brings about that same clandestine peacefulness. You nuzzle your face against his bare bicep. His skin smells of sandalwood and seawater and sunscreen. The coarse hair barely tickles your cheek as you do so, making you smile, sleepy and spent. His breathing is slow and steady, warm air hitting the back of your neck, his head resting just behind your own as his body spoons yours. You shift your feet under the messed covers and feel them brush against your shorts and panties that JJ had almost frantically pulled down your body only thirty minutes or so before.

You want to talk but aren’t sure if you should. It feels as though there’s this bubble the two of you are held in and if you speak, you might cause it to burst.

JJ has this thing about him. He reminds you of a bonefish: a finicky fish known for being slippery and hard to catch. The fact that you have him here with you, like this, coiled around you the way he is despite the two of you having climaxed over ten minutes ago, feels rare and special. It terrifies you to do something to scare him off after wanting this for so long. After wanting him.

And yet, despite this, you can’t help yourself. It feels out-of-body when you hear your voice quietly interrupt the silence.

“Which do you prefer?” you begin to ask. “The sea or the marsh?”

At first you wonder if JJ’s fallen asleep, as his breathing doesn’t stutter and he doesn’t speak a word.

“Ain’t they the same thing?” he asks, his voice barely above a rasp.

“No,” you say, “the sea’s bigger and louder. They’re different.”

“Maybe the marsh then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I like the quiet of the marsh. Feels private and stuff, y’know?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling stupidly to yourself, grateful he can’t see your face.

There’s some conversations you have in your life which feel as though they guide you and shape you into who you become. Some interactions carry such weight that you want to tether the words together and wear them like a necklace as to never let them drift. You have a notion that this entire night with JJ is that for you. You never want to forget the feeling of his fingers on your body, his mouth on your neck, his tongue on your chest, his arms around your frame, his voice against your pillow, and his answers to your questions. As if deciding this, you push yourself tighter into his hold. He responds easily, his own grip tightening by a slight, and you let your eyes slip shut.

“You gonna sleep over?” you ask.

“Maybe.”

That isn’t a no. You smile. It wobbles when he untethers himself from your body only moments later though. At first you think he might be getting more comfortable, but then you feel the mattress dip as he moves to sit on the edge. You sit up, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, and watch as JJ reaches down for his t-shirt.

“You’re going?”

“It’s late,” he says, back facing you as he dresses, “and I got work tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you mumble.

As if sensing your disappointment, once his t-shirt is over his head, he turns to you. A smile slips onto his face easily; it’s charming and disarming. You find your own smile returning at the sight. You feel your heart stutter and body throb as you remember how it felt to be tangled up with him less than an hour ago. JJ reaches out a hand and one of his fingers strokes along your cheek, cupping your chin before letting slip.

“I’ll see you around though.”

“Okay,” you nod. “You got my number, right?”

“Course,” JJ smiles. He stands, boxers already on, and shucks on his shorts. You stay in spot as if frozen, naked. He checks his hair in the mirror and messes with it a moment before grabbing his keys and phone from your desk. Then he takes the short steps to your bed and plants a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you,” he mumbles, pulling away, glancing at his phone, probably checking the time.

Then he walks out your room, closes your door, and leaves you in silence. You stare after him somewhat dumbfounded. The stupor ends at the sound of your front door slamming closed (thank God your parents aren’t home) and you sink back into the sheets. The smell of him lingers against the linens: sandalwood and seawater and sunscreen and sweat. You snuggle into the side where he had just laid, as if trying to keep close to him, and let yourself slip off.

***

Days stretch into one mundane strip of living. You go to work and clock in and clock out. You shamelessly watch your phone; switch it on and off from ‘do not disturb’ and feel the same dulling disappointment when there’s no notification from a certain blonde haired boy. The silence feels almost like a strategy. A way to keep him at the top of your thoughts. You tag along to keggars and parties and surf days with the underlying hope that you might bump into him again. But JJ’s scarce suddenly on the island. As the time passes, you find it harder to remember the pull of his body against yours, and the smell fades from your sheets. It’s like he never existed in your life let alone in your room.

When you agree to join Caitlin to yet another gathering at the boneyard, your expectations are as low as the tide. Two hours in and your cup is empty again. You venture to the kegstand and wait patiently behind the girl in front. A tap of a finger on your shoulder has your head whipping around.

“Hey,” JJ grins.

Your smile comes too easy. “Hey.”

“Didn’t know you were here tonight,” he says.

“Could say the same to you.”

“I’ve been busy,” he hums, taking a swig of his drink.

The girl in front finishes and you shuffle forward, eyes trained mostly on JJ. He’s in one of those muscle-tees - a rather useless piece of clothing - and the same shorts he’d worn when you two had hooked up. Before you can go to refill your cup, he takes it from you and does it on your behalf. It shouldn’t affect you the way it does.

“So, how you been?” JJ asks, holding your cup out to you.

“Good,” you say. You feel you shouldn’t mention how you’ve been thinking of him non-stop for the past week. “Working a lot.”

“Seen anyone lately?”

Eyebrows tugging together, you try to track the meaning. “Not really, no.”

“I just, uh, heard you might be hanging with Jamie P.,” JJ says somewhat casually.

You can’t help but laugh. “No, no. Definitely not.”

“Damn! Not the heat on Jamie P!” JJ chuckles.

You laugh again and then the two of you share a smile. He holds his cup out half-jokingly and you tap yours against the rim as he says, “well, cheers.”

And from there the night follows a similar to dance to the last time you hung out. Seemingly out of nowhere, JJ approaches, and he talks and he flirts, and you laugh and indulge and try to keep your cool. Just as before, the two of you come to the same fork in the road. Sat on a piece of old driftwood, side by side, practically shoulder to shoulder, JJ nudges his combatboot clad foot against your ankle.

“So, uh, your parents still away?”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “That was not smooth at all.”

JJ laughs, “what’d you mean!? I think that was pretty good.”

“Mhm,” comes your unconvinced reply.

Rolling his eyes, JJ now nudges his shoulder against yours. Your face feels burning hot so you opt to study your feet. His gaze on you feels like an infrared light, shining through you, studying your thoughts. Did he know how long you’d wanted him? How long you’d waited for him to notice you? A part of you longed to ask him why. Why now? What made you realise? You don’t, though. Instead, you find some courage and dampen your lips, glancing up at him to meet his eyes. There’s an undercurrent to his: something deep and sensual. You know that look now and can read right through it. It’s the first spark to your kindling.

“They’re not,” you quietly tell him, replying to his earlier question.

A small smirk tugs at the edges of his lips. “Ain’t they?”

“Mm-mm.” You shake your head.

JJ’s foot rubs at your lower leg, up and down, slow and without hurry. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s his stare, or maybe it’s a combination of everything, but you feel yourself crave it more and more.

“You wanna get outta here then?” he asks.

“Okay,” you mumble, smiling shyly.

JJ grins and downs the last of his drink, and you sip away the dregs of yours. Truth was, your cup had been nearly empty for a while, but you were scared he might slip if you left to get a refill. With JJ, you always had to monitor the rod.

Instead of walking to your house, this time JJ guides you to his bike. He chats as you go, telling you about something that happened at his job at the country club, and something he and John B (his best friend) got up to the other day, and you nod and listen, genuinely captivated by the life he leads. Any insight into his day-to-day living feels like reading a page from the Lord’s diary. You treasure his words and his energy, and his attention most of all. There’s little hesitation when you mount the back of JJ’s bike, wrapping your arms around his middle as he kicks off the stand and revs the engine. A dreamlike haze comes as the two of you dart down the streets of Kildare. When he whoops and hollers you can’t help but giggle, face pressed against his back, once more hypnotised by his whole being. He slows to a stop outside your house and helps you off the bike, and the two of your hands remained tethered as you guide him up to your door.

The moment you pass through, his lips are on yours, his hands cradling your body like you’re something precious. You’re glad to respond: sighing against his mouth, tongue teasing against his. His fingers are cool on your burning skin, slinking under your shirt and slipping over your bralette. It’s confusing and messy as the two of you stumble along the hallway, giggling when either of you collides with a piece of furniture or trip over a shoe. Soon enough, you’re back in your bedroom.

And then you’re naked atop of him, and he’s going down on you like it’s his God-given right, and you’re working him to the edge with your hand, pressing tantalising kisses to his neck and earlobe, and the two of you are fucking; a writhing, sweaty mess in your bed. Every noise he makes marks itself against your frontal lobe in permanent ink. Every press of his fingers into your flesh tattoos onto your neurons. Every moment is forever memorialised in your mind. And then it’s all over. He shakes when he comes, panting against your bare shoulder. You daren’t let go of him. All you can seem to think - a rather innocent thought in lieu of what just occurred - is how happy you could make him if he just let you.

This time, instead of cuddling, you find yourself sitting against him upright. He’s toying with your hair, working it into a braid, and when you complain that you’re cold, he hands you his t-shirt. That and his boxers are the only clothing keeping you apart from being skin to skin. You sigh and relax against him, and he decides to wrap his arms around your front now instead. His voice is warm and cosy like tennessee whiskey when he speaks against your ear, chin settled on your shoulder.

“You’re something real special, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, bashful.

“Nah, I’m serious. Like the smartest chick I ever met.”

“Can’t meet a lot of chicks then,” you try to jest.

“Yeah right,” JJ snorts.

Something in your stomach shifts at the mixed meaning. Something in your heart makes you overlook it. You bring your hands up to tether your fingers into his, clasping both your hands together over your stomach. Your fingers run over his knuckles; feeling every healed cut and bruising scar.

“Why me?”

“Huh?”

“Why me?” you ask, unable to hold off any longer.

JJ shrugs. “What’s that mean?”

“Like what made you choose me?” you say, not daring to look over your shoulder.

JJ clears his throat and sniffs, and a pause comes that’s hard to name. “I don’t know. You’re, uh…You’re fuckin' hot for one.”

You laugh quietly at that, the same way JJ does, and you try to tell yourself that that’s reason enough. But it isn’t, and he doesn’t elaborate, and suddenly his hold feels a little less comforting and a little more like a trap.

***

The seat of the campervan is uncomfortable enough without you writhing in it. JJ kneels on the floor in front of you. His palms are pressed against the inside of your thighs, holding you open, head nestled between them, and you’re doing your damndest to keep still but it’s hard when you’re this close. Half-broken pleas fall past your lips, your head tilted back, eyes slipping open and shut, as JJ eats you out. It’s like some filthy prayer, the sounds the two of you make together, and it makes it harder not to come. It’s not as though you can’t - you just don’t want it to end.

When JJ pulls away, though, you find it impossible to not fall over the edge. His fingers slip into you all too easily - embarrassingly so - and he sits back on his haunches, wiping the lower of his face clean on the back of his arm as he fingers you.

“Come on, baby,” he mumbles, watching you. “I know you’re close.”

Your voice cracks when you come and you’re not sure why.

By the time you’ve caught your breath, JJ’s already back on his feet and heading to the door of the van. You scramble to pull your skirt down as he yanks it open.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“Gotta take the van back to John B’s,” JJ says without turning, jumping out the back of the van.

You wipe your face and run a hand over your hair, feeling messy and dirty, and follow after him blindly.

“Can I come with?”

“Sure, I guess,” he shrugs.

You head to the passenger side and climb in. JJ starts up the engine and the two of you head to John B’s place. Now instead of your moans and JJ’s grunts, the van is filled with noises from the radio. Mindless chatter that you struggle to home in on, body still scrambled from your quick hook-up in the back. As usual, JJ doesn’t make much conversation. You like to think he prefers to observe and sit in a moment, though that feels strange considering how talkative he is around his friends. But if he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be. More often than not it was JJ who sought you out and you were more than happy to be found. Reminding yourself of this, you spare him a glance - his eyes trained ahead on the road, a line set on his face for a mouth - and smile smally to yourself.

John B’s house is a fishing shack on the marsh edge. There’s few lights on from outside at this hour of dusk. The two of you climb out and you follow JJ dumbly to the door, unsure whether to reach for his hand or not. He doesn’t knock. Walks right in as if it’s his home as well and hollers out for John B once he does. You linger in the doorway.

John B rounds the corner and the two share a bro-style hug, falling into conversation as JJ hands over the keys. You keep your smile steady and hang back, and soon enough John B’s eyes fall on you. As they do, JJ gestures between the two of you.

“Oh, right, uh,” he says before introducing the two of you. There’s no label prior to your name. Not even friend. You aren’t sure what to make of that and so you don’t make anything of it. You aren’t sure what to make of the look John B shoots to JJ either. Whatever it was, it doesn’t seem to sit well with JJ. He turns to you and wordlessly guides you out the house and onto the porch. The door swings closed.

“So, uh, listen,” JJ says, glancing back inside briefly. “I’m gonna crash here for the night, yeah?”

“Oh,” you say. “Okay.”

JJ looks at you, briefly scanning up and down. His lips rub together. “So, uh, you’re good making your own way back right?”

“Oh,” you repeat, more stunned this time.

“I mean, I can give you a ride if you need–”

“No, no, it’s, uh, all good,” you ramble. “It’s not even that late anyway. Or that far.”

“You sure? I mean, I really can if you need me to,” JJ says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I got it,” you smile, fighting back a wince as you do. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah, course.” JJ finally seems to find his own smile, and you try to let it reassure you as it had before. You really do try.

“Well, see you ‘round then,” you awkwardly say, heading down the porch steps.

You begin to walk up the drive and decide to take one last glance back as you do. It’s perfectly in time to see the shutter door close and hear JJ’s loud chatter with John B. When you round onto the road, the silence feels deafening.

***

The gaps in yours and JJ’s interactions felt familiar now. That was just how you two worked. That’s to say, when he winds up at the restaurant you work at with his friends, you’re taken aback all the same. A smile comes to your features as quick as your heart is beating. You scoop up some menus before anybody else has a chance to and venture over to their table.

“Hey guys,” you smile.

JJ’s head darts up at the sound of your voice. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even look happy. If anything, he looks panicked. It feels as though the world tips slightly on its axis.

You hand out the menus. “You guys need to know the specials today?”

“Yeah, please,” the girl smiles. You recognise her vaguely from school and JJ’s instagram. Kiara, you think her name is. She’s gorgeous: sunkissed and toned, her hair intertwined with tiny braids and wrists decorated with handmade bracelets. She sits in between JJ and John B.

“We got a Thai chilli salmon today with grits and seasonal veggies, and sweet potato soup with garlic seasoning. Can I get y’all any drinks?”

“Waters would be great,” Kie replies.

You nod and try to catch JJ’s eye before leaving. He’s staring steady at the table. As you fill a jug full of water, you can’t help but glance at the table from time to time. Kiara excuses herself, heading towards the bathroom, and the tone completely shifts. John B grabs JJ by the shoulder and talks to him in a stern manner, though you can’t make out what they say. The other guy (Pope, you think his name might be) nods along emphatically to whatever John B is saying, and with all their attention taken up, you slowly make your way over with the water.

“It’s fucked up JJ. You gotta tell her before she finds out–”

Pope must spot you in his peripheral vision as his eyes momentarily widen.

“Water!” he loudly announces.

John B and JJ quickly break apart. The blonde haired boy looks borderline sheepish as you place the jug down. An uneasy feeling sets in your gut. Kiara returns and joshes them for acting so strange. Nobody laughs and nobody talks.

“Y’all ready to order?” you ask, pen and pad at the ready.

“We’ll just do a large serving of your fries and some onion rings,” Kiara replies.

You scribble it down and nod. You don’t bother trying to catch JJ’s attention this time. Mumbling out a thanks, you head back to the kitchen. Caitlin doesn’t ask questions when you ask her to take over the table for you. It hurts too much to have JJ act as though he doesn’t know you. It feels as though a bird has flown by and erased his memory; cleansed him of all past sins, including you.

It's an understatement to say it catches you off guard when JJ lingers behind to talk to you after his friends leave.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the counter.

“Hey.”

“I’m, uh, sorry ‘bout that, earlier,” he uselessly apologies.

“It’s cool.”

“It’s just kinda complicated cause of…Well, you know…”

“Yeah, course,” you mumble, not having a clue what he was meaning.

“So, yeah, I just think…I think maybe we should dial it back a bit,” JJ not-so-delicately says.

Your brows tug together. “What are you talking about?”

“Just us. Y’know, this thing? I think it’s kinda run its course. Done what it needed to do and stuff, don’t you think?”

You stare at him a moment, completely baffled. It feels as though he’s spent the past month building you up, working you onto pedestals, only to tear them down from beneath you and watch you fall. You sort of hate yourself for not asking for more of an explanation. Instead, almost stupefied, you nod.

“Yeah, uh, okay.”

JJ grins, bright and happy, seemingly pleased by the amicable conclusion. His knuckles rap lightly against the counter in farewell.

“I’ll see you around then,” he says, already starting toward the door. You don’t even bother trying to reply.

***

It shouldn’t surprise you all that much. He isn’t known for being loyal, or committed, or even present. JJ had a reputation that was hard to shake, and whilst some of it was thanks to his father, some of it was thanks to him. It shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Maybe it’s because of who he’s with. Maybe it’s because it’s Kiara who’s hanging on his arm, laughing at his jokes, leaning on him like you got to do for a handful of weeks. Maybe it’s because you know how long JJ and Kiara have been friends, and how this doesn’t feel meaningless. If anything, it feels the opposite.

Those feelings fester inside of you. Bury deep in your stomach and poison your mood. Hurt of that kind does things to a girl. It makes them bitter and vengeful, and suddenly karma becomes your kink. You stand on the far side of the beach with your friends, tuned out of the conversation, gaze set on JJ. He must feel it. It isn’t exactly a stare, there is little malice in your eyes, but it’s steady-set like an eagle watching prey. When JJ glances over and meets your line of sight, you can’t seem to look away. You want to do something hurtful to him, something savage and cool, but you can't find it in yourself. All you can remember is how he smells: sandalwood and seawater and sunscreen.

Kiara presses a kiss to his cheek as she breaks off to grab a refill and you find yourself following her course. It shouldn’t bring you as much joy as it does knowing JJ can’t do anything but watch.

The two of you arrive at the keg at the same time. She catches sight of you and smiles. Greets you and double checks your name, smiling moreso when she gets it right.

“So, you and JJ, huh?” you lightly ask, filling your cup.

This dopey smile flashes across her face as she glances over her shoulder to him. You feel sick and pray it doesn't show. “Yeah. It’s pretty new.”

“I’ll say,” you reply. Only last week, he had his head between my thighs. “He’s sweet though, right?”

“Yeah,” Kie chuckles, sort of rolling her eyes. “When he wants to be.”

As she fills up her cup, you look over her shoulder to JJ. He's watching the interaction like his life depends on it. Maybe it does. He gives a slight shake of his head. It’s subtle but it’s enough.

Kiara stands tall once more and you casually tap the rim of your cup against hers in a mock cheers, just as JJ had done to you a couple of weeks prior. She smiles at you.

“We should hang out more, y’know,” she says to you, taking a swig of her drink. “You’d get along good with JJ, I bet.”

You just nod.

“Well, I better head back,” Kiara says in farewell. She wanders back to JJ.

You stand steady and watch them reconnect. Watch how she wraps her arms around his shoulders and falls into conversation with John B. Watch how his arm stays steady held around her waist as she does: the quiet possessiveness and protectiveness that comes with such an action. It fills you with a confusing influx of emotions.

But you’ll never talk about it. Don't need to. It's pretty clear, here and now.

August was a placeholder for JJ. You were the ideal distraction from the girl he wanted the most. So blinded in your infatuation, so obvious in your obsession, that JJ could get his affection temporarily from another. But you don’t really have a basis to be angry, do you? After all, how can you lose something that was never truly yours.

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #jj x kiara #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jiara #jiara obx #outerbanks fic #outer banks fic #kiara

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hiding-in-my-blanket-fort · 3 months ago

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Friends to lovers headcanons with Tyler Harrison (gender neutral Reader)

Teasing! So much teasing and playful banter. Literally EVERYONE knows it’s flirting and they poke fun at you both. “God, just make out already.” “Get a room, you two!”

Tyler likes to rough house, and you have no problem playing rough right back.

Maybe because it helps you cope with those goddamn butterflies in your stomach every time there’s any physical contact between you two.

But sometimes the rough housing goes a little too far by accident. Generally, when it comes to you, Tyler pulls his punches. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, especially not because of him.

When you catch an elbow to the face though, GOD, HE FEELS SO GUILTY. He immediately screeches to a stop and checks to make sure you’re okay.

When he cups your face and angles your head to look at him…brain.exe has stopped working, error 404 not found. You’re tongue tied like an idiot.

Bjorn often talks smack about you, but Tyler doesn’t tolerate it. He’ll snap at Bjorn to shut the fuck up and leave you alone.

You get to see a side of Tyler that no one else gets to see. He shares his insecurities with you, his greatest fears, his worries, his nightmares - all of it.

The first time he did it, he swore you to secrecy. You could tell that he was worried you would blab to other people.

But you never did. You kept his secret, and he gradually opened up to you more. Late night chats were a common occurrence between you two where you would just talk about anything and everything, spilling your guts. And in the morning, you felt lighter, knowing you had each other’s backs.

If you get harassed in a public place - on the street, at a shop, on market day, etc - Tyler won’t hesitate to pretend to be your boyfriend. Slinging an around your shoulder or waist and pulling you into his side protectively.

“There you are, babe. Been looking everywhere for you,” he says with a kiss to your temple and a glare at the offender who has been pestering you.

Afterward, Tyler is absolutely insufferable. He’s so smug about it!!! Gloating like, “I was a pretty good boyfriend back there, huh?”

Neither one of you will admit your feelings for each other though. You just can’t take that risk. You don’t want to ruin your friendship.

The two of you can’t deny it anymore when Tyler gets into a fight over you.

Someone on the street made an inappropriate, crass comment toward you.

Tyler saw red.

The next thing you knew, you had to drag him away with bloodied knuckles and a black eye, otherwise you were scared he might kill the guy with his bare hands.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ty? I’ve never seen you like this!”

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you that way!”

“That doesn’t mean you pick a fight over it!”

He storms off, and you’re left there bewildered, wondering what the hell was going on.

Later that night, Tyler knocks on your door. He’s quiet, head bowed, hands braced on your door frame.

“I’m in love with you.” His voice sounds utterly wrecked. “I thought - I thought it would go away if I ignored it. But I…it’s not working.”

You stand there gaping like a fish. He looks more and more green around the gills by the second.

“Say something. Please. Tell me I didn’t just make the biggest screw up of my life.”

You step forward, sliding your hands inside his coat, around his waist.

When you press your lips to his in a kiss, Tyler sighs with relief and you can feel him smile against your mouth as he kisses you back.

Masterlist

#alien Romulus #alien Romulus Tyler #Tyler Harrison x reader #Tyler Harrison imagines #alien Romulus Tyler imagines #alien Romulus imagines #alien Romulus x reader #Tyler Harrison fics #writing tag #archie renaux

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

Text

inspired by @binibinileonara's idea :D

ok but imagine miguel with an airheaded personality but super smart gf like

miguel o'hara with a genius, airheaded girlfriend (headcanons + blurbs !!)

he could never fathom at first how you could be so amazingly smart, the real problem fixer for nearly everything, finding all the little things that need correction in the plans he comes up with–but also be so oblivious at times.

he appreciates how sweet you are, but he doesn't like it when you give other people the same attention you give him, with you not really seeing anything wrong with being friendly with miguel and everyone else all the same.

when he gets mad, you're the only one who can bare him (hell you even tease him that he'll look way older if he frowns again when he's irritated).

he loves how you can go from proposing solutions to multiversal threats that can undo everything that has ever come into existence in the blink of an eye to petting kitties the next moment and giving them names after kinds of fish.

he can never have a serious, adult conversation with you, you're too busy staring at his hair and thinking how nice it'd be to touch it, how fluffy it'd be.

"are you even listening to me?" miguel asks you with a scowl on his face as you absentmindedly gaze up at his hair's curls. "are you listening to me?" he asks you again as he gently grabs your cheeks and brings your eyes to look into his. "you have such puffy hair, miggy." you say with a smile as he grumbles. "is it that hard for you to focus on what i'm saying?" "when you've got tufty locks like that, yes, it is." you said as you instinctively reached out for his hair, with him reluctantly letting go of you and sitting down for you to run your hands across his hair.

you take advantage of the fact he isn't as good with technology as you are and intercept his calls all the time just to play 'barbie girl' or 'california girls' to piss him off.

he does appreciate how cute you are when you're being an airhead sometimes, especially if you had a childish side to you that liked things just as cute, sweet, and adorable as you.

(((you were the one who made the miggy doll)))

he does wonder sometimes how you can monitor the multiverse while playing games on the side. he has told you repeatedly to focus, but you tell him all the time that you can focus on everything, it's easy for you, he's just being a perfectionist.

if you're easily distracted by sweets, like just drop all your work to have a bite of something sweet, miguel would bait you to quit teasing him with some candy. or if you're being difficult and don't wanna help on a mission because you're too tired or stubborn that day, he baits you with sweets.

"please, i won't ask for anything more after this, i just need you to coopera–" "no, it's naptime." you said as you were about to head to your private quarters. miguel blocks your way with his massive figure, with your grumbling under your breath as he stares you down. he pulls out a bag of your favorite candies, which catches your attention. with widened eyes, you look up at him and back at the candies. "will you please cooperate now?" he asked you as you snagged the bag from his hands and snacked on one of the candies. "okay, maybe i will. it's child's play anyway, let me help." you said with a cheeky grin as miguel groaned. he loved you dearly, but it was like you were always getting your way with him. though he didn't hate it, you really were cute like this.

i just know you get stuck in some of the spider people's webs sometimes, especially when you're goofing off with their webshooters. and who's gonna save you?

"miggyyyyyyyy..." you called for him as you hung upside down by the ceiling, wrapped in synthetic webbing as miguel entered the room, seemingly unfazed by your current state. he sighed as he sliced you free of the web restraints and caught you in his arms. "miggyyyyy!" you cooed his name as you snuggled up close against his chest. "why do you keep doing this?" he asks you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiling as you were now in his arms. "maybe i just wanted to be in your arms for a change..." "or you just love being an irresponsible little brat." he murmured as you giggled and looked up into his eyes.

"but you'll save me anyway, right? then i guess my plan worked." you said with a sly smile as miguel threatened to drop you. "no, miggyyyyyy..." you whimpered as you clung on to his neck as he let go of you. he sighs reluctantly as he scoops you up and carries you around, not minding the onlookers who'll stare you being carried like a baby by this man.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @jrrantss @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold @luvstarrstruck @arachnoia

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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