#somebody PLEASE convince me that he’s a good guy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ckret2 · 3 months ago

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What's your stance on Ford as a person? Honestly, I believe that for thr majority of canon he is a bad person. But I believe he grew. Still not great though XD

(Love him anyways obvs)

I disagree entirely! I think he's equally as good a person as any of the other main cast.*

*Except Mabel, who, as we all know, is always right about everything.**

(**This is a lighthearted joke. For the love of god, I don't want Mabel discourse in my inbox.)

His biggest sins in the show:

After telling his brother that he was thinking about changing their shared life plans, and then discovering that his brother had gone to the high school that night for no good reason and gone to the science fair for no good reason and messed around near Ford's science project for no good reason and broke it and didn't tell Ford about it... Ford believed Stan did it intentionally and held a grudge for it. You know what, it WOULD be pretty damn hard to believe it was an accident.

Hilariously ill-equipped to cope with Fiddleford's mental health. A guy who responds to "I have anxiety" with "have you tried yoga, it helps me" isn't a bad person, he's clueless. "Character cheerfully enacts a bad idea while a loved one in the background goes NO PLEASE DON'T DO THAT" describes half the episodes of Gravity Falls.

Was successfully manipulated by a professional manipulator into believing his best friend wished him ill. Man, what a terrible person Ford is for being manipulated by a manipulator and saying cruel things to somebody he'd been genuinely convinced was trying to harm him.

??? Didn't say thanks to a guy he was still mad at after the guy fixed a problem he himself had caused. This is a solitary example of stubborn bad etiquette, jesus christ. There's half a dozen different reasons why it makes perfect sense Ford wasn't in the right mindset to feel grateful, this is not something worth indicting his entire character over.

He had high ambitions, which everyone seems to lambast him for, but high ambitions that wouldn't have required doing anybody harm! (Until the professional manipulator started manipulating him into harming the people around him, but we are going to demonstrate some reading comprehension and not blame Ford's underlying morality as a person for things he never would've done if not for Bill's bullying, con artistry, and outright lies.) Like, what is it that he wanted to do with his life? Use his talents to get rich and famous? Shit, that's exactly what Stan wanted to do with his life. It's what Dipper fantasizes about doing with his life. Even Mabel, who thinks about her long-term future the least, dreams big with her art & performances and is already making big money off cheap-ass commissions. What terrible people they all are, for—let me check my notes here—uhhh... unrealistically fantasizing about achieving success in life by doing the things they're good at.

When their dad accuses Stan of lying as a child, Ford puts his entire summer on the line to defend Stan even though he knows Stan is a habitual liar and has no reason to believe Stan is telling the truth this time.

When his new college roommate he barely even knows gets laughed at for proposing an outlandish scientific theory, his first emotion is outrage at this injustice and he drops everything to convince his already-despondent roommate that he was right and help him prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

When he moves to a new town, he tries again and again to befriend his new neighbors, and fails not because he's rude or a jerk, but because he's awkward as hell, tells terrible jokes, and sucks at identifying phoenixes.

When Fiddleford gets hurt around him, he cares about it, feels guilty about putting him in that position, doesn't want it to happen again, and tries his best to help even though he's bad at helping.

When he gets kidnapped by a weird holiday folklore creature, he concludes without even thinking about it that he's now in charge of protecting and rescuing the kidnapped kids. Yeah, then he immediately starts hollering at the folklore creature for trying to impose his religious beliefs on Ford and the kids—but like, Ford was right tho, he just had bad timing.

When he discovers that the Northwest family committed atrocities against their poorer neighbors a century ago, his first instinct is to march up to their house, find the first Northwest he can locate, and give them a piece of his mind for it. Like, this won't even FIX anything. He's just THAT OUTRAGED over the injustice.

When he sees what he thinks is a fortune telling fraud conning the people, he attempts to debunk her because he's mad to see someone cheating other people with lies—and when he can't debunk her, he just leaves her alone rather than harass her about it. Typically, if assholes think somebody's doing something wrong but don't have any proof of it and fail to get proof when they look, they decide they're right anyway and keep giving that person shit. Ford doesn't give her shit. That's the opposite of an asshole move.

When he discovers his Portal To Knowledge (And Fame & Fortune) is actually a Portal To Doom (But Still Possibly Fame & Fortune, Maybe Even Godly Power), he isn't tempted for a second to keep working on it anyway. There is no moment where Bill manages to tempt him. No matter what Bill offers, no matter how long Bill offers, never, at ANY point, does Ford have a SECOND of "but what if I did make a deal with the devil?" the way so many heroes in similar situations often do.

You ever notice that? So often moral moments in the show are presented as choices the characters make. Will or won't Dipper give Bill a "puppet" in exchange for knowledge. Will or won't Stan fight a pterodactyl to protect Mabel's pig. Will or won't Mabel hand Bipper the journal. Ford is never given a "will or won't he" moment over Bill's threats, offers of friendship, or offers of infinite power—he steamrolls straight past them without a second of consideration—because, to him, the selfish, cowardly, easy choice ISN'T EVEN AN OPTION. He doesn't even SEE it as making a choice because the possibility of doing the wrong thing is invisible. A character who wavers first before turning Bill down would look more noble for "overcoming" temptation—it's harder to notice just how much stronger Ford's moral compass must be to not even feel temptation in the first place.

Greed and pride never tempt him to join Bill's side. Exhaustion, despair, and fear never tempt him to give up. He bears up under weeks, possibly months of extreme sleep deprivation, physical torture, psychological torture, emotional torture, threats of death, threats of brainwashing, threats to his family. He doesn't hold up so that he can pat himself on the back for being a hero—if that was all it was he would've gone "screw it, this isn't worth it and nobody would know I'm the one who gave up" a week in—he does it because he simply knows it must be done and because he's so isolated (half because of Bill's influence!) that he believes he's the one who must do it, all alone.

Thinking he has to do it by himself isn't egotism or pride; it's helplessness. He thinks no one else stands a chance. He thinks he's alone.

And, when he discovers his Portal To Knowledge is a Portal To Doom, he immediately feels guilty. No trying to deny the situation to protect his ego. No shuffling the blame off to someone else. No "maybe the apocalypse could have a silver lining!" No locking the door and trying to ignore the problem. He blames himself for being fooled—he IMMEDIATELY takes full responsibility for his actions—and he CONTINUES to take responsibility FOR THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS.

He takes more responsibility than is even warranted—he treats himself like he's an idiot for believing in an APPARENT GOD who's been practicing manipulating humans for thousands of years and who had never given Ford reason to believe the portal was anything but what Bill said it was. He beats himself up to no end every single time his past with Bill comes up. He even keeps beating himself up thirty years later when he's shoving warning notes to future readers in Bill's evil unkillable book!

When he falls into the multiverse, he dedicates his entire life NOT to finding a way to rescue himself, but to finding a way to permanently stop the CHAOS GOD who's still at the threshold of destroying Ford's world and countless others. He makes himself a hated criminal in the process, just to stop Bill. He's ready to spend the rest of his life trying to protect a world he doesn't think he'll ever see again. He does it because, as he sees it, somebody has to stand in between the children and the obnoxious folklore cryptid menacing them, and he's the only adult in this damn cave with the skills and knowledge for the job.

When he gets home, he doesn't tell his family about Bill and his quest because he's afraid that doing so will get them involved and endanger them too—and because he's too deeply ashamed of himself and his mistakes to stand the thought of his family knowing about the horrible things he's done (AGAIN, WHILE BEING MANIPULATED BY THE GOD OF MANIPULATION).

He loves his great-niece and great-nephew the second he lays eyes on them; he nevertheless tries to steer away from them to keep them safe from Bill; and yet he caves to the very first temptation to emotionally bond with his great-nephew he gets, because in spite of his noble "keep them safe" intentions, he wants so so badly to be close to his family.

As pissed as he still is at Stan and even though neither of them can look at each other without hissing like cats, he still makes an attempt to start bridging their divide by inviting him to play DD&MD.

When the apocalypse happens, he immediately puts his life on the line to try to kill Bill.

And when he's captured, isn't fazed for a second by Bill's offers or threats... until his family is threatened. The exact thing he'd been trying to avoid & prevent from the very start.

And when he's reunited with Fiddleford, his immediate reaction is to point out that Fiddleford's well within his rights to hate him—which isn't a new revelation, it's not like Ford had to do any soul-searching to reach this conclusion, he'd concluded that 30 years ago the instant he realized Bill had played him and that he'd been lied to about Fiddleford.

And then he tries to kill Bill again.

And then he's ready to sacrifice his own life to kill Bill—and the only reason he doesn't is because he has a metal plate preventing him from making the sacrifice... but, Stan doesn't have a plate. If Ford hadn't had the metal plate, he would have gladly done the exact same thing Stan did—and he would have thought it was right for him and only him to make that sacrifice, because it's VERY clear he feels (and has felt from the start) that this is all his fault and he's obligated to fix it.

Over and over and over, these are Ford's two defining character traits: getting so pissed off at injustice that his common sense shuts off and he goes into terminator mode until he's righted this wrong as best he can, even when he can't actually do anything about it; and feeling like he's Atlas, weighed down with the full responsibility of fixing everything he's done wrong and made to believe that, for everyone else's sake, he has to do it all alone. Even when doing so puts himself in harm's way, even when he has to put his entire life on hold for it, even if it might cost him his life. Scrape off his awkward social skills, his loneliness, his nerdiness, his endless curiosity, his zealous love of the strange, his starry ambitions, his yearning for recognition and success—scrape his personality down to the bone and that's what you're left with. A man who believes in defending the exploited so strongly that it makes him a little stupid.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that you probably don't think Stan's fundamentally a bad person, and that you probably think that isn't even worth questioning. Stan's made a whole career out of swindling people, conning them out of as much money as he possibly can, stealing, lying, committing a long list of goofily-named crimes, and attempting douchy pick-up artistry on women; and to cap it all off, he held the safety of the entire universe hostage to demand a goddamn "thank you." Don't send me any "But he had reasons—" "But it was only to—" I don't need it, I don't want the essay, I'm not arguing that Stan's a bad guy, it's fine.

But. You can look at Stan's moments of cruelty and unkindness, his uncharitable thoughts, his character flaws, and think, "that doesn't define him. He's more than his cruelest moments and worst mistakes. He's imperfect, but he cares so much and his heart's in the right place, and beneath all the flaws his core is good."

And if you can't do the same for Ford, it's not because he's a worse person. It's because we got two seasons with Stan and five and a half episodes with Ford—and while we saw Stan yearning to fish with the kids or encouraging Mabel to whoop Pacifica's butt at minigolf or crying over a black and white period drama or punching zombies to save his family, we only saw Ford at the worst moments in his life and under the stress of a prolonged apocalyptic crisis—and, it so happens, all the moments he was pissed at the guy we spent two seasons learning to love.

Ford's got moments of cruelty and unkindness, uncharitable thoughts, and character flaws. But, at his core, he's a good person, and he always has been, and he still is.

#anonymous #ask #gravity falls #grunkle ford #ford pines #(note to self: when you see an ask that makes you go 'god i don't wanna get into this; i'll type something quick & punchy and move on'—)#(—do NOT start typing something 'quick & punchy' when your adhd meds are wearing off.)#(they WILL last just long enough for you to snap into a hyperfocus but not long enough for you to have the power to stop typing.)#(i'm thirsty.)#meta

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reiding-writing · 1 year ago

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Idk if u ever write this or not but... i've been thinking abt this lately....... spencer and reader debating about "kissing is a lot more hygienic than shaking hands" and they just suddenly kiss afterwards AHHHH I DONT KNOW IF YOU GET MY POINT but thats that

ACCEPTABLE GREETINGS — SPENCER REID!

Spencer is an avid believer that kissing is a better greeting than shaking hands. You’re not convinced at his notion of it being ‘completely acceptable’, and in attempting to prove him wrong, you end up proving something else.

spencer reid x gn!reader | fluff | 1.5k | masterlist!!

a/n: here is my immediate apology for the sheer amount of angst in my last fic i love you guys please don’t hate me 🫶

“Kissing is so much more hygienic than shaking hands,”

Spencer’s expression matched his statement, confident in his assessment and unwilling to back down on his stance of not wanting to shake hands with other people.

“It’s unhygienic,” He would say, “There are hundreds of undiscovered bacterial colonies that live on people’s hands,”

“That doesn’t change the fact that kissing somebody is not an acceptable greeting Spencer,” You arbitrarily turn your swivel chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot, rolling your eyes as you lean your head over the back of your chair.

You’d been talking about this topic for almost half an hour, your file assessment of your most recent case forgotten on your desk as you debate with Spencer as he sat directly opposite you.

“Several European countries use kissing as a customary greeting,” Of course he had a rebuttal to your comment. “It actually dates back to the Romans, who, as my original statement supports, used it as a way to stop diseases from spreading between people during social greetings,”

His face told you that he was singing his own glory in his head, victory written in the small wrinkle in his eyebrow and the quirk of his smile.

If he wasn’t so cute when he looked at you like that you’re sure you would’ve found something else to say. Something to continue this debate of yours and satisfy the competitiveness riddling your brain.

But instead you opt to let him revel in his ‘victory’, rolling your eyes as a soft “Whatever,” rolls off your tongue.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were going to prove your point.

You might think Spencer is perfectly sweet and innocent in his ways, but that didn’t stop that tiny voice in the back of your head that told you that you could win that debate you were having the day before.

You entered the bullpen with an agenda. You walked out of the elevator with your head held high and your eyes fixed on the fluffy brown mess decorating the back of Spencer’s head.

You clear your throat when you meet him, and he turns around with that perfectly innocent expression on his face, echoing a soft “Good morning,” at you that only amplifies his perfectness and makes you want to prove him wrong even more.

You don’t consult him before you lean in to press your lips to his face.

It’s a short, chaste kiss that’s pressed to the apple of his cheek.

It lasts less than a second.

And yet Spencer’s face immediately flushes a bright red that would make anyone passing by think that you’d suggested the two of you strip naked in the middle of the office.

“I- What was that for?-” His voice wavers like he was catching his breath from running up a flight of stairs, blinking rapidly at you like clearing his vision was going to provide him with the answer to his question.

“Not such an acceptable greeting after all hm?”

It takes him a second to realise what you’re talking about, but your smug expression and the way you cross your arms over your chest sends him back to the conversation he was having with you yesterday and his face turns from confusion to begrudging acknowledgment.

“It is a perfectly acceptable greeting when both parties are aware it is going to happen,” He sighs along with his response, mirroring you as he crosses his arms to try and resemble having some sort of composure.

He intentionally left out the part where even if he knew you were going to kiss him he would still flush red like a traffic light.

That his palms would still sweat and his vest would suddenly become uncomfortably hot on his torso.

But that was because you were- well, you.

So his point still stood.

“God you really do have an answer to everything don’t you?” The slight tilt of your head and the still very apparent smile on your face told him that despite your words you weren’t angry or annoyed at his response.

You more looked like you’d been presented with a freshly scrambled rubix cube to solve and add to the collection on your desk.

And that look on your face only proved to crack his composure even more.

“Well- I have done extensive research on the subject, so I therefore have had chance to form a fully educated opinion of the matter,”

True to form, his explanation was smart, logical, mixed in with that adorable awkwardness as he continued to reel from his earlier flustering.

Your chuckles grace his ears with no objection, and he soon find himself smiling softly alongside you as your attitude rubs off on him.

“You’re so cute,”

But when you call him cute, Spencer Reid finally, fully cracks because that is the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life.

Spencer’s smile reaches his eyes, the flush on his cheeks returning with a vengeance at your words and causing him to feel hot once more despite the AC blowing at a comfortable cool temperature.

You hold up a finger in front of you that his eyes follow with a confused knit in his eyebrow, and then you’re jogging back towards the elevator with his confusion only growing at every step you make.

His eyebrows continue to furrow as you walk back towards him again with that determined look that paints your face whenever you’re knee-deep in a profile, and he raises and eyebrow as you come to a stop in front of him once more.

“Good morning Spencer, i’m going to kiss you as a greeting now,”

Spencer’s face relaxes at your words as he understands what you’re doing. That you’re trying to prove his previous statement untrue by declaring your intentions beforehand and still having the interaction be unsuitable as a greeting.

He thinks he knows what you have planned, and he prepares himself for your lips to press against his cheek, to suppress the kaleidoscope of butterflies that would inevitably stir in his stomach at your contact so that he could hold his ground.

He thinks he knows what’s coming.

But oh is he wrong.

Your lips miss the apple of his cheek by a large margin, landing square on his mouth and causing his eyes to fly wide open at the new sensation.

If your lips weren’t pressed to his he’s sure his jaw would’ve fallen slack.

And that’s exactly what happens when you pull away from him a few seconds later, a delicate flush on your cheeks that contrasts the bright red covering his face like a warning sign of his shattered composure.

You stifle a small chuckle at his expression with your hand, tilting your head in a exaggeratedly innocent way. “What’s wrong Spencer? I thought kissing was an acceptable greeting when ‘both parties are aware it’s going to happen’,”

You reiterate his own words back to him, mimicking his tone in your explanation as you watch him blink at you with a blankly flabbergasted expression, completely shut down in every sense of the word.

An IQ of 187 slashed down to 60 as Emily would say.

His astoundment lasts for a whole 20 seconds before he brings himself back to reality through a series of rapid blinks, doing nothing more than leaning it to finish the space between you once more.

It’s times like this where Spencer is glad that the two of you were both chronically early to work.

That he wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications of his actions through his coworkers.

That he didn’t have to endure Morgan’s teasing as he stood there with his hands holding either side of your face and his lips pressed against yours with a gentle but insistent pressure.

You were more than happy to accept his advances, internally singing your own praises at finally finding an excuse to kiss those perfect pink lips of his, and have him return it no less.

He breaks the moment after a few seconds, his hands still securely cupping your face towards him as he stumbles out a half-assed explanation for his actions.

“It’s- It’s polite to return somebody’s greeting with one of your own-”

You nod with a suppressed smile against the hold of his hands.

Maybe kissing your coworkers was an acceptable greeting after all.

Or, at least for the coworker you’d been pining after.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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jenicaclarisse · 5 months ago

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YUNO GRINBERRYALL

Dating the notorious Yuno!

summary: dating the vice captain of the Golden Dawn is an experience you don’t want to let go.

genre: fluff (obvi) had to get him on here. How can he be so pretty? fanfic + headcanons cause I spoil all of you

A/N: I’m still an active member of the BC fandom and I’m thinking of making this a series. Please send requests of characters you want me to do!

;not proofread (💨)

———

Yuno isn’t the type to actively seek relationships, mostly just the type of person to reply and talk to somebody when first approached. And or somebody paired him up for a mission. So taking an interest in something other than being the best of the flock is new territory.

Getting to know him is getting to know him entirely. Despite his detached nature, Yuno is actually very open to getting to know you. Already seeing you as a romantic interest despite his goals, ambitions and dreams.

When actively entering the courting stage, Yuno is very competitive. Striving to let you know that you are one of his priorities and doesn’t see this “courting” as a one time thing. Don’t even bother speaking with other guys, Yuno will let you know he is interested.

His behavior changes, his demeanor is different too. It gets to the point his squad notices his absence after being done with a mission and is somehow nowhere to be found.

Klaus and Mimosa are naturally curious. What was he doing? What was he thinking of? Or who?

It’s perfect timing he was back in town.

“Do you think Yuno’s been disappearing lately?” Mimosa asks, walking with Klaus in the hall. She looks up at Klaus who was comically adjusting his glasses and posture.

“Yuno is responsible! We don’t need to worry! I think we should mind our own business!” Klaus shouts as he looks back at Mimosa who clearly knows better.

“You’re curious too.”

“..I’m not.”

Klaus continues to deny but is inevitably shut down. Mimosa has seen through anyway as he adjusts his glasses again with a resounding cough.

“Where do you think he went?” Klaus nervously asks, both he and Mimosa hiding behind a wall. Yuno looks to be waiting for somebody as he decides to indulge himself in some bread.

“Do you think we should even be spying? He’s a good man I assure you. Do you honestly think he’s being suspicious? Why do you-“

“Shhh shush!”

Mimosa puts a finger on her lip, effectively shutting Klaus up as he grumbles.

They continue to wait until they heard a voice. A magic knight from another squad! A girl…

“Yuno!” You happily greet him as you hugged him. Yuno is quick to reciprocate, patting your head as you let go of him. Yuno is seen with a soft smile as well.

“WHat!” Klaus’ voice breaks.

“Shhhh!”

Mimosa is quick to shut him up, but this time she puts a hand on his mouth to shut him up. Maybe she should’ve done the spying with a different partner.

“…They’re on a date.” Klaus surmises. After an hour pf following You and Yuno around town, he had made his conclusions. Klaus and Mimosa obnoxiously disguised themselves with accessories to prevent being recognized. Seeing the both of you holding hands and buying street food was convincing enough.

“Obviously!” Mimosa replies, holding a pair of binoculars as she continues to zoom on the both of you.

“Ahhm” You feed Yuno a piece of your crepe as he leaned down to eat his share. He goes back to his position as he hummed.

“Yummy.” Yuno wipes a piece of whipped cream from the corner of his lip.

Klaus is appalled!

Pointing and looking back to both of you, then mimosa, and again.

“Will you please calm down?” Mimosa exasperates.

“I just find it hard to believe!” Klaus is practically hyperventilating. “I didn’t take Yuno for the type!”

“He’s allowed to date.” She deadpans.

Eventually, the date comes to an end as Yuno walks you back to your headquarters. Dutifully letting you ride on his broom for more convenient travel. And an excuse to hold him (wink wink).

Both You and Yuno get off the broom as you dust yourself off. Yuno is quick to ruffle your hair again. Affectionately smiling at you as you hugged him goodbye.

“I really enjoyed my time.” Yuno tells you as you nodded.

“Thank you. It was really fun.” You smiled back at him and by the lords. You are beautiful.

Yuno gives you forehead kiss goodbye as you waved back at him and begin to enter the headquarters’ gates. Gazing at his back for a few more moments to savor more time to look at him.

You definitely have a story to tell much later.

Yuno stops in his tracks as he deadpans.

“I know you’ve been stalking me.” Yuno lets out a heavy sigh. Somebody flinches from behind a wall as a guilty Mimosa and Klaus makes their appearance. Klaus is adjusts his glasses again and clears his throat.

“We congratulate you!” He obnoxiously bows, as Mimosa scratches the back of her neck in an embarrassed manner.

“Impossible.” Yuno sighs and walked past the both of them.

“We did not think this was your after duties!” Klaus is quick to follow as well as Mimosa who right behind.

“How could you never tell us! We are your friends! Squadmates!” Klaus goes on a full rant. “We are supposed to tell each other everything! Aren’t we closer now?”

Before he gets to shout any further, Yuno was already on his broom and leaving.

“What idiots.”

———

HEADCANONS

When push comes to shove, you were eventually revealed as Yuno’s significant other. Causing an uproar with the people he was close with, particularly a certain sylph and an obnoxious person.

Needless to say Belle wasn’t the most happy. Grabbing and pulling Yuno’s face and hair in protest about getting a girlfriend. Her obvious glares towards and sometimes even stomping her feet.

“This is fairrr!!!” Belle screeches. “I was supposed to be your only love! Not that witch!” She grabs a fistful of Yuno’s cheek as she complained and complained. Glaring at you once again.

“Who even are you?!” She accuses you with a finger as you chuckled. “This isn’t a laughing matter!”

Yuno pushes away with his hand eventually, causing her to quiet down as she settles on his shoulder. She still doesn’t like you, but is afraid of Yuno’s disapproval. So she keeps put. But the jealousy is bleeding.

Meanwhile, Asta is swearing up and down like crazed man as he confront Yuno as they come across each other again.

“You jerk! You weren’t supposed to beat me in that department!” Asta holds his head as he rolled around on the ground. Passerby’s whisper as he whined. A child throwing a tantrum? Yeah. Looks like it.

Yuno merely smirks triumphantly.

“You pretty jerk!” Asta exaggerates. Continuing to get up on Yuno’s face as Yuno smirks, lifting his head up when Asta moves closer. But his screams eventually reside.

“But I’ll be wizard king! I’ll definitely surpass you!” Asta declares.

“No way.” Yuno counters.

“I’ll definitely will!” Asta is dragged off by Noelle. “Do you hear me? I definitely will!!”

Noelle slaps him across the head.

Yuno is genuinely so sweet to you as well. You cannot even deny the fact that he puts in effort to understand you more than he does with others. He makes you feel seen and heard.

And if you are the tempestuous type, he’s definitely the cool that’s gonna make you see reason.

He mostly calms you down with a gust of wind to your face and or he playfully teases you by messing your hair up.

You guys indulge in little challenges! Who gets to the end of the bridge first, who can finish a mission the fastest, or who can unlock a new spell in your grimoire. Let’s be honest, you loss on most of these things.

But Yuno lets you win from time to time, purposely running slower or maybe even challenging you to more activities. But don’t be fooled, it’s just a five second head start before he overpowers you. (Haha)

What he loves about you is that he feels comfortable around you (which is canon btw. His type is somebody who makes him feel comfortable. Which I believe you influenced that)

The fact that he can also participate in a conversation with you and or listen actively to you is his favorite past time.

He loves picnic dates because he gets to view the sky (and you)

He thinks you are the most beautiful woman in clover.

Belle still does not like you (lol) but Yuno is starting to slowly change her mind. But as of now she merely tolerates you.

Yuno absolutely loves food dates. Believe it or not he actually likes to get some scrub himself. As per charmie’s constant food she often gives. But mostly to restore his mana.

He loves trying new things with you. The relationship is rarely boring.

Whenever he’s busy he communicates with you with the communication wand. Often in private as he wonders off from the rest of his team. He definitely uses that communication device to his advantage to keep himself updated with you.

He thinks his fangirls are a pain.

Charmie wasn’t too happy with the news. She fainted with heartbreak but eventually accepted the power of the fates.

In conclusion Yuno’s a great boyfriend

———

reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated!

#black clover #black clover x reader fluff #black clover fluff #yuno x reader #yuno grinberryall x reader #yuno grinberryall x reader fluff #yuno fluff #yuno black clover #black clover fandom #yuno x reader fluff #black clover x reader #dating headcanons #yuno grinberryall #yuno from black clover #yuno grinberryall from black clover

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ryomens-vixen · 7 months ago

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420 w/ 90s Toji

CW: Toji himself is enough warning, rough sex, car sex, gun play, ass eating, profanity, reader is black coded and so is toji.

Author's note: If you have problem with me making toji speak in AAVE please don't hesitate to eat my fat ass about it, please and thank you.

Word count: YIPPIE Y'all finally get a word count! 2.6k ✨

Summary: If you ever wanted to get high the Toji here's your chance.

“Give yuh my fuckin babies bruh, I'ma give yuh my fuckin babies, Ma.”

How did you end up here? Going to pound town in the back of a Toji's big daddy truck, high as hell in a smoke filled truck- oh that's right you know how. It really started when you were out with the boys chillin- the boys meaning Satoru, Suguru, and Kento. You were watching them shooting hoops, Then the hood's hottest DILF and Whore pulled up with his kid- Megumi, he's such a cutie when he isn't mean muggin everyone and when he comes to his dad? Oh boy he doesn't play he's such a daddy's boy that Toji can't even pick up women without the lil boy tagging along. Megumi calls most of the shots anyways- if you're pretty to him that Toji will definitely fuck with you, if not? Ain't no use in talking to him, you're cooked.

Today T-Raw was up to no good as usual not only did he come to shoot some hoops, but he also came to pick up a couple of ladies to “take out” later on- Here is goes taking off that slutty tank top of his, not like he can ever keep his clothes on anyways, that fuckin slut- you couldn't stand him. You couldn't stand him because all he does is fuck around and drive all these bitches crazy about him- clearly his dick can't be that good to be chasing him around like that, or so you thought.

“you bet not cum on this dick yet bitch, I ain't done wit cho ass, c'mere!”

Fuck how did you get here… oh yeah that's right, it really started when they was playing B-ball. Megumi kept looking at you and since he's practically his father's wing man you were hoping the lil boy didn't think you were pretty, then he spoke to you- talking about the dogs at their house to showing you his gold chain Toji bought him. But then it happened megumi ran off to go tell his dad about you.. Just your luck right? Riiiiight..

The whole game stopped because megumi had so much to say about you, hell he even told the guys you're his new mama because of how beautiful you are and it had T-Raw checking you out even Satoru gassed him up to go holla at you.

“Her? Oh that's y/n, you tryna fuck on her? Shit she hard to talk to, but on ma the pussy good as fuck she was just fuckin on me and Suguru last week.” Satoru had promised he'd never tell a soul that y'all fucked, but you have known that not even Satoru himself could hold a glass on water.

And just like that Toji was convinced enough to come see bout you.

“Wass good ma”

“..... “

“Hello? Mamas, So you sit finna talk to me? C'mon ion bite, baby.”

“Don't sit up here tellin them lies we all know yo ass bite.”

He chuckled, “Got a lil attitude problem. I like dat mamas. how bout you come smoke with me later on tonight.”

“I'm not one of these other bitches Toji so go find somebody to play with cause it ain't me.”

“Sound like you ain't had no dick Inna minute-”

“Maybe I don't want no dick from you!?”

Yeah, that's how it all went down. You were giving him too much lip that it was turning him on, that's why he didn't let up on you. He wanted to put you in your bratty ass place once and for all because clearly Satoru and Suguru didn't do it right. Naw you obviously needed some dick from big daddy himself, T-Raw.

Now here you are sitting in his truck getting hot boxed to hell, while Satoru and Suguru babysit megumi for that night, and man did you get the feeling neither of y'all would be able to make it home after this smoke session.

“You Eva put a blunt in yo pussy? I'll light for you- We gotta get fat ma blazed too yah feel me?”

What the fuck did he just say? “Toji shut the fuck up!” You have to admit that was pretty funny and wild to say at a time like this, but he isn't so bad right? Wrong.

You couldn't tell if it was the Kush getting to you or what, but with every minute that passed by he started to look more and more attractive. “Keep it together bitch” is what you thought to yourself, you didn't want to fuck around and find out why all his bitches were so crazy over him.

“So when you gone put that pussy on me, mamas?”

What the hell did he just say?

“I know she wet as fuck f'me, come climb on daddy's lap fo a minute.” this whole time his hand had been gripping your thigh close enough to your coochie. Yeah she was wet- soaking wet actually, but you weren't willing to admit that.. At least not verbally, because your body betrays you.

Before you knew it you had succumbed to his slick mouth, but it's not like you didn't fight about it. Oh but he loves a good ole brat- he loves the way they break once they've had a taste of his ten inch punisher and you were gonna break for him too.

“Bet you won't suck dis dick”

“Yeah I BET I won't, the fuck?”

“So all dat freak shit you do wit gang and nem just fo show, huh? Knew you wasn't bout nothin”

“Excuse me?!” How the fuck did he even know about that?! I bet Satoru told him, yeah totally never fuckin him again.

“You heard me, Ma. Chu ain't bout dat life fo'real.”

“Says who? I do what the fuck I want, when I want and who I want.”

“I betchu won't come fuck me then.”

“Bet!”

It all started with you giving him the best toe curling head he ever had, the way you kissed on the tip, licked him up from Gooch to tip, the way you suffocated on his dick, yeah you took all ten inches and he loved every bit of it “Fuck, y- you a nasty bitch” is what he groaned, he felt so good he took a chunk of your hair into his fist and held you still so he could fuck that throat of yours. You were his bitch now, you definitely weren't going nowhere sucking his dick this good.

You thought it'd stop at that no- you found yourself eating this man's ass like a full course meal, like you were hungry and it wasn't even your idea, it was his and you can thank his old bitch for that. Man was he a freak having his legs in the fuckin air, lighting another blunt while he watches you eat his ass. This was way out of your league, eating ass? Not even Satoru and Suguru made you do this, but at least you learned a thing or two from fuckin around with Mei Mei and Shoko one time. Honestly you were scared to even put your tongue down there, thinking he was dirty, but he was surprisingly clean.

“Dirty ass bitch get in the back, c'mon” he was ready, and you were nervous. We're you gonna be like all these other bitches that fucked him and started acting crazy, or were you gonna treat like you treat Satoru and Suguru? It was hard to tell because you never heard any complaints about Toji unless it's about him not answering his phone or talking to other bitches, the works.

“Bet yo dick ain't even that big-”

“Shut cho ass up and bend ova bitch I'll show yo ass how big it is.”

That was your mistake- bending over. Toji pushed your skirt up over your waist and wasted no time ripping those sexy panties off. Your pussy was dripping for him, spreading your asscheeks apart Toji took his cock in hand and rubbed it all along your wet folds, teasing you while you waited anxiously for him to fuck you- so anxious that you started popping off at the mouth again.

“Can't find the hole ol’ man?”

“Can't wait to shut cho lil ass up-”

“Pus-”

Then it happened he shut you up with the quickness, ramming all ten inches into that tight wet pussy of yours. It felt like your body took a screenshot from feeling his cock hit your cervix like that all you could do was tremble and tear up. You felt so full, hell you felt like his dick was somehow in your chest it was so fuckin big that you could hardly adjust to it.

Reaching back to place your hand on his abdomen was your biggest mistake ever “Move yo fuckin hand” is all he said before take ahold of your arm, bending it it behind your back and using his weight to push his cock deeper into you as if it wasn't deep enough.

The only thing that gave you enough relief was when he pulled out, you could finally breathe that was until he rammed his cock back inside… over and over and over again. He was so rough it felt like your mind was going blank all you could think about was how good your feeling right now, how deep his cock is, how your moans were practically stuck in your throat, toji had your eyes rolling back he even put his blunt out on your asshole so he could focus on fuckin you, god he was a nasty, nasty man, no wonder everyone was crazy for him.

The truck was rocking, you finally let out a strained moaned, Toji was fuckin you so ruthlessly leaving hand prints on your asscheeks, pushing down on your lower back to make you arch some more for him, grabbing fists full of your hair as he leaned his weight into every thrust. Your mind was going crazy, but you weren't the only one- Toji was too. Not only was he high as all hell, he was starting to get drunk off your pussy. He was loving how tight you were around him, squeezing and sucking him back into you- in his mind you were doing this on purpose, throwing that pussy- HIS pussy back on him like that yeah to him you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Man fuck! Fuck you let then two fools hit before me?! Fuckin slut” God he put his weight into it again.

“Lil bratty ass bitch got nothin to say now, say sumthin else, come bitch say some more slick shit for daddy so I keep on tearin this pussy up!”

You were past cloud nine at this point everything felt good, his dick, his words, his thrusts, everything. You almost lost your mind when he reached out in front of you and grabbed his gun. That's when you realized how crazy this man is- he pulled out a damn gun!? For what!? Now you see why everyone is so crazy about him.

“T- Toji Wa-”

“Shut the fuck up” he pulled out panting and started rubbing the barrel of it against your wet folds. “How you gone feel if I put this glock 30 in this pussy? Hm? Talk to me mamas, I'm not fuckin done witchu”

“Toji i-”

“It's T-Raw, bitch.” You trembled the second he pushed the barrel inside your pussy. You couldn't tell if you were scared or excited, but you knew one thing he sure as hell was excited just from pumping your pussy with his glock.

“You's a nasty dirty ass, bitch, throwin back on MY gun, bet it ain't as good as this mufuckin pipe.” He had a cocky tone to his voice while he was gripping the hell out of his cock and fisting it vigorously. “Fuck it-” he tossed his gun to the side causing you the whimper from the sudden emptiness, but that was soon replaced with him slamming his cock back in, then reaching around you to grab ahold of the sides of your mouth as he drilled you, drool on his fingers and arm rest, drool on his cock that's how he liked it.

You could feel a knot in the pit of your pussy, you were so close, tears welled up in your eyes, you were going to burst at this rate, if he kept up brutal pace he'll be cleaning up coochie juice for weeks with the way you around to cum. You reached in between your legs to rub circles onto your clit to help get you to that big orgasm you've always wanted..

“T- T-Raw! F- Fuck! Daddy I'm gonna cum!”

Toji was so lost in your pussy it was almost like he was in another world, You were just too good for him. It was driving him crazy. He almost didn't register what you said at first, you? About to cum? Yeah no he couldn't have that yet, not until HE is done.

“you bet not cum on this dick yet bitch, I ain't done wit cho ass, c'mere!” Suddenly, He puts you into one of the meanest chokeholds you had ever been in, pulling your body onto his lap so that you're sitting on his fat cock with your legs propped up on the back on the front seats. Fuck he really wasn't done with you for real.

“Can't NOBODY fuck you like I do, you ain't gone be thinkin of nobody's dick, but mine after I'm done, you hear me bitch?! Take that shit, take it, take it, take it, Ah Fuck-!”

You couldn't breathe, your eyes were touching the back of your head, he was beating your pussy in and you couldn't do anything about it. His dick was good… too good in fact, he was slutting you out better than Satoru, Suguru, hell even Choso- but none of them know about that one. You could almost guarantee your brain chemistry has been altered just from the way he's trying to put his dick up your coochie, through your stomach and behind the left rib. All you could do now was take his dick like the good little bitch that you are.

“Give yuh my fuckin babies bruh, I'ma give yuh my fuckin babies, Ma.”

“Yes! G- Give it to me T-Raw! Give it to me Daddy!”

His thrust became sloppy and his grip around your neck tightened, he was definitely about to cum inside your sweet pussy, yet that's really you wanted now was for him to fill your pussy up with his baby batter. He let on one loud “Fuck” into your ear and rammed his dick inside you one more time, all you could feel so was his cock pumping his load inside you.

Once he was finished he let go of your throat, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. But the thing is you didn't get to cum yet and toji knew that and all he could do was smirk at your pouty lil face for not making you cum too.

“What? Yah mad bitch? Brats like yo ass don't deserve to cum.” He took his left over blunt and lit it.

“But since you was a good fuck I'll let you cum this once, but I ain't helpin, so bounce on dis dick all you want.”

“B.. But T-Raw”

“What the fuck did I just say? Huh? Get to fuckin bouncing, I'm waiting slut.”

You know it, you were going to be crazy just like all his other bitches after tonight… ain't no way you're going back to the boys, ever.

Tags: @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @ramonathinks @nkogneatho @tonycries @connorsui @honeeslust @halosdiary @hoshigaby @screampied @rinhaler @buttercupblu @triangularz @fairy-hub

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you

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comfortless · 11 months ago

Note

The way you write König makes me cry and dry heave cuz you balance his loser unhingeness and his heartbreaking tenderness is✨ ART✨

Now I feel like you would be able to EAT this prompt up but imagine König as Frankenstein’s creature that is this big ass hulking mass of body that immediately makes the town grab their pitchforks but he can DESTROY them in seconds. But inside he is just a little guy who just wants somebody to hold and love (and other activities if ya know what I mean

Keep doing what you do❤️

A Place For Us

Frankenstein’s creature! König x fem! horologist reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. discrepancies!, reader is implied to have anxiety, angst & fluff, non-malicious stalking?, loner/loner dynamic my beloved.., brief mentions of previous murders and religious imagery, codependency, smut; masturbation, unprotected piv.

notes: receiving this ask was so funny to me because @melancholic-thing and i have been bouncing this idea around forever (i simply could not have brought this any justice without ghost’s input— if you see this please know that ily dearly). thank you, anon for your kind words and finally giving me the push that i needed to write it! 💘

wc: 10.6k

You’re good at fixing broken things; tinkering with them with a set of well-polished tools until they begin to tick, or chime, or cuckoo.

Some take longer than an afternoon sat before the wooden desk, weeks or months— a year, once. Oiled parts and small cogs, the three arms that jerk and glide over a face riddled with numbers that all lull you into feeling that your work is not just some monotonous service only the rich buzzards could afford, but as if you were a healer of sorts; a little cleric stationed to bring life into whichever jagged, broken thing has been dropped or kicked at her doorstep.

This one, however… you’re convinced it’s as good as dead.

No matter how many times you take apart the little, gray pocket watch, the arms refuse to move. Its ticking sounds less like that of the beating of the heart and more like the grinding of dry teeth, a corpse begging, pleading to let this attempted resurrection come to an end.

Your tweezers wrench the face free, and all at once it proves too much— bending and warping beneath the metal grip until it cracks, a split right through it, down to its very center.

“How…” Your voice fills the void of ticking, pseudo-silence surrounding you. A word slipped out in frustration and unknowing before you finally toss the wretched little thing onto the desk with a clatter and step aside.

The house is as dark and brooding as always, too large for a woman on her own and a workshop that hardly counts as a proper business. Shelves of broken clocks serve as decor where potted plants and well-loved photographs should sit in their stead. Books of study for modern devices such as these in place of the poetry and worn love letters other women seemed to have in abundance.

This place was starved out of light, even with the flickering glow of candles and the electric humming of the unnatural yellow one above.

The sun is no stranger, either, your curtains neatly pulled aside to allow for it to filter through like an invited guest. Only it doesn’t, not on such a melancholic gray day.

You need a walk, a distraction, or this hungry home would be certain to rip away your work from the shelves and swallow you whole instead.

Isn’t it such a tragedy that, someone who pours her creativity and all of her love into time, all she seems to do is waste it?, the gaudy wallpaper seems to taunt, all the colors of filthy maroon and darkened blue flowers seeming to make it feel more imposing and less of a comfort.

Your hand curls around the handle of your umbrella, a sturdy thing, but just as drab as the rest of the home. Then, the package you’ve been putting off delivering to the elderly woman in town. Best to get it done with now, maybe upon your return the hands that fix could do so once again.

Shame about the clock face though. You would certainly have to patch together another and pray the pocket watch’s owner wouldn’t notice.

The wind is not what you had anticipated.

Outside is different. The howling of it past the windows and shuddering through the attic felt perfectly at home in your shoddy little house, but as the door swings shut behind you, it feels entirely alive. Cold and bitter and angry— the things you keep repressed that nature lacks the tact to.

The trees bend and sway from its invisible yet incessant pushing. The hand containing the package falls down to the lap of your skirt to keep it from flying up just as your other clutches the umbrella ever tighter to keep it from billowing out into the air to be left discarded miles away.

It isn’t a short walk to town, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, it almost seems as though you’re in more tender company than the lumber and the ticking clocks.

The path through the forest is overgrown as always, branches are pushed aside and your skirt is lifted to avoid burrs and thorns.

You should have had the sense to bring along a coat, because when the thunder does strike up and the rain finally begins to fall in heavy, hurried drops, you find yourself shivering terribly with the package guarded against your chest.

Lamplight would have done well, too.

You would have almost happily allowed yourself to toss aside the umbrella and be battered by the rain if you could only see. The forest is dark on days like this, with the canopy of thick branches and their dense leaves blocking out any sliver of light cast down from overhead.

It’s only by sheer luck that you don’t manage to trip, toss your delivery into the shadow of a tree and lose it entirely before you do make it out. When the trees finally part to the barren hill overlooking town you breathe a sigh of relief, a quiet thanks for the grayed light above.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way through the quiet town. The shop windows are all lit aglow with the silhouettes of people inside, strangely dancing like shadows through a fog. A place you can not be, can not touch.

The stares the townsfolk give you make your skin crawl, as though they are so close to being what you are but not, only tied down to your world when they think themselves lofty. Their eyes always seem to question, scrape under your skin with sharpened arms, ticking and flaying, always asking: Why?

You face forward as your skin begins to prickle, not from the wet or the chill but a subdued sort of fear that nestles burning into your chest, sets your heart rushing like a rabbit.

The streets are silent enough, a small blessing; any passing strangers are hurriedly skittering through the rain and muck to hide away in their homes, children ushered with a hand to their back by flustered looking mothers, complaining in hushed voices about the rain. You only smile at them and step aside when your paths cross.

They never smile for you.

It’s why the broken clocks are delivered to your doorstep rather than brought inside, addresses and names from muffled voices calling out beyond your thick wooden door, coins and bills pushed through the mail slot to lie cold on the welcome mat. The bell above the door never chimes, and you only make your deliveries on days like this, when the rain or the dark blanket you up to keep you safe and eternally somber.

You leave the package on the doorstep, covered from the rain by a small, vermillion awning. One sharp knock is given and you’re back on your way, back to the old house, to the simplicity of the ticking, the comfort of the old cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and the drab gray of the bleakness.

There are puddles now, glistening with any light they can suck into their depths, threatening and taunting as the dull stares and that rickety old desk you really should fix. You think for a moment, that perhaps no one would even notice if one of those dark pits of rain water pulled you in entirely, only to splash through it with ease, dirtying the ends of your skirt.

The rain lessens when you crest the hill, the forest less a tangle of clattering limbs and now only a gentle sway reaches the tops of the trees, light filtering through them, as if to guide you on your way. It doesn’t lessen the bushels of thorns, the tree limbs downed and scattered over the path. In some small blessing, you’re able to scramble over them without having to plan a visit to a tailor to repair a ripped gown; scrubbing the mud from it would surely be tedious enough.

The droplets splatter against the dirt and fallen leaves in hushed bursts, the forest alive as always with the cooing of nesting birds in spite of the rain. The only thing that seems out of place is a sudden, soft thud, the snap of a branch underfoot. Just one footfall, and things return to a placid state amidst the sky’s tears.

You raise your head to glimpse in the direction, gaze sweeping over the figure of a man some paces off to your left. Beneath the shadow of a broad, twisting pine layered in thick branches, his details are mostly obscured, a thin trail of silver light only casting aglow the glimpse of a blue eye.

He’s only large enough to notice, shoulders slumped and chest rapidly rising to fall like a frightened animal; as his silhouette shifts just so you even consider that he’s shivering.

There’s something in that stare of somber blue that splinters at the wall of discomfort; it is not accusing, not bitter, worn and cold. Curious. Something akin to your own.

Damn your sweetness, your inability to simply let things be even as that ache twists around in your chest, clawing at a cage of bone and hissing that you keep silent. Be on your way. Don’t look back.

Instead, you extend your umbrella outward, toward him.

“Awful rain, hm?,” you chime.

The figure visibly tenses, seems to shrink into himself for a moment before straightening and giving one solemn nod.

“You can take my umbrella. I’m almost home, anyway.”

That seems to spark something, not much, but the stranger does take a step forward. Your eyes catch on the wet, matted hair clinging to his head, cascading down to shroud a face you still can’t quite make out.

The poor thing stirs something in you, a deep sympathy that clouds even the judgment of that flighty, skittish thing resting deep inside.

Even from such a distance it’s clear that he’s been neglected, likely cast off by the town even less favorably than you have. His scent carries on the breeze, like dirt and wood and misery.

You extend the umbrella again before realizing he won’t come any closer with you being there. So, you lower it to the ground, avoiding the mud as best you could and leave it. If he took it, fine. If not, you travel this path so often it would be collected in time.

The figure mutters something as you rise, a low string of foreign words that you can only interpret as being spoken out of surprise, perhaps even gratitude.

You smile toward him as you wipe fat, slithering raindrops from your brow.

“You don’t want to catch a fever.”

With that, you’re back on your way, thoughts of the rugged stranger weigh heavy on your mind as the roof of your home comes into view, stilted and in the same drab navy as the flowers on the wallpaper.

You could have done more. It had been instilled into you to not to open the door for someone you did not quite know, yet a part of you longed to take care of something not simply fed by oil, something only capable of telling you how much time you’ve sat alone as thanks.

Surely it was best not to let it distract you.

This was good enough.

The key is produced, the door opened, and just like the many times before that you have forced yourself from this place, the house seems less unsettling upon your return.

As what little daylight remains fades away into night, you find yourself seated, toying with the old pocket watch once more. It’s the only one that doesn’t make a lick of sense, a puzzle that can not be solved. For all the polished parts and meticulous tinkering, it still won’t work properly.

It grates and growls as though rusted, the cogs shifting inside with each movement of the arms are well-polished yet seem to do little but hiss and spit.

This is the fourth time you have taken it apart only to put it back together with no improvement.

There was little to be known about the man who owned it, some pompous, arrogant creature that you had only seen in passing. He had turned his nose up to you, you were sure of that, only to deliver this dying thing to your door the following day.

Your work had always been compared to your father’s. Though you possessed a similarity in skill, you were not what the townsfolk had deemed to be respectable. An unwed lady out on her own, biding her time repairing what they had broken rather than feeding hungry mouths delivered from her very womb, how terribly scandalous.

The pocket watch is set aside as you busy yourself tailoring a small sheet of metal for it. The graduations are carved in with a sharp razor, impeccably angled. Then, the Roman numerals, just before it’s slotted back into place.

The likeness to the former face is nearly uncanny, it’s only sturdier and less susceptible to ripping from the mere touch of tweezers. The rust s gone from the casing, and at long last— it ticks; no grinding growl as the second hand begins its revolution. The fickle thing just needed a touch up, you supposed as you flick off the desk lamp and rise to your feet.

The curtains are drawn as they always were when you step into the bedroom. The muddy dress is finally peeled away as you change and slink into the covers, and just for a moment, you almost think that you feel the animal between your breasts begin to settle too.

———

There’s a letter stuffed into the mail slot: crumpled with no postage stamp, scrawled across some scrap of paper that surely was plucked from a garbage bin.

You marvel at the lack of care for a moment before your fingers do find themselves pawing at it, unfurling the worn edges to find the words: Thank you.

Written in thick black ink, there’s a clumsiness to it, the dance of a quivering hand holding pen. You think back to the elderly woman you had made that delivery to only yesterday; had she trudged through the mud and muck just to bring you this?

Her thanks was only needed in the blessing of payment, and she had already generously done just that when she left her little humming wall clock at the door.

You flip the note over, inspecting it carefully. There’s a line there, too, hastily scratched out in the same black ink, the lines crossing and digging leaving little pinprick holes in the paper.

Holding it to the light, you can just barely make out the words: I have been alone.

Your mouth dries at the sentiment, tongue flicking out to try and force a wetness to your lips. The animal begins its keening howl, a chain rattling as claws sink into your innards; the very same agitated fear that starved you out of comfort day in and out.

The man in the forest, perhaps. You were sure that you would have remembered seeing someone so disheveled and tall about town, and if not for a certainty that he had not followed you home, you would have assumed it was him. Gratitude finally said, and well on his way to someplace else.

There’s nothing here for him or anyone else, surely he could see that. Even you could.

The walls around you seem to bulge, the room shrinking once again as every little thing held within begins to taunt and yowl. Safety was only a temporary luxury, it always has been.

The letter is discarded onto a table, as you opt to hazard a peek out of your curtains instead. The gray from yesterday remains as thick clouds crowd above, threatening another storm. The treetops and tall grass dance in the breeze, freeing leaves and breaking flower stems. There’s no one standing there to greet you, to explain themselves for the strange message that they had left.

The town had probably already driven you to madness, picturing things that were not there while old fools jab you with ominous letters and jeering stares to see just how long it would take to watch you fall apart.

Another delivery day it would be, then; best to get it out of the way before the rain begins to fall.

Maybe you could even retrieve the umbrella along the path, discarded, battered from the rain and likely unused.

You don’t bother packaging the pocket watch, choosing to hastily stuff it into the pocket of your coat instead. Courtesies be damned. Tea and a warm bath would do well when the house was sated by your absence, when you were finally given time to breathe.

In your haste, you nearly kick over what’s been left on the uppermost stair leading to your door.

You find a table clock covered in a thick black fabric, a little note attached to it giving the owner’s name and address, and a small bag containing payment.

It’s all securely placed inside, next to the ugly letter on the table.

Your umbrella doesn’t wait on the path, but you’ve hardly the mind to care. Your hand tightens around the pocket watch as you cord your way down the path and back into town, rushing amidst the foliage until the sounds of your footfalls are dulled by the street.

Reaching the house, a towering narrow building that smells like tobacco even from outside, your hand curls to knock at the door in the same breath taken as the chain is plucked to place it on the knob, intent on scurrying away immediately to avoid the disgusted gaze of the man that waits inside.

You don’t quite make it far enough before the door swings open and you’re greeted by a round face, nose upturned and lip curled into a sneer.

That isn’t imagination.

There’s a genuine hate in this man, seeping down into his bones that makes him almost seem to reek like sulfur through the cloud of cigarette smoke that wafts around him. It’s the face of someone who would love nothing more than to see your own damnation, watch the earth suck you in until your wails fall silent and a fire roars upward in your wake.

“This isn’t my watch, dear.”

“Parts needed to be replaced,” you explain, voice tight and keening like a wolf in a trap, “I assure you that I—“

“It’s shoddy work. Any clocksmith up north would have done better for half the price..”

It goes on like this for what feels like at minimum thirty revolutions, but it must have only been five or so. His droning voice makes it hard to keep track, buzzing as he examines your work, hours wasted upon aiding such an awful creature.

He only seems to grow bored of his chiding when you fall to silence. He wants a reaction, not a wide-eyed fretful stare and pursed lips caging in any sound that may bubble up from your throat.

In one final act of detestation, the watch is tossed to the ground, stomped in repetition until the hands snap, the ticking quiets, and you see months of your work brought to ruin in a mere seven seconds.

He storms back inside and slams the door shut as you stoop to collect the little, broken thing, cradling it in your palms. Maybe it wouldn’t be fixed again, but you’ve hardly the mind to let anything be left abandoned like this.

Though the anger builds, white bitter smoke billowing through your veins, it remains tucked away inside eventually communing with the animal, all but entirely snuffed out when your steps lead you to the front door of the house.

The window to the right is open, not broken. The curtains were pushed aside as though to allow a breeze to enter. A muddy footprint, vast and long scales the siding, but there’s no exiting one to join it.

You stare and listen, taking one quiet step towards the open window to strain your hearing. Nothing. Inside, it’s quiet, only the sound of the breeze rattling that note left on the table, the ticking and the familiar creaks and groans of the house settling.

So, you enter.

With the poker from the hearth in tow, the rooms are investigated one by one. Each and every one of them clear of any intruder. Even the attic, for all of it’s imagined ghosts sits empty, stale and silent. There’s no one here, nothing out of place or broken that hadn’t already been cast out from the world and delivered into your hands.

Strangely enough, it’s more peaceful like this; the leaves could be heard rustling outside, birds calling, even the chirps and strumming of crickets too late to flee the onset of chill seeping through this purgatory, filling the mundane void with sounds of life and peace.

You leave the window open.

The pocket watch is left on the desk, the kettle filled with water and placed upon the stove to heat, all before your eyes trail over to that little table beside the front door.

The only thing amiss is there, your intuition roars at you: “Look, look. Just look.”

The table clock from this morning sits there, the wood casing dusty and the hands perpetually stuck to sit at six o’clock, easy to enough to break, and easier still to fix. An overworked battery and a little oil would be its saving grace; if only things could be so simple for yourself, for the thousand or so others that surely must feel the same— clawed, fretful little rabbits.

Your eyes narrow momentarily, vaguely recalling that the damned thing had been covered when it was dragged inside. Something sable and thick, a scrap of a heavy dress shirt perhaps, verily stained. Odd that someone would have broken in merely to steal something so useless, but stranger tales have been told. For all you cared, the perpetrator could keep it.

You entertain the idea of the wild man in the trees, thick and sturdy as one. Perhaps he left the note, stole warmth from your home and found comfort in that useless old shirt after leaving that roughly scrawled note. Though the idea would horrify others, it only sets your ceaselessly racing pulse at ease.

Toying with the idea that someone so very much like you lurks the hills, found a home in your eyes and paid a visit, kind enough to wait until you were in town as to not scare you… and the kettle begins to whistle.

———

You had forgotten to close the window last night. Or maybe it was left as an invitation, a silent offer of your companionship for the unknown thing that occupies your already haunted mind these days. Something in your subconscious dared you to simply forget, see what happens, and you’re not entirely disappointed to find out that yes, something has happened.

There are three flowers laid out there in a row, smushed by the weight of a heavy palm: a daffodil left golden and proud despite the way her petals fray and wither, and two others wild and unnamed with blue and white colors leading to vibrant green stems. And roots. He hadn’t the time to pluck them proper, nor had a sense of gentleness to his touch in doing so.

It’s the first time you’ve laughed in months, a giggling that makes your chest ache from a sudden mirth through all of this wretchedness. Who knew it would only take three flowers and the appearance of someone so disconnected? You take them and place them in a vase in the same spot, careful to add just the right amount of water to keep them living for a time.

Someone brought you flowers— actually brought you a gift, not a job. You remember those eyes, too. His hands may not have been gentle, but that look was.

Though darkness still creeps internally, you’re resolute in what you must do when you prepare for the day. You’ve never really worn this dress— a soft, white thing with billowing sleeves and tight cuffs that brings a swell to your breasts and cinches your waist. One of the women about town had given it to you in lieu of payment for repairing her husband's watch, left a note prattling onward for three pages about how a woman should dress to find a man. Three!

You’ll find him, thank him for the flowers, bat your eyelashes just a little and retrieve your umbrella. That’s all. The rain would be back, more deliveries would have to be made, and if you could manage a friend from all of this well… surely things could work out for you, just this once.

Your steps are less hurried and more tentative this time around. You don’t barrel through the woods like a galloping mare, mindful of your dress as you lift the fabric at the hips to avoid thick, slickened mire. There isn’t much to do about the thorns nipping at your ankles, leaving little scratches like cat’s claws in their wake.

The thought that maybe this was a ridiculous idea only settles in your mind after an hour of searching. You don’t even have a name to call him by, not an idea on just where he may be or what his intentions truly were, all further punctuated by the fact that you’ve found yourself in the midst of a wild orchard, the yellowing grass nearly reaching your knees as you reluctantly allow your dress to flow free. Thick clusters of apples hang above your head, each nearly ripe, some even fallen to leave a fragrant sweet smell in the wake of their rot.

Thunder roars above, distant but loud, cruelly threatening the wake of a downpour that would so easily sully the delicate thing you wear. Your chest aches from exertion, from whichever horrid fear it's settled on today, and you’re nearly fully convinced of your own madness when something does finally catch your eye.

There’s a cabin, nestled between the trees, old and lacking glass panes for the windows. The roof is covered in moss, walls creeping with the old green of vines and nearly hidden away entirely by the tall grass that rises above its face.

You could wait out the storm in the dark there, rethink your steps until you find a way back home and the prospect of actually entering a building that wasn’t the very picture of your own agony stirs something within you.

You don’t bother to knock, only waltz right in and let the door shut softly behind you. It creaks as it goes, whining from the rust laden over its hinges. As expected, the cabin is mostly barren; a set of dust laden chairs sits on opposite ends of a table missing a leg, a large bookshelf housing only a torn copy of Paradise Lost and a journal, a few dirtied dishes are left on the floor, and in the corner…

There are a lot of things that make you feel small.

You couldn’t live up to your father’s name in town. The thought that you were not an equal to the other ladies with their fine jewelry and dresses, rings wrapped around their fingers, that was a sore spot despite the way you refused to admit to it. Even the hounds lurking about the butcher’s shop on lonely night deliveries, baying and growling when your feet carried you too close.

None of those things could even compare to how you felt now.

The rug he lies beneath is large on its own, but your flower-giving, grateful titan seems even more so. It’s as though walking into a bear’s den and expecting a mere squirrel. Even curled into himself in sleep, he seems impossibly huge.

You couldn’t see much of him that first night, but now… where the rags that make up his clothes reveal a series of long scars along his legs, the hairy arms that seem far too thick: all of him, all of him is massive.

Your rabbit heart does not claw or fight you now, it only flutters, placated by the sight of something so… was there really a word for it? The idea that someone so imposing could strike the match of attraction within you. Feelings were strange, each comes sharp and new like the deliberate twist of a knife through a body, soft like warm bread.

You smile as you wander to his side, recognizing the cloth he wears over his head immediately as the one stolen from your house. Your dress is smoothed at your rear as you lower yourself to sit on your knees at his side, quiet and slow.

“Hello,” you whisper, placing a hand on a shoulder that dwarfs it entirely, feeling the bulge of muscle beneath the ripped shirt, the ridge of keloid scars from deep cuts laid into his skin.

The titan’s eyelids flutter for a moment as he begins to stir, staring up at the ceiling, teetering on the edge between waking and dreaming. Then, those cold blue eyes lock onto you. A flash of disbelief crosses them, just for a moment before something flips and from the holes ripped into that makeshift hood you see an expression that seems almost agonized.

“Hello,” he rasps after a long moment, shifting onto his side to prop himself up and raise his head to level with your own.

His breathing is shallow, almost panicked and you finally think to bring your hands to your lap instead, avoid touching him and potentially startling the poor man further.

“I wanted to thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” You pause as you study what little of his expression you can make out through the mask, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners only giving a glimpse of a smile. All teeth, probably, an excited one that even the imagination of warms your heart. “I put them in a vase. I didn’t want them to die.”

“I should not have…” His voice is softer than you ever imagined that it could be, well-spoken as the words are pulled from his throat. You find yourself transfixed, almost, praying that he continues if only to hear the delicate strumming of his tone, the soft sigh of breath that leaves him afterward.

“Es tut mir leid.”

The apology is followed by a low sweep of his gaze, slowly crawling from the peek of your cleavage to your hips to rest where your hands lay clasped in your lap.

He hardly seems to know what to do with himself, what to say, and all at once the realization dawns on you that no, he isn’t merely paying his thanks and seeking conversation. Perhaps that was part of it then, but now… he seems almost entranced.

You recognize those looks, from men in passing when they leered, but from him… from this weary, haunted stranger. It only seems a silent sort of reverence; as though longing for something he’s been deprived of.

“No, it’s fine, it made me happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

He falls silent at that, conflicted if the pinch of his brow were anything to go by. Then, sudden, he takes your wrist and jerks your hand toward his face, thumb brushing over the small calluses over each pad of your fingers. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, even more scaring along those massive hands and you shiver. It’s not fear it’s… something akin to it, opposite by the way it dances and writhes in warmth rather than the cold.

“You have the hands of a maker.”

Strange, sweet Goliath.

His words are spoken somberly, as if there is more to say that he holds back. A part of you warns that you’re not prepared for it anyhow, so you let him continue that motion, brushing over your palm with a featherlight touch until it begins to tickle.

Your giggle prompts him to raise his head, watery eyes threatening tears when he hears that sweet sound bubble up from within you. His hand curls over your own, trapping you in his grasp as though little else matters to him more than the need to touch you in some way.

“You have kind eyes.”

“I am not kind.”

You shake your head at that, flicking your thumb across the top of his burly hand, marveling at the smooth skin of his scars and the rough texture of the hair that dots his knuckles.

“You’re sweet to me, and that’s all that matters.”

It could have been a mistake, how easily you’ve taken to this bizarre titan. Any lady with proper regard for her standing and womanhood assuredly wouldn’t have said something like that to a beast that has the stature and the scent of something wild.

Still, the words leave your lips far too quickly to draw back; he responds with an urgency.

You find yourself pulled ever closer by the iron grip on your hand, tugged into the rug-turned-mattress by this man as he cages you in to meld against his chest. He’s everywhere, warm and burning against the chill of your skin with flesh touched by hellfire.

You only sigh pitifully when his arm wraps around your waist. When was the last time you had even felt an embrace? You couldn’t recall, and even if you had, it would have paled in comparison to one such as this. You breathe him in like a summer’s breeze, tasting a hint of the apple orchard beyond on your tongue when you open your mouth to speak once again.

“See..?”

The tension in his muscles seems to melt away; if your heart is like a hare then surely his must be more akin to a bull. It takes some time before he softens entirely against you, despite his initiation. His breath is almost a pant when his hand trails upward along your back, feeling every ridge and dip and curve, breath catching in wonder as you allow it.

“You are soft like…”

His head dips to press into your shoulder, breathing you in, humming his approval at the mingling scent of clock oil and tea leaves that lingers on your skin. Even from beneath the hood, you can feel the way his lips brush over you, his mouth parted in a voiceless plea.

“… like one of the flowers.”

It’s almost torture really, how someone could be so comforting, so endearing.

His hand trails further, drifting over the backside of your dress to curl against your thigh threatening something if you don’t conjure the sense to stop him. It stokes the fire within you, glowing ember in place of a brain, it seemed. You feel weak, lost in a foreign touch and sweet, clumsily spoken words.

If the townsfolk could see you now, herded up in this stranger’s arms, surely they wouldn’t dare to cast any disapproval your way. Not one of those meek little devils would have a word to say… not now or ever again.

“You’re like… a tree then,” you whisper as you finally will yourself to twist away from the grip, already mourning the loss of warmth as a cold wind filters through the openings in the cabin.

He doesn’t sulk as you pull away, only seems content to have been blessed with that much. That mist remains in his eyes before they shut again, willing himself to rise to sit up just as you do.

“Will you stay?”

You glance over the cabin again, with all of its dust and cobwebs. Your umbrella sits in the corner, propped upright with its handle leant against the wall, out of place amidst the dilapidation prevalent here.

This wasn’t a home at all, just a quiet, cold purgatory. Though the halls of your own may mock your solitude, this place seems to echo his very being: alone, broken, rotting and so, so very cold.

Your heart bleeds as you weigh your options, expression growing sullen and torn. He notices, tentatively takes your hand again in an almost practiced way of providing comfort. Had he ever even…

Your thoughts begin to drift again, and you force yourself to settle on a choice. It’s not your heart that should be damned, but that horrid seed of doubt constantly burdening, stealing from, and clawing at you.

“I should get home, before the rain.”

“Verstanden.”

“You can come too.”

There’s an audible hiss of breath through his teeth, that peculiar look of agony crosses his face again… and finally, he weeps.

———

König, you think to call him.

He teaches you German from time to time, in turn for you allowing him to watch as you work away at the clocks. It feels fitting in a way. Not because he harbors the self-importance of a noble figure, nor his stature; he’s simply become something impossibly important in the week long span you’ve spent together now.

You’ve decorated the guest room properly for him, and in turn he’s brought you firewood, foraged and hunted so that neither of you have had to bother with the town. The fire raged in the hearth as the cold continues to set in, and your walks to town have been enjoyable now. He accompanies you to the hill on some nights, draws you a bath when you come home, even cooks.

So… maybe a king was not entirely appropriate, but calling him a servant certainly wasn’t either. Even with the way he seems to melt and become docile at the slightest brush of your hand, the way you know with a certainty he would die for you if you spoke the word.

And still, you call him König: the king of your heart.

There are flowers at your windowsill each morning, still clinging to their roots. You bake the bread while he cooks stew with herbs gathered from the little garden just beyond the walls of the home, one he’s graciously told you he’s wanted to expand for you. Books you’ve overlooked for years have been read end to end by him, and he especially seems to like those with art of flowers drawn into their pages, always seeking you out to show you, explain their meanings, expressing the beauty that he sees in them and within you.

You don’t know where he’s come from, what his life was like before this, and with the same respect that he gives to you… you don’t ask.

“We’re starting a new story,” you had said the first morning over a breakfast of hastily made apple dumplings. To which he had agreed, with a somber hum, nodding his hooded head.

Though you do wonder about his secrets, his face. Seeing him now is all it really takes to make you smile.

He comes through the door, hauling in the massive grandfather clock that a carriage had left only this morning. The bob and the lyre both appeared broken at a glance, but your heart sinks when you read the name on the note left attached to it.

The same petulant little man that had stomped that poor watch to pieces right in front of you, no doubt he had broken this one too in some sort of tantrum. What was it now? Had the poor clock chimes a bit too loudly during the night? Was that deserving of a foot lodged right into its heart?

“König, do you mind just leaving it there?” You gesture toward the middle of the room, watching as the muscles beneath his shirt don’t even seem to ripple from exertion.

“Natürlich.”

As you set to work, pulling away parts, straightening out bends and replacing what’s broken, he kneels at your side watching with rapt attention. There’s no fixing the pendulum bob entirely, it’s far too bent and scraped, but you wouldn’t be replacing that with work of your own either. The bastard gets what he gets and that will do.

In truth, your work since having König here has only improved, and perhaps you’re showing off a bit, but the way he watches you tinker with the dusty old things as if mesmerized fills you with pride. You could fix anything, yes, with him at your side you wanted to.

The house doesn’t echo wasted time anymore, only that crowding feeling of something buzzing and chirping, budding up in the spaces where shadows should crawl: love. You wouldn’t trade it for the loneliness to return, not ever. A new sort of fear that stings just as much as it does caress.

So you work in silence, only breaking it to answer the sparse questions that he throws out.

When the clock is shoddily finished, you wipe the oil from your hands on a rag, and take König’s own large arm as it’s offered out to you to stand.

“I will carry it for you tonight,” he suggests, delicately brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve. His touch does linger, always lingers, trailing up to massage at your shoulder and cup at your neck. The swell of heat that arrives at your face then, the press of your thighs beneath your skirt… it’s always the same.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go into town?”

Your shoulder meets his chest as you press against him, doing very little to calm your body’s frustrations. The blood within you stirs like a violent wave feeling him this near— cleaned up and dressed in some patchwork conglomerate of your father’s old clothes. He smells like a union between the earth and sea, salt and alder leaf, a hint of thyme and lavender.

His eyes glitter when his gaze roves from your face to chest, hand skittering down to curl at the small of your back. To anyone else, you would look the picture of husband and wife perhaps.

“I would go anywhere with you.”

A fresh normal, like the rise of spring, those words and touches that suggest more: threatening while you plead in silence for him to just give you a push, unlace your dress and finally feel and see him properly.

“Then… yes, let’s get the cursed thing out of here tonight.”

His grip tightens around you just for a moment, fingers curling and flexing into the soft linen covering you, bunching it up just so at your back before he relents, draws away.

“You dislike this one?” König sounds almost hurt, perhaps he favored it, being tall and similar to him in some way. Another odd thing, hard to place, but he’s never seemed to like you talking down about your own work, a habit that needed breaking.

“No,” you begin to explain, curling your arms around his middle as you both stare at the thing, ticking quietly before you, “its owner is just a pain.”

“I can tell. You seem nervous, meine geliebte.”

“You haven’t taught me that one yet,” you point out, not playing coy, despite the look he gives you that suggests you know.

There’s always that ache when his eyes narrow and that playful glint reaches them. How someone could look as though they’ve suffered dozens of lifetimes of pain and still have that look, you did not know, but it excites you. A furious, needy excitement.

“Beloved,” is all that he says.

The stare relents as he heads back out into the garden, leaving you to sort yourself out.

———

“You’re sure that you can carry it the entire way?”

It’s not that you could help, really. The thing must have weighed as much as yourself, strung up over König’s back with a rope he had found lying someplace in the garden.

“Ja, it’s fine.” He’s not out of breath in the slightest either. You realize then that if you put on all your charms bending, arching and delicately maneuvering your hands to fix the clocks, the assuredly this was his way of doing the same. You try to reign yourself in from staring at the damp spot on his shirt, clinging to his broad expanse of chest, the way that his thighs seem to tense with each step forward.

You can’t— you merely trail behind him until you take the lead to bring him right to the other man’s doorstep. Your hands find the ropes that keep the clock saddled to König’s back, carefully untying them as he stoops down to let its wooden legs rest against the ground below. It scrapes, the consequence of being so heavy and forced to stand on those four tiny legs, and only then does it decide to make a cacophony of noise signaling the new hour, a trilling sort of bong that makes even your ears ring as it breaks up the silence of the night.

You don’t even need to knock, because the door flies open immediately. The man stands proud, unperturbed by your giant companion as he shoves past you to inspect his clock. There are no greetings, no pleasantries, and if you were just a bit more careless with your reputation, smacking him would have only brought you satisfaction.

“Not good, but it will do,” the little man huffs, knocking at the glass casing over the clock��s face with his knuckle. “Be a dear and have your friend bring it in for me.”

You’ve no doubt that König senses your annoyance as he cocks his head at you, but when you give a curt nod in response, he does what’s requested. The clock is set in a large den. It’s not as opulent and gilded as you had expected, just a simple home housing a very infuriating man. You watch from the doorway, swaying on your feet as König rights the clock and pushes it where he’s directed. Just a few more seconds and the two of you would be well on your way, and perhaps he would even teach you a new curse for a man like that.

He comes uncomfortably close to König’s side, a smug look plastered over his face that only seems to exaggerate just how greasy and mousy that you know him to be. Something is whispered that you can’t quite make out, a dare, a mocking taunt, something that pisses you off even without the knowledge.

The hood is pulled off by thin fingers, cast aside to the floor beyond the pair.

The man’s face goes pale before you even get a glimpse of König at all. He backs away, mouth gaping as König calmly moves to retrieve the cloth. You think you hear the word “monster” mumbled amidst a slew of incoherent babbling, but when your companion turns to face you, you feel no fear.

König’s face is like patchwork, scars connecting all together. They run like small streams up from his jaw and over his chin, splitting his lip at the corner of his mouth and dancing up to his eye. The nose is broken in places, several times over likely, crooked with a bump that only seems strangely cute. The unkempt hair lining his jaw should be trimmed, but… there’s no monster here. Only a man who has seen and felt pains that you could not bring yourself to imagine.

His head dips when he notices your wide-eyes stare, a sort of shame hidden away behind strands of long, black hair. He shuffles out of the house and shuts the door behind him, standing rigid as he expects the worst, for you to wail and sob and gather a group of townsfolk to herd him far away with fire and stones.

You only take his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t bother to hide himself away again during the walk back, his hand remains in your hold, trembling every now and then and gripping you tighter as he struggles with the thoughts no doubt raging in his skull like a storm. You offer your comfort as you lean toward him, head pressed against his arm even as you turn the knob and step inside.

You warm a bath for him then, a task that is no easy feat. König does not offer his help, resigned to some belief that this is only a temporary pity.

He allows you to peel away his clothes, graze your fingers over his body, over the scars all with a barely contained creature scraping out from inside: the untamed bull that you can not see. You press a kiss there, over his heart, feel it’s beating against your lips, pulling away only when his thumb strokes your cheek.

Each new sight of him is just as wonderful as they have always been. It’s not that you take pleasure in seeing the way he must have suffered; the now healed bullet wound over his abdomen speaks volumes of just what people are capable of when met with the sight of something that they do not understand.

The questions burn at the back of your skull, bitten back as your jaw tightens.

You help him wash with soap and a soft cloth, carefully removing any patches of dirt and dust that have lingered despite his near-daily bathing since living beneath your roof. The rough beard is trimmed in full, until all that’s left is a trail of dark stubble lingering along his jaw, broken up by scars like thin spider silk that make up the entirety of his body.

His hair is a mess, too, matted and clinging to his skull in wild clumps. You’re gentle with the brush as you free the tangles, clipping at what can not be saved with sharpened scissors, and massaging at his scalp as he murmurs his approval. It’s such a subdued, gentle cooing from his chest, a purr almost that shatters your heart and forces it back into place instantly.

Whatever he was or was not, you were certain this stray had never felt a touch like your own, if he had ever been touched by human hands at all.

König seems to settle greatly once you’ve tended to him and it does seem to finally dawn on him that you’re not repulsed, you’ve touched most of his damaged body, and have only brought him the gentleness that should have been commonplace by now. This isn’t some elaborate torture method— it’s only tender.

“Your turn, hm?”

That, however, brings you pause. Your hands rest on his shoulder, carefully trying to loosen a stubborn knot when you abruptly still. As if that were all he needed for encouragement, his hands cinch your waist, pulling you up and over the rim of the tub as you whine your protests in hushed little hisses. All for naught, as you find yourself submerged below the waist.

“I’m still dressed,” you sulk as the water dampens your dress, now seated between his parted thighs.

König only gives a laugh in response as his arms encase you in another embrace, his head resting against the dip between your shoulder and neck as his chest is brought to press against your back.

“And you’re still mine.”

His fingers trail further down to the wet fabric billowing amidst the soft, lapping waves of the water, pulling it up until it rests just above your hips. There’s no tact, only a clumsy sort of desperation rarely seen upon men, especially not of his stature.

You allow him to loosen the strands of lace at your back, bring your clothing up and over your head to leave it resting and dripping over the rim, pooling below onto the boards of the wooden floor. Your undergarments follow to join the flooding pile of soaked linen and lace.

You’re flustered certainly, grateful for the water surrounding that conceals the warmth that echoes your fondness for this titan between your legs.

You even considered that he would be more shy, not… as eager to begin to wash you, and not with the cloth but with his own hands, nimbly moving over every dip and curve coating you in the slick residue of soap, leaving suds in its wake. He starts at your shoulders, breath growing heavy the more you soften and relax against his chest.

It’s only a matter of time before his hands find and cup your breasts, and you swear that you can feel the grin that splits his face as you melt further against him. König gropes at and massages you there, eager fingers deliberately stroking at your hardened nipples until you quiver and sigh.

You find purchase moving your arms to your sides to grasp at his biceps, muscles flexing as he works his way down your trembling abdomen to your mound, kissing at your shoulder as you purr your encouragement.

The praises that leave your lips come tight and barely restrained as a finger trails against your slit, moving up to circle your clit before diving back down to prod at you.

Your head is gently tilted back by his free hand, your face peppered in clumsy, messy kisses as a digit sinks into you. It’s lazy work, trying to find a rhythm with your squirming. He only seems satisfied when it presses further, curling against the spot that makes you mewl sweetest, and finally, he kisses you full on.

It’s delivered as sloppily as his fingering, any trailing thought left in your skull dims, fuzzy with sheer bliss as his thumb begins to pet at your clit in tandem with each push and drag of his index. It doesn’t help that you feel his own growing need, hard and hot against your lower back, throbbing with each sound pulled from your mouth, his hips jerking on occasion to drag his shaft against your backside.

“König, we should get out,” you murmur through a flood of heat that curls and urges and presses at your lower half to seek some satisfaction, have him bed you proper. “We can go to—“

His mouth meets yours again, hungrier and more determined than before, the water rolling with each flick of his thumb. In a mere moment you feel that heat stoke to an inferno, blazing from your stomach to cause your feet to kick out, water sloshing over the side of the tub as you ride out each passing wave of paradise crying openly into his mouth.

When your trembling does subside, he kisses your cheek and pulls you up from the water, wrapping you up in his arms. His stare remains ever burning, pupils blown to a coal black, dreamy in the way he slinks back just to drink you in further. You can’t keep track of all of the places his eyes seem to dart, which touch to settle on and relish as he paws at you from chest to rear, as if mesmerized that you are no mere illusion.

You’re giving him everything; no longer the king of simply a beating organ tucked beneath your breast, but your body, bed, wherever he chooses to conquer next, of all the things that he’s been deprived of.

“We will go to bed, beloved,” he rasps, sounding more present than ever. The nightmares lurking behind his eyes have long past now: all focus is turned to you. You’re the only thing that’s ever loved him in return. “We will… become one.”

“Have you ever…” Your own voice fails you now, the evident want between you two incapable of making this any less… tedious. It was tedious, a flighty feathered thing that seems keen on slipping out of your grasp at any moment. If it were to be his first, surely it should be special, somehow, someway. If it were not… you dreaded that thought, a bitter envy sours on your tongue until it’s shaken off.

“No,” he states simply, shrugging.

Though a sense of relief seems to flood you at that, you dare not show it. You will take him to your bed, climb atop him and show him how these things work, a slow sort of love and the rest could wait.

It was foolish to believe that König would settle for such a thing, wild and only temporarily tamed by your sweetness: he is entirely different the moment you’re herded into the bedroom. The desperation of his touches has faded out entirely, replaced with what feels almost like a rage.

He wouldn’t take out humanities sins on you, no, but he would years of brutal neglect have left him starved and it just so happens that you’re an outlet for it, something to feed from by way of spilling his soul and his seed all into you, taken back with the kisses and praises that would surely come after this union.

You’re unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, lying at your side as he climbs in behind you. He whispers his requests into your hair, even as his hand wraps to pull your thigh up before you can bless him with a nod in response. He struggles for a moment, parting your labia with the obscene, ridiculous thing that hangs between his legs. It drags over you in repetition, oiled like the clock cogs before the head of his cock finally finds the opening his finger explored only minutes earlier.

You almost expect him to break you right then, force you to take what your body— no body- had surely been made for, but he only thrusts the tip inside and gives you some time to adjust, roll your hips down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

“You are… Does it hurt you..?” His voice is a breathless pant, trying to hold himself together despite the daze he’s found himself in, buried not even three inches into your cunt.

“No… you can move,” you breathe out, eyelids fluttering as you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.

König clings to you as he sinks further, grasping at your waist to pull your further down, sharp breaths hissed between gritting teeth as he delights in the way your womanhood grips at his shaft.

Just as before, there’s no rhythm to him, he takes the sounds that leave you as a direction, huffing into your ear words that your mind could not hope to translate. There’s an indulgence to it, shared between you both as his hand curls tighter against your thigh, spread open and accepting of the brutal pace he takes to have just a taste of what it feels to be a normal man.

His words falter at a point, when you feel your body tightening around him, sucking him in, closer, nearer as your head lolls back. The inferno from before pales in comparison to the blaze that overtakes you now, his voice strained with bliss as you begin to moan for him. With each drag and soar of his cock spearing you open, you’re only brought further to a glimpse of Eden. If this were the fall of man, you find you couldn’t question Eve for relishing in it.

“… you gave me a name,” he rasps, “A home…”

All at once that glimmer of heaven crashes down around you, bathes you in the glow of something lofty and holy as he pulls you close and drives himself to the hilt within you. The throbbing and pulsing of his length pulls you over just as his seed spills within, drips thick and flooding as your own sex drools in tandem, sharing a perfect rapture both clandestine and sacred. He gives you another generous thrust, ensuring that he’s carved a space inside no other man could ever hope to fill.

You fret when you find him weeping, quiet tears rolling down his pale cheeks to spill over your shoulder, but the gentle smile on his face is pacifying as you twist around to face him. “And now you have my love.”

“I’ll cherish it,” he murmurs, voice broken and pitiful as you’re maneuvered upward to rest against the feather-stuffed pillows against the headboard.

You curl against him, head resting on his chest, an arm draped over his waist. He takes your hand into his own, appraising it like the first time you properly met. Hands of a maker. Your mind wanders to significance in that statement, the things that needn’t be told are finding ways to curtain you anyhow when he speaks again.

“Could you fix me?” He asks, tracing over the calluses on your fingertips, still bathing in the afterglow.

The question, though you felt it coming, still hurts to hear him speak it: breathing life into a thought that should have never existed to begin with.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Though you speak true, though you know he feels your sincerity, his eyes are heavy when he looks to you again. “Why would you ask me that?”

The story that he tells you then is one of horror. From his maker down to the things he’s done, seen, felt: hated from the moment he woke into this strange world, the horrible loneliness that pushed and bedded down inside of him like acceptance never would. The people that he’s throttled in some desire to finally have someone like him; men, women, it made no difference. All of it is bared with only one message eternally prevalent: he has only ever wanted to be loved.

In truth, he was a monster. Not because he was given the instinctual urge to be, but because it was all he knew. Gnashing teeth from demons hurling that word out with every stone they threw, every shot and stab at his heart.

You listen, despite the way it hurts, pull him a little closer when he ends his tale with your meeting, how he knew you were the only blessing he would ever receive in his lifetime— however long that may be.

You were good at fixing broken things, but König never needed to be fixed. Only found.

———

“Now you’re supposed to say it,” you hum, as his hands reach to the hem of the hood— his- covering your face. They rove beneath the fabric, curling against the skin of your cheeks, tracing small patterns there, some rotations like the clocks, others the childish hearts scribbled into books.

“I vow to take you as my wife.”

“You’re bad at this.” You giggle when he does finally push the cloth up past your nose, above your eyes and further until it’s pulled back like a veil.

“I will love you endlessly,” he continues, returning your noise of elation with a huffed laugh of his own. “I already do.”

“I love you, too.”

No one in town would ever properly marry you two, not if one look could make a weak man fall to his knees in horror, but here, beneath the roof of a home once echoing the same voice that haunts him… it was good enough. The moon seems to echo your vows with dancing rays, stars twinkling in approval as the calls of night birds carry through the open window.

There are no rings, no written formalities to be stored away with dust-ridden papers, preyed upon by mites. It’s far more sacred, genuine than the flippant affairs and arrangements that go on with those that would so readily cast the both of you aside. In truth— the thought of them rarely comes; doesn’t even rile up that intense fear inside of you any longer.

Everything only seems easier with the blooming garden outdoors, and the man who gazes upon you like he sees divinity itself behind your eyes, in the softness of your flesh.

When you kiss, it’s something from a fairytale, flowers strewn at your feet and the veil removed from your hair by a gentle hand.

Eden doesn’t seem so much like a memory lost to time, after all.

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

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jadedxhearts · 11 months ago

Text

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

Law isn’t liking all of the attention on you during a party with the Straw Hats.

Warnings: smut, fem reader, the very first Law smut I wrote so I can't promise that it's very good lol

Originally posted on July 22nd, 2022

repost from my main @jadedrrose as a part of my most popular fics event.

It’s not like you were intentionally doing this, but you simply loved the way Law was reacting to all the attention on you.

—

Because of the alliance, Luffy had demanded that Law and the Heart Pirates come on to the Thousand Sunny for a party. While Law was reluctant to do so, the rest of the crew was thrilled and jumped ahead, leaving their captain with no choice. You’d picked out a nice sundress to wear, and began heading up to where the ship was docked with Law.

Once arriving, you tried to convince Law to socialize, but he refused, sitting on a crate away from everyone. Chopper had noticed the fellow doctor and brought him some onigiri, which Sanji had prepared just for Law.

“Oh, (Name)! I think Robin and Nami wanted to see you,” the reindeer told you.

“Really? Where are they at?” You asked.

Chopper turned around to look at the party, not quite noticing them for a moment… until…

“I see them! At the far end of the table!”

You followed Chopper’s words and looked in said direction, seeing the two women laughing and being served some drinks by Sanji.

“You won’t get too lonely without me, will you?” You teasingly asked Law.

He promptly rolled his eyes and gestured for you to go. With a grin, you gave him a sneaky kiss on the cheek and ran off.

Once you’d sat down with the girls, Sanji had thrown his arms up in delight at your arrival.

“(Name)-swan! I’m so glad you joined us!”

As fast as he had turned excited, he then became …serious?

“Tell me, what do you want to eat? I’ll make anything for you.”

“Oi, back off Sanji! You know she’s with somebody.” Nami interjected.

“Somebody who doesn’t look too pleased right now,” Robin chuckled.

You giggled, waving them off. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. Hmm… how about (favorite food)?”

“Of course! I’ll go start it now!” Sanji yelled, dashing off to the kitchen.

—

That was the first line crossed for Law. While he didn’t necessarily hate Sanji, the guy sure was pissing him off right now. The way he bent over backwards for you, doing anything to please you despite knowing you belonged to Law. Taking a rather aggressive bite out of his food, Law huffed.

“Captain… are you alright?”

Law turned to see Bepo standing beside him, looking concerned.

“Don’t worry about it, Bepo. Go have fun.”

“B-but captain! You seem… upset!”

“I said don’t worry about it!” Law sternly told him off.

This was no good. That meant that people were going to notice him… his jealousy.

Law didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous, wasn’t he? But it was silly. It’s not like Sanji was doing anything too odd.

But then Law looked up, seeing Zoro now sitting next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders and offering you some of whatever expensive drink the pirate had.

“Mmm no thanks, I’m alright,” you told the green haired man.

Then Sanji came out with your food. “Hey! Mosshead! Back off, I’m the one who’s gonna impress her!”

“Oh quit it you two!” Nami yelled, “she isn’t impressed by anyone. She’s with Law for crying out loud!”

Sanji then put the plate of your favorite food down in front of you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, this looks really good!” You exclaimed. “Thank you, Sanji.”

“Of course! You’re welcome, (Name)-swan!”

—

Law couldn’t take it any more. Seeing red now, he got up from his spot and stomped straight over to where you were sitting with the girls, surrounded by the two annoying men. You smirked a little, knowing what he was up to.

“Look! Now he’s actually pissed,” Nami complained.

“Oi, (Name),” Law called out to you.

Sanji launched himself back, screaming in terror. Zoro simply sighed, walking away altogether.

“I have something… to talk to you about,” Law informed you, “come with me.”

Rolling your eyes, you told the girls you were sorry and got up to follow Law. He lead you all the way to the edge of the Thousand Sunny, pretty much out of sight before saying;

“Room.”

You watched the blue dome surround you, and suddenly…

“Shambles.”

You were then in Law’s office. He must’ve swapped the two of you out for a pencil or something small and unobvious.

You turned to Law, who was huffing and glaring at the floor, clenching his fists.

“Law? What did you need to talk to me about?”

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked, “letting those idiots be all over you? Really?”

You frowned, “I was just… trying to be nice. I didn’t want to upset Sanji by turning down his food and… Zoro just kinda put himself there-“

“So you should’ve shoved them off!”

Now you were getting mad. “Really, Law? Shove away the people who let us onto their ship, eat their food and enjoy their party? That’s just rude.”

Law sighed, turning away from you.

“Don’t tell me… you’re jealous!” You accused him.

He scoffed, “oh please… that’s… ridiculous.”

But you didn’t miss the way his face turned red when you said those words, even if he had been turned away. You could see him very clearly through the reflection of the circular window.

“Aw, Law… if you were just jealous, you could’ve said so and I would’ve come sit with you. Maybe even on your lap to show ‘em who I belong to,” you purred.

You heard his breath hitch, and without any warning, he grabbed you and pushed you against the desk, sliding a hand up your dress, all the way up to your breasts. He pinched your right nipple harshly, biting into your neck, marking you.

“Don’t fucking say that, (Name)-ya. You’re gonna drive me insane.”

You giggled, letting out a quiet moan when he pinched you again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have worn panties to that party. Or maybe I should’ve flashed you, hm?”

Then there was a harsh slap on your ass, causing you to cry out.

“Quit saying shit like that. You’re such a perverted little slut, aren’t you?”

He then slid his hand down to your panties, moving them aside and feeling how wet you were.

“You’re turned on by all that, aren’t you? If I had joined you at that table and fingered you underneath it, you would’ve gladly come on my fingers and even thanked me after, wouldn’t you?

“Y-yes, Law. I’m such a dirty whore,” you moaned.

Another smack. “What’s that? Couldn’t hear you,” he teased.

“I’m such a dirty whore, Law! Your dirty little slut.”

A finger slid into your cunt. “You’re so filthy minded that you would’ve loved it if I had thrown you onto that table and fucked you there in front of everyone. Maybe I should have, to teach you a lesson.”

Another finger was inserted, and he began moving them at a quick pace, his thumb moving to rub your clit. You threw your head back, moaning and crying. Law’s other hand found a place on your jaw, squishing your face between his finger and tilting your head so that he could look into your eyes.

“Do you get it now, (Name)-ya? Don’t pull shit like that again.”

“Mmm- but then I’d get to be fucked by you- ah! Law, I’m so close…”

Suddenly, he pulled his hand away from your dripping cunt, and you groaned out of frustration.

“A dirty whore like you doesn't get to cum just yet. I’m not done punishing you.”

Then, you heard the sound of Law unbuckling his jeans and you braced yourself, waiting for him to pound into you.

You felt his tip against your folds, rubbing along them up to your clit and back down. With one hand now on your hip, Law slid into you with ease. His other hand then was placed on the other side.

“Fuck, Law… mmmmh, so good-“

He gripped at your soft skin, and began a fast pace against your cunt. Your cunt was already throbbing around his cock, so close and ready to cum on him.

“That’s right, take it, and don’t even think about cumming just yet.”

His hand then moved away from your hip, grabbing one of your own and guiding it down to your clit.

“Rub yourself,” he instructed you.

His hand still on yours, you began rubbing circles onto your clit, causing you to nearly scream. It was all too much. You needed to cum right now.

“Law, I can’t… too much, please,” you whimpered.

“Beg for it,” his hand pressed down, causing you to push down on your clit.

“Ah, Law… please, please let me cum… I’ll be good for you, your little slut.”

“Tell me who you belong to,” his voice was now weaker, and you could tell he was running out of breath, about to cum as well.

“You, Law! I belong to nobody but you!”

“Fuck!” He collapsed onto your back, squishing you into the desk as he came inside of you, followed by you screaming his name and cumming on his cock.

After a few moments of both of you trying to catch your breath, you reached up to push him away, but he held you firm.

“Law… I can’t breathe…”

He finally let you go, only to pull you into his lap as he sat down on his desk chair.

“Did you learn your lesson?” He asked, smirking.

“Yes, Law… can we go back now? I actually wanted to talk to the girls…”

He sighed, “fine. But you need to clean up first.”

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #law x reader smut #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #one piece law x reader #one piece x reader

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talesofely · 1 year ago

Text

The (Wo)Man Who Can't Be Moved

Pairings : Natasha Romanoff x GN/Fem!Reader

Summary : Natasha's your ex-girlfriend, she broke up with you without giving you a solid reason as to why. Obviously, you want her back. One problem, she's unofficially dating Bucky Barnes. So you decided to solve it with a little performance.

Warnings : Angst, Fluff, Hopeful Ending (?), Swearing I think, reader is mostly gender neutral but i envisioned it as a fem!reader soooo, pls tell me if u see anything else

Note : I rlly wanna make a part 2 of this, lmk what u guys think thooo

Word Count : almost 2k

Save My Tears - Part 2

Tony decided to host another one of his famous Stark parties. This time, his excuse was that you are single again, and that Natasha and Bucky had something going on. What he didn't know was you and Natasha didn't quite end in good terms, cause she broke up with you. And of course... that you still miss her so god damn much.

So there you were, in your room, mentally preparing yourself to see the love of your life with her soon to be boyfriend. You didn't want to go, you absolutely wanted to just run away. But you couldn't. You had to show that the break up didn't affect you as much as they thought it did, even if it really did.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Come in." The door opened and revealed a redhead. You smiled sadly at the woman, it wasn't your redhead. It was Vision's.

"I told you I'm fine, Wands." You tried your best to give her a genuine chuckle. Wanda didn't seem to be convinced though.

"You look good, L/N. Trying to impress somebody?" Wanda said as she leaned against the closed door of your room.

"You already know the answer to that." You said as you shook your head, standing up to apply perfume.

"Just tell her, Y/N/N. I mean, you should shoot your shot before it's too late. I heard Buck's gonna ask her to be his girlfriend officially tonight." Wanda announced, watching you intently as you try desperately to calm your nerves.

"What am I supposed to say, Wands? Please take me back, I miss you so much, I know you broke up with me but I want you back?" You sarcastically said as you scoffed. "Plus, I don't wanna ruin what she has with Bucky. She must like him so much if she made their relationship public within three days of seeing each other."

"She isn't happy with him, and we both know that. I care about Natasha too, Y/N, I want her to be atleast happy with who she's with. Plus, how can you know she doesn't want you back if you haven't even asked?" Wanda asked with a raised brow. You didn't dare to make eye contact, just staring at the perfume bottle on your hand. "Think about it, alright?"

Wanda left your room, leaving you alone with more thoughts than you had 30 minutes ago.

Stark decided to go to the next level for this party. He had a stage in the middle of the living room, a bunch of speakers, and a mic stand.

The party was more lively than normal. Everyone was teasing the future couple, much to your annoyance. Natasha and Bucky were the center of attention.

Apparently, Bucky loves getting all that recognition and attention, but deep down you know Natasha doesn't. Your ex-girlfriend loves parties, but she doesn't like it when she's the center of attention. Bucky doesn't seem to know it considering he's showing her off like she's just a trophy.

You sat at the bar, alone, drinking your Aunt Roberta cocktail. Clint approached you, Tony right behind him. You didn't acknowledge them, just continuing to watch the 'It Couple' as Tony calls them.

"You okay, Y/n?" Clint asked with a small smile. You're guessing he didn't know what happened, you didn't know if Natasha told him how she broke your heart. You just nodded in response, drinking down the last of your cocktail.

"They're such a nice couple, right? Natasha and Bucky? I'm not glad you and Nat broke up but I'm glad they found each other." Tony said with a grin, oblivious to the fact that you want to punch him in the face.

"Mhm." You responded with another nod. You couldn't do this sober, but the alcohol wasn't doing anything.

"Hey, Y/N, you should sing! You have a great voice, right!? You used to sing for Natasha when you were still together!" Tony slurred out, obviously intoxicated now. Clint nodded in agreement, both trying to convince you to sing.

You didn't want to, you weren't in the right mood to put on a show.

However, when your eyes drift to Natasha and Bucky slow dancing to your song, 'Wonderful Tonight' by Eric Clapton, the same song you two always danced to, you snapped.

You cleared your throat to steal Tony and Clint's attention. You stood up and fixed your suit's jacket. The polo you were wearing underneath had three buttons unbuttoned, showing just enough for men and women to go wild.

"I'll go sing, Anthony. The tablet beside the mic is connected to the speakers, right?" You asked as Tony nodded eagerly. He always liked it when you sang, saying you had a specific vibe he couldn't get from other singers.

Before you could fully walk away, Clint shouted at you, making you turn around and raise a brow at him.

"Go get your girl back." He mouthed then winked. You rolled your eyes at him before flipping him off.

When you reached the stage, Steve got off and handed you the mic with a smile. You sat down on the chair, everyone was surprisingly cheering for you. Mostly everyone's eyes were on you, excited for the song you were about to play.

You didn't dare to look into the audience, in fear of meeting those green eyes you used to call home. The fondness in them wasn't for you anymore, anyways.

"Hey, everyone. I hope y'all are having an amazing night. I do hope you enjoy these songs I'm about to play." You said as you clicked the instrumental version of the song you chose, on the tablet.

Going back to the corner where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move

Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand

Saying, "If you see this girl can you tell her where I am?"

(Italics are flashbacks)

Three days after Natasha broke up with you, you decided to drive to a park where you two always went on. You sat on the exact bench where you asked her to be your girlfriend. Not a lot of people walked by, it was a slightly secluded area.

You stared at the lake in front of you, watching as the ducks you always used to feed with Natasha swim towards you. One duck in particular, the one you named Nibbles, the one you considered your child, approached you and stood on your foot.

You smiled sadly at him, caressing his fluffy head.

"Hi, Nibbles. Your mama isn't here, I'm sorry. We won't show up together anymore, buddy. I still promise to visit, okay?"

People were giving you weird looks but you didn't care. You just gave the duck a piece of bread that he dipped in the lake before waddling back to you so he could eat it beside you.

And how can I move on when I'm still in love with you?

You met those green eyes while singing the particular line. You couldn't read it, it had too many emotions for you to decipher. You saw her smile faltered though. You gave her a small bittersweet smile as everyone around you was singing along to the song and nodding their heads to the beat.

'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me

And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be

"Where the fuck is Y/N, Wanda?" Natasha asked, barging in the younger redhead's room.

Wanda's head snapped to her door. She saw Natasha was holding the letter you left in her room over and over again, memorizing every sentence. A few tears escaped, but she immediately wiped them away. She saw how the 'Love Always, Y/N.' was smudged, like it got wet from a teardrop.

"What do you mean, Natasha? I thought you knew she left. She's gone, Nat. She left for a no-contact mission, even Fury doesn't know when she'll be back." Wanda said flatly, standing up to kick Natasha out of her room.

"Why'd you care anyways? Miss her?" Wanda said sarcastically with an eye roll.

"She didn't tell me." Natasha murmured, stepping out of the room.

"Why would she? You broke up with her, remember?" With that, Wanda closed the door to her room, making sure to lock it.

Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet

And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street

You walked around the park, even walking the streets where you two would 'window shop' but you end up buying her everything she looks at. Your feet stopped when you saw the familiar ice cream parlor on the corner of the street.

You remember taking her there on your first half-anniversary, right after you two finished a mission. The mission was rough, it didn't physically hurt any of you but it did take a toll on your mental states. You wanted to cheer her up and distract her so you made up an occasion to convince her to go eat ice cream.

Policeman says, "Son, you can't stay here"

I said, "There's someone I'm waiting for if it's a day, a month, a year.

Gotta stand my ground even if it rains or snows

If she changes her mind this is the first place she will go"

Your eyes met Steve's and he gave you a small smile. He remembers it too.

It was your first winter without Natasha. You were sitting on a swing in the park right in front of the compound. No one else was there except you cause it was cold and snowing really hard.

You felt someone sit on the swing beside you. It was Steve. He gave you a small comforting smile, nodding his head to greet you.

"You can't stay here all night, Y/N. It's cold, you should come in." He said in a low voice, trying to stay as casual as possible.

"I'm fine." You said, giving him an unconvincing smile.

"You're still waiting for her?" He asked. You looked at him but he was staring ahead.

You nodded timidly. "Always."

There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world

"You're my world, Natasha." You murmured into her hair. You were cuddling in bed, her head on your chest.

She looked up at you, her ethereal green eyes staring up at you, filled with adoration. She smiled, that same smile that never fails to make your heart flutter no matter how many times you've seen it.

"I love you, детка." She whispered as you leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips.

"I love you more, my Natalia."

Going back to the corner where I first saw you

Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move

When the last note ended, some were clapping, some were silent and looking at you in worry. You furrowed your brows, realizing a tear was currently rolling down your cheek.

You saw Clint giving you two thumbs up while Wanda was smiling sadly at you. You tried looking for your redhead, but you couldn't see her anywhere. Even Bucky wasn't there.

You bit your lower lip, trying to control your emotions. Did they leave together? Were they currently having the time of their life in Natasha's bedroom? Did Natasha bring Bucky to the rooftop like you two used to? Why did she leave?

You sighed and decided that you're going to take her absence as an answer to all your questions.

She moved on.

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x female #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #tony stark #clint barton #light angst #fluff #avengers x reader #gay gay gay #by ely !! ★#ely !! ★#Spotify

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everythingseasoning · 2 years ago

Text

How the AOT men love you (SFW & slight NSFW).. PT 1

MINORS: Please DNI. Further reading means you consent to reading everything here, though it's pretty vanilla tbh.

EREN - A bit rough around the edges regarding emotional intimacy. Don't get me wrong, he definitely will straight up tell you "I love you so much, y/n," -- he's not afraid of saying what he feels. However, because he isn't as reflective and insightful and calm as Armin is (Eren's a little more simple-minded), he isn't a guy who does fluffy stuff all the time. He's more about action and adventure -- always pulling you into the next great thing.

*NEEDS* you to be safe, and happy. He will only feel satisfied if you're doing okay. Man cares about you, more than anything else.

Oh .. oh, Eren is definitely very blunt, and stubborn. He sees things in his own way, and it's hard to convince him to back down on anything he's got his mind set to. However, the flip side of this, is that he is fiercely caring, and righteous. Will protect you at all costs, even for little things: Some as*hole at the grocery store cut you off in line and you almost fell to the ground? Eren has a hand on your back and waist, steadying you, before he storms up to the man with the DARKEST look of determined hatred. This man has ZERO chill. (and we love him for it).

You are the most important thing in the world to him. He loves you so intensely and passionately that you won't have a chance to ever doubt it.

Fluff 1) You and Eren like to go on walks/runs together. Sometimes you two have races. Eren always wins (the little b*tch--) or ends up slinging you across his shoulder while running, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you two enjoy the rush of being with each other, and life. Life with Eren is just so right, exciting, and full of good times.

Fluff 2) Just how many beautiful waterfalls have you seen with Eren? You've even hiked a purple-flower covered mountain with him! And you've both tried many wild fruits, from the strange oblong shaped ones to pretty yellow star shaped ones-- Usually you were the one to notice the fruit while Eren glanced giddily all around the forest canopy and ground. It was tradition that whenever you two discovered another fruit plant/tree, Eren opens up the Wild Fruits and Plants You Can Eat book, gifted to you by Armin ("So that Eren doesn't accidentally eat something poisonous.") Sometimes Eren is not as bouncy with energy when you two explore the world, and instead he will hold your hand as you two stroll casually, cuddling up on each other's warmth.

NSFW 1) Eren isn't afraid to just.. straight up ask you.. when he wants it. He will look you up and down, eyes full of hunger. "I want you. How 'bout you?" Whewwww. 😮‍💨

LEVI - ohh boy i have so much to say about this little dude...

Would go absolutely crazy and turn into a battle demon, if he saw the love of his life in danger. ...

If Levi somehow found the right somebody, and actually spent enough time with them to be in a relationship, he would NEED his partner to be safe. He will not risk losing you-- he won't. Not after Isabel and Farlan..not again. So if you're ever in danger, you will see an overpowered beast emerge from that man's body and soul.

Levi isn't the best at emotional intimacy, is very stiff when it comes to words of affirmation. He hadn't ever really thought about love. He never even thought he'd have the option to be safe physically, let alone be safe emotionally. --But when he does meet that person, they light up his life in ways that just stun him. They feel like a summer's glow. He will look 10 years younger with you by his side, will feel unprecedented relief whenever he goes back to you. Will scare all the cadets because he will have this stupid smile on his face whenever he sees you.

--But Levi is not used to being loved deeply. He wouldn't know what to DO with your love, and he'd definitely have trouble opening up and being vulnerable. Nonetheless, I do think he'd try; he has initiative to do well to you, and to give you everything he can give to you (starts off with him being your literal guardian demon, progresses into him becoming soft to you). It'd take time and effort for him to learn how to love you properly.

Fluff 1) In the beginning stages of your relationship, Levi would enjoy cleaning with you. He would find himself giving you commands to do more chores (with him).. because he -- wants to -- be with you -- so often??? (won't ever never admit this).

NSFW 1) Levi is a v*rgin. Yes. Yes he (most likely) is. He never met the right person before you, so he never had a chance/time to indulge in s*x. The first time you and Levi have s*x, Levi will have his mouth CLAMPED shut-- trying not to make a noise, trying to control his expressions of pleasure. You'll have to teach him/encourage him to just let go lol.

NSFW 2) Levi wanted to have s*x with you for so damn long cause he's soooo attracted to you, but he will not initiate it LOLLLL. He just doesn't know HOW to ask for that. You had to feel up on him and really let him know you wanted it (breathy whispers and requests), before he FINALLY took the reigns and pinned you against the wall, kissing you hard before taking you to the bedroom~~!!

Also, he's a fast learner. (Imagine with that what you will 🥵).

Fluff 3) & After you two finish, he will clean you up immediately. But after that he won't let you go. Will hold you in a hug for an eternity. Is addicted to your warmth and the love/care you two give to each other.

ARMIN - OH MY GOD NO BECAUSE - i'm so in love with this man - oKAYYY: Armin is a very thoughtful, perceptive, and practical lover. You would feel *so safe* around him, at ease, and like you can be your full self. He's very accepting.

Armin is also going to *look out for you.* He is insanely analytically accurate. He has a clear, reassuring, and gentle energy about him. You know that with Armin, you'll be protected from any new obstacle or harm's way.

You and Armin would see the world for fun. Armin is somebody who feels fascinated with exploring the world, and with learning. He'd probably want a partner who is brave. He'd probably want somebody whose actions or way of doing life, amaze him. He would be so f*cking blushy around you, stuttering and all, whenever you smile so brightly at him -- you're like the sun to him.

Armin *would die for you.* He practically died already, for Eren & the mission. Armin wouldn't hesitate to give himself up, because that's how deep and true his love is for you. (And you genuinely get mad at him for this... but neither of you will budge-- you'd both die for each other).

Fluff 1) You and Armin like to read together :'). Armin will have red blush dusted across his cheeks, and his eyes will be shining as he talks excitedly, imagining all the things the book talks about. You adore it.

Fluff 2) You tell Armin you had a rough day, and he will set up a bath for you. While you bathe in the dark with candles, Armin will be in the kitchen with stew or soup simmering on the stove, before he quietly leaves the house: He will personally scour the bookstore in order to find a book that he thinks will make you smile-- or a book you two will both enjoy reading together/discussing together. Literally this man is like light okay. When you come out from the shower he will be there with a fresh, steaming bowl of stew and a dessert he picked up from the store. You two will eat together and then read a book, cozily cuddling on the couch.. before things get s*xy.

NSFW 1) This man is a *PLEASURER* -- Everything will be gentle, but imbued with such strong love for YOU. Will worship your body. Armin will feel like the luckiest man alive. He sees all your goodness, admires you, and is huge on praising you. Also he moans a lot, even if it's just a soft one that escapes him. Not sorry.

NSFW 2) For my switches/d0ms: You care deeply for Armin, and you also want to see his face when he's a writhing mess-- Sometimes you'll tie him up, and he will... oh he will be so helpless and flustered. You will be giving him all the sensation and he will *love it so much.*

REINER - Somebody come get yo man TT!! Reiner is a f*cking sweet, really good guy. Would protect you and your children (if you have them)-- with EVERYTHING he has -- from difficult, unfair situations (like what he was put through). But, Reiner also probably would want somebody who is strong, because strength means you can protect yourself, and change the world -- Strength is a necessary trait for survival, and he is attracted towards people who are able to stay efficient and alive.

Reiner wants a morally beautiful/morally pure hearted partner. Definitely wants a good person (I mean... Him and Historia in Season, what was is, 2? --speaks for itself). AND I MEANNN Reiner has such a soft heart-- he literally cracked psychologically because he couldn't handle the trauma of being a double agent in a cruel world-- so his pure heart seeks out another pure heart <3

Reiner would ADORE relaxation time with you! He wants the soft fluff, and the soulful moments, like laying together under the stars-- being safe, peaceful, *free.* Reiner has had the burden of war and the Armored Titan like a boulder on his shoulders for ... as long as he can remember. When you're both cozied up together, hands interlaced under the big night sky, Reiner's heart will have bursted and melted all throughout his body. He hasn't ever felt freedom before-- until you. (don't mind me f*cking sobbing right now. he deserves the world!!)

Fluff 1) You and Reiner sometimes do typical, fluffy couple stuff, like go to parks and have picnics, or going to the aquarium, or baking together. Reiner loves the domestic life with you, and you will always catch him gazing dreamily at you, as if he's not sure you're really his. Are you actually right there in front of him? How did he get this lucky? ..Man short circuits a lot around you.

Will definitely be so caught up in his smittenness for you that when you drop the bread dough on the ground and start getting upset/sad, he will just be staring at you like o// //o, not even realizing what happened.

NSFW: I honestly haven't thought about this but I will update this post when I do have some accurate guess on what Reiner in the bedroom is like-- (you can comment if you wanna be tagged for when I do finish this post/ make part two)

𐡘 \

Don't forget to leave a like, or to comment/follow if you want!! Comment to be tagged in part 2! (Jean, Eld, Marco, Bertholt, Connie, Porco, Zeke, etc etc) Feel free to comment! I'd LOVE to hear y'all's thoughts on this post <3! Hope ur all okay.

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pbnbucks · 6 months ago

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can you write something about meeting Caitlin because ur family are family friends and you two develop a relationship?

Caitlin x Reader!

What Happens In Bora Bora Stays In Bora Bora

word count : 1574

warnings : cussing, friends to enemy’s to lovers, somewhat leads to smut, jealousy

summary : your dad and caitlin’s dad worked together and made lots of money so when they had a scheduled buisness trip and decided to bring the whole family down you and caitlin where put to room together.

i made this at 6am so if it sucks my apologies!

your sitting in your cabana in Bora Bora waiting to be told the rooms suituation only to be hit with total disappointed “I just got off the phone with Brent and we decided you and caitlin will be staying in a cabana together while we are in Bora Bora” your family was close with the clark family because for generations they worked together in the family industry. you where close with Brent and Anne, along with their sons except their daughter caitlin. she often picked arguments with you and she didn’t bother hiding her hatred for you. nobody knew exactly why she hated you, your guy’s parents always thought it was because you where the same age (16) and similar in many ways and equally stubborn. although caitlin wasn’t always like this, when you first met when you where 4 and she was a sweet heart up until you guys where 14, thats when it all changed and compliments changed to snarky comments. something in her changed the way she viewed you she went from idolizing you and protecting you to being disgusting by you and filled with hatred towards you. but by the end of the trip it would all change because by the end of 3 weeks shared in a cabana in bora bora together something was bound to happen.

“do i seriously have to share a room with her i mean she hates me and i don’t want to deal with her the entire time” you say trying to convince your dad to make any change in the vacation arrangements. “actually it was her idea she wanted to share a room with you, wouldn’t let anybody else get the spot” great. her goal was to make the vacation terrible for me. “please dad im begging you its a trap her entire goal is to ruin my vacation” he just rolled his eyes at you “they will be here any minute so better hurry up and choose your side of the room.” you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. as soon as he walks out you hear her voice making small talk with your father, she has always kisses up to the adults and the second they turned a blind eye she completely changed. she of course walks in with a attitude already and waits for you to tell her the room arrangement “so i picked the left side of the room so that leaves you the right and i’ll probably go explore in about 30 minutes once im unpacked.” she walks past you making sure the shove against you, not hard but hard enough for you to notice. “look if you just forced yourself into being my roommate just to make my life hell ill gladly go find somebody to room with instead” hopefully trying to get her to quit whatever act she had going on but instead she just laughs at you “your not scary so just sit down princess, and i think i will join you on your little scavenger hunt” shes unbelievable.

TIME SKIP.

its now been 3 days that where full of hiding from caitlin making sure to be out by the time she was awake and come back when she was asleep. shes caught up to what you where doing but to entitled with her ego to question it so instead she drops subtle hints to inform you that she knows what your doing and to cut it out. but you genuinely have no want to argue with her. a good this is you met this girl Maddie on you trip, you brought her by your cabana once but it was extremely awkward with caitlin there, all of a sudden she became extremely possessive with you and even putting her arm around you saying that you where her best friend. you thought that maybe she just didn’t have friends back home and it would make sense with the way she acted.

you where brushing your hair getting ready to meet up with Maddie but instead caitlin walks in on you in the bathroom, “where are you going?” is she being serious? she treated you like shit for the past 3 days and all of a sudden wants to know where your going. “im going to go swimming with Maddie ill be back around 10.” she immediately shuts down you idea and tells you otherwise “no your not im tired of having to wait and stay up at night cause you want to go out with some girl all day and night.” “dude caitlin what the fuck are you even talking about right now, maybe act like a normal person on vacation and go make some friends clearly your lacking some.” she scoffs at your true, but mean comment. “im not lacking any friends nor do i need any, and you one to talk about friends in supposed to be your best friend and yet your blowing me off to hang out with some random girl” best friend? she wishes. “what are you talking about best friend? we are far from friends because you cant get your head out of your own ass. now if you will get out my way so i can hangout with my friend and enjoy my vacation away from you” you shove out the way not giving her the chance to even disagree with you and walk out the door only to greet maddie’s face as she is already there waiting for you, before she can even greet you, you drag her by the arm and run down the long hallway to the water. “im sorry caitlin was giving me a tough time and she was close to coming out and breaking the door down” she laughs thinking you where joking but only if she knew what you had to put up with. “i think she might be in love with you.” you cant believe the words that just came out of her mouth. “whats with everybody and trying to ruin my day.”

ANOTHER TIME SKIP

its now 10pm and you said your goodbyes to your friend as you parted ways only to be greeted with a locked door, you knock on the door begging caitlin to let you in turning the door knob hoping that she will listen but nothing works, your last hope is to say something you know would piss her off and give you a long night but you just deeply wanted to go to bed. “caitlin seriously let me in before i have to room with Maddie.” once you finish your sentence you immediately hear foot steps coming you way to have your door swing open greeting a angry cait, you push past her “seriously you locked me out? why cant you not be a asshole for one day” she rolls her eyes at you “me, im the asshole now? and stop bringing up Maddie i couldn’t give to fucks about your friend.” unbelievable “well clearly you did cause you let me in as soon as i mentioned rooming with her, and you know what i am going to room with her because thankfully she wouldn’t kick me out my own room.” as soon as you said that her face got red and she pressed you up against the door pushing you bodies close together and her forehead resting on yours “your. not. leaving. this. room. got it?” you didn’t know if it was the butterflies in your stomach or her hands gripping at your waste and her mouth and body extremely close to yours but you craved her touch and you wanted more and the only way you know how to get more was by pissing her off. “or what? you cant control me caitlin especially not with the way you act” there was only one thing you wanted to hear from her and it was for her to beg for you. after all these years of constant arguements someone who claims they hate you, ends up needing you so badly. “cmon cait i want to hear you beg for me to stay.” she hesitates hoping you would give up “ you can be serious, im not going to beg.” you just smile at her words “im serious and if you wont beg im rooming with Maddie.” she groans at your words “fine.” theres a long silence for her mentally trying to prepare herself for what shes about to say “please y/n, don’t go room with her.” there was those words you wanted to hear so badly although it wasn’t enough. something in you just clicked “aww is that really what you want baby?” her eyes widen staying their for a second before deciding her next move, no going back now. her lips attack yours and her hand that was on your hip now find your neck making you moan into the kiss, it was the shock you have because this is the first time in a while that she has shown affection for you. she pulls away to gather her breathe but before she pulls you in for more you stop her “y’know i think i have more control over you then you let me know” she gives you her little smirk shes known for “oh yeah? why don’t you show me princess? you up for a challenge?” maybe this was your chance of getting your relationship back, you couldn’t miss your opportunity “of course.”

#caitlin clark #i love caitlin clark #caitlin clark fluff #caitlin clark fanfic #caitlin x reader #caitlin clark smut #fanfic #my fic #wlw post #wlw blog #wlw #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #lesbian #lgbtq

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deerlino · 5 months ago

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Hey!

I don't know if you write things like that,but could you maybe write a member x fem reader oneshot/drabble inspired by the song afraid by the neighbourhood? Like make it angstyyyy,jst like the song.Been feeling like this song lately.I know you write incredibly good,and i trust you with thatttt.

Ofc it's totally okay if you don't want to write this <33

I hope you have a great day and never forget to drink water and take care of yourself!❤️❤️

i’m still afraid ( lmh. )

lee minho | fem!reader

“i wake up, i’m afraid somebody else might take my place.”

synopsis. you and minho confront his deep-seated doubts and fears, grappling with the complexities of love and acceptance in your relationship. (857 words)

content. angst, based on the song “afraid” by the neighborhood, established relationship, anxiety, self-worth issues, relationship struggles, communication issues, insecurities, hurt/comfort, ambiguous ending (?)

warnings. physical violence (minho slams his fist into a wall once), emotional distress (self-doubt, anxiety, and feelings of worthlessness), verbal conflict (heated arguments and shouting between characters), depression, anxiety and fear

authors notes. long time no chat! sorry for disappearing—i've been on vacation in italy, so writing took a backseat. >_< but i managed to squeeze in this request on the bus. hope you enjoy it, anon! <3 i tried to stick to the song as much as possible, but i did go off track a bit while writing—hope that's okay. T_T love serving up some delicious angst for you guys, haha. enjoy! (ps: thanks for the sweet words, anon. really appreciate it, my love!) <3 <3

The room feels suffocatingly small as you and Minho stand on opposite sides, the silence between you filled with the echoes of your harsh words. It’s another night where his self-doubt and anxiety have spiraled into a fight that neither of you can control.

“Why do you always have to push me away?” you shout, frustration boiling over. “Why can’t you see that I’m here because I love you?!”

Minho’s eyes are wild with emotion, his voice trembling as he retorts, “You don’t get it! You never will! I’m nothing but a burden to you.”

“Stop saying that!” you scream, tears streaming down your face. “You’re not a burden. You’re everything to me, but you keep trying to convince me otherwise.”

He turns away, his shoulders shaking. “Maybe you should listen to me for once. Maybe you’d be better off without me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you struggle to breathe. “Do you really want me to leave? Is that what you want?”

He slams his fist into the wall, leaving a dent. “No! But I can’t stand the thought of you wasting your time on someone like me.”

You step closer, your voice softer now but no less intense. “Minho, look at me. Please.”

He reluctantly turns, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with despair. “Why can’t you see it? I’m broken. I’m scared all the time that you’ll see what a mess I am and leave.”

You reach out, your hand trembling, and cup his face. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, even when you’re a mess. Especially when you’re a mess.”

He pulls away, his voice breaking. “But why? Why would you stay? Everyone else left when they saw the real me.”

Your heart breaks at his words, the raw pain in his voice cutting deep. “Because I’m not them. I’m not going to leave you just because things get tough. I want to be here for you, Minho. I want to help you.”

He laughs bitterly, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand. “You can’t fix me. No one can.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” you whisper, stepping closer again. “I just want to love you. Is that so hard to accept?”

He looks at you, his expression a mixture of anger and sorrow. “Yes, it is. Because I don’t feel worthy of your love.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “But you are. You’re worth everything to me.”

He collapses onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. “I wish I could believe that.”

You sit beside him, placing a hand on his back. “We can work through this together. We can find a way.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with hopelessness. “What if we can’t? What if I drag you down with me?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you say firmly. “But I’m not giving up on you, Minho. Not now, not ever.”

- - -

One night, you find him sitting on the balcony, staring out into the darkness. You join him, the cool night air doing little to soothe the tension between you.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t look at you, his voice barely above a whisper. “How easy it would be for you to leave.”

You feel a pang of hurt but try to keep your voice calm. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve told you that.”

He finally turns to you, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “But what if one day you wake up and realize I’m not worth it? That all this pain and struggle isn’t worth it?”

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Minho, I won’t lie to you. It’s hard sometimes. But I love you, and that makes it worth it. We’ll get through this.”

He shakes his head, pulling his hand away. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do,” you insist, your voice breaking. “You deserve to be loved and cared for. You deserve happiness.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing back and forth. “No, I don’t. I’m a mess. I’m scared all the time. I push you away because I can’t stand the thought of you realizing I’m not worth it and leaving.”

You stand up too, blocking his path. “Minho, stop. Just stop. You’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I want to be here. Please, let me help you.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with anguish. “How? How can you help me when I can’t even help myself?”

“We can get through this together,” you say desperately. “We can find help, talk to someone. We can do whatever it takes, but you have to let me in.��

He collapses back onto the chair, his head in his hands. “I’m so scared,” he whispers.

You kneel beside him, wrapping your arms around him. “I know. But you don’t have to be scared alone. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

It won’t be easy, but with love and patience, you know you can help Minho heal. And maybe, just maybe, one day he’ll believe that he’s worth it too.

© deerlino (est. 130724) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

#lee know x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids angst #skz angst #lee know angst #minho angst #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #lee know x you #stray kids x you #lee know imagines #lee know fanfic #lee know scenarios #*writing

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ily-sunghoon · 3 months ago

Text

The Omen of Sterling | CHAPTER IV

Pairing : vampire!enha x fem!oc

Genre of this chapter : vampire, disgusting little smut scene with jungwon

POV : Author’s

Words count : 5.2k

WARNINGS : MDNI!!! food, blood drinking, pussy eating, nipple play, period cycle, curses, mentioned of kms, kinda power abuse, enha are simps, fighting, witchcraft, DO NOT PROCEED IF UNCOMFORTABLE lmk if I missed anything

Note : PHEEEEEWWWW FIRST SMUT CHAPTER! the smut scene is really short, but! enjoy! ALSO, TWO NEW CHARACTERS WOOHOOO <3 feel free to ask if you have confusion about anything! (dont ask me when will this end)

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @nshmrarki @capri-cuntz @millieinyourarea @strxwbloody @poeticjustice1010 @leesura @vousty (let me know if you want to be added)

CHAPTER IV: BLOODY NIGHT

Wilhelmina is in a good mood today, she’ll be back at her uncle’s mansion! Her favorite place ever, because everyone in the castle is not fun. Here in the mansion, they’ve got Ricardo and Jasper who are just as weird as her. Now, she heard that the new girl is also a fun person too! She can’t wait to meet her!

A little bit contrast for the seven vampires, Wilhelmina is like a thunderstorm. Sure, she keeps the house lively! But no one would deny the chaos that she would be making every five minutes is kind of difficult to handle.

“Tell me what happened while I’m gone. In full. Where is the new girl? I want to meet her.” Wilhelmina demands Jasper.

“Good timing, she’s in your uncle’s office.” Jasper grins.

“Oh! What chapter did I miss?” Wilhelmina smirks at the hinted statement.

“A lot! Go barge in, you’ll see for yourself.” Jasper whispered.

Wilhelmina walks upstairs to Jestel’s office with Jasper.

“I’ll wait here.” Jasper informed. Stopping right next to a vase.

Wilhelmina nods and storms uninvited. She clearly could see the way Jestel was so drooling over the new girl.

“Wilhelmina, how many times—” Jestel sighed at her behavior.

“GOOD MORNING! Hi, I’m Wilhelmina. I’m so glad we finally meet each other!” Wilhelmina smiles widely at Iolana.

“Hi! I’m Iolana. I heard about you from Jestel and Ricardo a lot!” Iolana smiles back, she gave her a smile that she didn’t give to any of those guys. A genuine, warm smile.

Jestel froze when he saw her smiling like that.

“My room is on the 4th floor! Please visit me if you have spare time. Or I can visit you! We can go shopping, gossiping, do each other’s hair—oh, wait! WOW! You have short hair, that’s rare!” Wilhelmina is shocked. She had never seen any girl with mid-length hair like Iolana before.

“Wilhelmina, manners.” Jestel reminded her.

“I apologize, Iolana. I was just curious!”

“It’s okay! My brother accidentally cut it during our duels.” Iolana answered, still with her warm smile. She feels safe around Wilhelmina, there’s no bad vibes from her.

“Are you planning to grow it?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t want to get some mouths on my new society.” Iolana giggled.

“Fuck them, you’re very cool!” Ricardo was right, Iolana gets along with Wilhelmina really well.

“Wilhelmina, watch the language.” Jestel reminds her again. “Get out, you’re disturbing our discussion.”

“Oh, my my! Iolana, you must be special. He hates discussion, let alone with a new girl that he just met.” Wilhelmina giggled. She loves teasing everyone in the house, especially her uncle. It gave her a sense of control and it’s fun.

“Don’t listen to her, Iolana.” Jestel tries to convince Iolana otherwise.

“You can ask everyone, Iolana. I might be a trouble, but I never lie.” Wilhelmina laughed this time. Surely Jestel can’t beat that statement, Iolana knows that it’s the truth.

“Are you done, Wilhelmina?” Jestel is panicking.

“He gave her his blood.” Jasper added, bursting into the room.

“Really, Jasper?” Jestel is frustrated right now.

“What does that mean?” Iolana plays dumb.

“Well, somebody is ready to settle down! Eager, aren’t we?” Wilhelmina is enjoying this. “Iolana, you’re truly special. Blood is a big deal around here.”

“Really?”

“Not necessarily!” Jestel panicked again.

“It’s the biggest love form for us Kroshoviens. Hope that helps!” Wilhelmina is giggling nonstop.

“Oh! Even if they mix the blood with somebody else’s blood too?”

“Well, they’re all confessing to you then.” Jasper shrugged his shoulder. “Who’s the other boys?”

“Saine, Jusarlie, and Sarco.”

“Sarco?!” They stopped for a second. “Sarco gave his blood to you?”

“Yes, yesterday after dinner.” Iolana explained.

“This is so fun!” Wilhelmina eyes lit up in excitement. “Hope you can handle the intensity, Iolana!”

“Wait, Wilhelmina, could you explain it again to me? I’m kind of puzzled here.” Iolana played her part.

“That would be my pleasure! Let’s go to your room, I’ll explain further.”

“Iolana, she might add a few lies.” Jestel warned her again.

“No, Wilhelmina never lie.” Jasper shoos them away.

“Bye, Uncle Jestel! Bye, Jasper!” Wilhelmina hugs Iolana’s arm and walks to the 3rd floor together while chatting.

Jestel is visibly bothered.

“Look who’s in a lovestruck now.” Jasper laughed at Jestel’s expression.

“I could handle those other two, but Sarco? Really?” Jestel faked a deep sigh.

“Don’t you think you should start to listen to Idris? None of his omen are proven wrong, especially for this girl.” Jasper gives him simple advice.

“Maybe I should, it is hard to believe this sometimes.”

—

“Wilhelmina, are you not bothered by my scent?” Iolana asked her when they reached the 3rd floor.

“Oh, it only works for the opposite gender! I feel comfortable with you even though you’re a sweet-scented human!” Wilhelmina explained.

“Do they just want my blood…? I don’t know who to trust right now.” Iolana frowned.

“Hey, it’s okay. I feel you, it must be very overwhelming. Take it easy, Iolana. I personally think that they’re in real lovestruck.” Wilhelmina waits for Iolana to open her bedroom door.

They walk in and sit on the bed.

“So… about the blood confession? I don’t know… could you explain more?” Iolana asked politely.

“Basically, if they give you, their blood. It means they’re consenting to you to call upon them whenever you want and need. Hence why we see it as the greatest form of love. It’s not common for one to give their blood so easily to someone they just knew. That’s why I called you special.” Wilhelmina explained.

“Is it that serious?”

“Yes! Only engaged and married people usually do that thing to each other. So, sum it up by yourself.” Wilhelmina laughed. “They’re so in love with you, they think you’re the one for them.”

“This is a bad thing, then?” Iolana gulps.

“Depends on how you look at it, me personally, it’s so fun! You can just summon them as you wish. How fun is that?” Wilhelmina tries to make Iolana see the bright and fun side.

“Whenever, huh?” Iolana nods and smirks.

“That’s the spirit!” Wilhelmina knew Iolana hides something mischievous behind those shy smiles. “Don’t you want to try to summon one of them?”

“Sure! Who should I call?” Iolana is confused.

“Call my uncle.”

“Okay, let’s try.” Iolana is giggling. She tries to focus herself while taking a deep breath. “Jestel, I need you.”

In a second, Jestel teleported in her room. He looks confused. “Iolana, did she ask you to do that?”

“We just want to try!” Iolana defends Wilhelmina who’s smugly grins at Jestel now.

“Okay, next time do it only if you need me, alright?” Jestel tried to be as soft-spoken as he could. It’s a funny scene to watch for Wilhelmina.

“Okay, Jestel.” Iolana puts up her innocent gaze.

“I’ll get going.” Jestel nods and walks out from her room.

Wilhelmina laughed loudly as Jestel had already walked up the stairs. “You’re so good at acting sweet, you should teach me.”

“The key is in the eyes. Just make it bigger, full of hope, and blink a few times, you know. Like this.” Iolana gives her an example. “Always work on men.”

“Let me try, let me try.” Wilhelmina closes her eyes, preparing to try the sweet-looking eyes method. She opens her eyes, giving it an essence of hope, and blinks a few times. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s perfect!” Iolana claps her hand, proud of Wilhelmina. Girlhood is so fun.

“I’m going to use it against Jasper.” Wilhelmina mumbled to herself.

Iolana gives her a smug grin, “You like him, don’t you?”

“No, no, no! No way, right?” Wilhelmina’s nervous chuckles are enough evidence of her real feelings toward Jasper.

“Sure! No way, right?” Iolana mocks her.

“Don’t tell anyone! You’re the first to know!” Wilhelmina whispered.

“Let’s just hope Saine isn’t in his room right now.” Iolana whispered back.

A knock on the door made them jump. “Iolana, it’s me.”

Oh, lord. It’s Saine.

“Speaking of the devil.” Iolana laughed. “Come in, Saine.”

Saine walks in with a sweet smile, but it fades away immediately when he sees Wilhelmina. “Oh, my vamp, it’s you.”

“You gave your blood to her, right?” Wilhelmina strikes back. “That’s so sweet of you, Saine.”

Saine swifts uncomfortably, “Uh, yes. Anyways, I’m going for a walk in the town. Do you want to join me, Iolana?”

“Sure! Can we invite Wilhelmina too?” Iolana is in her innocent mask again.

“Sure.” Saine nods. Praying to every deity and his ancestors that he could think of right now.

“I’ll go ask Jasper.” Wilhelmina smiles at Iolana, then smirks at Saine. “Jaspeeer!”

“Stop screaming, I could hear you perfectly without all the screams.” Jasper shows up immediately at Iolana’s door.

“Relax, soulmate. Let’s join Iolana and Saine for a walk.” Wilhelmina chuckled.

“Sure, let’s go. I’m ready.” Jasper nods.

“Okay, our first stop is my father. He made a special necklace for Iolana. We should grab it first, I’m sure it can hide her sweet scent.” Saine smiles warmly at Iolana.

—

Holstein crouched in front of the last Sterling that he could bring here alive. Fortunately for him, it’s Tama Sterling! The eldest son of Tearle. Luckily, Tama survived his own suicide. So, here he is! Lying on the special prison’s floor, helpless, out of energy, hungry maybe? He’s also very angry. Only if he is a vampire, they’ll be dead by now.

“Is your sister alive?” Holstein asked.

Tama remained silent.

“She’s important to me.” Holstein said again. “She might be the one.”

“Over my dead body.” Tama mocks him.

“You’re so hard to talk to, just like Jestel. I’m sure Iolana is just like me. Easy to talk to, cold-headed, and not stingy.” Holstein scoffed. “Don’t worry, Tama. You’ll be a vampire soon.”

That can’t be happening, what are their plans now?

“Without your memory too, isn’t it sweet? You’re going to be our little dangerous weapon.”

“I’d rather die.”

“You don’t get to choose here.” Holstein hits Tama’s head, not enough to make him die, but enough to knock him out.

—

Iolana stands up and hugs Saine’s arm. Ready for the quick speed she’s going to face. They’re instantly gone in a second, it takes fifteen seconds to get to the Cairneye’s Mansion. Iolana never realized how far it was. Maybe yesterday she was really enjoying the view.

“Papa!” Saine shouts for his father.

“My ears,” Idris acts like his ears are hurt by Saine’s voice.

“Whatever, where is the pendant?” Saine is fed up with Idris’ playfulness.

“Oh, there’s a few things that I need to tell you. Are you sure these two can keep their mouth shut?” Idris points at Jasper and Wilhelmina.

“Guys, get ou—” Saine was interrupted by Iolana.

“They can stay. I trust them.” Iolana calmly answered.

“Are you sure?” Idris frowned.

“I have their secrets, it’s good.” Iolana tilts her head a little bit.

“Woah, what is my secret?!” Jasper is panicking.

“She’ll tell you later, now Uncle Idris tell us.” Wilhelmina glares at Jasper.

“Well, Iolana. Get ready to be hex!” Idris tells the news like it’s a birthday party, full smile, little claps. This man is crazy.

“Idris, slow down.” You can see Iolana is slightly panicking. “What did I do?”

“It’s not a you problem, it’s Slevado.” Idris laughed. “As usual.”

“Ugh, those bitches.” Iolana couldn’t hide her hatred toward that nation. “What did they have in mind this time?”

“First of all, do you know this?” Idris holds a necklace in front of her face, for her to see clearly.

“That’s… how did you… is my brother alive?” Iolana is out of words. The necklace was Tama’s. He always wears it wherever he goes. It’s his treasure.

“He might be alive, I’m not sure. Can you sense him? It took a lot of energy for someone to transfer their real time vision to me, let alone letting me grab a thing. He’s a great wizard.” Idris complimented Iolana’s brother.

Iolana doesn’t say a thing, she holds the pendant of that necklace and focuses her energy to find her brother.

“We found you in the woods. We don’t know who turned you into a vampire, but you’re safe here with us.” It looks like they’re having a feast. Tama is right there, sitting next to Holstein.

“I’m thirsty.” Tama looks miserable.

“I know, drink as much as you want.” The heir of Slevado is such a sweet talker. It scares Iolana off.

“You’re all so kind to me, what do you want from me?” Well, Tama is still Tama after all. Straight to the point and couldn’t trust people easily.

“Nothing! You can live here, this is your new home.”

Tama stares at him blankly. “Why?”

“You’re strong, you knocked out my guards. That’s why I decided to bring you here, to my castle.”

“You want me to be your guard?”

“No, we just want to give you a better life. That way you can explore more of your powers. We just want to help you.”

“Okay.” Tama is still not very friendly.

The vision ended. Iolana drops to the floor slowly after she witnessed all that. Saine holds her arms, he feels sad for her. She doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Turn me into a vampire.” Iolana said helplessly. “I’m your only chance.”

“Iolana, take a deep breath. What do you mean?” Wilhelmina crouched down.

“If they’re going to strike Krashoviel with Tama as a vampire. None of you will survive. Tama is a lot stronger than me.” Iolana explained.

“How strong was he as a human?” Saine asked, hoping that Iolana could provide a specific detail.

“As strong as Ricardo, but heartless.”

They gulp in unison. Ricardo is young, but he’s already almost as strong as Jestel. Maybe it’s all because of Sarco’s hard training, but since he’s young… he still follows his heart sometimes. He often lets emotion take over him.

“He might be stronger than Sarco now… with the fact that he’s also a new vampire as well.” Idris strokes his chin. “Where were you guys going?”

“Just a walk to see the town.” Saine answered.

“Cancel it, we need to do an urgent meeting.” Idris said calmly. “All of us.”

—

The palace is nervous, Idris said he will bring Iolana to the meeting today. How the table has turned, vampire fears a mere little human. Such a funny scene to watch.

“What do you think just happened?” Odelia asked Jestel.

“Another vision, maybe.” Jestel guessed. “He’s your son, you should know better.”

“They’re here.” Sarco said, standing up to greet Idris and the people that he brings to the meeting.

Idris opened the door and let his son, Wilhelmina, and Jasper enter the room first. Meanwhile, he enters the room alongside Iolana. Anyone who studied the art of people’s aura will definitely notice the flame and shadow competing to take over Iolana’s aura. The whole room are terrified. It’s so suffocating.

“Iolana, what happened?” Jestel asked her gently.

Idris let Iolana make the announcement. “My brother, Tama Sterling, has been kidnapped by Slevado. They turned him into a vampire just recently. You need to turn me into one too. I’m your only hope.”

“How so, my child?” Sullivan asked Iolana. Genuinely curious as to why she’s their only hope.

“They brainwashed Tama. It’s not good, Tama is far stronger than me even as a human. He will end you without any difficulties as a fresh vampire.”

“Do you know the possibility of his power right now?” Sarco asked.

“Do you know my grandfather? Thessio Sterling?”

“Oh, I’d rather not. I agree, turn her into a vampire.” Sullivan had a war flashback from that name alone.

“Is he that strong?” Wilhelmina is clueless.

“He’s dead and grandpa still has goosebumps just by hearing his name. What do you think?” Jestel asked Wilhelmina.

“Well, one of you should be Iolana’s host vamp then.” Wilhelmina nods.

“It’s not that simple. She needs to bond first.” Odelia is opposed to that idea. “Iolana, I’ll give you time to choose until Jestel’s birthday party.”

“Jestel’s birthday party? Do you want us dead, Odelia?” Sullivan sees this as an emergency.

“No, we must wait. Let her choose. Who wants to be his host vamp?” Odelia knows what’s going on.

Jestel, Jusarlie, Saine, Sarco, and Hiael raised their hands.

“Oh, my vamp.” Ricardo mumbled under his breath.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hiael?” Jestel yelled.

“What?” Hiael seems unbothered.

“Put your goddamn hand down.” Jestel couldn’t believe this.

“I was just answering Your Majesty’s question. I’m not going to be some ambitious Iolana’s chaser like you and the others.”

“Then put your hand down, don’t make this more complicated than it already is.” Saine tries to stay collected.

“I was just being honest?”

“See?” Odelia turns to her father.

“Iolana, I’ll guide you to choose a host vamp. Feel free to ask about anything. I’ll provide you with my information.” Idris said to Iolana.

“Sarco, I want you to train Iolana to be as strong as you in her human form.” Odelia ordered.

“Are you sure?” Idris is concerned. “As strong as Jestel would be enough.”

“We need someone who’s stronger than Tama, we can’t let anything out of control.” Odelia explained. “Do you copy, Sarco?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

—

Dinner time is almost ready, Iolana is in the bathroom. Preparing herself. Well, today is not nice to her apparently. She sees fresh blood on her panties. This is the least thing that she needs right now. Iolana panicked, she didn’t know what to do. She quickly changed her panties and washed the blood stained one.

“Iolana, let’s go.” Jusarlie’s voice makes her gulp.

“Jusarlie… tell Jestel and the others… my menstrual cycle is here.” Iolana holds the door with her body, just in case Jusarlie lost control.

“Shit.” Jusarlie panicked. “Wait, I’ll tell them. Don’t open the door to anyone before we gather here.”

For half a minute, she waits there patiently. Afraid of what could come for her.

“Iolana, it’s us.” Their voices somehow calmed her down. “Don’t open the door just yet. We could lose control.”

“What should I do?” Iolana is scared.

“Wilhelmina will take you to the basement’s bedroom. You should stay there for a few days.” Jestel explained. “It has triple protection door. You should be safe there.”

“T-triple?” Iolana was surprised by that.

“Yes, three iron doors. So, we can’t come in easily.” Jestel answered. “Why did it come faster than it should be?”

“Probably because I’m stressed.” Iolana took a guess. “I’m sorry to bother you, guys.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Jestel reassured her. “Okay, we’ll be out of the house for a bit. You listen to Wilhelmina, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Take care of her, Wilhelmina.” Saine taps his cousin’s shoulder.

They are out from the house, along with the butlers, maids, and guards. Waiting outside, while Iolana is being moved from her room to the basement.

“Iolana, let’s go.” Wilhelmina said gently.

Iolana opens the door slowly.

“Oh, wow. They would lose their mind if they were here. Come, quick.” Wilhelmina brought Iolana’s bag.

Iolana clings to Wilhelmina and they go to the basement in a second.

“Alright, I’ll explain fast. Every mealtime, they will give you food through this little food elevator. Remember to not open the iron door. It’s there for a reason. Jestel has prepared this room especially just for you, so I guess everything is here? If there’s anything you need, just talk through telepathy. You’ll figure it out. You’re a Sterling.” Wilhelmina smiles. “I’ll go. The door will be locked once I get out, only you can unlock it afterwards.”

“Thank you, Wilhelmina.” Iolana nods.

“Alright, you take care right here.” Wilhelmina waves before closing the ordinary door. Iolana could hear the iron door closing one by one while Wilhelmina walks out.

The basement’s bedroom is not bad, a good place even. Sure, it’s smaller than the original bedrooms, but it’s enough for Iolana. She began to unpack her things, praying that her menstrual cycle wouldn’t last long.

Meanwhile, the dining room is unbelievably quiet. Everyone tries their best to focus on their food and drink.

“Her scent. I’m going insane.” Jusarlie’s eyes dart to the secret door that Wilhelmina and Iolana pass through earlier.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Saine is doing the same thing.

“Hold yourself together.” Jestel told them.

Sarco seems like he’s not listening, though. He’s done eating. Now his eyes keep staring at that secret door.

“Sarco.” Ricardo tries to call him. No response.

“Sarco?” Wilhelmina is worried now.

Sarco is gone in the blink of an eye. They were all panicking and rushed to the basement. They felt great relief when they saw Sarco is just standing in front of the first layer of iron door.

“Iolana, summon me if you need me. I know you’re in pain. I could help.” Sarco sounds so tempting for Iolana.

“Sarco?” Iolana replied hesitantly.

“Yes, just remember that you can summon me whenever you want.”

“Iolana, don’t listen to him.” Saine scoffed. “Summon me, instead. I know you better than him. We shop together, remember?”

“You’re high, let’s go.” Wilhelmina tried to drag Sarco and Saine out of there. “Do not summon any of those guys, Iolana. They’re not in their right state of mind.”

“Sarco…” Iolana whimpers loud enough for them to hear.

Oh.

That awakens something inside them. Something deeper. It crossed the line, it’s unethical. It’s something primal.

“Iolana, summon me if you need help. You know the words, Darling. You did it once yesterday, you can do it.” Jestel bangs on the iron door.

“Iolana, I could bring you your favorite novels. Just summon me, okay?” Jusarlie is also banging at the door.

“Jusarlie?” Iolana did leave the book that she’s currently reading.

“Iolana, you need me, right?” Sarco looks so desperate right now. That is surely not on anyone’s bingo list.

“Iolana, go to sleep. Don’t listen to them.” Wilhelmina keeps her sane, to be honest. Iolana is close to summoning one of them.

She knows it’s wrong, but at the same time it feels very right. She needs one of them. Menstrual hormone messes up with her.

“My vamp, I need to call Idris.” Wilhelmina faked a deep sigh. “Jasper, help me.”

“Let’s go.” Jasper nods, they immediately go to Idris as fast as they could.

Idris, who’s currently busy with customers, is puzzled by their sudden appearance.

“Wilhelmina, Jasper, what’s wrong?” Idris stopped stirring his pot.

“Iolana is in her menstrual cycle, and we couldn’t get the four of them away from the basement’s door.” Wilhelmina informed Idris.

“Bloody hell, couldn’t it pick a better time? I’ll be there in a minute, keep an eye on them.” Idris nods at them. They rushed back to the mansion while Idris excuse himself to the guests, “Could you wait for maybe ten minutes? I need to take care of something. Vampz in love, you know.”

“Sure! We could wait, Sir Idris. Take your time.”

Idris smiled at the guests and rushed himself to Jestel’s mansion. He goes straight to the basement and found an uncomfortable scene. Jestel, Jusarlie, Saine, and Sarco are practically begging. Beyond desperate to open the iron door.

“Collect yourself.” Idris goes to his son first, he slaps him a few times. Not working. Saine is still high. “This is what you get from giving your blood so generously to someone you just met.”

“Is this normal?” Jasper is curious.

“Yes, this is normal, if Iolana is a vampire. Well, unfortunately for us, she isn’t a vampire. Yet.” Idris sighed. “They’ll riot if we drag them upstairs. I’ll knock them out. Ricardo, Jasper, Hiael, help me transport them to the living room.”

Idris began to knock them up one by one with just a touch on their nape. Idris is indeed scary.

The others do what Idris said earlier, they’re now gathering in the living room. Idris sealed access to the basement for the four of them.

“When will they wake up?” Jasper asked.

“A minute from now, two minutes maximum.” Idris sighed again. “This is troublesome, we have to turn her into a vampire as soon as possible.”

Saine opens his eyes. His head is dizzy as he tries to sit. “What happened?”

“You were high, you dumb fuck.” Wilhelmina scolds him.

“Oh, I remember now.” Saine nods. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine as long as she doesn’t interact with any of you lovestruck heads.” Wilhelmina scoffed again.

Jestel and Sarco are slowly opening their eyes too.

“Did I drink too much? What happened?” Jestel had no idea as well.

“You were high due to Iolana’s amazing scent.” Jasper laughed.

“Really?”

“Why do you think I need to call Idris here?” Wilhelmina scoffed.

“Oh, I apologize.” Jestel giggled.

“Iolana, please! You need me, Iolana. I could help you.” Ricardo mocks them.

“I didn’t say that.” Sarco shook his head.

“I am not even exaggerating anything, ask Hiael.” Ricardo is fed up.

“He’s right.” Hiael nods.

“Iolana.” Jusarlie sit straight, making the others surprised by his sudden move.

“Is he still high?” Ricardo looks confused.

“Iolana needs me.” Jusarlie said before completely disappeared in front of their eyes.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Idris panicked. He rushed to the basement to check if Jusarlie teleported or walked. Wilhelmina and Jasper follow him along.

Their hearts dropped when they saw the basement was empty. Iolana summoned Jusarlie.

Iolana summoned Jusarlie.

“Iolana! Iolana! Don’t be ridiculous now!” Wilhelmina panicked, banging at the door. “Iolana! What are you doing?”

“She’s in good hands.” They could hear Jusarlie’s low chuckle from behind the doors.

Idris couldn’t say anything. He was speechless. He went back upstairs, hugging Wilhelmina and Jasper.

“Idris, what happened? Where’s Jusarlie?” Jestel is puzzled. “Why did you put a spell to lock us out?”

“Let’s just hope Iolana is alive and well after this.” Idris said calmly.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Sarco is annoyed.

“She summoned Jusarlie.”

The room felt thick. Completely shocked at the announcement.

“But she’s mine.” Sarco said almost to himself.

“Papa, you’re joking.” Saine tries to be as positive as he could be.

“Saine, let’s just hope she makes it out alive.” Idris pats his shoulder.

“Why? Why? WHY?!” You could hear the despair in Saine’s voice. “Why not me? Why?”

“Idris, read the future. Is he going to be her host vamp?” Jestel looks very insane right now. He grabs both of Idris arms. “Tell me, Idris. We need to know.”

“I’m not sure, but you still have your chances. If she makes it out alive.” Idris answered as much as he needed to.

“I’m going to chop his head off.” Sarco closes his eyes, holding his anger in.

“This isn’t fair. I’m going to kill myself.” Saine grabs a fist of his own hair. He’s very devastated.

“Let’s just hope she makes it first.”

—

“Baby… you need me?” Jusarlie almost lost his self-control when he was being summoned at Iolana’s room.

“Jusarlie, if you drink some of my blood. Wouldn’t my menstrual cycle end faster?” Iolana asked a very difficult question right now since Jusarlie can’t think straight.

“Oh, baby… should we try?” Jusarlie voice got deeper. Iolana could see his eyes darkened at her words earlier.

“Let me make sure of something first.” Iolana smirks back at him. How brave. Jusarlie raised an eyebrow, what could she possibly do?

“Kneel.” Iolana stares right into his eyes.

Jusarlie suddenly lost control of his own body. He kneeled in front of Iolana. He doesn’t even know what is going on right now.

Iolana giggled, “I was right. Let’s try it, Jusarlie. I hate my menstrual cycle.” She shamelessly lifts her night gown and slides her panties down with that pair of innocent eyes staring at Jusarlie.

Jusarlie? Still kneeling. He’s drooling now. This girl is so fucking dangerous.

“Come and get it, Jusarlie.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, Jusarlie quickly positioned himself between Iolana’s thighs. He inhales deeply. “God, Iolana, you smell so good.”

Iolana squirmed under his touch, she held her whimper.

“Thank you for the meal.” Jusarlie didn’t waste any second to finally lick her bloody folds down. It was the most delicious blood he had ever tasted. He is becoming more passionate as he sucks her clit, trying his best not to bite her.

Iolana is a total mess, she couldn’t contain her moans anymore. Her hips moving up and down, all because of Jusarlie’s talented tongue. And he doesn’t plan to stop. He licks her like a kitten, her blood is intoxicating.

Jusarlie swirls his tongue inside her, making her cry out a whimper. One of his hands naturally reaches up to lifts her night gown higher. Once he found her breast, he fondles with them with both of his hands, pinching her nipples slowly and plays with them like a toy.

The pleasure from her core and her breasts is enough to make Iolana breaks, “J-Jusarlie… fuck… it feels so good.” Iolana’s breathy voice makes Jusarlie’s cock twitch.

“Don’t say it like that, you’re making me hard to control myself.” Jusarlie opens his eyes and stare at Iolana fucked up face. She is so fucking beautiful. He would not share this with others. Iolana should be his and his alone. He sucks at her pretty pussy until there’s no blood left coming from her vagina. It was the most delicious meal he ever had.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to be your host vamp?” Jusarlie climbs up while caressing her body, teasing her. Her jolts stroke his ego for sure.

“No, not yet. I haven’t decided.” Iolana is sweaty, out of breath, after Jusarlie devoured her pussy.

“I don’t want to share you.” Jusarlie holds her face gently.

“That’s your problem.” Iolana smirks again. “We’ll see if this method works tomorrow.”

“You’re cruel.”

“Never said I’m not.” Iolana makes him sit by pushing him while she raises her body to sit as well. “Now, you get out like the way you enter this room.”

And just like that, Jusarlie is gone in the blink of an eye. Iolana is very satisfied with the power she currently holds right now.

—

Jusarlie is back in the living room. His smile never leaves his face. He licks the remaining blood on the tip of his lips, unaware of the eyes that stare at him like he just did something really bad.

“What the fuck did you just do with her?” Jestel holds his collar.

“None of your business.”

“Tell me she’s alive.”

“Oh, she’s alive! Breathing normally, body temperature is normal for human, heartbeat normal, and… well pleasured.” Jusarlie giggled at himself.

“Did you fucking touch her?” Sarco’s blood boils.

“She asked me to. Not to brag about it or anything—”

A thud makes the whole room shocked. Saine just punched Jusarlie in the face.

“Don’t say any word about it.” Saine looks insane. He completely loses his mind. What the hell did he do wrong? Jusarlie is not better than him. Why did Iolana choose Jusarlie instead of him?

Jusarlie laughed like a maniac. “Just know that the sweet scent did not lie.”

Jestel, Saine, and Sarco stare down at him. Full of hatred. Full of jealousy. What makes the feeling worse is they can’t do anything about it.

In the very same room, Idris, Jasper, and Wilhelmina know that the future is going to be more complicated than they anticipated. As if the four of them being insane isn’t enough, Iolana chose the crazy path as well.

TO BE CONTINUED...

; YOUR CUTE REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MAKE ME FEEL REALLY GRATEFUL <3 ; FEEL FREE TO HIT MY ASK IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTION ABOUT THE WORLD BUILDING OR CHARACTER!

#enhypen #enhypen fic #heeseung fic #jake fic #jay fic #jongseong fic #jungwon fic #sunghoon fic #enhypen vampire au #enhypen vampire #enhypen series #sunoo fic #ni ki fic #enhypen smut #jungwon smut #jaeyun fic #enhypen hard hours #jungwon hard hours

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sturniolos-blog · 11 months ago

Text

In trouble again? - Sturniolo little sister oneshot

warnings - swearing, fluff, arguing

—————————

Quick backstory behind this oneshot:

When Y/n was 14, her 19 year old older triplet brothers moved to LA. Upsetting her for a while, hard not seeing them around the house.

But after a lot of convincing, when Y/n turned 15, Marylou and Jimmy agreed to let her move in with them.

Obviously, nick, chris, and matt were okay with it.

You may wonder how a girl fit in with three boys, well it was easy for her.

Nick was the one she’d go too for boys, about her period (since he bought her pads and what she needed when she was on it), she'd go to Nick about a breakup, literally about anything that Matt and Chris would freak out about if she told them.

Then Chris was the one she’d go to if she needed too laugh, needed a hug, (chris gives really good ones), He always found a way too make her laugh, even when she was crying. Although when y/n was crying chris usually got emotional with her, so they cried and laughed together.

Now Matt, matt was the one she’d go too for a lot of things. Anxiety was a big one, she had a lot, so she usually asked for tips and stuff. Y/n also gets frustrated, annoyed, anything negative really easily, (like matt) so she usually went to Matt to calm down and take a breath. Y/n also usually slept with Matt, much like chris she hated sleeping alone, so she usually slept with, matt, but occasionally with math and chris because chris was usually found in matt’s bed.

Y/n also gets in trouble at school a lot! (Bad y/n)

—————————

2:03pm

I walked inside my house with yet another write up i got this week, it's only thursday and this is my third write up this week, (new record by the way) this time was for yelling at my math teacher how she didn't know how to teach. She seriously doesn't because if she did would not have a D- in her class right now.

"Is anyone home?" I yelled out, kicking my shoes off and throwing my bag down.

I see Nick walk downstairs, "Hey y/n!" He says cheerfully, "Matt and Chris went to return the jeans you didn't like and Chris wanted to go to get a new sweatshirt or something." Nick smiled before his eyes trail down to my hand. He let's out a sigh, "Y/n...Please tell me.." He trails off, his voice filled with disapointment.

I look down at the paper too, "Umm.." I clear my throat, "Sorry I thought they would've called or at least texted you guys already. My bad. Now can you please sign it before Matt gets home?" I pleaded, handing the paper to Nick for him to sign. Matt was the worst one for when i got in trouble, he changes a lot. He's like all sweet and then his face gets red with anger. It's scary.

Nick took the paper and grabbed a pen from the kitchen table, "I'll sign it, but they took Matt's number down. So there is no doubt he got that call or text." Nick says, signing the paper with his signature like it said too do. I let out a groan as nicks eyes glanced over the quick explanation of what happened.

"You went off on your math teacher?" Nick scoffed.

"I already told Ms.Reel I don't play! She kept testing me, literally and figuratively. She tried givin' me a pop quiz like I was 'bouta do all that. Yeah no thanks." I defended. Grabbing a water from the fridge and sitting down at the island.

"What exactly did you say, n/n?" Nick asked, giving me the now signed paper.

"All i said was, 'I'm not doing this.' and when she asked why I said 'because why would i take a pop quiz from a teacher that teaches like she graduated at the university of nowhere.' and when she told me to go to the office i said, 'gladly, i'd rather have 6 months of detention then ever come back too this bootlegged not teachin us nothin' classroom. And then i got kicked out." I explained.

Matt signed the one i got on monday for going off on a girl for making fun of my friend. He told me it was okay and that i was sticking up for somebody i cared about.

The one i got on tuesday was for walking out of the classroom when my science teacher didn’t let me go to the bathroom but let a boy out when he asked. Chris signed that one for me, Matt found out about it, i didn’t know they had his number, he was upset but he said as long as i didn’t get another one it’s fine.

So after this one i am definitely getting yelled at by Matt.

The front door opens and i hear muttering, sounding like bickering.

“Wait, i left my jacket in the car, can you go get it?” I hear Chris ask Matt.

I then hear Matt mutter something along the lines of, “You fucking idiot” before walking away.

Chris then speed walks into the kitchen, “Y/n, you seriously messed up. Matt was already in a bad mood since he woke up, and then at the mall workers were giving him shit for trying to return your jeans without the tags on them, and then he got a call about how you got in trouble. So you’re actually fucked.”

My eyes widened, “Um- yeah i’m just gonna go up-” I start to walk away but bump into Matt.

“Just the person i was looking for!” Matt says. sarcastically, his arms crossing as he stands in front of me.

“Go sit, now.” He demands. I rub my forehead and nod, sitting at the kitchen table.

Matt sits down next to me and grabs the write up slip, “Nick signed it already? That’s great.” Matt continues with the sarcasm.

“Don’t bring me into this!” Nick puts his hands up in defense as him and Chris are watching us.

Matt then gives nick and chris a look that makes them both go to their rooms.

Great.

I take a breath in before starting to talk as Matt reads the write up slip, “So on a scale of 1-10 how mad-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, y/n.” He grits out.

I nod and bite my lip, i’m really fucking scared.

“You can’t- why would you- who even- where- what- the fuck!?” Matt stutters.

“I don’t even know what to say, y/n! This is the third one this week! It’s thursday! There are only five days in a school week! It shouldn’t be this hard to stay out of trouble!” Matt yells.

“I’m sorry i just-” I get cut off.

“No! You don’t just do anything, you can’t just do something like this and keep getting away with it. You don’t need to be acting like this.” Matt says, putting his head in his hands.

“I also don’t need your opinion, i mean why are you even getting so mad? Nick and Chris don’t care this much.” I say, nice going y/n.

Matt scoffs. “Go to your room.”

“But-”

“Now!” He yells.

“Whatever!” I scoff and get up, literally stomping to my room.

—————————

10:16pm

It’s been 8 whole hours since i last talked to Matt.

Which was crazy, Nick and Chris came in to ask me how i was doing but i just shrugged, i got to keep my phone so i was doing alright.

I get another knock on my door, expecting it to be Matt, i quickly say, “Come in!” But it’s Chris. I love him but i lay back down, scrolling on my phone.

He walks up and sits on my bed, rubbing my shoulder.

“I think you should talk to Matt.” Chris says, his voice soft and welcoming.

“He doesn’t wanna talk to me. He’s made it clear, we haven’t talked since the argument.” I sniffle, i was so upset.

“He does wanna talk to you, but he’s stubborn also, so he is not gonna be the first one to say something. If you go and apologize, and really mean it, like not just go in there because i told you too, then he will appreciate it and say sorry too. I promise.” Chris says as i sit up.

I put my pinky out, “Pinky promise?” I whisper.

He interlocks our pinkies, “Pinky promise.” He confirms.

I nod as he leaves my room, about 5 minutes pass and i decide to get up too.

I knock on Matt’s door, I hear some shuffling before the door starts to open, “Nick how many times-” Matt starts but stops when he sees me.

“N/n.” He says, his voice was much softer.

“Matt- i’m so sorry for getting in trouble and i’m sorry for saying that you get too and and it’s just schools been really hard and i hate it and everyone’s annoying and i don’t know what to do and i-” I sob but get cut off when Matt pulls me in for a tight hug.

“Okay, calm down baby.” He whispers, his fingers going through my hair.

I sob into his chest, that’s all it was. Stress and being overwhelmed.

“Shh..” Matt hushed, bringing me into his room with his arms still wrapped around me, kicking the door shut with his foot and bringing me to sit down on his bed.

“Y/n, listen.” He pulls away from the hug.

“You’re right, i have been harsher than normal, but that’s only because i want you to succeed, you’re in highschool! You are growing up so fast and i want the best for you. And i’m sorry that i’m not the fun one all the time. I’ll try, but if i try you have to promise that you will too, and if you’re ever feeling upset or down that you’ll talk to me.” Matt comforts.

I nod and wipe my nose with my sleeve.

“Can i sleep in here tonight?” I ask.

Matt laughs, “Of course you can.”

—————————

why is this literally the most basic thing i’ve ever written oh lord goodbye idk what happened with me today but im just gonna start dad matt tmr and it will either be done tmr or thursday (i pinky promise) hope yall enjoy this one!

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #spotify #sturniolo #littlesister

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deakyjoe · 2 years ago

Text

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 7

Paring: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her pronouns, British, backstory)

Category: slowburn coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: You and Simon take the next step towards happiness.

Warnings: smut (18+), f receiving oral, handjobs, vaginal fingering, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, praise kink, slightly sub!ghost, slightly dom!reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, swearing/cursing, British terminology/slang, the mask is off, domestic Ghost, brief mention of scars and stretch marks, this is just smut and fluff, *** to indicate where smut starts and ends

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: EJ doesn’t write and publish smut. EJ is a virgin who doesn’t know what sex is like in real life. EJ is nervous about posting this. Please be nice to EJ.

Part 8 here!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

The first time you met Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley you were rather disappointed. You'd heard tales of the mysterious killing machine who showed no mercy. But then, when you finally did come face to face with him, you discovered he was just a regular guy in a mask who complained when his tea was too hot to drink and when the chocolate digestive biscuits had run out. Hardly the legend everyone cracked him up to be.

And then you saw him in the field and your perception changed slightly. He was damn good at what he did. You'd be mildly impressed if you weren't already surrounded by the best of the best, yourself included. You weren't entirely convinced he was the scariest man ever to have lived, as everybody told you, but you could appreciate his skills. Sure, you were fearful of him in the way that he was your superior and you didn't want to make a bad first impression or have him kick you off the team. But you didn't think he was going to kill you in your sleep or anything as your new friend Sergeant MacTavish, better known as Soap, liked to joke.

However, your view of him changed again when he caught you and Soap in the rec room one evening. It was totally innocent. The two of you were unwinding from a long day by eating snacks, listening to music and sharing stories. You were in the middle of listening to a particularly good one from your fellow sergeant when your lieutenant walked in and his mouth snapped shut.

Ghost barely glanced at the two of you, face hidden by his infamous mask. It looked rather silly when he didn't have the rest of his tactical gear on.

"Carry on, Soap." You encouraged him, not put off by the presence of another person in the room. "What happened next?"

The Scot's eyes snapped back to yours and he cleared his throat. "Right, right uuhhh..."

He was cut off by Lieutenant Riley suddenly standing over the two of you behind the sofa, cup of tea clutched in his gloved hand. He was very sneaky. "No drinking on base."

You looked up to him, confused by what he was talking about before realising he was looking at the drink clasped in your hand. "It's apple juice, sir."

He said nothing, eyes burning through his mask into yours. You wouldn't back down from a stare off if that's what he wanted. If his game was intimidation then you wouldn't let him win. You'd grown used to men trying to put you down and you weren't going to let a man who hid his face behind a mask try to do the same.

"This music is inappropriate. Flirting between members of the team is forbidden." He really was trying to get you in trouble. But why? Did he already not like you?

You snorted at him. "I hardly think Sir Mix-a-Lot is the pinnacle of romance, lieutenant."

Soap's jaw hung open opposite you. He couldn't believe you were arguing with Ghost Riley. Especially as a new member of the team. It was risky. He respected it.

"Don't answer back, sergeant." He snapped, fist clenching at his side.

You just held your chin higher despite him towering over you. "I'm not, sir. I'm sure Sergeant MacTavish is a lovely man but, believe me, I have no interest in pursuing anyone on the team. And Sir Mix-a-Lot is certainly not my main means of seduction. I'm here to work. Nothing else."

If only you knew.

***

The kiss was feverish as Simon stumbled into your flat, not letting you go for a single second as he kicked the door shut harshly behind him and pushed his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. There was a passionate clash of teeth and tongues as you slammed him back against the wood, needing to be as close to him as possible. You were not going to let him go full Ghost on you in this situation and take complete control of it. You wanted Simon. And you wanted some power.

But Simon was kissing you.

Simon was kissing you.

It finally dawned what was happening.

He tasted like the bourbon he'd been drinking earlier, not that you were complaining, and you wondered if you tasted of the apple martini he'd made for you. The apple martini he hated.

You pulled back suddenly. "Oh, god. Do I taste like the apple martini? I'm sor-"

He chuckled lowly, leaning back into you. "Stop talking for once, Sarge."

The kiss resumed and his hands roamed every inch of you that he could reach, not neglecting any point of your body. You clung to him desperately, never wanting to let go. You wanted to consume him. And let him consume you.

He was too tall, always too fucking tall. So you grabbed at his shirt and dragged him down to meet you halfway, legs sliding up the outside of his almost as if you were trying to climb him. And maybe you were.

Simon groaned lowly into your mouth, breaking away for a mere second to catch his breath and stare longingly down at you before diving straight back in. As your arms snaked around the back of his neck, he turned the two of you around so you were up against the door. And you needed the support as he started to pepper kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He found your weak spot as you whined and began to lick and suckle there repeatedly for good measure.

As much as it felt good, you needed more of him so you threaded your fingers through the back of his hair and guided his lips back to yours. "More kissing, Simon."

He obliged happily.

You'd never get enough. There would never be enough Simon Riley in this world to satisfy you. And he had a sneaking suspicion of that so he was going to do his damn best to give you as much as he could.

When he broke away again, you huffed in protest but quickly stopped when he sank down to the floor.

Having Lieutenant Simon Riley on his knees in front of you was the most exciting, and unexpected, moment of your life.

You'd store away the image in your memory forever.

He looked up at you with his wide, dark eyes and started unbuttoning your jeans. When he glanced back up at you again for permission to take them off you just nodded. They were pulled off and discarded, his stare fixing on the underwear you were wearing. It wasn't your nicest pair but Simon didn't seem to care much as he parted your thighs with his hands and stuck his head between them, inhaling deeply.

Before you knew it, they were torn off and Simon's mouth was latched onto your clit. The man did know his targets well.

"Oh, my- fuck!" You slapped your hand across your mouth, head thrown back and slamming against the door, as he sucked and flicked at it in utter desperation.

When you dared to look down at him, even more arousal stirred in you to see his eyes - his pretty, pretty eyes - were fixed on you and your reactions. He seemed to be concentrating on what felt good for you. People pleaser.

Moans and other pleasured sounds tumbled from your lips as he lifted one of your legs and manoeuvred it over his shoulder so you were spread wide for him, hand planted on your thigh to knead the flesh there. He changed positions after that, moving so his mouth was closer to your opening and his nose bumped against your clit for stimulation instead.

And you couldn't help yourself when your hips started grinding against his face of their own accord, pure lust powering you forward.

"Simon." A gasp of his name left your mouth as he lapped up everything you were giving him, hands laced in his hair to pull him impossibly closer to you.

The thought that you were doing this against your front door and that any of your neighbours could hear you if they simply walked past was long gone as the burning feeling of your impending orgasm built up within you. But, then again, it was past midnight on New Years. Any of your neighbours still awake would probably be partying and having too much of their own fun to take any notice of loud noises coming from your flat.

"So good." You said, chest heaving and face glistening with sweat. "So, so good, Simon."

He groaned into you, eyes closing for just a second making his fair eyelashes flutter, and went harder. He devoured you like a man starved.

And with a final buck of your hips that had the tip of his nose hitting your clit just right, you were speeding over the edge into blissful oblivion. It took every ounce of willpower for you not to scream as your legs turned to jelly. He kept you upright with his hands on your hips as he slid back up to his full height.

"You. Taste. Heavenly." Every word was punctuated by a kiss to your lips, each one tasting distinctly of you.

Your voice was ragged as your eyelids became hooded and you grabbed his hand. "Bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am." He had no ounce of protest in him as he allowed you to drag him through your flat and to your room. Now things were started he wasn't going to hold back at all. He'd been denying himself of this for too long. He felt like it was deserved. Both for him and for you.

What he didn't expect was for you to take complete control as soon as you got there, pushing him onto the bed and demanding him to sit up against the headboard as he kicked his shoes off.

And when you crawled over to him and straddled his lap, lips immediately landing on his to kiss him even more, he felt a tingling inside of himself. It was a kind of buzz, almost like he was drunk but not quite. Maybe drunk on you. And the feeling of you against him.

You were underwear-less now, only a bra and shirt covering you, so when you started to softly grind against him Simon thought his brain might explode. Or other parts of him.

But you didn't give up, even as he grew painfully hard underneath you, you just kept going. You just kissed and kissed and kissed at his swollen lips, not being able to stop yourself.

But then you suddenly pulled back and looked down at him, head tilting to the side slightly. Your hands tapped along the hem of his shirt, barely grazing the skin of his stomach. "You're wearing too many clothes. May I?" You asked and he nodded, breathless. "Out loud."

"Yes." He was never going to say no to you. Especially not now. He'd lost the ability to deny you of anything a long time ago.

You tugged the shirt off of him and over his head, eyes immediately landing on his bare torso that was only very partially obscured by his dog tags. He was toned, that was for sure, but you knew that already and you admired the tattoos dispersed up and down his arms, encroaching onto his chest. However, you were more focused on the subtle things. The small freckles scattered in various places, scars marking the pale tone of his skin, a patch of hair on his lower abdomen that trailed off in a little path underneath his belt. Even the faded stretch marks dotted across the plains of his body.

You sighed happily. "You're so gorgeous it's unfair, Simon. Blond and pretty."

He flushed at that, blaming the heat in his cheeks on being turned on, and pulled you back in to kiss him to distract himself from it.

Your nails raked down his chest, arms lifting up when he pulled your own shirt off of you. His large hands explored the expanse of your skin, trailing up and down your sides before going to your back, undoing your bra and tossing it to the side. Like him, only your dog tags were left to cover the bare skin of your chest.

His eyes were drawn to the dog tags hanging around your neck, the chain settled in the valley of your breasts, and you both knew what you were thinking. The fantasy Simon had confided in you. But, silently, you agreed it was for another time.

His hands were warm when they landed on your chest, which you were thankful for, as they kneaded, pulled, tugged and tweaked. It felt good but you wanted to give him more.

"Can I touch you, Simon?" You asked, smiling when he nodded eagerly.

Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, no patience left within you, and you pulled his trousers and underwear down just enough to release him once the belt was undone.

You stared at him.

Simon felt self-conscious.

He had no reason to.

He was long and thick, your mouth watering at the sight. Oh, how you longed for him. To have him in your mouth. To taste him. To feel him inside you. But that was for another time.

As soon as your hand wrapped around him his eyes screwed shut and his head was thrown back against the wall, soft sounds leaving his mouth.

"Mm-mm. Eyes open and on me, Simon." You said quietly, watching his chest heave and his breaths come out raggedly.

His eyes shot open at the mention of his name, cheeks pink and rosy as he made eye contact with you.

"So pretty..." You trailed off, smiling at him. He really was beautiful. Especially like this. "Come on, pretty boy. Keep making those pretty, little noises for me."

He whimpered, actually whimpered.

"Oh-ho-ho! Do you like praise, Simon?"

He nodded frantically, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. "Please."

"You like to hear how well you're doing for me? How beautiful you look? Hm?"

Your hand tightened around his tip before you sunk it back down again to the base, twisting your wrist to give him more friction.

A garbled sentence left his mouth, something incoherent he was saying to himself.

"Speak up, Riley. I need to hear you." You looked away from his face for a moment to where your hand was pumping him, speeding up the action slightly.

"Fuck, so close. I'm gonna- gonna-"

"Already?" You raised your brows at him. You weren’t disappointed, just surprised and rather flattered.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry." He apologised profusely, face scrunched and hands clawing at the bedsheets on either side of him. "So, so sorry. Fuck-"

"It's okay. Come for me." And all it took was a swipe of your thumb over his tip.

He groaned lowly as hot ropes of cum spurted from him, coating your hand and his stomach. More laboured breathing from him had you placing your clean hand on his chest to calm him down.

***

"Breathe, Simon. Inhale... Exhale... Good." You leant forward and kissed his cheek before looking down at the mess beneath you. "Umm..."

"Shit, uh..." He reached for the tissues next to your bed and frantically wiped away what he could. "You might need to wash your hands."

"Probably." You smiled at him.

"I'm sorry that I... so fast." He panted, face scrunched in... embarrassment?

"Don't apologise. If I'm sitting here calling you pretty and encouraging it, then I want you to come." You revelled in the way his cheeks flushed and his eyes widened a fraction.

"But we didn't- you didn't-"

You shook your head, crawling off of him to go to the bathroom. "You already made me come."

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts." You tutted and called over your shoulder one last time before disappearing out of the room. "I'll be back in a minute."

You could feel his stare on the back of you as you left, smiling at the idea of him watching you. When you returned a couple of minutes later with a damp cloth in your hand to clean him up, you found him staring at the wall opposite and twiddling his thumbs together. He looked anxious.

"What's wrong?" You asked softly as you sat down next to him and wiped his stomach.

"Nothing." He answered too quickly for your liking.

"C'mon, Simon. I know you now. Don't lie to me. Please. You can tell me." You glanced back up at him as you finished, turning slightly to throw the cloth into your laundry hamper in the corner of your room. You managed to get it in, you did have impeccable aim.

He didn't answer as he watched you crawl over him to the unoccupied side of the bed and get under the duvet.

"At least take off your jeans and get in here with me." You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow. And when he still did nothing, you had a sudden realisation. "Unless you want to leave. Because you were leaving before you came back..."

The idea broke your heart. Maybe he wanted this to be a one time thing to let off some steam, to alleviate the tension that had been growing between you. What if this wasn't what you hoped it would be?

He snapped out of his daze at that, standing and pushing off the rest of his clothes before diving in next to you and sidling up close. "No, no. Don't say that. I don't want to leave."

"Okay, good." You smiled at him, getting slightly closer. "Tell me what's wrong."

He chewed absentmindedly on his inner cheek. "Overthinking."

It was a simple answer that didn't explain much. But you understood him.

"Okay." Your hand lifted to his face, thumb swiping over cheek softly as you kissed him gently. "You can tell me whatever you need to whenever you need to."

He nodded, kissing you again.

Your fingers moved to the back of his head, carding through the blond strands. His eyes fluttered shut, a relieved breath leaving his mouth.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I overthink. Especially with this."

"Don't apologise, Simon." You chuckled, wanting to lighten the mood. "Thought you told me you were more dominant in bed."

"Nuh-uh. I told you it depends." He smiled back, one of his proper smiles that was reserved only for you to see as his eyes snapped back open.

"Lucky me then."

There was a short moment of silence before you approached the topic that was eating away at you.

"Why now?" You asked, shifting so your noses grazed against one another.

"Because I've wanted to for a while." He kissed you quickly, hand tracing over your hip. "And because I'm selfish."

Curious. "Selfish?"

"Too selfish to think about the consequences because I want you too much."

Huh. "Meaning?"

He paused, thinking about his words carefully. "I'm prioritising my wants, pleasures, needs over logical arguments."

"You make no sense, Riley. But I'll take it if it means this." You sighed into his mouth as you kissed him again. "I wish you'd done it sooner. We've been spending time together for months."

"I wouldn't let myself. It's not allowed. Technically." He added the last bit on hastily. "And I wasn't going to allow it to happen."

"You were going to ignore your feelings?" You couldn't judge him exactly. You'd been doing the same.

"Have been for months. Unsuccessfully." He grunted, winding his hand around your waist and tugging you closer so you were chest to chest. "But you wouldn't leave me alone."

"Hey! I offered you an out." You protested weakly, smiling widely at him still.

"Didn't mean literally." He huffed. "Just constantly on my fucking mind."

Your eyes brightened at that and Simon felt himself fall just that little bit farther. You, on the other hand, were trying to control yourself. There were three options: jump him again, confess your undying love or just stay quiet in the hopes he'd say a little more.

Option three was the safest.

He kissed you again, lingering for a moment this time. "Couldn't get you off my bloody mind. Always ticking around in there."

"I'm flattered, Riley." You whispered. "Does that mean I'm the last thing you masturbated to which is why you refused to answer during Truth or Drink?"

"Classified." He paused. "But yes."

You giggled and pressed your lips against his, moaning quietly when he rolled the two of you over so you were underneath him.

He pulled away for a moment, mumbling into your mouth. "Definitely worth any consequences."

You were wildly inquisitive about the whole thing, unable to stop yourself from inquiring. "What are the potential consequences?"

"Dishonourably discharged."

"Wait, really?" You pushed slightly on his chest, suddenly panicked at the idea.

"Nah." Dickhead. "Could be reassigned."

You whined quietly. "That's shit."

"Mhm, don't think Price would let it happen though." He lowered himself down again and planted an open mouthed kiss on your jaw, grazing his teeth against your skin. "I wouldn't let him let it happen."

You sighed contently, arms snaking around his back. "Hmm, and why's that?"

"I'm rather fond of you."

"Rather fond of me... what are you? Eighty?" You cackled, chest rumbling against his.

He rolled his eyes at you. "Ever the charmer, Sarge."

"I'm sorry." You mock pouted. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Shut up." He silenced you with his own mouth, tongue curling against yours, and revelled in the sigh you let out against him.

But you weren't done with your interrogation, forever wanting to know more. "Why did you tell me happy new year before you kissed me?"

"Because I wanted to kiss you at midnight." He said it like it was obvious. It wasn't.

"Why didn't you?" Your nose scrunched so Simon smoothed it out with his thumb.

"Didn't think it'd be a good idea." The warm brown of his eyes flickered as his gaze roamed your face, finally taking in how lucky he was being able to look at you so close up.

"But you changed your mind." You offered, assuming that was right.

It was. "I did."

"Why?"

He chuckled. "So many questions."

You cowered slightly. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Sarge." He bumped his nose against yours. "You looked sad when I didn't."

Oh, bollocks. "You noticed that?"

He nodded, looking as if he pitied you. "You're not very good at hiding your emotions. Your face speaks volumes."

Double bollocks. "Then you must've known how I felt for ages."

"Suspected. Thought it was wishful thinking."

There were a whole array of words to express how stupid he was. You refrained from using all of them and stayed silent.

Unlucky for you, Simon could read it on your face. "I can tell you're itching to insult me."

"But I'm not going to." You shook your head, readjusting on the pillow beneath you. "All I'll say is... you're so pretty, Simon."

"Oh, bugger off." He moved to push away from you completely.

But you had other plans as you tightened your hold around his back. "Never!"

***

He landed on top of you with a groan and a mumbled apology. It was fine. You were trained to drag about three fully grown men out of a burning if you had to. He felt like nothing on top of you despite being six foot four and muscly as hell. It was rather nice actually, feeling all of him pressed up against you. And yes, that meant all of him.

Skin heating up at that, you hoped he didn't notice how you were suddenly burning as he lifted himself back onto his elbows and looked down at you. Nothing was said on the matter, which you were glad about. What you were even more glad about was him mumbling something about wanting more orgasms out of you and then proceeding to lower himself down your body, trailing tender kisses across your skin as he went.

When he got far enough down, Simon situated himself between your legs. It seemed to be his favourite place in recent times. Secretly, he'd admit it was. You didn't protest when he placed a large hand on either thigh and opened you up for him again, just let him do what he wanted. And he seemed very happy to spend his time pleasuring you and making sure you felt good even though he appeared to care very little about himself.

So, that's how you spent god knows how long. You writhing underneath his firm grip and him spending a countless amount of time between your legs as he drew out orgasm after orgasm. Even when you became sensitive and the overstimulation was getting to be too much, he just cooed and encouraged you further.

"Come on, Sarge. I know you can do one more for me. Just one more." He comforted you, fingers of one hand stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the fingers of the other hand inside you. "Good girl. Come on."

Maybe he wasn't the only one with a thing for praise.

And after what seemed like hours of pure delight for you, he was finally satisfied with what he'd done and tentatively returned to his space next to you in bed.

He fell asleep quickly after that, you wrapped in his arms, with a relaxed expression on his face. And when you finally joined him in his state of unconsciousness after watching him breathe deeply for a while, you dreamt only of him. His face, his touch, his eyes roaming your mind. It was peaceful. And you were happy.

When you awoke to Simon placing lazy kisses along your shoulder you thought maybe you'd died and gone to heaven. The only reminder that this was still reality was the soreness between your legs and the dull ache you still had for him, craving him.

He was behind you, spooning you, and you could feel he was already hard against your back. "Good morning, Sarge."

Morning voice. Husky. Deep. Delectable. You could drown in it.

"Good morning." You returned, pressing back against him and loving the hiss he let out.

And before you knew it, your head was angled awkwardly to look over your shoulder so you could kiss him and he was sliding into you. Finally. You gasped into his mouth when he did, immediately urging him to move. His hands gripped your hips tightly, using you to help the friction.

You rocked against each other, the position not being one of your favourites as you couldn't see his face or reactions properly, but he made up for it with the sounds he was letting out right next to your ear. And it was intimate, you were still practically cuddling.

"Fuck, Sarge." He groaned into your shoulder, biting down slightly to muffle himself.

That only set you off further, grinding yourself back harder against him. You could do this forever, never wanted him to stop. No, you needed him to never stop. This was perfect. The two of you alone forever in your bed, not a care in the world. Just rounds and rounds of sex and the occasional conversation here and there.

You were caught off guard by his hand snaking around to your front and his fingers suddenly circling your clit.

You gasped and bucked against his hand. "Simo-" His name was cut off by another choked sound leaving your mouth. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

It didn't need to be said, the promise of not stopping was silent. But he gave you verbal confirmation anyway. "Never, Sarge. Come on. Come for me. That's it, good girl.”

The climax was approaching rapidly and he knew that from the way you were beginning to spasm around him, his own also crawling up on him. But you were priority.

So he held off until you were spent, head thrown back against him and eyes screwed shut as you let out breathless pants in a mixture of soft sounds.

He didn't stop, just quickened his pace as he hips began to falter. "Where, Sarge?"

You knew what he meant. "In me. Please, in me."

So he did. His warmth filled you up as he came inside you, immediately relaxing behind you with more kisses scattered along the skin of your shoulder.

After he pulled out of you, it took a few moments before you managed to catch your breath again. God, you'd never get enough of this.

***

There was suddenly heavy breathing behind you. Simon had fallen asleep again. Typical man.

With the remnants of him dripping out of you, you rushed off to the toilet to clean up and get partially ready for the day - you brushed your teeth and put on some clean clothes. When you were done, you returned to your bedroom to find him still fast asleep. You could leave him for a while longer. He always looked tired.

You trotted to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea, getting out a second mug and teabag for Simon when he finally woke up for good.

With your cup of tea in one hand and your phone in the other as you checked all your messages from friends wishing you a happy new year, you leant against the counter and failed to notice a certain someone waking up in your room some time later.

Simon awoke to a cold bed, his arm stretching out to find you only for you not to be there. He felt disappointed for a moment before remembering the events of earlier in the morning. Shit, had he really fallen back to sleep instantly?

A sense of embarrassment flooding through him, he sat up quickly and looked around. His clothes were tossed to various places around the room, as were yours. You really hadn't bothered to clean up. He liked that for some reason.

He had nothing else with him so just pulled his t-shirt and boxer briefs back on from the day before, hoping they weren't too crinkled. But he doubted you'd care if they were.

Then, before leaving your bedroom, he thought of you. And what had finally happened between the two of you. Even though he probably should've, he didn't regret it one bit.

Simon Riley had been torturing himself for weeks over you. The feelings had started growing as soon as you smiled at him in the goddamn cheese aisle, before you even knew who he was. And whilst they hadn't solidified until a little more down the line, he knew he wouldn't be able to let you go after that. And when you actually seemed to like him - him, not Ghost, not Lieutenant Riley, just Simon - he knew he was inevitably screwed.

It didn't help that you looked at him so adoringly, never a glimpse of hostility in your sparkling eyes, with an ever permanent smile on your lips. It's like you were daring him to try not being head over heels for you. And he'd hate himself for breaking every rule ever laid out to him by Price and other higher ups if you didn't make him feel so good, so warm inside.

And that's exactly what he felt as he walked in on you in your kitchen, humming to yourself as you rifled through your fridge for something to eat. The usual tingling sensation you set off in him was in full power as you turned to him, smiling spreading at the sight of him and eyes twinkling. It didn't help that you looked flushed and glowing with your slightly messed up hair and shaky legs. Freshly fucked, he'd describe it as. And he was the cause.

He approached you without a moment of hesitation, cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. "Good morning, Sarge."

You smiled against his mouth. "Second good morning, actually. We already did this once."

"Mhm, and what an amazing first good morning it was." He hummed against you, kissing you again. And again. And again.

Reluctantly you broke away, not fully out of his grasp though. "Do you want tea?"

"I'd love tea." He replied, still not letting you go.

"Simon, I need my body to make you tea." You chortled.

"And I need your body for other things." He whispered into your ear.

"Cheeky." You scoffed and pushed him away. "I will make you tea. Go sit down."

He agreed only after planting another lingering kiss on you and left for the living room. This was surreal to him. He was with someone he liked. Who liked him back. And you were... happy together. There was no underlying venom or bitterness fuelling the feelings, specifically the lust, between you. This kind of thing didn't happen for Simon Riley. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he'd wake up in some cold safe house a million miles away from here only to find out this was some sick fantasy his mind conjured to play cruel tricks on him. But you were so warm and so good, so everything Simon didn't deserve. Which is why he'd selfishly keep you for as long as he could.

And when you emerged out of the kitchen, precariously balancing two cups of tea, with a look towards him full of adoration, he knew he was so screwed that it was almost funny. Simon decided then that if you thought about him half as often as he thought about you, with just a pinch of the infatuation he felt for you, that he was a very lucky man.

"I haven't got much for breakfast, I'm afraid. Probably got a box of Cheerios or something in a cupboard. Or we could go out to eat. If you'd like." You suggested, stood in front of him with your hands twisting together in embarrassment. You weren't used to hosting company in the mornings and having him here was so strange after him leaving before daybreak all the previous times he'd slept on your sofa. This was different though. This time he'd slept in your bed.

Simon stared up at you, intensity gone from his gaze to leave only affection. "I don't care." He really didn't.

He didn't need some fancy breakfast cooked up for him. He didn't need the probably stale cereal you offered. He didn't need anything aside from one thing.

All he needed, for now, was you.

A/N: I’ll let them be happy… for now. Please don’t comment on the smut if it’s bad. And full disclosure: Sarge and Soap were listening to Baby Got Back.

Thanks to @ramadiiiisme for consulting with me on the smut 🙏🥰

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runningincircl3s · 2 months ago

Text

Nothing Ever After

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Vinny Mauro

Chapter Thirteen

chapter warnings: tiny smut warning? it's nothing too graphic at all!

i guess this is a filler chapter? it's just chaotic and fun! happy monday bffs :)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“No, I’m totally convinced y/n and Vin are gonna get together after this tour- if they haven't already- I mean, have you seen the way she looks at him?” Justin said, taking a sip of his water. The guys were getting ready to set up at the next venue, most of them gathered in a group in the parking lot. “And catching them the other day just proves my point.”

“Wait, what?” Noah questioned, trying to conceal the way his blood was beginning to boil at the thought of you and Vinny. He had noticed how the two of you had suddenly grown closer, but surely Justin had got it all wrong. You and Vinny were just friends, right?

“I went to get changed after the show yesterday and there they were in the dressing room, all over each other.”

“What do you mean?” Folio laughed nervously, noticing the change in Noah's expression.

“I mean he had her pinned against the wall.” Justin chuckled, “I’m totally here for it, I think they’re cute together.”

“Yeah, a perfect couple.” Noah mumbles, crossing his arms. “Hey, where are they?”

“Vin’s taking a nap.” Ricky says defensively, “Why?”

“I just need to ask him about uh… Something... real quick.” Noah says as he marches towards the bus.

The bus was silent, which wasn’t exactly calming his nerves. However, as he approached the bunks, he realised Ricky was right. There he was, asleep, with you nowhere to be seen.

“See, I told you he was asleep.” Ricky says, looking up as he watches Noah dart from one bus to the other.

“Y/n?” He calls out, and you turn your head away from your laptop.

“Hey, what’s up?”

You watch as Noah messes with the buttons at the front of the bus.

“How the hell do you lock this thing- Oh!” He presses a button and the doors make a clicking sound, and you assume he found the lock button.

“Noah, what’s going on?” You ask, setting your laptop down as you get up, feeling slightly worried.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, slightly taken back.

His large hand comes to cup your face, his eyes darkening as they meet yours.

“Tell me. You’re mine.”

“Noah…”

His eyes were darker than you’ve ever seen them and the grip he had on your face was tightening, you had to bite your lip to suppress the whimper that wanted to slip from your mouth. You swallowed hard, feeling your breath becoming heavier and a dull ache between your thighs.

“I won’t ask again.” He warned, pushing you against the wall, his leg slipping between yours.

“I’m yours, Noah.” You tell him, looking up at him through your lashes as he squishes your face in his hand, a proud yet devilish smile on his face.

“Good girl,” he whispered, finally leaning down to capture your lips with his, “You’re all mine.”

“Yours,” you whimper between kisses, your hand sliding down his body as you begin to palm his cock over his joggers.

Outside, the guys are still talking as Vinny gets off the bus, wearing a pair of sunglasses he received from a fan at one of the shows. As he joins the others, they all look between each other, waiting for somebody to speak first.

“You okay, Vin?” Ricky chuckles, watching as Vinny shakes his head.

“No my fucking head hurts, and it’s so bright out here. I thought by having a nap my headache would go away but it feels even worse.” He groans.

“Want some aspirin?” Matt asks, “I’ve got some on the bus.”

“Can I?” He asks, pulling his hood over his head. “I’d appreciate that.”

Matt nods, walking over to the bus, attempting to open the door but failing.

“Shit, it must have locked itself again, Noah’s got the keys.” He groaned, knocking on the door, “Can someone unlock the door please?” He shouted.

Noah suddenly pulled away. He had you against the wall of the bus, your legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you. You were tugging on his hair as he attacked your neck with his mouth, but the banging on the door made the both of you jump, quickly rushing to throw your hoodie and shorts back on, and Noah pulled his boxers and joggers back up, trying to catch his breath as he fixed his hair, rushing over to the door.

“One second!” He shouted, trying to find the button to unlock the bus. “Which one is it?” He was trying to buy you time as you rushed back to your bunk, grabbing your laptop on the way. “Wait, I got it!”

As Noah pressed the button, the door opened and Matt sighed, walking up the steps and on to the bus.

“I told our driver the doors fucked, I got locked out the other day when I come back to- Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah… why?” Noah questioned.

“You look a little flustered,” he began to smile, “Is y/n here?”

“Yeah, she’s working in her bunk, why?”

“Why all the questions, Noah?” He teased, walking over to where his bag was, digging through it to find the aspirin for Vin. “Next time you want to fuck on the bus, don’t leave your panties on the floor.” He says, looking between you and Noah.

“What? We weren’t-”

“It’s okay! I won’t tell the others, but you could’ve waited until tomorrow when we’ve got our own rooms, for the love of god!”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You have officially been on tour for a month now, and it has been the best time of your life. You had met so many new people and had opportunities you never would have expected before. You were invited to do an interview backstage at a festival that the guys were playing at for a couple days, answering questions about how you got the role of touring photographer. You didn’t want to tell them it was because you were friends with Bryan, so you explained how you did a photography club in school, and how it had led you here.

Matt warned you that if the questions started to get too personal then to not answer them, and there was one particular question that pissed you off.

“So, some Bad Omens fans have taken to social media and have speculated that you’re dating Noah Sebastian. Can you tell us anything about that?”

You let out a laugh at how ridiculous that was.

“No. There’s nothing to tell, my private life is exactly that- private. Whether we were dating or not is nobody’s business, but to the twelve year olds and stalkers out there, no. I’m not dating your parasocial boyfriend.”

“Well that told them!” The interviewer chuckled nervously, “and Bad Omens are touring with Motionless in White right now, can you tell us any backstage secrets or gossip you might have heard from either bands?”

“Vinny Mauro loves mayo!” You smiled mischievously, “Any fans that see him about on the streets, meet him in VIP, or even send gifts to him, give him mayo! He’ll be so thankful! And also, Jolly snores!”

“Well, we would’ve never known that if it weren’t for you! Thank you, y/n! We hope to see you here again next year!”

“Thank you for having me.” You smiled and the interview finished.

“Why the fuck would you say that?” You heard someone groan as you began to leave, and you turned to see Vin standing by watching. .

“How long have you been there?”

“Since Bryan told me you had an interview.” He smiled, “Why the hell did you tell them I like mayo?”

“Because you don’t.” You smirked.

“It’s all I’m ever gonna get sent now, just you wait, y/n y/l/n, I will get my revenge!”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try.” You stuck your tongue out as you walked past him, before turning back to look at him, “How long until you’re on.”

“Oh it’s hours away, why?”

“Because in 15 minutes Rain City Drive are playing their set and I don’t want to go by myself.”

“You don’t want to go by yourself?” He laughed, before giving in, “Fine, I'll come with you. What stage are they playing?”

You dragged Vinny with you to watch Rain City Drive play their new album, and although he told you he’s not heard any of these songs before, you were happy to see he seemed to like them.

“What’s this one?” He asked as you were dancing along to one song in particular.

“Medicate me!” You told him, taking his hands as you continue to bounce around, “What do you think?”

“I like this one.” He smiled.

"I thought you would... I'm going to go back to my room tonight and make you a playlist of songs I think you'd like." You smiled

"I'd like that," he said, "I'll make one for you too... Hey, do you wanna see Loathe with me after this? They're playing on a different stage so I think we could just about make it before I have to get ready to go on."

"Sure!"

I know you're leaving and I tell myself I'm over your love

Hard to believe it when I taste you on the tip of my tongue

You continued to sing along, dancing beside Vinny who just looked happy to be here.

“Oh my God... It can't be... Vinny?!” You hear someone shout from behind you, and a little group of fans all spoke with him and asked Vin for a picture.

“Are you the new photographer for Bad Omens, y/n?” One of the people asked you.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say I’m their photographer because that’ll always be Bryan, but I’ve been touring with them.”

“The picture you posted of Noah and Ricky together has been my lock screen for like two weeks now, look! I have your notifications on so I know when you post and I always get so excited!” They told you, warming your heart as they showed you their wallpaper on their phone.

“Well Motionless in White’s photographer couldn’t be here today so I’ll be filling in for him, so you can expect some more pictures in a couple days.”

“Oh my god! Please get some more of Ricky!” They begged.

“I’ll try my best,” you chuckled, “Are you gonna be there for their set?”

“Of course! Why would I miss it?” They grinned, and their friends started to walk off. “It was great to meet you!”

“You too!” You smiled, waving as they walked off. “Wow,” you said to Vinny, “that’s the first time someone’s ever come up to me.”

“You better get used to it.” He laughed.

As their singer Matt thanked everybody for showing love on their new album they announced they were going to sing one last song, and as much as you would've loved to stay for it, Vinny wanted to go and see Loathe on another stage so you watched him put his sunglasses back on before taking your hand and finding the way to the other stage.

You told yourself he was only holding your hand so you didn't lose each other in the sea of people, but you couldn't help but feel warm inside at the feeling of his skin on yours.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For the first time in weeks, you were back on stage with Motionless in White, taking pictures of each member, the stage as a whole, and some of the crowd. You had been Bad Omens' photographer last night so that Bryan could watch one of his favourite bands perform, and when Chris asked if you could fill in for their photographer tonight you didn't hesitate to say yes. You were always in awe of these guys when they were on stage, but there was something different about their energy this time, even after a month on the road they were still giving it their all.

You kept finding yourself watching Vinny in particular, he was in his own world behind his drum kit, and it took your breath away. You caught yourself staring, and took your camera over with you to get a shot of him from the side, and as you look back at the pictures, you realise there was a slight smirk on his face.

“You guys were awesome!” You cheer as they walk backstage to where you had been briefly waiting as they threw out guitar picks, setlists, drumsticks, and anything else they could think of.

“I can’t believe I fell again.” Rick sighed, picking up a bottle of water.

“You did?” You laugh, you must have completely missed it, clearly your attention was elsewhere throughout the show.

“You didn’t see?” Ryan laughed, “He was there one minute then he was gone! I thought he’d gone off stage until I watched him get back up.”

“Well it’s totally fucked my back.” Ricky groaned.

“Someone get the old man some ice!” Chris joked, earning a glare off Rick.

You waited as the guys all got changed, and you walked with Ricky and Vinny back to the bus.

“Update,” Vinny pointed at the camera, “We just got done playing to like… three hundred million people, it was fucking awesome!” He claps, thinking of something else to say, “Y/n took some hot pictures of me, Rick fell off the stage-”

“I didn’t fall off the stage,” Ricky interrupted, turning the camera to his face, “I misjudged where the platform was.”

“Rick fell off the stage.” Vinny repeated, “And now we’re about to go play some Mario kart.”

“Y/n do you have anything to add?” Rick pointed the camera at you.

“Motionless in White rock,” you said proudly, “It was great to…” You trailed off as your phone vibrated, and you saw it was a text from Noah, who should've currently been on stage with Poppy.

“Just got off stage. Where are you?”

“I need you so fucking bad”

You froze, forgetting about the camera pointed at you.

During the weeks you’d been touring, you and Noah had managed to keep your ‘relationship’ private, meaning only Angela, Vin, Folio and Matt knew what you were up to. You’d use each other for stress relief more than anything, or when Bad Omens would finish a show the two of you would go missing for twenty minutes because the adrenaline that was pumping through Noah’s veins would quickly switch to horniness- to put it bluntly- and he needed a release.

However, you’d be lying if you said Noah was the only thing on your mind as he’d have you pushed up against the wall, or on a table, pounding into you from behind. Your mind would often bring you back to how Vinny was when you were together that night, and how you longed to have him again, but he made it clear the two of you were strictly just friends, or so you assumed. You didn't mind this, you loved Vinny and were happy that you and him could still get along so well after everything. But there was still a part of you that wished the circumstances were different, especially when you'd get jealous seeing him flirting with other women, or how you'd hold back tears when he'd bring someone back to his hotel room or when you'd be on the bus and look over at him and just wished you could kiss him.

You weren't going to reply to Noah, you’d told the other guys you’d go back with them and play Mario kart, but you could still feel an ache between your thighs that had been there since you watched Vinny during slaughterhouse. Your knees weakened every time it got to a certain part in that song, but something was different about today.

“I’ll be 10 minutes.” You replied to Noah, and suddenly brought your hand up to your head.

“Fuck, I think I’m getting a headache, I think I need to lay down, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You say, quickly turning around and heading towards the Bad Omens trailer.

Ricky and Vinny look at each other as you walk away.

“That’s weird.” Rick points out, “She got a text and suddenly she's just... left?”

“Maybe she got some bad news,” Vin suggests, “I’ll check up on her later.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Wobbly on your legs, Noah handed you your clothes to get dressed as he fixed his hair in the mirror. Your time together was cut short as Noah got a call reminding him he had somewhere to be, he told you he thought he had more time but clearly he got it wrong.

"I just wish we could spend more time together." You frowned, pulling your shorts back up.

"What do you mean?" He asked, leaning against the desk in the band's trailer.

"I mean it feels like I only see you when you want something from me," you sighed, "It'd be nice to spend a day together when we're off, but you're never around. It's not that I don't like hanging out with the others, but it'd be nice for you to be about more."

"I'm sorry." He looked away from you as he shook his head slightly, "There's just a lot going on at the moment, I don't get any time to myself either. How about the next time we have a day off we spend it together, yeah?"

"I'd like that." You smile, hearing your phone ring from the desk Noah was stood at.

"It's Vinny," he said, handing you your phone, "I'll let you let yourself out, I need to get to this interview."

"Okay, see you later?"

"Of course." He gave you one last smile before heading out the door, and you quickly answered your phone.

"Hello?" You asked, wondering what Vin could want.

"Hey, I just wanted to check up on you. You left quite suddenly earlier., is everything okay?" His concern made you smile to yourself, but then you felt bad knowing what you were actually getting up to behind his back.

"Yeah, I took some painkillers and I'm feeling better now."

"Good," he smiled on the other side of the phone, "D'ya still wanna come and hang with us? Ryan's been waiting for you to kick his ass like you said you would."

"There's no backing out!" You heard Ryan shout, making you chuckle as you slipped your shoes on.

"No, I'll be there in 10. You're on the bus, right?"

"Yeah, we are. I'll look out for you."

"Thanks." You smiled, ending the call.

The walk to the guys' bus wasn't too long, but your feet were aching from standing all day, and running around the stage. You reflected on the last two days as you made your way past other bands' buses and trailers, really appreciating the opportunity that had been handed to you.

You thought about the atmosphere when Bad Omens were getting ready to go on stage the night before, how hyped Folio was and how his energy was so contagious.

Then your mind brought you back to this afternoon, you and Vinny stood watching Loathe's set whilst they played is it really you. The way he was singing along, swaying to the music and the smile on his face as he shook his head in what appeared to be embarrassment when you complimented his singing.

"No," you grinned, "I really like your singing!"

"Shut up." He couldn't hide the smirk on his face as he looked up at the stage, avoiding any eye contact with you.

"I mean it! Maybe they should get your vocals on the next album."

"I hate you." He chuckled, and you couldn't help but smile at how beautiful he looked as he blushed at your compliment.

Before you knew it, you had reached Motionless' bus. You couldn't help but find it funny this afternoon when Vin complained about Bad Omens getting a trailer when they were stuck on their bus, but Ryan explained it was probably because they were headliners.

As you were welcomed on to the bus by Justin, you dumped your bag on the table and sat down next to him. Ryan, Ricky and Vinny were all too busy playing Mario kart to even acknowledge you, and you sighed, reaching for your phone in your pocket.

"Is everything okay?" Justin asked, noticing the pissed off look on your face.

"Yeah..." You sighed, you were still upset with Noah and how abruptly he left just now, but you couldn't tell the guys that. "I'm just tired and hungry."

"It's a good job we've got plenty of snacks then." Justin smiled, reaching for the plastic bag that was on the floor beside the couch, sliding over the table to you.

"Fuck you, I quit!" Rick sighed, dropping the controller to the table as the tv screen lit up saying Ryan won the round. "You guys have to be cheating."

"You wish," Vinny laughed, reaching for his water bottle, "Y/n?" He motioned to Rick's controller and you slowly nodded your head.

"I'm gonna beat your asses."

"And if you don't?" Vin smirked.

"You really doubt me?" You raised an eyebrow, "It's on, bitch."

———————————————

i’m still not over apocalypse fest or dj vinny in the slightest so expect that to come in later chapters because i simply can’t stop thinking about it…

@rumoured-whispers @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @miss570 @miamore0570 @jilliemiw86 @itsyaboinoah

#noah sebastian x reader #nothing ever after <3 #vinny mauro x reader #noah sebastian fanfic #vinny mauro fanfic #bad omens fanfic #motionless in white fanfic #noah sebastian smut

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