#and it’s so fucking easy to talk to him but also just exist with him

[todayisafridaynight]

HONESTLY. i agree with prev anon minedai community rlly feels like it’s own separate thing a lot of the time i get so shocked when people who aren’t mainly minedai posters acknowledge it LMFAO it’s pretty rare. we’re kind of in our own stuck in yakuza 3 bubble if that makes sense while everyone’s moving on with the newer games

real tbh. i get jumpscared when people mention it outta no where like how did you know this existed..... can i help you... its like when you lift up a rock and theres a bunch of bugs underneath

#snap chats #like recently that one artist featured daigo and mine in a comic of theirs and i had to blink twice #like oh my god thats right they dont just exist in mine and five other people's heads thats fucked up #WELCOMED but woah .. #its just funnier to follow the games through daigo tbh. thats my fave things about these games #just wondering wtf daigos up to since he's- ironically- the Straightest man in that he's so . Guy. #like he's Just A Guy amongst these people and i love him so much and i like how he looks concerned 90% of the time #yes he's the chairman of the tojo but it's also really easy to imagine him working at like. a printer company. or a library #whenever chairman daigo takes his shirt off i get jumpscared cause its like Oh Right He Does Fight Sometimes #i love his fight style cause its so fucking. he really just swinging who give a fuck his strength is shooting people not this #he can still kick ass Allegedly tho i wont discredit wtf the game told me but still its funny how rough his style is. i love him #the fuck am i waffling on about. idk we're talking about the stanley prison experiment for the ninety millionth time in my academic career

[luvring]

scrolling past every babygirl joke people make with a frown on my face

#💬nia.rambles #we as a society can do better than this #i think a lot of people can. struggle with What else to say #'babygirl coded charas“ specifically . talk about how easy it is to fluster them. how ur gonna annoy the shit out of them #call him a sopping wet kitten. say god hes such a dumbass im going to kiss him on the lips and serenade him #say missionary because his eyes pretty and his face handsome. say youre going to tuck his hair behind his ear #His x y z looks and cringe fail personality have captivated me. his big eyes and loser boy personality. #this is also for when ur trying to talk about female charas w/o saying girlboss/mother btw #just go god shes so fucking cool. no ones doing it like her #someone might want her but you want her in a deeper intellectual way. no crimes to forgive because she didnt commit any. #she could fix me could make me worse she could say whatever and i would heed her call like a devout follower to their god #go i need them so bad im dizzy. i could change their life #like u have the brain capacity and meme/reaction album to think of jokes outside of. 3 terms. i believe in u #& how did babygirl charas go from ironic Big (serious) muscular men to Feminine Featured(?) Easily Flustered 'Pathetic' Men. #like im sure both cases existed before but. what its turned into now....its majority the latter... Hrmm.... #< part of why i switched to saying my handsome beautiful prince etc etc. uve made me feel odd and upset.. #babygirl character just say pathetic guy . loser dude. shy and silly . errrrghhhh...

[slippery-minghus]

okay also... not that it's a bad thing about him as a person at all... but if i'm gonna be in a relationship with someone... fuck if i wanna be able to have an intelligent conversation with them. even if there's only a few topics we line up on in that manner. just please, anything other than usually-one-sided conversations about fandom.... 😮‍💨

#i read a thing a week or so ago about this couple who just sit and talk for hours every day #and while i don't have fucking *that* level of social energy.... some of that would be nice #i'm getting to the stage where i have to remind myself of all the reasons i want *not this* #(trying the reframe from my shrink. it's not what i Don't Want- but what i Do Want Instead) #and i feel so mean and selfish for pointing out all the ways this relationship falls short #because who the hell am *i*?? what right do i have??? #we're *perfect* for each other if only we both change (or i abusively make him change) in all these ways until we're totally different ppl! #but if i don't acknowledge where things are not matching up to my wants #then it'll be all too easy to gloss over them and beloeve myself that i'm an evil monster depriving an innocent boy of his rightful soulmate #but the point of a soulmate is complementing each other.... not one person being the person that completes and fixes the other #soulmates are two complete and whole people whose paths are best traveled in parallel #not two incomplete people (or one complete and the other incomplete) who can only exist by breathing for each other #and i want the person who runs parallel to me #i want someone who can not only stand on their own two feet without me but THRIVE without me #and aw hell if that isn't a very interesting thing to want considering my historical issues with feeling inadequate #but i think both those growths go hand in hand - confidence in worth and wants #(like damn- honestly surprising myself with that one!) #i'm going to have the conversation with him either this tuesday or next... #part of me wants to rip the bandaid off but the other wants to both grant him one more Date Night #and also grant myself the proof i'm not acting impulsively and without thought—that i'm not just lashing out bc i Feel Lonely or whatever #though now that i'm thinking about it i don't know that i'll be able to keep it together knowing what i plan to do #i'm gonna need my fucking anxiety meds a lot this week and next 🙃 worth it tho... 😮‍💨 #personal

[anantaru]

"I LOVE YOU!" - "STOP SAYING THAT!" — LYNEY

sometimes lyney forgets he's not supposed to fall in love with you. wc. 800

・✶ ｡ warnings — friends with benefits, saying i love you during sex, fem! reader

"does, fuck— does that feel good?" lyney swallows a deep groan before grinding his hips into you, bending you in half as he pounds into you harder, resulting in you wincing out his name through a slacked jaw as your body overflows with excitement.

you smile a little before wrapping your arms around him, "yeah, d-don't stop," and you're beyond impressed by how easy it was for lyney to target your sweet spots like he's crafted them himself— as if he was the only reason they were there in the first place.

he angles his hips specifically to rut against them, and makes sure to alternate between fucking you hard and fast but also deep and slow to tempt you on purpose, spurring you on.

truthfully, his ability was undeniably breathtaking.

his face burns in your neck when he traps your skin in between his lips to suckle a hickey on the flesh, making sure he's always languidly thrusting into your heat— and you just feel so fucking good when you batter him with your cunt like that, squeeze down on his cock to make him whine out your name in candid mewls, so dearly that he's close to finishing inside of you.

"t-that's what i wanna hear," he grunts through rolled hips, his erection achingly hard and throbbing and ready to blow his loud into you that he's turning desperate, desperate to cum— lyney just wants this so badly right now, fuck, he needs you, okay? yearns to finally push deep into your walls and fuck you through his warm cum.

never have you been fucked just like that before— and it was thrilling, but it urges lyney to give you even more.

you always take him so well, bounce that pretty cunt back and forth his cock until you're making him thrust into you faster, better, desperately when you grip him tightly in your walls.

"archons— i love you," he whines out loudly, "just —love how you feel, just fucking love you s'much, baby,"

hold on, "w-wait, what?" you clumsily talk through a moan, but it's more of a yelp if you're being honest— and lyney seems to suddenly realize that he has just ruined this entire night for the both of you.

"what did you say?!" his noises hitch in his throat as you softly push him off your body, "lyney! answer me,"

your eyes were open in straight disbelief and terror— it's as if someone just told you the most horrifying horror-story in existence, although you were still engulfed in liquid bliss and fought the quivers of your body, you sought out his eyes and met his unfocused, slightly embarrassed gaze, his cock now completely stilled inside of you.

"I-i didn't say anything!" he panics, then whines as he slowly slides inch by inch out of your warmth, his shaft still hard and leaking, "ugh, i mean," he adds nervously and averts his gaze, "i-it's not that i love you! i mean, hm, you're great, like, only a fool wouldn't love you, right?"

in this moment in time, lyney would honestly claim anything in order for you to please just forget the last two minutes of this night.

"hey, i mean, i love this!" he swiftly points to your lower regions,

"doing this, with you! hey! don't give me that silly expression! i swear, i didn't mean you as in loving you!"

"you're not supposed to say that, lyney," you exhaustingly slant back into the disheveled pillows, "it turns things more complicated and we won't be able to continue this,"

you feel his chest rumble with an awkward chuckle as he nervously drops next to you, reaching over for a blanket to cover your naked bodies.

"yeah.." you're both still exhausted, breathing loudly from the sensitivity and the pent up stimulation forcibly exiting your bodies, the built up bubble in your stomach slowly dissolving into clear nothingness.

"this will have to be a secret," lyney continues, "between us,"

"lets pretend this never happened," you retort back almost immediately, in fact, there was nothing in this world that would make you forget this, but you could at least pretend its never happened.

after this, you're not really sure on how you're supposed to just forget this occurred and if he meant it with his whole heart— neither does lyney know how to continue living after embarrassing himself in front of the person he fell in love with, much more pretend he doesn't harbor those feelings for you in the first place while fucking your brains out next time.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney x reader #lyney smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #lyney x you

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I think Crowley falls into two of the classic pitfalls of people who see that the problems are systemic long before anyone else around them does: impatience and despair.

(Yes yes I know, “Crowley was an optimist.” Book Crowley is an optimist. I don’t think that line is particularly useful for analyzing TV Crowley. Stay with me here.)

Let it be said that 95% of the time, Crowley has the patience of a fucking saint (ssh don’t tell him) around Aziraphale. He knows that Aziraphale needs to build his little plausible deniability rationales in order to do something that they both know he wants to do (because it’s right or simply because he would enjoy it) but Heaven wouldn’t approve of. And most of the time, Crowley is happy to help Aziraphale get there, asking the questions Aziraphale is afraid to ask, offering excuses and justifications until Aziraphale finds one he can accept. He does a lot of work of parsing out when “no” means “you haven’t convinced me yet, keep trying” and pushing through all the “I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we’re on opposite sides and mine is the good one” talk that Aziraphale gets up to all the way through s1. Because he knows that Aziraphale doesn’t really believe that stuff, right? He just needs some time to talk himself around his own cognitive dissonance, and most of the time Crowley is not only happy to facilitate that but sees it as part of his role in their relationship.

But then when the chips are down and Aziraphale is still dithering, that’s when he gets frustrated, because HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE what’s been blindingly obvious to Crowley for millennia, that Heaven is just as cruel as Hell and no one is going to step in and fix it because the system is working as intended. And that’s when he says things like “how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Which is a surefire way not to convince the person you’re arguing with of anything.

And then there’s the despair. I really think the running away thing is not about cowardice or selfishness or some kind of unhealthy level of avoidance of hard or scary things, but about hopelessness. They’ve spent their lives avoiding very very real danger, and of the two of them Crowley is much more constantly aware of the danger that they are in from both sides. Yes he’s hypervigilant but he is also almost always right about the amount of danger they are in. Trying to get as far away from danger as possible is not an irrational response, even if it’s not always the correct one for a given situation.

When you feel like you’re the only person who sees how rotten the system is, how it needs to be dismantled entirely, but you are also VERY aware of how strong the people in power are and how ruthless they are about crushing dissent because you experienced it personally…well that gets fucking depressing after a while. Because even if you think the whole system needs to go, that feels like a completely unattainable goal when it seems like no one else even sees the problem, or if they see it, they are too afraid to do anything about it. And can you blame them? You know exactly what happens to people who speak up.

So it’s very easy for your goals to shrink from systemic change to just taking yourself and the people you love and finding somewhere for them to be as safe as possible, for as long as the system will let you exist. Because reforming the system is a fool’s errand, and dismantling it entirely seems impossible. I think this is where Crowley is at. Even if on some level he knows it’s an imperfect solution, because both of them have enough compassion that they would feel guilty abandoning Earth and humans to save themselves, and because Heaven and Hell really can find them anywhere in the universe. He just doesn’t see another option.

And look, I think Aziraphale is 100% wrong that Heaven can be reformed. But he is not wrong to want to stay and fight to make things better, even if it means sacrificing the Earthly comforts he loves so much, and even if it means doing it without Crowley by his side.

Ultimately they both need each other. Aziraphale needs Crowley for his willingness to ask questions and to see the scale of the problem, even if it’s terrifying. But Crowley needs Aziraphale for his hope, his stubborn determination to believe things can and should be better, and to fight for that. In the right hands, hope is an enormously powerful weapon.

#good omens #good omens s2 #crowley #my good omens meta

[gremlingottoosilly]

Stranger danger (slasher!Konig x fem!Reader)

You never wanted to go to this stupid party. Turns out, you were right all along - it doesn't save you from this weird guy in a Ghostface mask though. Warnings and tags: Non-con, size difference, knives, slasher-y, slight degradation, obsessive Konig, yandere Konig, praise kink Word count: 3069 AO3

You told your friends you didn’t want to go to this stupid party. No one cared. You asked them for at least a funny group costume, and everyone agreed – only to bail at the fucking party, so you were the only one who went as a freaking ant from that one extremely sad meme. With a little handkerchief on a stick and everything. No one got it. 

You told your friends that you wouldn’t want to get drunk unless they would be with you because, honestly, college parties are the worst, and you don’t want anyone to get roofied. They left you by the snack table, making you eat smarties and occasional chips like salt counts don’t exist. 

You were munching on a particularly tough pretzel – the packaging was saying something in German, as exotic as this college could fucking get without being too scared of spices – when The Guy dropped himself on the couch next to you. 

Yes, The Guy – because you were in no right to call him just a guy, a dude, a lil’ bro, or anything like that. He was way over 6 feet, probably creeping on being the new form of a fancy light post, and built like a bear that was eating nothing but protein and particularly tasty American tourists. Dressed in all black, very original, he must love spending time in various shops and choosing between 50 shadows of the same dark attire. 

At this point, you were not surprised that he was wearing a Ghostface mask. At this point, you lost all of your capabilities to be surprised – only slightly intrigued, perhaps, and a little bit aroused when he manspreaded his legs and pushed his knee right against your leg, not stopping until he crammed you to the corner of a sofa. How the one man could take so much space, you had no idea. What he was eating to grow up this big – also. 

He looked like at least three frat boys from a sports team crammed together in one body. Tight muscles that could be seen even through the bagginess of his clothes – you aren’t sure if you could survive looking at his pecks without wanting to give up all of your life earnings for a gym membership. 

— Hey. 

A master of flirting, you just needed someone to talk to. 

The Guy didn’t respond. 

You frowned – a typical college boy would already try to flirt with you, probably getting you drunk to get an easy lay for the next 10 seconds of pure physical exercise. If he wasn’t interested in a conversation, he probably shouldn’t have sat in your corner – unless he wanted to steal snacks, of course. Something in his figure told you that he would be a freaking hurricane in the snack aisle. 

He smells like metal – weird, you think. Not like you wanted to smell him, of course not. You were just crammed in a really tight place against his shoulders, your nose forced to press into his shirt and inhale the deep scent of some generic perfume, a surprising hint at laundry detergent and cleaning supplies – and, of course, said metal. 

You expected sweat and cheap booze – but this means it smells like a butcher and a cleaning lady at the same time. 

To closer observation, he looked…nervous, almost. Hands fidgeting with a fake knife that he probably snatched from some Halloween supply shop – it’s surprisingly heavy looking, without that cheap shine that a lot of Ghostface costume knives have, and you feel almost endeared by the way he fidgets and spins the knife in his hands. Still, somehow, he looked anxious. 

— Are you alright? 

He continues to sit here silently. You fight the savior instinct inside of you, reminding yourself that you do not need to nurse and mother a grown-up college boy who is probably too high to talk right now or simply dozed off in his mask with no one to notice this – but still, something in his hunched posture made you feel…soft. Tender. This, or you’re too drunk to not be a doting mommy, since all of your friends ditched you and your sad ant cosplay to be slutty fish sticks. 

— Ja, I’m fine. 

German accent. This is a surprise for a college boy at this party. Guys who are usually visiting those places can barely speak English, so knowing German with that perfect weird accent of his makes you feel…things. Never too much for accents, you still sat a bit closer, your face pressed against his shoulder. Cheek smashed on his skin – he doesn’t say anything about extreme physical contact. You’re surprised at your own confidence. 

— From which program are you? 

— What? 

— Like…which school. What do you study? 

He paused. Flicks the knife in his hands – from this angle, it looks way too sharp for a simple plastic knife. Guy must be a crazy cosplayer who spends hours on trying to make foam and metallic paint look this realistic – you admire this level of nerdiness a little bit. With this skill, he could be more than a generic Ghostface. 

He shrugs, leaving you without an answer. Alright, not much of a talker. Probably from computing, STEM boys always act like contact with females would make them pregnant. 

— Are you enjoying the party? 

— Ja. 

— You came alone? 

— Ja. 

— What do you…alright, just tell me if I’m annoying. I’ll stop bothering you. 

He chuckles – your cheeks are immediately heated when he presses his hand closer to your thigh. The actions is suggestive, and you don’t quite…don’t quite mind it. You always had a thing for masks, and his body resembles the one of a greek statue – you wouldn’t want to pass on this opportunity. Definitely not for sex, not the type to hook up with a random boy on Halloween, but maybe a sloppy makeout and some number exchange would take place. 

König had different plans. 

Honestly, you made it too fucking easy for him. Good girl, polite girl, nice girl who actually fucking asked him if he was alright because his hands were shaking from the adrenaline he got from killing some weird asshole trying to get a drunk girl in his bed. He was shaking because he knew he’d get away with it – there were so many drugs on the venue, police wouldn’t even want to open this rathole and try to search for a killer in that random ass city he got on a break after the latest contract. 

You made it too easy – your weird costume, your sad face, and your attempts at caring for him actually made his blood boil from excitement, and his nerves(and his dick, throbbing in that baggy black pants) stir. You tucked in the corner, all by yourself, surrounded by loud noises and intoxicated people who couldn’t give less shit about your safety. He can slit your throat, and everyone would think it’s a costume. 

He can…and he can also take a little treat for having such a good last mission. Might even take you with him if you’d promise to be a good girl and don’t fight him in the trunk of his car. 

You can’t even scream when he pushes his hands on your throat, squeezing. You wanted to, he knew by the look in your eyes that there was a fire inside of you – so he extinguished it as fast as he possibly could, laughing at your pathetic attempts at fighting him off. Just like your friends, you are weirdly easy for him to handle. Just a bunch of drunk college mates, nothing compared to his experience. He’d say that he stood too low, so crazy on his leave, that he decided to search for the easiest prey imaginable, but sometimes you need to choose yourself and find some easy hobbies that you can partake in without taking too much from your psychological sources. 

Sometimes, you just need to kill a bunch of drugged students and take home one of them – for mental health reasons. Konis is sure that KorTac would allow him to take you to the base if he’d prove that you are his psychological support pet. Maybe he could even share you with some of his officers as a treat. You’d be so sweet for Krueger, he can tell just from that terrified look on your face when he pushes his hands further, blocking your windpipe. 

König is strong – stronger than anyone you know, probably. He knows how to use this strength for the better and for worse, and he isn’t afraid of pushing a bit too far, not enough to break you, but just freaking perfect to make you dazed and turn your brain into mush. So sweet for him, such tasty little noises and scratches of your nails on his gloved hands. He must leave some marks on you later since you’re so sweet to him now. 

— Not so talkative now, Schatzi? 

You squirm, trying to punch him right in his dick, and he only moans when your knees are jerking in a poor attempt at kicking his balls. If anything, it feels like a really nice massage. So fucking obedient for him, he can’t even imagine how cute you’ll look chained to his bed, forced to play his little girlfriend while he is searching for your friends to finish them off. 

Taking off your clothes is ridiculously easy. Even while you decided not to wear a slutty costume for Halloween, the cheap fabric isn’t a good barrier between him and his desire to freaking crush you – he exposes your breasts, covering them with one of his hands right about now, keeping his other hand firmly seated on your throat. You whimper and cry as he plays with your soft buds, making them harden, undoubtedly creating a pool in your shorts. God, you’re beautiful like this. 

He actually grieves wearing a mask that can’t be moved this easily – he’d love to munch on your breasts, to try your nipples with his tongue, and roll his teeth over your soft mounds. He can’t, not right now, at least – you’re not nearly broken enough not to tell the police about his face, and he doesn’t want you to close your eyes. Need to make sure you’ll see every inch of his dick. 

His rough gloves are creating a weird but pleasurable pressure on your buds – you whine and sob as he pushes his hands to stimulate you more, not caring that you don’t want it. Tugging and teasing with his fingertips, you actually feel like you’re going crazy just from the way he is playing with your breasts. Pushing from side to side, touching soft flesh, not even allowing you to moan as every time you try to open your mouth, he grips your throat tighter. 

When he is finally done playing with your boobs, you can almost feel bruises forming from his rough touches. You whine when he goes to rip your shorts – his touches feel like lava spreading between your legs, no matter how much you wanted him to stop, your tongue never came to actually beg him for it. 

To his delight, you are soaking. 

Your pretty pussy on full display for him – twitching and squeezing for nothing, poor thing, he might as well just push the finger already, stretching you out just enough to let you feel the burn without breaking you. König would love to just push his dick inside without all of these dancing around nothing, but he is aware of his size – and very, very aware of yours. Little things might not be as small as he likes to think you are, but you’re freaking tiny compared to him. Weak and fragile, you have no fucking excuse to just parade yourself like men around you aren’t a bunch of wolves that would love to rip you apart and fuck what remains. 

You can barely breathe while he pushes his fingers inside, just one digit is enough to make you squirm under him. You’re wet, pussy damp from all of the juices – lack of oxygen makes you dumber, pliable, make you his best little thing in the world. A girl like you has no business going to parties and whoring yourself to a bunch of early alcoholics – you should stay at home, his home, cooking him dinner and warming his dick. Cleaning his knife after he’d gut some dumb fuck, making sure to get your tongue into all the sharp edges. 

Scheisse, just the thought makes him harder than ever. Perhaps he needs to stop playing the nice guy and finally give you the pounding you deserve. 

Tired of just holding his hand on your throat, he forces the blade of his knife to take its place. Not nearly enough to cut your skin, but a constant reminder – if you’re a bad girl and would try to escape, he might slit your fucking throat as easily as butter. If you’re a good girl, unlike your friends, he might just take you with him. What a beautiful option. 

One finger turns to two very quickly – and, since he doesn’t stop you from moaning and talking, you finally gain your voice back. Poor girl, too dumb to understand that all of your little threats and cries and everything is just a fucking delight to his ears. Might as well record it for his alarm clock. 

— Get…get off me!

Such a strong words for such a weak girl. He’d spank you right away, but his fingers are too busy playing with your folds, smearing your juices all over your clit and trembling pussy. You’re dripping like a slut, and it busts his ego – a fancy college girl like you, so wet and needy for a nasty criminal. He knows how to treat you right and has all the resources for it – but somehow, it feels like you’d enjoy being treated like his doll. 

He can be sweet after he has fucked you raw. 

— Please, you can’t…I won’t tell anyone if you just stop, I promise! 

— Shatzi, why do you think I’d let you go after this? 

— I…I will scream. 

— Ja, you can scream. Do this for me, please.

He laughs as he plunges in, giving you sweet seconds to become accustomed to the feeling of his dick impaling you. Bulging in the outline of your soft tummy, another boost to his ego – just to think, he was so anxious about crashing this party, knowing it would be filled with prissy students who all get to live the life he dreamed of, but you made it all worth it. You’re sweet and fiery, and you grip him like a glove. No matter how wet you were and how much pre-cum he had leaked, you’re still tight for him. Too tight. 

You scream when he plunges it, and you continue to scream when he pushes deeper, further, when he moves back a little bit, only to push forward again. His hand finds your clit, never stopping until you’re squirming and crying full-on under him. Such a shame he can’t kiss you, not with this stupid mask – he can only play with your slit and push a knife against your throat over and over again, never allowing the adrenaline in your system to run dry. 

Over and over, pushing you further and further until he plunged inside fully – you’re so puffy around him, your pussy lips swollen and spread for him, your clit is throbbing from the pleasure he gives you. Getting you off like that is easy for him – but he has to make sure he isn’t taking it too far, not with how warm and tight you are. He hates being in a position of weakness, but you’re just so perfect, he can’t help but push further and further until you are a sobbing mess and he is on the edge of orgasm. 

He forces himself to be slower, his pushes are more and more deliberate – he doesn’t want to cum so fast, even though the mix of your sobs and his adrenaline high from the killing almost makes it impossible. He doesn’t want to stop like this, so fucking easy, but you’re so welcoming and cute and…

— Please, please, don’t…don’t come inside, I’m not on the pill, I’m…

God, you’re so sweet for him. Did the devil finally give him his gift for Halloween? 

He laughs as you sob softly, pushes you more and more, and your poor pussy is getting stretched far beyond its limits. He steals this orgasm from your decency, robs you of any accountability – you just lay here, under him, receiving his dick like a good girl you are. Couldn’t have it any other way, just wanted to have you pinned under his body forever. 

Your orgasm is crushing, painful in a way – you're all too sensitive for a dick this large to impale you, you sob, and you cry, begging for him to stop before he’d cum inside. Your biggest nightmare is alive when he pushes the knife away from your throat, squeezing it again just so he can cum in the tightness of your hole. 

He stays like this, connected to your deepest parts, for a good few minutes, dumb out after the orgasm. You try to squirm from under him, but he only laughs, slowly pushing away from your body. Just one load is enough to make your pussy all messy and even more wet. You’re so dirty for him, it’s actually impossible not to love you even more when you’re like this, dumb and sensitive and so, so fucking cute. 

His cum drips from your overflown pussy, pearly white liquid stuffs you ever so perfectly, König laughs, putting his clothes back together and getting one last look at your ruined hole, clenching around nothing. You can’t even talk at this point, poor thing – just how can he leave you here to be found by your perverted friends who would only take advantage of you? 

It’s only natural that he sneaks your limp body through the window, holding you like a beloved possession while he is getting in his car. 

It’s only natural that you fall asleep in his arms, your pussy stuffed so full, he just knows that he’ll add to the mess once he’d get rid of the body of a dumb college guy he killed moments ago. 

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #cod x you #yandere cod #call of duty #slashers #slasher

[bigfatbimbo]

i need vox to lowkey think being a housewife is kinda sexy like... the guy was probably raised with strict gender role expectations (that's probably why he's also a workaholic) and reversing the roles kinda turns him on a lil bit yknow? Just plays into him being submissive and wanting to be taken care of imo

Housewife Vox with a Dom Reader [smut hcs]

a/n — the first part is right here, you should all read that before this so I don’t seem batshit fucking crazy [and probably like and reboot just to be safe]!

warnings — dom reader, sub vox, headcanons, gender neutral reader, read the first thing so I don’t sound dumb please because this is for a specific au

summary — After the fall of the vees, Vox ends up washed-up and crashing at the readers place, making him a sort of ‘housewife type.’ Basically just the first part but in the form of smut headcanons!

So i’ll start off with what you were saying. Growing up in his given time period, the gender roles were absolutely heavily enforced. Men work and make money, that’s just what they have to do. 

Vox strives to be as ‘modern’ as possible, so all of the sexism and misogyny has pretty much worn off, but the internalized gender roles have stuck. So given his current… situation, he’s confused, to say the least. 

His stuck at home, practically obligated to take care of the house, do your laundry, and wash your dishes. He’s never had to be that person in the relationship, and it’s infuriating.

But also weirdly turns him on. He’s a business man by nature, and now he’s in slippers and an apron. Shouldn’t he be embarrassed of such a submissive, stereotypically womanly job? 

Or maybe, even absolutely humiliated. And he was, don’t get him wrong, but that’s what he found so hot about the whole thing. 

Yes, he was angry at his new downgrade in society, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want you to bend him over the kitchen counter and fuck him in his little pink apron.

And yes, he absolutely plays into it. He’s never been the type to play into attention in a sexual kind of way, but in the light of loosing the other Vees, he plays a few cards he’s seen before.

He’s leaning over to do the dishes and talking to you at the same time, and he’s arching his back drastically more than he has too, and his talking increasingly smoothly. 

Maybe he even drops something in front of you and bends down very obviously to pick it up. And of course, he curses himself for acting out so shamelessly for attention. 

Like, has it really come to this? But then again, that makes it ten times hotter to him. 

His praise kink is absolutely terrible during this time in his life too. Because quite literally, he’s lost everything that’s made him even slightly impressive. 

And this makes him very insecure, because while his ego has always been fragile, he’s always had something going for him to fuel his self entitlement.

So any praise from you will get him going, and make him instantly needy for more. He’s such a slut for you being nice to him in this situation. 

“Oh, by the way, good job on remembering to do the laundry, babe!” He’s hard instantly. 

It would be so easy to make him cry in bed, from degradation obviously, but also from your nice words. 

I think this is because for the first time in his existence, his self esteem is actively low. And he thought so incredibly high of himself before, the whiplash would leave him so exhausted.

Like he’d be normal, just moaning and whining under your touch. And, as per usual, you whip out the line “Your such a good boy for me.”

That’s when you feel his whole body shudder, and stop squirming. He just looks up at you, and he bursts out into fucking tears.

You’d stop what you were doing at first because you’ve never elicited a reaction that strong, “Uh… Vox, are you okay—“

“More—mzz—more please!” Is all he’d manage to buffer out before continuing his desperate sobs for approval. 

And you’d give him what he wants and treat him gently and kindly, all while complimenting him about how amazing he is, and what a good housewife he is for you, and how useful he is. 

He’d be squirming, arching up into you, buffering up into you, and whining desperately as tears pour out into his screen. 

Now degradation would be a whole other thing. Because he definitely wouldn’t be able to take as much as he would have before this whole situation.

But as discussed previously, his humiliation kink would still be very present. So light teasing would definitely get him going. 

Like messing with him and degrading him about how he’s just your little housewife now, and embarrassing him on the subject.

You know, he’d probably start crying even if you weren’t going specifically hard on him. 

Now, if you’re not familiar with my boycunt Vox idea, this is going to sound like gibberish. 

But I imagine even after the fall of his empire, he those supplies. So boycunt Vox, and housewife Vox??? 

Imagine sliding a little vibrator in his cunt while he works around the house, and every time he doesn’t do a task efficiently, you up the level.

By the end of the time, he’s on his knees begging to be fucked by you, saying he’s done everything you asked, and it wouldn’t be fucking fair to just leave him like this!

Because yes, he’s still a fucking brat at rock bottom because he just sucks that much. In fact, he’d definitely try to provoke you sometimes.

Especially when you piss him off. He’s not above ‘accidentally’ shattering your fine china dishes or spilling your favorite dish all over the floor, or worse, onto your lap. 

However, his desperation for approval shows when you fuck the brat out of him. 

a/n — this au is my everything, gang. MY EVERYTHING. also I hope this is coherent, I know it won’t be to anyone who didn’t read the fic that prompted this but like… it’s linked at the top so.

Anyways I want to do more with this au, so I tried to not get too specific with the smut headcanons because hopefully there will be fics. SEND REQUESTS.

#hazbin hotel x reader #inbox open #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #vox x reader #vox x y/n #vox x you #vox smut #sub vox #sub hazbin hotel

[lokis-army-77]

A New Purchase

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

When you come home only to discover your boyfriend has bought something completely ridiculous.

Warning: 18+. p in v, riding.

Here's the little thing we talked about the other day @munson-blurbs @lofaewrites @chrissymjstan @hellfire--cult (it isn't as good as I think it could be but oh well)

Masterlist

Eddie was almost giddy with excitement when he saw the Facebook marketplace posting. The aluminum body was a bit rusted and the inside fabric was also questionably stained but hey it was a decoration for three hundred dollars and local pickup, hell yes, he was buying it. 

The only thing Eddie didn’t realize was that it wasn’t a small decoration. No…  it was real and he had no clue where he was going to store it until Halloween. Then came the brilliant idea of testing it out. He only wanted to know what it would be like to lie there, how comfortable would it be?

That’s how you came to find Eddie lying in a casket in the middle of your living room.

Walking through the door you stop suddenly, as the small walkway between the wall and the back of the couch is blocked. Eddie is lying there, eyes closed and hands crossed over his chest. 

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?” 

He can’t help the grin that paints his once stoic features. He squints open his eyes as he begins to laugh. “I’m testing out my new purchase. Do you like it?”

You sigh and whip your hand over your face, shaking your head. “What on Earth possessed you to buy a casket? Wait, hang on, where did you buy a casket?”

He sits up, resting an arm on the side, and goes into his explanation. “You are never gonna believe it, fucking Facebook Marketplace. It was so cheap and to be honest I thought it was a fake one that would have been maybe a foot or two tall but nope. Imagine my surprise when I get to this guy's house and he rolls this baby out. He slaps the side panel for emphasis. He even threw in the church trucks for free so it would be really easy to move around.”

You just chuckle and shake your head. “Okay, then why did you buy it?”

“I figured we could use it to decorate for Halloween and also because when I saw it was actually real I just had to test it out. Take it for a test drive before I actually do kick the bucket.” He said it so seriously like it was the most obvious reason in the world.

“Eddie, really?”

“Oh, come on babe, like you’ve never thought about laying down in one of these bad boys.” 

“Contrary to what you might believe, no, no I haven't.” 

Eddie reaches out then, making a child-like gesture of opening and closing his hand. You walk forward and curl your fingers around his. “Switch places with me, see how it feels.”

“No, I’m not getting in there.” You laugh.

“Why not? Do you really want the first time you experience this to be when you’re dead? You won’t even know if it's uncomfortable or not.” He pulls you forward even more. 

“Eddie no-”

“Come on… If you won’t switch then get in with me.” 

You give in, sighing playfully as you bend down and crawl into the cramped casket. Eddie tries his best to shift over so you have space, but the area inside is only so big and definitely was never intended for two.

You both are laughing when your knee suddenly loses its steadiness, atop the thin, almost non-existent padding layered over the metal bottom, and slides out from under you and you fall on top of Eddie’s chest with an “oomph”.  You look up and you catch a glint in his eye as they darken just a bit. 

It’s a familiar look, one that he has given you so many times no matter the situation or surroundings. A look that he knows you will give into. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You plead with him, knowing where this will end. 

Eddie looks at you, eyebrows raised in faux confusion. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way, Sweetheart.”

You slap his chest playfully. “Eddie you are giving me your ‘I want sex’ eyes and I am not going to, not here.”

“Baby,” He wines. “Come on. It’ll be sexy. We could even role-play as vampires.” 

“No-”

“Please.” Eddie reaches his hand to cup your cheek, pleading softly as he brings his face closer to yours. You are trying to fight it but you know you can’t and Eddie knows too. As soon as he looked at you with those sultry brown eyes, you were plyant in his grasp.

When his lips press into yours, you sigh, relaxing into him. Your fingers curl into his shirt and you inch up, caging his hips between your thighs. It hasn’t even been thirty seconds from when the kiss started and you can already feel him hardening under you. 

Pulling away, you mumble into him, lips barely touching. “Does it really turn you on thinking of fucking here?” 

Eddie nods and surges forward to reconnect your mouths. His tongue flits past your lips and finds its way inside, caressing your own. 

You're barely-there resolve crumbles as you begin to roll your hips into him. You can feel his hard length as you grind, his breath catches in his throat. 

"Fuck baby," he mumbles against your lips.  "Need to feel you around me."

There is a heat coursing through you, clouding your mind as your fingers begin to unbutton his pants. 

Eddie is eager, his hips press up into your hands, pushing you to free him faster. The blue cotton of his boxers has turned a deeper color in a small spot where the head of his cock rests, the precum there being soaked up by the cloth. 

You slide a nail up his covered shaft and a great shiver overtakes his body under you. "Don't tease me- please."

A chuckle bubbles out of you. "But that's the fun part." 

Eddie just whimpers in response. 

You begin pushing your fingers past the elastic waistband. You pull the fabric down and bring your other hand up to help situate both his pants and boxers down to his mid-thigh.

His cock springs forward and you can't help the feeling of absolute lust coursing through your veins. You need him inside you, now. 

You silently thank your past self for deciding to wear a dress today. In your need, you don't think you would be able to wrangle yourself out of a pair of pants. 

Firmly you take Eddie's cock into your hand. He hisses at the new pressure you ar editing him. 

"Fuck baby, just like that." His hips jump into your touch. 

"Gonna let me fuck myself on you? Gonna let me take what I want?"

Eddie only nods. Words have left him as he stares into your sultry gaze. 

You begin to stroke him, up and down, spreading the stickiness leaking from his tip with your thumb. 

Then, you begin to scoot up his body. Hovering over him. Eddie watches in awe as you take him up in one hand and move your panties over with the other. A slow moan releases itself from your as you begin to sink down on him.

Eddie's cock was perfect. It always felt so good to be wearied around him, his head pushing deeper into you. 

Both of your breathing is labored. You try to keep yourself calm, you don't want to rush into riding him, you want to take your time making each of you feel wonderful. Eddie. On the other hand, is trying not to combust as he lays there and watches.

The way your dress is hiked up around your beautifully, thick thighs, how his cock disappears into you, surrounded by a curly thatch of hair. 

God he loved you. It was the only way to explain why his heart was beating out his chest. 

You groan as you feel him entering you. There is a slight burn as you stretch around him. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. Eddie starts to make choked noises and his hands reach out to grab you. His fingers grip your hips, helping you grind into him. Your own hands grasp at his covered stomach. 

There was an ache building as you moved. Low in the depth of your stomach and it began to grow. The more you fucked yourself onto Eddie the more the ache was felt. IT had you clenching down around him. You cunt milking his cock of everything he could give you.  

Eddie’s hands caress your body. When his fingertips touch skin, it's like an electric shock goes through you. 

“Eddie-” You moan.

“I know, love.” He mummers. 

“Can feel you so deep.” You grind harder, shivering as your clit rubs against his pubic bone. “Need more.”

“Yeah? Take it, baby, take anything you want.” 

You catch Eddie’s hands and guide them up under your dress and to your breasts. 

He hums in approval as he pushes your bra down and begins to play with your nipples, pinching and pulling them slightly.

Your head lolls to the side, hair falling down around you. It’s taking so much energy for you to keep moving. Your legs are beginning to tire out, there is a sting in your muscles. Your knees are screaming at you as they dig into the not-so-comfortable foam at the bottom of the casket. 

Body becoming rigid, you cry out, moaning Eddie’s name loudly into the living room. Your fingers cling to him as your body caves into him. You can no longer keep moving so Eddie begins bucking his hips into yours, helping you to ride out this high and bring him to his own. 

Eddie lets you fall almost completely on top of him once he’s finished. His arms wrap around you, your breaths in sync with the other. 

As you rest your forehead on Eddie’s chest, you feel the tiny movement of him jerking. He’s trying not to laugh. 

You crane your neck to look up at him. “What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Eddie.” 

“Nothing, just that we fucked in a casket.” His smile was as wide as could be,

You let your head fall and you laugh into his chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader

[wilwheaton]

What the actual fuck, Larry David.

So I heard about it, but didn't watch it until now. Holy shit it's even worse than I thought. What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Elmo is, like, the best friend to multiple generations of children, and is currently putting mental health and caring for others in the spotlight.

And Larry Fucking David ... did ... that? And thought it was going to be ... funny?

What an asshole. What a stupid, self-centered, tone deaf asshole.

Hey, fucko: First of all, you aren't even in the segment, but you just decided to barge in and draw focus because ... why? You couldn't stand that a puppet brought people together in a meaningful way that you can't? You couldn't stand that your appearance on national television to promote your wildly successful series was delayed for a few seconds while the adults talked about mental health?

I really want to know what raced through his tiny little mind, and why there was no voice or person who spoke up to stop him.

You know who is watching the Today show with their parents? Kids who also watch Sesame Street. Elmo is an avatar for children all over the world. Children who are too small to understand Elmo is a puppet will know that a man attacked him for no reason, and that will frighten them.

Elmo inspired a deeply meaningful and important moment of collective support among disparate people who have been struggling through the traumas of a pandemic, daily mass shootings, the rise of fascism and everything associated with Trump's violence and cruelty.

And shitty idiot Larry David couldn't stand it, for some reason. He had to indirectly tell everyone who opened their hearts to a Muppet that they were stupid, and he thought it was a good joke to physically attack and choke this character who is beloved by children and adults alike.

I've been bored by and totally over Larry David's brand of being an asshole to everyone because they had the temerity to exist around him since the day it started. It was easy to just ignore him. But this thing he did was hurtful, it wasn't funny, and his bullshit non-apology tells all of us everything we need to know about him.

Larry David strikes me as a person who mocks and belittles people who are vulnerable and sensitive, who is cruel because he enjoys it and is untouchable. Maybe I'm wrong, but that's who I see whenever I can't find the remote and he's on my television.

By contrast, Elmo and the Muppets teach and model that kindness and empathy aren't weak or stupid or any of the things people like Larry David and my dad think they are. Elmo and the Muppets teach children to be gentle and kind, to celebrate our different cultures and to embrace all of our complicated feelings.

I hope that, when the dust settles, Larry David's appalling behavior will be a footnote to a larger story about how, for just one day, a Muppet made a difference by helping all of us who are struggling feel just a little less alone and anxious.

A man who would belittle and mock that isn't much of a man at all.

[0luv9]

forlorn || mattheo riddle

Summary: based on this request.

Beware: angst, fluff, slightly aged-up characters, Hufflepuff reader, sweet reader, she/her pronouns used, mostly in second person, jealousy, mistreatment, a little bit of blood, slightly commanding(?) and intimidating Mattheo.

Words: 7.8k (not beta read)

Note: I am sorry luv, I don't think I did justice to the request. I also apologize for taking so long. I still hope you like it, even if it's just a bit. @cat-loves-music

Mattheo Riddle, son of Voldemort, or Tom Riddle if you will—for a more humane approach. But then, there's no humanity in the way he's treated. Always an outsider, always a monster.

There is wealth to his name; after all, he is the only living heir of Salazar Slytherin. However, his blood is corrupt, shunned by the very people who kissed the steps his baby feet took. Looked down on by the blood supremacists and not accepted by the other side, the "good side."

Even he was tired of the same sob story. He doesn't even need to introduce himself; they already have a preconceived image of him in their minds. He could try to fix his image in an ideal world, but even then, what would he say?

'Hello, everyone, I'm Mattheo Riddle, son of the man who once threatened your lives. Please welcome me with warm hands.'

Too cliché? Yes, but it's true and the only truth he knew.

Riddle didn't even know why the name Riddle was cursed and didn't know what his father did that made everyone's hate transcend generations. What made their hatred justified and his hate a crime? He didn't know until it was too late.

Mattheo was raised by the only living relative of his, his mother's aunt—the one who died recently. The one who kept all this hidden away from him hid all the Hogwarts' letters, raised him like her own, and protected him until her last breath. She loved him but all within the vicinity of the manor. He didn't know the world that existed beyond those walls.

He knew about the world outside only through the books she'd let him read. He thought it would feel liberating to step off the lavish floors onto the rich earth. It was everything but that.

"But Nona, why can't I go outside?" he remembers asking that silly question when he was about nine. What he wouldn't do to get that naivety back.

"Because, my dear, there are people out there who wouldn't like you. There are bad people outside ready to punish you," he also remembers crying when she told him that. He didn't understand why people would hate him. He just wanted to try the chocolate frogs he read about.

He just wanted to talk to all the different animals out there, the same way he could talk to the garden snakes.

"But I didn't do anything wrong, Nona. Tell them that I'm a good boy. I can even give them some of my toys. Will they like me then?" If only it were that easy. His Nona cried for the first time in front of him then, looking at all the toys he had set onto her lap, looking at her with teary eyes, pleading, "I didn't do anything wrong, Nona, I promise."

Mattheo didn't understand her tears back then, but now as he stands all alone, those same tears fall out his eyes. It's useless. "They'll know that someday, moon pie. You aren't wrong. They'll know." They'll know? What a fucking joke.

Mattheo tries to enjoy the view in front of him, you know. But how can he? When his batchmates are out there partying and enjoying life, he's been a lone wolf all his life. Yet in moments like this, he seems to forget his old ways of existing.

There's not much he can do anyway; he's not needed anywhere. In fact, they all want him gone. Finding beauty in small things is hard when misery clings to him. There's self-loathing in the way he thinks about the night and himself. There's nothing positive he can say.

You'd think that he must've gotten used to it all by now. No, he hasn't; it only got worse. At least little Mattheo held hope that people would understand someday or the other. Every bit of hope was destroyed by the very people who would've feared him had his father been alive. In moments like this, he wished he could see the man, live as the son they paint him as.

He'd have someone to lean onto then, someone to call his own. At least his father would've loved him. But this last bit of consolidation too was stolen away from him when he got to know that he was a backup plan for his father. Mattheo Riddle was not supposed to exist. His father wanted to live on forever; he was the last option the so-called Dark Lord had, to produce an heir and have them further his cause, and control his life as Tom lived on his last lifeline.

But all of it died with him. Mattheo promised himself that he would never be the man they all expected him to be, the man they wanted to point fingers at. So, he stayed in line. But then he thinks, sometimes, maybe, what if—you know?

He simply stares up at the brightly lit sky, it's a shame that he's the only one out there to appreciate the scenic beauty because he's physically and mentally incapable of appreciating anything, you can't blame him now, can you?

Cold breeze in mid-August, how fucking ridiculous just like this life of his, so unlike his peers, who were out there partying and having the time of their lives, the music vibrating through the walls was like salt on wounds. He'd like to drink a few and chat with his friends but then again, he hasn't got any. And it's the bitter truth that he's not welcome there, he'd be greeted with nasty looks if he tried to enter any such party, they'd all glance his way like the ominous thing he is. It's times like this when he really contemplates it.

Mattheo looks down from the height he's on, no one would care anyway, the fall will kill him, might just give it an actual try unlike those previous attempts- he's been a coward all his life, never ready to face the extremes of life but he has nothing to protect at the moment, he's come far too long, life was never going to be worth it.

He climbs over the railing onto the brick ledge, sitting down for a moment, to take it all in for the last time ever. Mattheo remembers all the whispers that followed him, the suspicious looks passed along the way, those words of disdain- at the same time the thoughts of a happy life enter his mind, it all feels unattainable, in fact, he's so far gone he can't even picture joy, all he sees is bright colours when he thinks of a happy life.

Mattheo had desperately sought relief all his life, but the pain only worsened with time, it's only reasonable to want to end this feeling of hopelessness. The weight of his family's legacy feels heavy on his shoulders. He slouches over and looks down once again, sighing as his eyes shift to the ring on his finger, the other Gaunt ring, he slowly removes it- a pathetic heir he is, he doesn't deserve it, couldn't live up to the name, disappointing both sides of the world.

Maybe they should have destroyed this along with his father's ring but apparently, his dear sweet Nona thought he could change their fate, change the course of history, change the Gaunt legacy for the better, fuck- he couldn't even try and change people's perception about him. Even in this sense, he's nothing like his predecessors, incapable of leaving a mark, of changing the world, be it for the better or the worse. He's just fucking worthless- he fiddles with the ring as he shifts a bit closer to the edge, ready to let go of it.

"Nice ring," he turns around startled, "Mattheo, isn't it?" not Riddle? He hadn't heard his own name in a long time, no one had directly addressed him in years let alone called him by his first name. It all feels foreign, he simply nods not knowing what to say. "Do you mind if I join you?" you don't wait for a response though and carefully bend and climb through the gaps between the two rails, settling down beside him. "Hi, I'm-" he doesn't hear it, he's too focused on your face, you were dolled up, for the party he thinks, but then why are you here of all places? Was this some kind of prank? He steals a glance back at the entrance and the seemingly empty hallway, to see if anyone is waiting for a reaction.

"You know you shouldn't sit so close to the edge, you might fall down," you grab his forearm urging him to move back, your hand feels warm on his skin, it feels unnatural, his hands are always cold. Even though it's on him for a couple of seconds he can't help the multiple emotions going on about in his mind and before he can sort them out, his mouth decides to act on its own, "Why aren't you at the party?" "Oh-" you look disappointed, and he apologises right away, not wanting to upset the only person who had the decency to talk to him, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he's quick to defend himself, it's a natural response after all but you only seemed amused, "No, it quite alright, I was just surprised by your voice-" "Is it that bad?" "Gosh no! It's just not what I expected, quite rough, it's nice," you are quick to shut him up, "And about your question, I am annoyed at my friends forcing me to try more drinks and all, I just came up here to relax."

"I can leave if you'd like," you add on as an afterthought, but you really didn't want to go, it was the only place with some peace, unlike the loud corridors and dorms, where you were mad at your friends and were in no mood for a party. "No, it's quite alright, I was just surprised," he tries to lighten the mood, repeating your words jokingly, it works, you laugh and properly look at him instead of the waters ahead.

"Haha so funny," you say in a monotonous voice, trying to act like you didn't just laugh but you can't contain your smile, and he finds it quite beautiful. You look down at the ring between the two of you, "it's a beautiful ring I must say," You compliment it again since he hadn't acknowledged it before. Mattheo thanked you quietly trying to think of a response that might not make you run away from him.

It's been only a few minutes and you've said more nice things to him than he has ever heard in his whole life, it's quite ridiculous when he thinks about it, seemingly you find it quite easy to compliment him. He stays quiet not knowing how to take a compliment, but you don't let the silence continue, you look around trying to find something to talk about and soon enough you start talking and he's glad, "You know about those plants right there?" you point to the shrubs at some distance from the castle walls. Mattheo shakes his head unable to recall if he had seen them before. "It's alright but now that you know, you have something to look forward to this upcoming month!" you smile yet again, cheerful that you have something to share.

"What's special about them?" "It's not the plant itself but the fireflies that live there!" Mattheo tries hard to keep up with your energy and pace, "Why aren't they out now? They aren't migratory, are they?" "That's what makes it special unlike fireflies that are present throughout the summer, these ones light up only for the last week of August," "I'll look forward to it," "You should! I missed it last year and then everyone thought I was lying when I mentioned it." Mattheo frowns, "No one knows about them? Not even the professors?" "The professors would know but it wasn't that serious that I'd take it up to them," Mattheo finds it difficult to relate, he always would let everyone know that he was in the right if the facts favour him because no way in hell would he let anyone see him in the wrong light, he couldn't bear to be in the wrong.

And it slips out his mouth, "I would've argued till they knew I was right," "I don't like arguing though, reminds me of my parents, they parted ways because they argued a lot, so I try to avoid it myself," his lips purse trying to think of an appropriate response, "Anyway, you are in Slytherin right?" it wasn't a question, you just knew, "I'm in Hufflepuff, nice to meet you!" you turn towards him and extend your hand with a smile, he can't help but mirror your smile, "Nice to meet you indeed." Your hand feels soft in his, he was finding it hard to let go but you pull your hand back almost instantly- remembering something, "OH right I forgot, do you like chocolates?" Mattheo was quite taken aback by your energetic self, it was infectious, "Of course you do, it's a silly question, I mean who doesn't like chocolate-" you stop midway and fix him with a scrutinising look, "Unless you are some heartless monster-" "Nah I like chocolate alright," "Good good."

You fish through your jacket's pocket and pull out two chocolate bars, "It's muggle chocolate," you place one in his hand, "Muggle? I've never had muggle candy," Mattheo inspects the small sweet in his hand, "You are missing out then!" you chuckle as you take the wrapper off yours, "I'll eat it tomorrow, thank you," He pockets it and looks ahead with a small smile, tonight's beautiful now that he looks at it.

"You are a muggle born then?" Mattheo can't help but want to know more, because how dare his fucking father go after your lot, "Yep, I was surprised you know? To receive the letter, I thought it was some prank but of course, after a few days I realised how real it was, couldn't have been happier, to be away from home." It's funny because all Mattheo wants to do is go back to the gloomy old mansion and here you were saying the opposite, the stark difference between the two of you was obvious to him.

You ramble on and he listens, it's nothing but enjoyable to listen to mundane stories being narrated with such interest, he finds himself smiling a bit too much, to the point where his face hurts but he doesn't care because you are quite the lovely company to be around.

Muggle-born, the same year as him, Hufflepuff, living with your mom- it's not the best back home he gathers that much. You were angry at your friends and were going to hold a grudge if they didn't apologise. He learned a lot about you in that one hour and learned a few things about him as well, he didn't know he had jokes like that OR you were just too kind to laugh at his bad quips, whatever it was he was grateful because you didn't make him feel bad or like a burden. Mattheo was glad that you were the talkative one and that you didn't expect him to share anything if he wasn't comfortable, also the fact that he didn't want to send you running away by talking more about himself.

He admires the fond smile you wear when you talk, the stars reflect a bit too brightly in your eyes, and he inhales breathing in your scent, it's surreal, the moment. Mattheo didn't quite think properly until you left, wishing him a good night, "it was nice spending time with you, Mattheo!" He wonders if you knew how much it meant to him.

...

He finds out your name the next day and sees you everywhere, it's annoying because he was tired since he couldn't sleep thinking all night about you and now he has to see your face again. Now that he knows you, he can't seem to avoid you, earlier it was easy to be blind but now, everything else seems like a blind spot but you. Or maybe it's that his head is not hanging low, avoiding looking up at people.

Mattheo got over the irritation rather quickly, discreetly looking at you, eyes following every movement of yours. But you don't look at him once, he was just like any other guy to you, the realisation both hurts and feels nice, knowing that you don't demonise him but also the fact that he's no one special either. And maybe, he can live with that.

He notices the large number of people you keep around, you are never alone, always surrounded by a group and you are always the one talking, you are clearly popular. How had he not noticed you before? But then again he knew no one in the school apart from the professors, he never tried to get to know anyone because of course his fate wouldn't allow that.

Mattheo seeks out the solace of the library to keep you out of his mind for a while but the plan doesn't seem to work when he finds the chocolate you gave him in his bag. He simply sighs, knowing that there is no escape, unwarps the sweet and pops it into his mouth, shutting his eyes, and recalls your sweet smile. Warmth takes over his body, it feels nice like this, he has to talk to you once again because that can't be the only interaction he has with you, not when it's all he can think about. He breathes out slowly, staring down at the wrapper and mindlessly reading the information on the back, his jaw tightens as he realizes his stupid pathetic feelings. Mattheo puts the wrapper in his quill case and tries to study with a head full of you.

...

Okay, now it was really starting to bother him, he practically couldn't keep his eyes off you, it's like a spell had charmed him in. He wasn't even trying to be discreet at this point, he downright stared at you from a distance, it was creepy, he was aware of that but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. Mattheo doesn't like this new feeling you've instilled in him, it's sweet and it's fucking uncomfortable. He finds it extremely difficult to get rid of you from his thoughts, so he gives up on trying and lets his mind go on autopilot.

The way you talked to him without any judgement in your eyes that day, the images of you repeated over and over again in his mind. Even when he sees you with someone else he can't help but think you are in front of him telling him a story, with those animated expressions of yours, but then seconds later he comes to his senses and sees the smile that's not directed at him, the one you gave to everyone, him too. He thinks it was your pity, that made you talk to him. He didn't feel like he was burdening you then but now when he thinks of approaching you, he knows he'd be burdening you. Your life looks no different, every day is full of joy, and you aren't smiling any less.

Why would you talk to him of all people? Perhaps, you only talked to him that day because you needed a change of scenery and not because you wanted to, he's wrong in thinking that but he's also deluded. It's the only way he keeps himself at peace, to not see meaning in your words, to not long for your company.

But he's a Riddle after all, some things just run in your blood, he has his eyes set on you and he finds it difficult to look away. New dream of his, and he'd like to have it, no matter how unattainable it feels. Yet he hasn't got a clue, it's all too new, and he doesn't know what to do, he'd like to have a plan but what would the plan even say? Go and talk to her? Yeah, like he's about to embarrass himself in front of her.

...

Your eyes stretch at the sight of him sitting in the library, alone but not in some deserted corner, he had claimed the whole couch in the centre of the room, sitting right in the middle, reading a book leaning back, a frown on his face. He looked intimidating, and to be honest, you were scared of him, the little beer in you that night had given you the courage to approach him, maybe your fate was too kind to let you find him that night but now your nerves were on fire.

It was no secret to you that he had been staring at you the past couple of weeks, but you couldn't understand the look on his face, his jaw was always clenched, eyes narrowed, and not a hint of emotion on his face. Was he mad at you? Was he the planning on-

No. You didn't like to think about it, you didn't want him to be the man they paint him as, he's just a boy, your age, maybe that's another reason why you hadn't approached him. Staying away because you were scared that they'd be right, you'd rather delve into what ifs than actually be heartbroken, your imagination brought you bliss.

But would it really be your mind if it would let you just forget it? You think and think, getting worked up over every little interaction you've had with him. How could he be evil? He talked to you so nicely the other day, even- even though you were a muggle-born, a mud blood. But when you see how he looks at you, you can't help but feel scared.

It really was an intimidating sight, your courage wore thin but you had made up your mind. You approach him cautiously, as you greet him, you start feeling jittery and flushed, "Hey Mattheo."

Mattheo jerked his head up as he heard your voice, surprised, caught off guard in fact, he didn't trust his words just yet so he simply nodded at you, acknowledging your presence, closing the book and setting it aside, all his attention on you. "I came here to study and noticed you," you look around bashfully before continuing, "I just wanted to ask you if you liked the chocolate I gave you the other day, you know the one with dark brown wrapper-" "Yeah I did," He stops you from rambling on, not that he had any problem with it but you clearly seemed nervous, he just wanted to ease your nerves, "Right so-" you quickly pull out a small pack of the chocolate from your sling bag placing it beside him, straightening up, "I'll go then, enjoy-" you are quick to turn away from him, cursing yourself in your mind, blaming yourself for making things more awkward than they already were.

Mattheo stops you in your tracks as he calls you by your name, you turn around, and he speaks in that cold voice of his, "You said you were here to study right?" you nod timidly, clutching onto the straps of your bag, he leans back and with a flick of his wrist, a table and chair are summoned in front of him, "then study," he motions to the chair opposite of him.

You were quite taken aback, you stood there for a bit before actually registering his words, and you quietly sat down, you didn't have it in you to disobey him, he was Mattheo Riddle for fucks sake, he looked and sounded like someone who doesn't take no for an answer.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you carefully sit down, looking down, not meeting his gaze, he couldn't believe it, you obliged his wishes? Mattheo leaned back fully, arms folding as he watched you, brown eyes capturing each detail, amusement crawled over his face as he watched you pull out multiple books all at once, various colourful stationery items sprawled out all over the table. You looked pretty like this, stray strands of hair framing your face, lips pursed in concentration. He knew how creepy he was being, so he opened his book again and tried to read but he simply couldn't not when you were sitting in front of him, he relished your presence and this was so unlike the others, every time he had looked at you- you had been surrounded by people, so it was a sight to behold, only for him to admire. So he did, in secret, glancing up at you, every few seconds.

It's been two hours and not once did he get bored of looking at you, a small smile lingered on his face as you closed your books and looked up at him, "How's that book?" you nod towards the book in his hand- the one he was supposed to be reading, "Good, good" he bites the inside of cheek as he lies through his teeth, "Got everything done?" he sets his book aside, fixing you with a soft stare, "Yes, I just wanted to revise a bit, I forget stuff easily if I don't revise regularly," you tilt your head a bit, his eyes were much softer now, and it made your heart flutter a bit, feeling a lot more comfortable than before, so you do what you usually do when you are comfortable- talk.

"By the way, did you study for the upcoming herbology test?" And before he could answer, you pulled out a piece of paper from your bag, "This is like the holy grail, a senior gave it to me last year, it has all the specifics, of recognising plants and how to make generalised guesses about their uses-" you speak in a hushed voice, slightly leaning over the table, eyes wide as you shared your little secret, "you can have it, I have it memorised haha" You bless him with that pretty smile of yours, pushing the paper towards him, you don't let him refuse the offer and start talking about something else, he gives you a small smile, and it makes your insides turn into mush, you bite your lip trying to contain your smile, eyes shy as you start fiddling with your hands on your lap.

You talked for hours, he was much more open this time, and the conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, it was you who mostly did the talking but he didn't seem to mind he looked more than pleased, he didn't like talking much, it seemed, so you filled in the gaps, made it look so effortless like it was easy talking to him, maybe it was easy for you but to him, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. You two stopped only when the librarian came in and told you it was curfew time, your eyes widened as you turned to look back at him, an amused smile on your face, both of you got up, walking beside each other, not uttering a word till you were out of the librarian's stern gaze.

"I made you miss dinner-" your eyes widened further as soon as the two of you got out, stepping into the empty hallway, "it's alright, I don't mind," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, he chuckled at your antics, "yeah sure, but your stomach would, but- we can sneak into the kitchens, you know, sneak some food out," you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a sheepish grin on your face, he scoffs in disbelief, a fond smile gracing his face, "something tells me, this isn't your first time sneaking around."

"No, it's not," you chuckle a bit before continuing, "So, are you coming or not?" you purse your lips, looking up at him with doe eyes and he questions your motives right then because there's no way you didn't have a clue about what you were doing, "would be an idiot to say no," he muttered under his breath shaking his head, "I didn't catch that-", "Yes, I am."

You give him a pleased smile, you looked so happy at that moment, he was rooted in his position as you started walking ahead of him, he had to look away to catch his breath, "Merlin" he exhaled, a hand reaching over to his chest to soothe his loud thumping heart, and in that moment he knew he was a goner.

"Mattheo-?" you turned around since you didn't hear him walk with you but soon he rushed to your side the moment you looked back, you gave him another smile as he walked beside you, he looked straight ahead then, you needed to stop doing that because no fucking way- would he be able to let go of you.

You lead him to the kitchen, both of you cautious, well just you- he was having the time of his life, getting a detention would be worth it, just a small price to pay. Mattheo repeatedly stole glances here and there, the moment you entered the kitchen, you grabbed his arm and pulled his painfully slow self in, "gosh- you sure do walk slow," you glare at him, but there's no malice in your eyes, instead they are just amused, you roll your eyes when he just shrugs in response, moving over to the tables. Mattheo just looked at you with fond eyes, he was just trying to buy more time with you by walking slowly and he didn't feel one bit guilty about it, he felt a bit too proud. 

You sigh dramatically before returning to him with a small tray in your hands, "I didn't find anything else, apart from these blueberry muffins," your eyes wander around once more trying to see if you missed something, "usually there's still stuff left, that's weird- oh well, at least we have these," you give him a small defeated smile, setting the tray on the table, shrugging as you felt that muffins weren't worth the effort of sneaking around and that you only troubled him further. Mattheo saw through you and he hated that you were feeling that way, "didn't I mention this to you? I love muffins, especially the blueberry ones." he gave you a small smile, picking up the muffin, taking a bite, "yeah, that's good, way better than the dry vegetable and chicken pies they make." He didn't look at you as he said that, but you smiled, realising what he was trying to do, you wanted to cry, why was he being so considerate? You were now beginning to go down a spiral, of all the times you thought of him in the wrong light, how dare you even think like that? 

Mattheo caught you staring and it was hard for him to control the heat that rose to his cheeks, he cleared his throat, "What? You don't like these? Well, guess they are all for me-" he teased, taking the tray in his hand and started walking away, "Hey! No-" you rushed after him with an amused smile, "I want one too," and the tray was shoved back into your hands, "better not eat all of them, yeah?" he gave you a small cheeky wink, leaning against the table, finishing the muffin in his hand. 

Mattheo offered to walk you back to your dorm, he didn't have to insist much, after all, you wanted to spend time with him too, you easily agreed after a couple of tries. You two walked in comfortable silence, as you neared the Hufflepuff dormitory, you were thinking about how you'd part ways, overthinking about what would be appropriate and in the mix of it, you just gave him an awkward side hug, squeezing his arm a bit before mumbling a quick "goodnight" and rushing in. 

He couldn't believe his eyes, were you blushing? No way, he must be imagining things. Mattheo could still feel your warm touch lingering on his side, the scene playing over and over again in his mind, he wanted to scream out of excitement- he was getting cuteness aggression, had to be it, his fists clenched at his side as he stared at the door, for god knows how long, if he could- he would've squeezed you into a bone-crushing hug, but you were quick, left him speechless. 

He walked back to the Slytherin dorm without any trouble, he closed the door behind himself and leaned back against it, he was pretty sure his skin was burning with all the warmth that was flowing through his veins. Merlin, he was embarrassing! Mattheo sighed contently, a big smile on his face as he replayed the whole day, your smile- 

...

The next few days, you guys didn't talk at all, he was back to staring and this time, when you did catch him in the act, instead of pretending you didn't see him, you gave him a knowing smile and a wave. Lingering looks, and subtle greetings, were sweet, Mattheo was now on a new high, he couldn't get enough. But for some reason, he maintained his distance, he stuck to looking at you from afar, it felt comfortable this way, not wanting to taint your reputation by talking to you in front of others, he'd talk to you if it was only you but you were never alone. 

Mattheo starts seeing life for what it is, when he looks at the trees outside, the castle in its entirety, he feels like he is seeing it for the first time. How had he missed this? He finds himself back at the astronomy tower, he looks at the lake ahead, it was a sight to behold, and he is starting to appreciate the view, these days he didn't care about much, you were all he could think about and you were more than pleasant, it was as if the grey lens of his life was replaced with a coloured one, and it would be foolish to credit anyone else but you for it, and he was fucking grateful for it. The reason he was here was, that it was the end of August, and the fireflies you so damn wished to see would be out tonight, he came here just in the hope that he'll get to see you alone. 

He was zoning out when some movement near the edge of the lake caught his eye, it was you- with a few of your friends, his smile faltered the moment he saw some blonde Hufflepuff dude pull you to his side, slinging a hand over your shoulder, you all walked towards the shrubs and didn't have to wait long before the fireflies lit up and started raising above the shrubs. He was about to leave, he was mad for some reason, really pissed- but then he took another look at you. You were standing a bit behind your friends, who had all their attention on the flies ahead, you seemed sad, looking down, messing with the soil beneath your shoe, hands in your jacket. Mattheo could make out the pout on your face, the deflated shoulders, you then turned to look right where he was, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Your posture straightened immediately, the pretty smile returning to your face as you looked up at the astronomy tower balcony, having spotted him, you waved at him. Mattheo nodded, forearms on the railing as he leaned forward, a smile gracing his features, the anger leaving him. You excitedly pointed at the sky, and he nodded, you turned back around when your friend called you and he couldn't look away, he was staring at you till you left, Mattheo started feeling the warmth creep up to him when he saw you making an effort to steal back glances at him. He felt seen, fucking special- 

...

Mattheo still hadn't talked to you, he couldn't catch you alone really, it was starting to get to him, he longed to hear your voice, hear you talk to him- and yet, he didn't have it in him to approach you in front of others, it would ruin you, you thrived in the company of others, he couldn't snatch that away from you. Maybe if he was a bit more selfish, he'd do it, snatch you away from others, have you all to himself but he wasn't about that life, it was something his father would do, he's sure of it, go after what he wants, not caring what others would think- 

Mattheo feels like passing out when you deliberately look at him just to give him a shy smile, a flushed look on your face. He walks away because he cannot handle looking at you, the urge is too strong, to just take you into his arms, he walks out to the empty hallway, a hand over his chest- it had become a subconscious habit of his, whenever you gave him that smile, the one that felt like it was just reserved for him, yeah that one, he felt like he was in heaven, you sent his heart rate through the roof when you did that, it borderline hurt him since he couldn't do much to satiate this feeling. 

The longing was etched into his eyes when he looked at you, one thing he realised was, that when he had his head up, no one dared to look his way, he was enjoying that power for some reason, it filled his veins with something dark, he liked seeing people look down instead of him looking down, it felt fucking nice, and it felt even better when the only person that did look at him, was you. People averted their eyes when he entered the room, choosing to ignore his presence but the fear was very much evident, so he knew they didn't see him staring at you but at this point, he really couldn't bring himself to make an active effort to look away even if someone noticed. 

It was no lie, that Mattheo wasn't up to date with all the gossip and news, he just lived life passively but now that he was out there more, he couldn't help but hear the words that fell onto his ears, Yule Ball, huh. WAIT- ball dance? That meant having a date, who were you going with? Fuck his mind was rambling shit to him, he could not let someone else take you to a fucking dance as their date, no, he wouldn't let that happen. He had to get to you before someone else did, it was nighttime, and tomorrow's the weekend, approaching you will be the first thing he'll do after he wakes up, he has to plan shit out, you know, make it special and heartfelt, you deserved nothing less.

But his heart nearly broke when he overheard two Slytherin guys talking about you. The way one of them talked about you made his blood boil, his jaw clenched tight, nails drawing blood from his palms as they dug into his coarse skin, "I told you not to ask her out, plenty of guys tried and guess what? She rejected them all." the guy who was being talked to only scoffed angrily, "She's a fucking slut, that's what she is, leading people on-" the other boy just stopped him and Mattheo exhaled, a bit relieved because if it wasn't for him, Mattheo would've smacked the guy and pushed him to the fucking wall, "dude, come on, that's not true, all she did was smile at you when you gave her your seat, she's a nice girl," these guys were in the fifth year, he recognised that much, "sure, whatever," the guy walked away to his room, making sure to loudly slam the door behind him. 

Mattheo then gets up and walks towards the guy left behind, the one who stood up for you, when he stands in front of him, he sees the dude cower into the seat, Mattheo tries to speak in a polite voice but the anger is still radiating off him, his irritated stare didn't help either, "she doesn't have a date, yeah?" his hands were behind his back, over one another, the blood still fresh, "who-o?" the guy stutters out, looking around for help but no one was there- "You know who," he fixes him with a glare, before uttering your name out loud, "no no, she doesn't, rejected them all." Mattheo then nods at him and leans back, then finally he walks back to his room, allowing the guy to catch his breath. 

Mattheo feels relief wash over him as he lets the information sink in, okay good, you didn't have a date but then again, why were you rejecting them all? What if you reject him as well? Yeah, he couldn't handle that wound, he'd fucking die, he contemplates whether he should ask you or not but he's done fucking waiting, waiting for his fate to fuck things over, if things are going to be fucked, he'll be the one to do it. 

...

Mattheo puts on a black shirt and black pants, not caring to tuck his shirt in, the cold metal ring stings him as he puts it on, the feeling is grounding, he's doing something his dad would've done and for some reason that doesn't feel half as bad, he feels like himself, it was like something had possessed him, the confidence was unwavering, even as he stepped out into the crowded hallway, hands in his pockets, looking ahead, people parted, giving him space and Merlin, did that feel fucking powerful. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he approached the room you'd be in, you always were there on the weekends, with your friends and he didn't think before he stepped into the room, heads turning towards him in shock, even yours but the shock on your face was soon replaced with a smile, quietly waving at him and that right there, fed right into his ego.

He walked over to you in a few quick strides, eyes zeroed in on you, nothing else mattered at that moment, "Can I talk to you?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were ecstatic, you've wanted this for so long, to talk to him in front of others, you never knew if you should because he might've felt uncomfortable, "Yes ofcourse, what is it?" you nod, a smile still on your face, "Alone," his voice was cold, "oh yeah, sure-" you step towards him, thinking he'd lead you somewhere private but he stayed rooted in his place, eyes never leaving yours, he stayed quiet for a bit, taking in your whole self, the bright clothes you were dressed in, the equally bright smile on your face. Then he looked over your head, to the shocked faces of your friends, "Alone." It came out as an order, he couldn't care less. 

Mattheo liked this newfound authority, he also relished in the fact that you were being so compliant as if you wanted this to happen and he couldn't be more glad, "Guys, I'll be back, you can go ahead, don't worry," you explained, seeing their hesitance, his unwavering gaze was back on you, brown eyes were intense. The apprehensive group slowly emptied the room and just went the last person was out, Mattheo muttered something under his breath, and the door slammed shut, locking itself. 

Mattheo cursed that pretty smile of yours before smiling back, "You have a date? For the ball?" you lowered your eyes to the ground at the question, a shy look grazing your features as you shook your head, the more he looked at you, the more positive he got. "Good."  He finally pulled his hands out of his pocket and suddenly there was a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand and a velvet box, he wordlessly handed them to you, your eyes were wide, full of amusement, face warm, you noticed how the lights around you got dimmer, the small mock firefly charms that floated in the air, you didn't have a clue on how he was doing all this without his wand but you couldn't bring yourself to think of it, not when you had him standing in front you, in all his glory, about to ask you to the ball, gosh you felt like you were on cloud nine, the guy you were waiting for had actually approached you? You had to be dreaming. 

Then out of nowhere, you hear your favourite song but on strings, you look down at the box curiously- "It's the muggle chocolate you were talking about, the one you said was hard to get your hands on," he shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal but in reality, he was finding the courage to finally tell you what he was feeling, ask you out. Your brows pinched together, as you noticed that all of it was a muggle, even the flower arrangement- the song, how did he do all of this? You looked up at him with an amused look. "No questions please," he breathed out like he was out of breath, you then smiled at him gratefully, and he quickly averted his eyes, his hand subconsciously reaching over to his chest, "Oh Merlin," he exhaled quietly, not being able to look back at you. 

He then slowly gathered the courage to look back at you, you were just looking at him patiently, the smile still on your face, Mattheo cleared his throat before opening up, "I have never been the one to be graceful but I want to this properly." he inhaled sharply before continuing, "Ever since that night, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, I think I've gone mad honestly," He lets out a dry chuckle shaking his head, looking into your eyes, "I think I've taken a liking to you, your voice, your smile-" and then he interrupts himself, forgetting the little speech he prepared as he watches your smile widen at his words, "yeah that, more of that please," and that makes you blush, the genuine interest in his eyes, the way admiration shines in his eyes, you are so close to him, that you can hear his heart thumping loudly, "I'd like to have the honour of taking you to the ball," then he says your name quietly, "would you like be my date?" 

"Yes yes!" you couldn't be more excited, you are quick to throw your arms around him, and all the worries leave his body as soon as he is subjected to your embrace, he closes his eyes, pulling you closer, finding everything comfortable in your grip. His heartstrings thrum at the moment, it was embarrassing how quickly you got him flustered but he didn't seem to mind it. He whispered a small "thank you," before hugging you tighter, you just giggled into his chest and Merlin, did he feel like he had just won the lottery.

...

<<prev work: this love || mattheo riddle

#mattheoxreader #matheo riddle #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x reader #matheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #oneshot #slytherin

[woodlandwrites]

husband!percy jackson

the lovely @buenolover suggested this!!

this is so unedited but I was feeling frisky and needed to write something - might do a pt. 2 !!

༄ if you think percy is #boyfriendmaterial you’re wrong!

༄ this man is 1000% husband material

༄ okay so I imagine you both being demigods and start dating - everyone at chb is like omg they are my parents

༄ I think it started out as a friendship but really turned into more - especially when you caught him in the kitchens after hours with a younger camper making blueberry pancakes

༄ the young camper had a nightmare and percy decided to cheer them up (he’d experienced plenty of bad nightmares himself)

༄ that’s what kind of started your relationship because you thought it was really showed who percy was - a empathetic kind and beautiful soul

༄ poseidon didn’t deserve him

༄ percy would quite literally take a bullet for you - no he would jump into tartarus for you - no he would sell his soul for you

༄ he would actually spend an hour telling you different brutal ways he’d die for you - it’s his love language

༄ I feel like the wedding would be verrrrry low key (on the beach ofc!)

༄ after you say your vows and kiss you both run and jump into the water - cause y’all are cute or whateva

༄ the blue food is definitely a staple at your wedding

༄ I can see the both of you living in the cabin on the beach in montauk together

༄ tangled in the sheets waking up to the sounds of waves and percy’s incredibly loud snoring

༄ percy lovessss to take you into the sea - it’s like showing you his soul in a way - he adores you so much the sea seems to calm whenever you are near him

༄ sea creatures love to come a visit you!! they actually end up liking you more than percy

༄ speaking of which - you are now sally’s favorite child - sorry percy

༄ sally is quite literally the best mom on the planet and always you both the check in

༄ I also think sally adores you because she finally is able to see percy happy - not worried about the next quest that inevitably will scar him more

༄ percy isn’t perfect though! he is very sloppy and spills almost everything - he also won’t wash dishes to save his life

༄ not that he won’t he just forgets a lot

༄ percy snores and has terrible rls which is why you end up nudging him in the back at 2 am

༄ however - you wouldn’t want it any other way.

༄ percy is thoughtful as FUCK!! oh you like that? I’ll buy ten. oh that’s your favorite color - let me buy everything that color in existence.

༄ one night it was storming heavily and percy hadn’t come home yet - which had you worried!!

༄ that was until he came home drenched with a fistful of your favorite flowers. you had mentioned earlier how much you loved them - percy couldn’t let his girl NOT have her favorite flowers right?

༄ he caught a cold after that

༄ percy loves having late night bonfires with you - staying up until the early hours just talking

༄ that’s the thing about percy - conversation was never dull

༄ slow dancing by the sea with only the moonlight shining

༄ family planning is hectic - percy wants to be a father but he worries so much about being a good father - he never wanted to be his father

༄ I feel like percy is like a pillow you flip over at night to the cool side - he is like that first dip in cold water during a summer day

༄ that’s why he’s so wonderful to snuggle with at night because you don’t overheat

༄ percy laughs at everything and is a very easy going husband to have - he never makes you feel less than perfect

༄ although you both have your flaws - you both work so perfectly together

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fanfic #pjo #percy jackson x y/n #husband!percy jackson #husband!percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson headcanon #percy Jackson headcanons #percy jackson x you #percy jackson fanfiction #percy Jackson masterlist

[2hightocare]

LOVE WAGER! 01

Synopsis: Meeting a crazy stranger who cuts in line, tries to tell you love like the books doesn’t exist—it’s whatever. You won’t ever see him again… right?

Pairings: jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: college au. strangers to friends to lovers. forced proximity.

Warnings: mentions of divorce parents, Jungkook lowkey being insufferable, banter, cussing, a little bit of them being enemies, nicknames, oc being a hopeless romantic at heart, Jungkook being lowkey a cynic… them meeting each other so many times, choking!

a/n: first chapter out!! Woohoo, I’ve been keeping them close to my heart for quite some time. Ever since I listened to “in between” by Gracie Abrams.. I was inspired to write them—the song is so them coded.💌

★ masterlist!

3 years ago…

You were a hopeless romantic.

Most people called it being delusional— by people, you mean the random stranger in front of you.

The first time you met Jungkook, not only did he cut in front of you in line, but he also started shit-talking about how delusional you had to be to think romance books were even remotely comparable to real life.

The line at the cupcake shop was long. You had been wanting to try the new chocolate-covered strawberry flavor from your favorite cupcake shop in the city. The shop was always full, but today it was packed to the bone— the line almost reached outside the door. The people sitting at the cute pastel-colored tables were even leaving because the space was getting so crowded.

It was a Friday, and you had just left school. Your black backpack hung loosely over one shoulder as you stared down at your phone, trying not to die playing Subway Surfers. When your phone died, you internally groaned.

You mentally rolled your eyes before looking forward, where the line was starting to move faster. You were probably the fourth person in line, which was good since you'd only been there for around twenty minutes. You slipped your phone into the back pocket of your jeans before reaching for the zipper of your backpack—pulling out the latest book you hadn’t finished reading amidst all the assignments teachers had been bombarding you with. You thought it was dumb, considering it was your senior year in high school—why not just let you off easy?

You zipped up your backpack before slipping it on, tucking in the small hair that fell into your face when you opened your book. You moved forward as the line advanced, not bothered by the conversations from everyone around you—it was like your own brown noise, which you usually looked up on YouTube whenever you wanted to act like the main character in a movie.

Romance books were your thing. The same went for movies; you loved a good romantic story with the most cliché plot in the world—it did it for you every single time.

Your dad had tried getting you into self-help books, fiction books, or even those thriller books where you had to guess who kills who. He would back this up with actually learning something from reading a book, and you tried all those genres, you really did. You were the most specific girl there could be; if the book didn't impress you within one chapter, you closed it and moved on.

You were basically in love with the idea of love, imagining someone doing all those things you had seen in movies and read about, which filled you with hope that someone could care and love you that way. Yes, you believed in soulmates; you believed that someone, somewhere in this world, was destined to be with you, no matter the circumstances. You believed that if two people were destined for each other, they would find a way to each other, one way or another.

“Hi, baby, you still haven’t ordered? The line is so fucking long.” A strange boy, who looked around your age or maybe slightly older due to his eyebrow piercing, spoke up. He had a navy blue cap with the Yankees logo on the front, and you could see small pieces of his hair. It looked like a dark brown, but at some angles, it looked black, so you thought maybe he dyed it. He was cute, with a sharp jaw and dimples, which you immediately noticed when they showed on his left cheek as he bit his lip, waiting for you to reply.

“I’m sorry—“ you started, only to be cut off by him. “I've been meaning to show you this, babe.” He cut you off before basically shoving his phone into your face. His phone showed his notes app open with a text that read, ‘Please act like you know me so I can cut in line; it’s so long, and I have somewhere to be.’

Your brows furrowed at the pleading guy. You had no clue what his name was, but he looked like he was seriously about to lose his mind if he had to wait another minute in line. You shook your head before nodding— a smile burst on his face.

“Thank you,” he mouthed to you, to which you only shrugged before closing your book. “What flavor are you getting, lovebug?” He said, his nose scrunching in disgust at what he just said. A small laugh escaped your lips since that was the cringiest shit you had heard all day, maybe even all week if you didn’t count your dad trying to write you a poem about his love for your cat.

“I want to get the new chocolate-covered strawberry flavor. What about you?” You said, your fingers fidgeting with the pages of your closed book. His eyes dropped to your hands as you moved up in line, now second in line.

“Is that your book?” He said instead of replying to your question. “Yeah, do you read?” A spike of excitement was clear in your face and voice, only to be squashed when he opened his mouth.

“Do you actually believe anything in there is remotely realistic?” He said nonchalantly before removing his cap, letting his fluffy hair fall in his face before almost immediately collecting it back, placing his cap backward this time.

“I—“ you stutter, your mouth slightly agape, not knowing how to reply without sounding dumb. Because, yeah, you strongly believed romance books were able to happen in real life if someone loved you enough. “Well.. I mean, love happens anywhere,” you shrug, but he only nods his head in a condescending way. Not only were you helping him skip in line—he was basically criticizing your view on love.

“Well, duh, love happens, but all that cringey shit is the dumbest thing our generation normalized. Like, nobody is going to confess their love with a microphone in the middle of a dance-off,” he scoffs. You didn’t understand why he actually looked like he seriously hated the idea of making gestures for someone you loved or cared about.

“Well, obviously, I find that stupid as well, but there are other gestures to show your appreciation and love for someone.” You turn your whole body to face him. He’s not much taller than you, maybe two inches if you really wanted to know, and the cap maybe added another inch, but that didn’t matter since your eyesight was eye level with his.

“Love is embarrassing,” he says, crossing his arms in front of him. You felt the lady behind you both, her eyes bore into you both, trying to figure out why the supposed couple were fighting about love.

“How is love embarrassing?” You scoff before turning around to look in front of you, at the back of the head of the man who was ordering.

“Because love makes you do embarrassing shit all the time; that’s the easiest way I can put it for you, ribbons,” he replies with a duh tone, raising his eyebrows at you, which you see from your peripheral vision.

“Ribbons?” You turn to him, your arms crossed over your book as you glare at him. “Pink ribbon. Don’t you think you look a little too old to be wearing bows?” A grin appears on his face as he casually points to the pink ribbon tied into a bow in your hair.

“The fuck? Not only did I let you skip the line, but you’re a) talking shit about my favorite genre, and b) making fun of me wearing bows.” You turn your full body to him, which he only raises his hands in defense, as if you had a gun pointed at him.

“Damn, my bad. I thought this was a free country; you know your amendments, right?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Yes, I fucking know my amendments,” you reply, absolutely annoyed at him bringing history into this.

“Freedom of speech,” he says before walking in front of you to the cashier. You were annoyed, maybe even angry. How dare he talk shit and say freedom of speech when you just did him a favor.

“He cut in front of me,” you point to him as you tell on him to the cashier, his jaw dropping to the floor. “Did you just tell on me? What the fuck,” he side-eyes you as you just shrugged.

“I respectfully need to ask you to go to the back of the line,” the cashier says, shooting you an apologetic look. You bite on the inside of your cheek to contain the smile that is threatening to slip out, as he sends you a mocking face, which you return, because apparently, you both were literal children. He rolled his eyes before he walked off.

2 years ago..

The second time you met Jungkook, you almost died due to choking on your coke.

You and your best-friend, Amelia, sat in a booth, munching on pizza, while you hear her ramble about the latest drama on campus.

“I can’t believe he cheated on her. I was so shocked, like I couldn’t believe he would do that after he literally gave her a promise ring—I heard it was expensive as well, bro,” Amelia said, stuffing a French fry in her mouth.

Amelia and you had been best friends since your freshman year at Preston University. She ended up in your dorm room by mistake, until security escorted her to her corresponding room. You both even had your calculus class together, which ended in both of you ripping your hair out because you truly had no clue what the professor was talking about.

“Oh my god, you’re lying!” you gasped, taking a bite of your folded pizza. “Alexandra said she didn’t care, but apparently, she was crying at the frat party we were supposed to go to yesterday,” Amelia said, pressing her lips together with wide eyes. As you were about to reply, she gasped.

“Holy shit, babes, don’t turn around, but there’s this fine-ass guy behind you,” she said. Without thinking you turned your whole body to look at the guy she was talking about.

“Or just turn your whole body, I don't care,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“Wait, who?” you asked, staring at the group of boys in front of you. They were all cute, just not your type whatsoever. “He just turned around, so you can’t see his face, but the one with the black beanie,” Amelia whispered to you as she took a sip of her Dr Pepper.

As you stared at the back of the boy who was engrossed in a conversation with his friend, a loud laugh escaped his lips before he threw his head back, letting you catch a glimpse of his face.

“Oh, fuck, his laugh is hot as fuck as well,” Amelia said behind you, chewing on her crispy fries. “Do you think he has a girlfrien—“ The words melted from your mouth as the beanie boy turned around. “Yeah, he definitely has a girlfriend,” Amelia said nonchalantly, clearly not catching how your eyes widened, as you both stare at the boy who had cut in front of you in line three years ago.

He was taller, much taller, and he was built—you could tell even from his oversized long-sleeve shirt. As much as you wanted to disagree, he was undeniably attractive. The eyebrow piercing was still there, but it somehow looked better than when you first saw it.

“Ribbons?” he said, pointing at you with a chuckle, making you flinch for absolutely no reason. Amelia looked between both of you, trying to read the room.

“Mr. anti-romantic?” You fired back, a huge smile breaking out on his face before he excused himself from his friend group and made his way to your booth. “I see you got a nickname for me... I feel honored,” he said, pressing a palm to his heart dramatically before shooting a nod at Amelia, who waved with a small smile on her face.

You just rolled your eyes. He was the most childish person you had ever met, and that says a lot since this was only the second time you'd ever spoken to him. “I wouldn’t be so honored,” you mumbled, shooting him a tight-lipped smile as he shook his head with a low chuckle.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Amelia said out of nowhere, both you and the unknown boy's heads snap to the side as a smirk makes it’s way to his mouth, while you throw daggers at Amelia with your eyes for her blunt question. “I doubt he would ever hav—“ you start, only to be rudely interrupted by none other than Mr. anti-romantic himself.

“I actually do, and I was just about to meet her here, but I saw your friend and just had to come and say hello,” he said to your best friend, all while wearing a condescending smile.

“Oof, I feel bad for her,” you shrugged, before placing the straw of your clear cup in your mouth and sipping on your coke.

“Eh, she says I’m a pretty good boyfriend, not a hopeless romantic like someone I know,” he said, watching your eyes meet his before you tilted your head in a mocking way, which he picked up immediately.

“I wonder how you even got her to say yes to you,” you bit back, your eyes maintaining contact with his, not wanting to be the first to break it. But he was too good at it; you almost felt like crumbling into a ball from how intense his stare was.

“I guess you could say there are more ways to please a woman without love letters,” he said nonchalantly. You choked on your coke as the liquid went down the wrong pipe, making you start having a coughing attack.

His and Amelia’s eyes widened as Amelia immediately swatted the man who was right beside you. His hand made contact with your arm, raising it up in the air.

“The fuck are you doing?” Amelia said aggressively, side-eyeing him, as you basically died in front of their wondering eyes. You really didn’t expect him to just talk about his sexual life so openly without a care. You would want to crawl into a hole if your boyfriend ever talked about your private moments like that to anyone.

“My mom said if you put someone’s hand up, it makes your cough go away. I don’t fucking know! I’m not a doctor,” he shot back at your best friend as he raised your arm in the air. Your cough slightly disappeared as you tapped on your chest as if that would do anything to stop it.

“Are you good?” Amelia said as she basically hovered over the table. You felt the whole dinner's eyes on you as you tried to recover from the insane coughing fit you just had. “Y-yeah, fuck,” you coughed, your arms still up in the air from his hold. “I almost for real thought you were about to die. I already imagined myself behind bars,” he said, rubbing his unoccupied hand through his face with a sigh.

“Now I’m hoping I actually died,” you said, yanking your arm away from his grasp.

“We’re leaving, Amelia. Let’s go,” you said, standing up, collecting your jacket and bag, and pushing him out of the way, standing up beside him.

He hovered over you; you almost wanted to jump up to reach his height, but you were already embarrassed enough. So instead, you fixed your denim skirt before looking up at him.

“Well, it was so not nice to see you again, and hopefully we don’t get to meet again, Mr. anti-romantic. Goodbye,” you said as you sent him a fake smile his way.

You pulled on Amelia’s hand before she could say anything and walked out of the dining room without looking back at the boy who was standing in the same place, watching the girl he almost witnessed pass away by choking on coke from him even remotely bringing up sex.

A small chuckle left past his lips as he made his way to the table where his friends were seated.

“Dude, what the fuck happened? Why was that pretty girl coughing like crazy?” Taehyung said, eyeing the door through which you had just left.

Jungkook didn’t know why his heart picked up when his best friend called you pretty. He wasn’t blind; you were beautiful. When he first met you, you both were obviously much younger. If it wasn’t for how much you had grown into your face and the braces you once had were long gone, it would’ve been your aura that gave it away. You were more outspoken, which kinda took him back but sent a sense of excitement through his body.

“No clue. Just some girl I met in my senior year... kinda taken aback I ran into her again,” Jungkook said before picking up the menu from the table, looking for what food he should order. “Maybe it’s fate, bro,” Namjoon teased, which made Jungkook drop his menu on the table.

“You guys know all that shit is bullshit, right? It was just a coincidence. I’ll probably never see her again after this,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, leaning backward onto the booth and crossing his arms in front of him defensively.

“Whatever you say, champion,” Hoseok whistled as he called the waitress.

Jungkook's brain immediately canceled out the noise as he started running through all the possible scenarios that would leave you both at the same place at the same time. His body shook from the possibility of it being fate; he hated the idea of the answer being anything besides actual proven fact. He didn’t care how cynical he might sound; he had trusted so many people in his life, including his parents, who always preached about love and honesty. But flash forward to him having to skip around each house of his parents every weekday and weekend. He hated how he believed them when they said love can get through everything. Absolutely not—divorce.

He just imagined your perfect household, two parents at the same home who still say ‘I love you’ to each other every chance they get. You get to read your books in your living room without a fight breaking out out of nowhere just because someone forgot to throw the trash out.

Love didn’t exist in his eyes. He believed in mutual respect. He doesn’t believe in the whole crazy in love charade. His girlfriend Haneul didn’t really want the whole whispering cute things in each other's ears or dancing under the moon either, and that’s why he chose her.

Plus, he wasn’t an asshole when it came to love when it came to other people. Did he want to ruin their moment and tell them they wouldn’t last? Yes—but he never does.

He saw how broken his mom was after the divorce. He thought about the idea of love and if someone came to love you, you would do anything in your power to not hurt them. It had been five years since his parents’ divorce, and everyone seemed to have moved on perfectly, while Jungkook watched how his perspective of love changed drastically over time.

He was glad that you didn’t have to go through what he had to go through, given your obvious naivety. That was entirely the only reason he shit-talked about love when he first met you, which was the most jackass move he could’ve done, especially after you let him skip the line. But after you told on him to the cashier like a little child, he was thinking of actually tackling you.

Either way, it didn’t matter for him to be worrying or thinking about you in the first place, when he didn’t even know your name. Plus, he would never see you again, that’s for sure.

Present day..

Psychology class was your number one nemesis. You literally begged the counselor to let you have another class that wasn’t psychology. Not only did he laugh, but he said it would do you good. In your mind, he basically called you crazy—maybe you did need the class after all.

As you huffed and puffed to your last class of the day, you fixed your glasses on your face and tightened the high ponytail with the white ribbon that matched the outfit Amelia helped you pick out. You pushed open the door to the class and were greeted by half-empty seats and no professor, giving you the option to choose where you sat.

You were a middle-seat row girl, unable to see far away without your glasses. You also avoided sitting too close to the front, fearing teachers would call on you.

As you took a seat in the chair, a body sat beside you without a word. You didn’t even care to look as you took out your laptop from your backpack, worrying about how this year’s professor might be. You had heard from last year’s students that the teacher might have been the devil’s spawn.

While you were finally seated, you moved your head to your left to see the body next to you engrossed in their phone. Your jaw dropped as you were met with none other than Mr. Anti-Romantic.

“What the actual fuck, are you stalking me or something?” you said, absolutely baffled by how many times you had run into him and from all the empty seats, he decided to sit next to you.

He immediately raised his head from his phone, his eyes widening as he stared at your obviously angry face. “Ribbons? What the actual fuck, I didn’t realize that was you,” he said, throwing his head back in shock.

“You had to know it was me, why else would you sit beside me?” you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of you. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, except now he had a full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, and the eyebrow piercing was long gone.

Now that he was closer to you, you could see the small mole he had under his lip and the scar on his cheek. His hair was shorter and black, but classroom lights deceived, so maybe it was fully brown, but you didn’t dare to ask.

“Don’t think you’re special, Ribbons. I just can’t see from the back, and in the front, teachers always pick on you to talk in front of the class, and I’m trying to avoid that,” he explained, having the same process as you, but unfortunately, the other half of his brain didn’t process the idea of love.

“Are you sure you have the right class?” you bit out, hoping he had walked into the wrong class and would have to leave immediately. You seriously couldn’t even wrap your head around the fact that he was here and that he went to the same university as you—this being the first time he had seen you around campus.

“Psychology class A65,” he side-eyed you as you rolled your eyes and faced the board, trying your best to ignore his presence.

“You know you can just move to another seat, right?” he said, pointing to all the empty seats beside you. Your head slowly turned to the side to face his face as he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“Why would I move when I was here first?” you scoffed his way as he shrugged, indicating that he couldn’t care less. “’Cause I truly don’t care, but you obviously seem affected by my presence, so Ribbons, pick your seat,” he pointed to the available seats.

You imagined the easiest way you could kill someone, but tackling him to the ground at this exact moment might bring attention to you both, so you just breathed out of your nose before giving him a fake smile and rolling your eyes.

“I’m not leaving, and for your information, I’m perfectly fine and not bothered by your presence whatsoever,” you said, trying your best to seem as calm and collected as possible.

“For your information…” he mocked beside you, trying to imitate your voice before chuckling. “I swear, Ribbons, I can see smoke coming out of your ears and nose,” he laughed.

“Stop calling me Ribbons,” you gritted your teeth, already at your limit.

“What else do you want me to call you? I don’t know your name, and you’re still wearing ribbons, I can see,” Mr. Anti-Romantic pointed to the white ribbon in your hair. You rolled your eyes before sending his calm, collected figure a scanty smile.

“Y/n,” you said, tilting your head to the side, as if asking him to tell you his name. “I like Mr. Anti-Romantic, not gonna lie,” he bit his lip, trying to contain his laughter as you were about to lose your composure at any moment.

“You aggravate me, and I don’t know why,” you mumbled, hoping he didn’t hear—but he did, loud and clear. “Jeon Jungkook,” he said, and before you could reply, the professor strode in, wearing the weirdest clothes you could imagine.

“She looks like that one crazy Victorious teacher,” he whispered softly, only for you to hear, smugly bending downward so you could hear better. A small laugh left your lips. “Sikowitz?” you whispered back as both of you stared forward at the professor, who was talking about the syllabus. “Yeah, spot the difference: hard level,” he whispered.

You looked down at your hands, trying to hide the amusement on your face.

For the rest of the class, you guys didn’t talk whatsoever, and honestly, you wouldn’t know if he tried, since you were absorbed in whatever Mrs. Calderon was saying.

“So, here’s where you start hating me, I’m giving you guys a project,” she said, leaning on her desk, making the desk creak. You could hear small groans from students around you, but not loud enough for her to hear.

“It will be a partner project, which I chose randomly, and no, I’m not changing them. I want you guys to be able to work with whomever, no matter what,” she said, a sense of dread passing through you.

“I would email each and every one of you what the project is about. It is due at the end of the quarter, so I better not hear, ‘I didn’t have time, Miss,’” Mrs. Calderon said before picking up a sheet of paper.

"Here are the partners, so after class, come and check who your partner is so you can start talking about what you both will do." With that the bell ringing, everyone stood up and rushed to the paper, including yourself. You held tightly onto your backpack strap as you waited for people to move out of the way—half of the people bitched about who they got, they couldn’t possibly be that bad.

Your heart dropped to your ass as you read your name—Jungkook squished beside you, looking for his name, only to find it where your finger was already on.

You got paired up with Jungkook. What kind of fuckery was this?

As Jungkook read "Y/n Y/ln & Jeon Jungkook," he couldn’t believe his eyes. He almost lost his mind when he realized it was you when he sat next to you, but he tried his best to act unaffected. However, this was too much of a "fuck you" sign from the universe—Jungkook didn’t think he did something so horribly to be rewarded like this.

What the fuck were the odds, and how could he scientifically prove that it’s not the universe trying to mess with him?

Taglist💌— @httpjeonlicious @thekookiedealer @somehowukook @taiwan0618 @gwsjungkookie @seokout @sealuv79 @junecat18 @joonsanswer @letjungcoook7 @skzthinker @ahgasegotarmy116recs @ivygguk (I couldn’t add some idk why😓)

#jungkook #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jjk #bangtan #jungkook x reader #fluff #bts jk #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungguk #jeongguk #jk fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jungkook smut #bts masterlist #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts smut #bangtan fluff #bangtan smut #bts #established relationship #fanfic #jk

[heavenblvd]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey obx #drew starkey one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x female reader

[hells-wasabii]

omg hi can i get a half and half drabble and hc with a deaf!reader getting courted by the character either alastor or lucifer (whatever is easiest for you to write). i adore your writing sm i'll be so grateful :O :D

I absolutely love this prompt! I went with Lucifer because i really think it can lead to some fun scenarios! I also wanna take a second to remind everybody, just because someone is deaf, doesn't mean they're mute.

Character: Lucifer

Type: Headcanons + Drabble (Lucifer x deaf!reader, Fluff)

Early on, when the king of hell was just starting to court you, I hate to say, he forgot sometimes. Lucifer would just sit there and have a whole conversation with you before he realized why you hadn't been answering. You couldn't hear him talking. Oh boy was he embarrassed. His face turned the same shade of red as the spots on his cheeks...

He would always be careful not to startle you either, a gentle tap on your shoulder to help get your attention. If you needed help with any sort of audio issue he was right there by your side in an instant.

Before he learned to sign, because I can tell you right now that man would go above and beyond for his partner, he would be careful with how he spoke. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for you to read his lips as he was talking with you.

If anyone gave you shit, you'd best believe he'd have it dealt with. Huh? A demon that just kept yelling louder when you didn't reply right away because you couldn't read his lips from how fast he talked? What'd he look like? Yeah, I'm pretty sure a demon like that never existed. Oh well. Wanna see his newest duck? This one he made look like you!

Lucifer Morningstar did not get nervous. He was the strongest being in hell for fuck's sake.

Then again, you had a knack for bringing out sides of him that he thought he'd buried a long time ago.

He had been practicing for a while now, Charlie had been kind enough to teach him during his visits to the hotel. Just yet another thing to be grateful to his daughter for. Of course, when he told her the reason for wanting to learn how to do it, the princess squealed and wrapped her dad up in a big hug.

Taking a deep breath, the fallen angel stepped forward into your field of view. He smiled, totally not nervously, when you looked up at him from the book you had been reading, offering a little wave that you returned.

Well, here went nothing. Lucifer admittedly kept his eyes on his hands, making sure the motions were just right. Didn't want to accidentally say something wrong or insult you somehow. Though he didn't think the signs were similar to anything like that he was still worried about it Charlie hadn't been too impressed when it happened before...

'What are you reading?' He had signed.

A simple phrase, but everyone has to start somewhere. Oh, how he wished he could have saved a photograph of how much you lit up, tossing the book to the side to embrace him. You didn't sign back or say anything just hugged him so tight, appreciation practically radiating off of you.

His hands had shaken only a little bit too!

He felt like he was flying! Oh wait, shit, he was! The king of hell couldn't help the joyous laughter that spilled from his lips. He hoped that you could feel the rumble of his chest when he did. But he was fairly certain that you could feel the joy in his smile when your lips captured his.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin headcanons #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer morningstar