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x-uno · 7 months

Note

Hey! Do you think you could make a OPLA!Zoro x reader but like fluff to angst something like that?? You can do whatever you want be creative :) thank you! XOXO

Silent Longing.

Pairing: OPLA!zoro x reader

| 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

In the quiet corners of our hearts, there often exists a hidden treasure, a secret admiration that we dare not speak aloud. It's a tale told in hushed tones, a whisper to the universe, a confession to no one but ourselves.

"You have to stop being stupid and risking your life, Y/N," Zoro grumbled, his gruff voice cutting through the stillness of the night. "You're lucky I saved your ass in time."

His words, though laced with irritation, were a stark reminder of the genuine worry he held for your well-being.

You couldn't help but smile, a mix of gratitude and longing in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I guess I owe you one, Zoro."

He shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your words sinking in. "Just don't make a habit out of it. We need every hand on deck."

A wry smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against the railing of the Going Merry, gazing at the starry sky that stretched endlessly before you. "Heh, worried about me?"

Zoro, who had been standing nearby, turned his head away, his face hidden in the shadows. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not worried about you."

"Whatever you say, mosshead," you retorted, using the nickname you knew he secretly tolerated.

As the stars continued their silent dance overhead, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Zoro. His profile was bathed in moonlight, revealing the scars that adorned his rugged face. There was a magnetic allure to him, an irresistible enigma that had drawn you in from the moment you joined the crew.

In these moments of secret admiration, we become silent observers, watching from afar, admiring the beauty or brilliance that has captured our attention. We find ourselves drawn to qualities that resonate with our own desires and aspirations.

"You know, Zoro," you began, your voice soft, "sometimes I wonder if the Grand Line has as many mysteries as you do."

Zoro's eyes, ever watchful, shifted in your direction. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged, your gaze returning to the stars. "Just that you're a man of many layers, and I feel like there's so much about you I don't know."

A hint of a smirk played at the corner of Zoro's lips, though he still avoided making direct eye contact. "You think you can figure me out, Y/N?"

You chuckled, your heart feeling oddly light in this moment of vulnerability. "I don't know, Zoro. But I'd sure like to try."

In the days that followed, your interactions with Zoro remained a delicate dance of unspoken sentiments. The crew sailed through uncharted waters, facing perilous challenges and ferocious adversaries, yet the magnetic pull between you and the swordsman remained a constant presence.

There were moments when Zoro would surprise you, whether it was offering a hand to steady you on a rocky path or sharing a rare smile when no one else was looking. Those moments became the source of both your greatest hope and deepest despair.

"Y/N, watch your step," Zoro's voice broke through the tension in the air as you navigate the treacherous, narrow ledge on a seemingly endless mountain path. His strong hand reached out, fingers grazing your arm gently to ensure your balance.

You couldn't help but glance at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you, Zoro."

His gaze met yours for a fraction of a second before he turned away, his expression unreadable. "Don't mention it."

The ambiguity of his actions gnawed at your soul like a relentless storm. Did he see you as nothing more than a comrade? Or was there a chance, however slim, that he felt something deeper?

In the quiet of your own thoughts, you replayed those instances, dissecting each one for hidden meaning. But in the end, you couldn't escape the truth that hung over your heart like a storm cloud: Zoro's actions, no matter how seemingly significant, remained shrouded.

"Zoro, do you ever wonder what keeps us going? What's the point of it all?"

"We have our goals. We chase them. That's all."

"But what about... other dreams? What if there's something or someone you care about more?"

He didn't answer right away, and you could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. When he finally spoke, his voice was like a blade, cutting through the silence.

"Dreams like that are for fools, Y/N. They lead to nothing but pain."

''Oh.''

But, of course, it was an inevitable truth that in the depths of our souls, unrequited love resided, an agonizing ache we concealed beneath stoic masks.. It's a silent longing that beats like a quiet drum, an unspoken declaration that remains locked within.

A bittersweet melody that plays in the chambers of our hearts. We yearn for the love we give to be mirrored back, but fate has different plans. It's an unspoken story, a love unfulfilled, a heart that beats out of sync with the world.

"But isn't pain a part of life, Zoro? It's what makes us feel alive, isn't it?"

Zoro clenched his jaw, frustration evident in his tense posture. "Feeling alive, huh? That's overrated. Life's about survival, not getting caught up in pointless emotions."

"But what if it's not pointless? What if it's what gives life meaning?"

Zoro's gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, it seemed as though he was about to reveal something hidden deep within himself. "Y/N, I've seen what happens when people get too attached to their dreams, to others. They lose focus. They get distracted. And then, they fall."

You felt a pang in your chest, a mixture of frustration and a growing sense of desperation. "But Zoro, isn't there something you care about? Someone you'd do anything for?"

Zoro's expression hardened, and he turned his gaze away from you. "I have my crew. They're my dream, my goal. Nothing else matters."

The silence hung heavy between you, a palpable tension that refused to dissipate. Your heart ached with the desire to break through Zoro's stoic exterior, to understand what lay beneath his tough facade.

"Zoro," You whispered, their voice barely audible, "sometimes, dreams change. Sometimes, they evolve into something more beautiful than we could have ever imagined. And sometimes, letting someone in doesn't make you weak; it makes you stronger."

Zoro's eyes flickered, a hint of vulnerability briefly surfacing before he buried it deep within. "I don't have time for distractions, Y/N. I won't let anything or anyone get in the way of my goal."

A tragedy it was, a love so profound it felt like both a blessing and a curse. To love someone with a depth that threatened to consume every fiber of your being, yet knowing that you could never truly be his was a torment that tore at the soul.

It was a love that coursed through your veins like a bittersweet poison, intoxicating your senses and clouding your judgment. Every stolen glance, every stolen moment, was a reminder of the forbidden nature of your desires. And yet, you could not help but yearn for more, to risk everything for the chance to be near them, to feel their presence like a lifeline in a world that seemed determined to keep you apart.

The very thought of him was a constant ache, a haunting melody that played in the recesses of your mind.

And yet, you knew that to pursue this love would be to court disaster, to dance on the precipice of ruin. The world had conspired to place insurmountable barriers between you, and the consequences of crossing those lines were too dire to contemplate.

So, you loved him in silence.

taglist: reply to be added !

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #angst #fluff #ahhhhh #sobbing

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senanatheskenana · 8 months

Note

Hello! I loved your Sinclair post about their S/O leaving them. If you would like too could you please write a part 2 where the S/O comes back and the talk it out? Happy ending if at all possible only if you want too, I hope you have a great day!

I'm glad you enjoyed it :)

I hope this is ok, i tried my best but i've been a little bit rusty after my break from writing <3

Part two of this

The Sinclair Boys' S/O Comes home.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had exhausted nearly every option of where to find you.

He knew that even if the chance of getting you back was slim, he had to at least apologise- promise to be better. For once he needed to prove to someone that he was worth the fight.

Most of all, he needed to see you.

And he never admitted it, but a part of himself needed to see if you looked even a fraction of the way he did.

Bo turned up on your doorstep, hat in his hand, face covered in dirt, sweat, and who knows whatelse.

You had to admit he looked awful- worse than you'd seen him in months.

Even when Bo recognises he's done wrong, he doesn't always feel bad and her certainly never apologises for it.

Until now.

~~~~~

You stand there on the porch, staring expectantly at Bo as he struggled to find words. His throat was dry, and all of the things that he wished to say- the large speech he had spent days rehearsing and rewriting- melted into nothing at the back of his throat. He looked at you briefly before diverting his attention downward at his shoes.

"Beauregard, please say somethin'. I don't wanna stand in the cold all day," when he doesn't seem to respond, you more to shut the door on him. He panics and in a moment of adrenalin, sticks his hand in the doorframe to stop you from closing it. He doesn't so much feel it as he does hear the scraping crunch, letting out a hiss when you immediately reopen the door to let his trapped fingers go.

The next thing he knows, he's in your kitchen with a bag of ice wrapped around his hand. The lights in the kitchen are too bright for Bo, making everything but you seem hazy in the sleep deprived state hes in. You can see that hes not in a good state, but it worries you how he got here

"Bo, did you drive all the way by yourself?" you hope he says no, that Lester had driven four hours to get here. However, from looking into his truck, you know it was just him.

Bo looks at you like you're stupid. "I drove. Din't ya see the truck?"

"Don't make that face at me, Beauregard. Why are you here?"

He stares at you a little longer again, his resolve cracking further. It's been so long since he's seen you and now he can barely look at you out of shame.

"Sugar, you know i ain't the type to apologise for anythin'. An' i know you deserve someone who does..." but now he looks you in the eyes like a kicked dog, "I haven't be'n treatin' you like I shoulda."

"Bo-"

"No, please lemme say this cuz i wanna get the chance before you chuck me out." he sighs.

"I know I'm no good for you, and i know i dont deserve the time of day from you but i do love you... Sugar, i love you so much it hurts when you ain't around no more. It's like i'm continuously choking on smoke. Now I ain't trying to guilt you into comin' home- Ambrose. "

"Bo please just say it"

"I'M SORRY- I know that don't make up for how ive treated you- or anyone," Bo shifts and mores to grip your hand, "But i wanna be better for you, i wanna show you i love you, and make you feel loved"

You remain silent for a time and he feels his stomach sink slowly to his feat and he deflates, retracting his hand.

"I-I'm gon' head out soon, get outta your hair for good. I just wanted you to know i was sorry."

"No you're not, you're in no state to drive Bo. Stay the night here. We can head back together tomorrow" at that his face lights up. "You can have a shower before you get anywhere near me though," you tease.

He smirks and scampers up the staircase, "Yes, ma'am"

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent made no attempts to find you.

After all, why would he try to bring you back if you were only going to leave again.

He figured he may as well cut his losses and try to get over it.

So he tried.

For weeks.

Then for months.

But he just couldn't.

He saw you in everything he did.

He could swear that he saw you in his paintings or in visitors' cars.

Hell he thought he saw you getting out of Lester's truck right now.

Until he realised you actually were.

But something was different.

~~~~~

Through the glass he could see you hopping out of the cab of the truck, thick winter sweater consuming your figure. He's sure its one of his.

Vincent rushed through the house to the front door, swinging it open on its creaky hinges. You hardly get the chance to look at him before he's wrapping his arms around you tightly.

Lester stands to the side watching.

"Yer lucky i was drivin' west otherwise she might not've made it t'all"

Vincent turns away to sign to Lester but you dont catch it because he's moving his hands so fast.

"She's tryin' to get back to ya but ran outta gas before i found her"

He was shocked. You were trying to get back to him? Why, he was sure you wanted nothing to do with him this entire time.

He signs slower so you can understand,

'Why did you come back?'

You look at him sadly. In truth you felt bad for running away with no notice- leaving Vincent all alone with no explanation.

"I had to." you started, "Because i love you. And it wasn't fair to run away, i know, but i was scared of what you might think, or do"

Though you cant see, Vincent looks puzzled under his mask, you can tell. he signs again.

'Why did you leave- what were you afraid of me for?'

Your eyes water and you look down, arms wrapping around your torso.

"Vincent, I.." the words get stuck in your throat and he moves to cup your cheeks but you grab his hands before he can. You don't think you can say it. Your trembling hands guid his callused palms to your stomach. His eye widens when he feels the protrusion there.

There was no way. He stiffens and stays like that for what feels like forever until your shoulders start to shudder with sobs. Vincent snaps out of it and panics, trying to calm your cries. He moves to embrace you again before frantically signing to you.

'No please darling, don't cry. I'm not upset- i could never be upset with you'

You sniffle, "I'm sorry i left you. It was only meant to be for one day- to go to the clinic but then i found out i was pregnant and then i got scared that you wouldn't want it so i went to a hotel to try to think about what to do but i never manages to figure anything out."

Vincent feels his heart crack a little bit at your distress. He should've been more intuitive- maybe let you know that he'd care about you no matter what.

He gently puts his hands back on your tummy and looks at you. He doesn't even need to sign for you to know what he was trying to say.

'It'll be ok'

Lester Sinclair

Lester was a good guy, you knew that.

To you, he was perfect.

He never even raised his voice at you, and you're sure that if he even scratched you, he'd feel horrible for days.

And if you were honest, you still missed him.

You knew what he was doing was wrong but you still loved him.

Before you can stop yourself you're calling his mobile, waiting for the beeps.

He picks up after a single ring, like always.

~~~~~

"Heh-hey hun!" he tries his best but you can hear he's happy that you called him. "Is everythin' ok up there?"

You had to admit, it was sweet that even now, he cares about things like that.

"Hey, Les..." you don't really know what to say but he's patient, "Sorry im not really sure why i called."

"It's ok, please, i ain't gonna complain" you can almost hear his smile through the phone.

"I'm sorry about what i said-"

he cuts you off, "No, no you're right. What we was doin' was horrible, i know. But i- i wantcha to know that i told Bo that i ain't doing his dirty work anymore."

That surprised you. You know that Bo's a strong, stubborn character and Lester wants nothing than to impress his older brothers. This was big.

"I'm glad, Lester. Just stay outta trouble." You tease him and he giggles.

"I'm tryin' my best out here." an uncomfortably long period of silence takes over the line before he speaks again. "Jonesy misses ya... she just sorta stares at the door at night, expectin' ya to come walk through it."

It sounds sort of sad when he says it like that, he realises. "Not that I'm tryin to trick ya into comin back, im jus' sayin' that maybe you'd like me to bring her up to you some time." It's a ploy so that he can see you again, he knows.

"Oh no, Lester don't go all the way out here to let me play with YOUR dog, thats unfair." you pout through the phone and he laughs again.

"I don't know- i'd get to see you again, so it seems like a good trade, hun."

You dont know what got into you.

"Lester, I miss you."

The line is quiet again for a few seconds before he replies, "Really?"

"I know you've done some horrible stuff, but i still love you, and i dont know, if you're tellin' the truth about leaving that stuff behind, then maybe we can make it work."

He fights back a squeal of delight when he hears that.

"You stay right there, Huneysuckle, I'll be coming to get you as soon as i can." you laugh at his enthusiasm, "I'm getting in the truck, ill see you soon!"

#house of wax x reader #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #xreader

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milky-aeons · 3 months

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑

౨ৎ . . . in which JEAN KIRSCHTEIN finally gets that idyllic little home in the interior, reminisces on the echoes of war, and can't seem to keep his hands off of his pregnant newly-wed wife.

warnings: swearing, sexual content, pregnancy, depictions of violence, memories of war/ptsd, mdni, w.c 2.4k

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐓, clinking against the crystal glass that reflected the light.

It jostled Jean from his dark musings — calling him back from the battlefield within his mind.

He glanced over at it, blinking. Reaching towards the little glass, he picked it up and swirled the contents around. It was a fine whiskey — brewed and stored in Ashwood barrels to give it that intoxicating flavour. During his soldier days, Jean had only been able to dream about touching such expensive whiskey to his lips. And yet here he was, on a bright afternoon deep into autumn, drinking a glass like he had an endless supply of it on his home terrace in the Capital.

It was everything he could have ever wanted.

And yet, it did nothing to quell the screams and cries, the memories of bloodshed roaring up to wash over him.

To drown him.

From the moment he had woken up next to his snoozing wife that morning, Jean just knew today was going to be tough. There were many of them ever since the war ended — days where he could not get out of bed, where he couldn't even will himself to step into the shower without feeling like he was choking. The scars left from the war were deep and corrosive, and perhaps, they would never heal. But he owed it to each and every one of his fallen comrades to continue on. To build something beautiful out of the ashes left in their wake.

Jean winced suddenly — his fight or flight kicking in. In his ears, there was not the gentle din of shoppers from the Mitras street below or the chirping of bluebirds. There was carnage. There was the sounds of screaming orders, of ripping bodies and explosives. In one fraction of a second, he was back on that airship — he was getting ready to dive with his comrades onto the back of the Founding Titan with a slim chance that he would make it out alive—

"Morning, darling," An angel spoke to him, slicing through the clouds, and he felt something warm and comforting sliding down his taut chest. "You're quiet. Is everything alright?"

Slowly, so agonisingly slowly, the images of their last battle dissipated like departing smoke. In its remnants; the sounds of the markets below, the sweet-smelling breeze touched by autumn leaves, feminine arms reaching over his shoulders and playing with his frock.

Feminine — the scent of lilies and warmth. His wife. His beautiful, beautiful wife.

Jean inhaled, his chest expanding almost painfully, and fashioned his face into something composed. He craned his head back to meet your eyes. They were haloed in the tumbles of [h/c] hair that cascaded down to hide him from the outside world.

He flashed you a signature, cheeky grin. "All good. What are ya doin' up this early though?" He fired back at you, his eyebrows pinching with tender concern. "You should be resting."

It was true — and every time he saw the evidence of the life swelling in your belly, Jean felt the need to slap himself. Really, really hard, just to be sure. There was a bright glow that touched the tips of your cheeks, your breasts has swollen and become heavier, readying for the child who would be born within the next few months. A father, he was going to be a father. What were the fucking odds that they had made it this far, you and him, that you were bringing life into this new world. Something he originally believed would have been impossible.

You narrowed your eyes at your husband. There was a familiar look on his face, one which caused you to reach up and brush the curve of his brow.

"You have nightmares in your eyes, my love." You whispered.

He didn't contest, didn't say anything. But he didn't need to. Instead, he closed those honey-coloured eyes and sighed. Jean nudged into your touch — a silent ask — and you continued to rub soothing arcs against his skin. Smoothening out the wrinkles of his bunched expression.

"Shh, it's okay," You murmured in a calming tone. "You are safe. You are here, Jean. We made it. Nothing is going to hurt us, anymore."

Your husband took in deep breaths. First, quick and shallow, which then levelled out into a pace more even. From stroking his face, you let your deft fingertips dance along his skin and sink into his unruly hair, still unbrushed and tousled by sleep. It was past his ears now, you noticed, curling against the nape of his neck in soft sweeps.

"Your hair has gotten long again." You remarked, playing with their ends.

"Hmm," Jean responded. "Suppose so. Kinda like it." He then opened his eyes to look at you once more, and when he did, you were delighted to find they were their bright whiskey-gold, just like the bottle on your terrace table. You smiled softly down at him.

"You have come back to me."

Jean stared at you with those unyielding, clever eyes. He then reached up to catch your caressing hand and turned his face to place a kiss in the palm.

"Always." He whispered.

You would have spent that tender moment just basking in the sunlight with him there, thankful that you both had this time together. Your husband, however, seemed to have other plans. First, it was a wicked little glint that flashed across his eyes — and in the next moment, he was up, using the hand he had clasped to spin you around and hoist you up into his arms.

"J-Jean—!" You choked down a laugh. He scooped you up effortlessly into a bridal-style hold, walking through the terrace doors and into your shared little kitchen.

"Well, my wife is just lookin' extra beautiful this morning!" He chirped, and spun you around and around. Your giggles became a loud, playful scorn, calling him a silly man and demanding that he set you down before he made you and the baby dizzy.

"Our baby will come with a perpetual issue of poor balance!" You cried when he finally stopped, holding you close to him.

"If he's anything like his old man," Jean said. "He will have no problems. In fact, he'll be a damn master at all things balance. You know what they called me in the cadets, right?"

"Yes, yes. Mr. Genius at ODM Gear." Your faces were close, and you nuzzled into the strong column of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. "I just hope he will not be as big-headed."

"Hah? What did you say?"

Jean was peppering kisses starting from the very crown of your head, following a path of heat down your forehead, your cheeks, then finishing at your neck and giving you a playful nip.

You yelped, swatting at him. It only spurned him on, his broad shoulders that you held onto for support rumbling with his deep laughter. His butterfly kisses against your neck became a frenzy, tickling all of your sensitive spots, murmuring in his low voice who are ya makin' fun of? Hm? He both made you giggle and sparked a familiar heady feeling low in the pit of your stomach.

Your chuckles deepened in time with your quickening breath. It became thready and shallow, increasing in time as your heartrate picked up. Still in his captive bridal hold, you slid your hands from his shoulders to around his neck, tugging at his hair in that way you knew drove him wild.

His kisses tripped over your skin when you did so, his breath caught. Pleasured need rippled throughout your body. The kisses he placed on your neck became messier, changing from swift and teasing to hot, open-mouthed. You craned your head back to give him better access and he wasted absolutely no time — dragging the flat of his tongue from your collarbone to your ear, humming when you arched up in his hold.

Jean hoisted you up a little so he could move swiftly through the apartment. His long legs ate up the distance, gliding through the little one-storey terrace you had both made your home in the interior. You leaned up to him while he moved, kissing him sweetly, tenderly. Speaking in words you said so many times and would continue to say again; I love you. Now and forever.

Your second kiss, however, was meaner — you clamped your teeth on his bottom lip and he growled.

When he reached the bedroom you both shared, you felt Jean kick the door shut behind him, before walking you over to the unmade bed and placing you down. So gently, so caringly. The fragility of how he held you was almost enough to shatter your heart. The mattress dipped when he kneeled over you, encouraging you to lie down flat.

"You're gonna pay for doing that." He murmured in a rough voice.

Innocently, you bat your eyelashes. "For what, my dear husband?"

He leaned down so that your foreheads connected and closed his eyes, sighing hard through his nose. "For being so fuckin' irresistible."

Every inch of you was set alight as he leaned over you, caging you down to the bed with his larger body. You tried to surge up — to feel his mouth on yours and never stop, but he rose, kneeling so he could look down at you.

He was still in that light cotton sleeping shirt he wore to bed — hanging loosely around his neck, throwing his tanned skin into sublime focus. His golden eyes shadowed into a deep whiskey followed from your face, to your aching breasts, to your belly. The little swell there made his expression soften. He placed a hand onto your warm stomach and held it still, feeling the child you will soon share and raise together, his newly polished wedding band catching the morning light.

You felt like you were going to burst with the sheer force of love you felt for this man, Jean Kirschtein, your husband, for now and always. The longer you stared at him, the stronger the low pulse between your legs became.

"Jean." You whispered, and he looked up from under his fair lashes, understanding the plea in your voice.

Jean took his time undressing you, like the wicked little thing he was, delighting at how you wriggled under his touch like a trapped and desperate butterfly. When he had stripped both of you bare, you marvelled at the strong planes of his chest and tight, defined abdominal muscles. You traced each and every little scar he wore proudly, feeling those muscles twitch underneath your touch.

He was perfect. He was yours.

"Come here." You crooned, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him over you.

"Yes ma'am."

Your arms did not fit across the large expanse of his back muscles — you sunk your nails into the curves of his shoulder bones, feeling as they shifted when he crawled on top of you. His head dipped down to catch one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth and he sucked — nibbling softly. Your head knocked back. When he lifted his hand and closed the entirety of his palm over your unattended breast, the moan you let out was long and broken.

"They've gotten big, hm?" He whispered against your chest, chasing his words with loving kisses. "So pretty."

Impatient, lust racing through your bloodstream, you grabbed his wandering hand and guided it to where you ached between your thighs. So slick and swollen, Jean's eyebrows raised, his expression becoming incredibly smug.

"Oi, you've gotten impatient, have you?"

"Oh—yes, yes." You groaned when his fingers curled against you. He knew all the right spots to push, to rub, to make you sing for him.

"Come on, sweetheart, tell me what ya need."

"I need—oh, I need you!"

"Like this?" He cooed, pushing two fingers into you with such tender slowness. It felt exquisite, it felt so filling when you were hot and aching — but not enough.

To urge him, you hooked your leg around the strong curve of his lower back and pulled him into you. He made a sound of surprise, releasing his fingers from you to catch his weight by bracing his hands on either side of your head.

His wide eyes collided with your fierce ones. The intensity you were looking at him with made this ex-soldier's cock give a painful twitch.

"I need you. Inside me. Now."

Pleasure exploded down Jean Kirschtein's spine in a thousand lightning bolts. He hung his head forward, groaning, before reaching down to push your thighs gently apart to allow for his body to slot neatly with yours.

"Well, what typ'a husband would I be if I denied you?"

His cock slid inside you in a way that always felt so mind-numbingly perfect, like he was made to be there, to be yours. Jean let out a ferocious sound and buried into your swollen breasts. You moaned, deep, relieved, bucking your hips up to grind into him.

Jean resurfaced to connect your shining foreheads, once more. He reached down to cup your hips and drew out — pushing back inside with such concentration. He was being careful with you, he was handling you like you were the most precious thing in the entire world. You had become attuned to the monstrous power Jean Kirschtein housed in his toned body, honed from years of battling for his life. You had felt it. Even now, you could feel that hum under his skin — the strength he had used to fuck you against tables and walls, the marble tiling in the shower, the balcony in the deep hours of the night.

But now — he was a gentle, caring lover. He pulsed into you in at a steady pace. Both of you gasped each other's air. You clawed at him. His mouth dropped open to pant as he thrusted into you again, again, again.

When his movements started to become messier, less co-ordinated, did he reach down between the both of you and thrum his fingers against where you were most sensitive. You barked out a cry. The bed began to rock and whine with the force of your love-making.

"Come with me, [Name]." He growled against your shoulder. "Come on, sweetheart, come with me, come with me."

In a delirious haze of ecstasy, you nodded your head, again and again until the apex of your pleasure crested and swelled. Your nails dug into his skin. Jean's breaths quickened until they became choked, gasping moans, and his release smashed into him. You fell, too, crashing through the wall of ecstasy with him until all you knew were his body and his scent and the clasping of his be-ringed hand in yours.

It was all he had ever wanted.

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirsten x reader #jean x reader #did i spend today writing smut for a 2D man?#yes #yes i did #dividers by the magnificent firefly graphics!#🪄— milky writes #‼️ — spoilers #💓 — thump

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mochifiction · 5 months

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I honestly don’t care if this is a hot take or not. If you are willing to excuse everything that Coriolanus Snow did because he’s HOT now, you are the same type of people who would be susceptible to propaganda or the people who would be complacent in the face of the oppressor. One of the biggest assets to Snow both in the book for Ballad and for the film was his looks. He was attractive to people, and he knew this would play into his advantage in winning people over. Mix attractiveness and charisma and people are willing to listen. It’s a cheap trick, and when reading you could even find yourself laughing at those who fall for his very obvious malicious intents. However, the movie did not give the viewer Snow’s monologues. They did not have the same voices in the film. They just had to rely on Snow’s body language through his actions and his dialogue. In a sense, that only makes Snow’s manipulation much more potent in its execution. You shouldn’t NEED a book to tell you that Snow was being manipulative the entire time. You shouldn’t need the oppressor in your head telling you what they’re thinking to recognize that their plans are nowhere near GOOD. People who are willing to excuse Snow for his actions because of his smile or for his Slim Shady buzz cut need to reevaluate themselves. This is the same Coriolanus Snow that killed over 1,500 kids in the Hunger Games alone, not including the people killed in the shadows or during the active resistance itself. This is the same Coriolanus Snow who is responsible for SELLING CHILDREN into PROSTITUTION to others in the Capitol. He is the reason for the creation of the avoxes, for making being able to live a fraction of a stable life a prize to be won, and more. Snow is EVIL and he always has been. He mentioned Tigris selling herself for their sustainability and calling her ugly in response. He shows disdain towards his own grandmother. He uses Sejanus to his advantage and kills him when it benefits him. Lucy Gray angers him because she is the one person that he cannot control. His love for power is the thing he ogles at the most, and when someone poses a threat to that power, he’s enraged. Everything that Coriolanus Snow does is for his own gain and his own approach to or reaffirmation of his power. Every choice he made in Ballad was for his own self interests. I saw someone on TikTok say that it was “survivalist instinct.” Yes, he had survival in mind with some of his actions, but his overall goals in the novel were centered around his rise to power and what can possibly bring him there. Snow has always been centered around himself. The fact that you are able to watch that movie and still walk away kicking your feet and twirling your hair over CORIOLANUS SNOW shows me how fickle you would actually be in places of resistance. You bought into his manipulation and are giggling about it when you should be concerned. Some people are willing to JUSTIFY what he’s done. I have NEVER seen so many people go around in circles trying to justify the actions of PRESIDENT SNOW since this movie came out and it genuinely scares me. Simping over TOM BLYTH is one thing and THIS POST IS NOT FOR THOSE PEOPLE. But the people who BOUGHT into Snow’s manipulation, you’re fucking dumb as rocks. Remember Finnick? Everyone in this fanbase was all over Finnick and how attractive he was in the movies and how badly they wanted him. When the fandom finds another pretty boy, they gravitate towards him knowing he’s the one that murdered their first. One of the biggest tragedies about Snow’s character is that you see who he could have been, and then you see who he CHOSE TO BECOME. People forget the latter part. He chose to become who he did, and you’re trying to tell me everything he did was for survival? The public clearly has beauty trump critical thought, and you SHOULD be scared.

#media literacy #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #the hunger games #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #maude ivory #sejanus plinth #sejanus deserved better #president snow #you people make me sick #read a book #hot take #finnick odair #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket

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sarahscribbles · 1 year

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𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤. 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟒𝐤

𝐀 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Often, the first feathery tendrils of sleep would be wrapping warmly around you by now, lulling you under despite the absence of expensive sheets and soft pillows.

On those occasions, Loki’s seidr would wrap around you like a favourite blanket being tucked around your naked frame. Kneeling almost reverently between his spread thighs, his cock warm and heavy on your tongue, and the occasional brush of slim fingers across your cheek, it was impossible not to rest your head against his cool skin and feel your eyes flutter closed while you continued to keep him warm.

You would feel the soft heave of his body as he sighed with contentment, followed by his fingers threading easily through your hair. “My good girl,” he would murmur softly, making your entire body relax under his praise.

It was soft and intimate and somehow it made you feel closer to him than when he was sheathed and spilling inside you.

Tonight, though, was not one of those occasions.

Tonight - although you were once again kneeling between his thighs and his cock rested heavy between your lips - you were alert.

Loki sat above you, half his handsome face concealed behind the pages of a book while he continued to turn the little piece of plastic in his elegant fingers. Your eyes never left him as you waited - waited for the second that his fingers would still and the book would close with a soft snap, bringing his attention fully to you.

Until then, he expected you to be still. Expected you to keep his cock warm until he decided he was ready to play with you. You knew it wouldn’t be long; with every soft breath that escaped through your nose and every innocent swallow around him you could feel his cock twitch against your tongue. His restraint was fraying thread by thread with every movement of your warm mouth, already you could see the muscles in his strong thighs slowly begin to tense…

You flicked your tongue once, twice, along his throbbing cock.

His quiet hiss filled the silence of the room and you watched with glee as his fingers went still at his side.

“Impatient, my love?” he asked, sounding nonchalant but the jerk of his cock betrayed him.

The first drops of his excitement were beginning to fall on your tongue and you could feel the heat of your own arousal pooling between your thighs. All he had to do was press the button.

He snapped the book in his hand shut, the sound of it being tossed aside enough to make you wriggle with anticipation on the floor. The little remote was set safely to his side, and two large hands then came to rest on each side of your head, the silken pads of his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks. Lust darkened his eyes, but even in its midst love shone through like the first rays of morning sun.

“If only you could see yourself, my love,” he said softly, eyes trained on you as he tilted his hips forward to push his cock deeper into your mouth. You fought the urge to gag as it inched further down your throat. “Taking my cock like such a good girl. Norns, I’m so proud of you. You aren’t even gagging.”

You were almost high off his praise, feeling the warmth of it flood through you and pool between your thighs. His hands still cupped your cheeks, thumbs still dancing across your cheeks to keep you relaxed, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Above you, green eyes continued to twinkle with lust, and you couldn’t help but to run your tongue teasingly along the length of him once again.

Loki’s hips lifted only a fraction and a small moan of pleasure escaped him before he could contain it. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“Careful, love, or I may decide against giving you your reward.” His voice was low and laced with warning, but you could feel the continuous throbbing of his cock on your tongue. His excitement was too great to keep you waiting much longer.

You stilled beneath him just as his thigh gave a traitorous twitch, and you responded with a pitiful whine around him. He had kept you like this longer than normal tonight and every nerve in your body crackled with the need for release, whether it be on his tongue, his fingers, or his cock.

Or from the torturously silent vibe he had made you wear all night while you warmed him.

Loki laughed softly, one large hand remaining to cup your cheek while the other reached for the remote he had tossed to the side. Your entire body shifted restlessly between his thighs, and he answered with another soft stroke of his thumb across your cheek.

“I have kept you waiting for long enough, my love,” he said, every small movement of his hips shifting his cock in your mouth. You felt every vein, every dip and ridge, every beautiful inch of him made hard by your mouth.

A swell of pride burned fiercely in your stomach.

With the smallest flick of an elegant finger, the vibe nestled between your thighs buzzed joyously to life, instantly causing you to moan around Loki’s cock at how deliciously good it felt after close to an hour of nothing. He let you enjoy it freely for a minute, let you grind against it almost frantically in pursuit of your pleasure, but his fingers were soon threading back through your hair to cradle the back of your skull and push you further onto his cock.

You balked only slightly, but Loki’s grip remained firm. “You know your rule,” he said, a roughness born of his own desire beginning to lace his words.

As best you could with his cock still filling your mouth, you nodded your understanding. He had one rule on nights like this: you got to come so long as you kept his cock in your mouth.

You heard Loki click the button on the remote once again and felt the vibrations against your clit double in intensity. The edge was building like a tsunami, inching closer and closer to crashing down around you in an unbroken wave of pleasure, but still, you kept your lips locked around his cock.

He was twitching continuously, his arousal continuing to drip onto your tongue while he held himself back. The hand in your hair was a fist, holding you steady while your hips moved almost of their own accord against the vibe, coaxing the edge closer and closer.

“Good girl. Good girl,” Loki praised you, his thumb still running softly over your cheek to keep you grounded. “Come whenever you’re ready. You have my permission.”

It was all you needed.

Your orgasm swept through you like an explosion of molten lava, so blindingly intense that you were inwardly glad of Loki’s cock muffling your strangled cries of pleasure. It was soul shaking, making galaxies dance behind your eyes and rendering you almost mute to Loki’s continued stream of praise as you came undone before him. His cock - still resting warm and heavy on your tongue - twitched almost madly with every moan and whimper you released around it.

“My good girl.” You heard him rasp when you finally came down from your high, somewhat dazed but still holding his cock in your mouth.

The hand at your head went slack as he permitted you to pull back, a thin string of your saliva clinging to his tip when your mouth left him and mixing with the beads of arousal that continued to drip from his throbbing cock. The sight was so lewd and so telling of his own need for release that you wanted to wrap your mouth back around him until he saw Valhalla.

Above you, his lips were parted and a light dusting of pink stained his pale cheeks from watching you fall apart. You felt a fresh twinge deep in your lower stomach.

“That was -,” you began, but Loki moved faster than the words could form on your tongue.

With ease, he bent to lift you from the floor and tossed you on the sofa next to him, and on instinct, you spread your legs.

“That was only a warm up, my love.” His voice was heavy with promise as he knelt between your thighs, creeping towards you with a wicked grin curling his lips. “And I promise my name will be all you’re capable of saying once I’m finished with you.”

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine

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tulipsforvin · 6 months

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helloooo! can i request headcanons for a scenario where in the past reader was heavily infatuated with william but after being constantly rejected by him they sorta just gave up. now, he’s chasing them (with slight yandere behaviour) instead and they’re just sorta nonchalant towards him. thank u!!

✧ ⚠️: william being a creepy little shit, stalking, manipulation, obsessive behaviour, pining.

╰┈⪼ ୨ HC's where he's obsessively pining for your affection after being the one who initially rejected you. ୧

✧ Four years — It had been exactly four years with you trying your hardest to gain even a fraction of William's love and affection. Yet, he'd always push you away with the words, “It's not safe for you to be with me.” or “I can't, I have to focus on my mission.”

✧ His rejections towards you were always vague; subtly pushing the blame to the life that he leads. He'd never tell you directly that he didn't like you back the same way or didn't share the same feelings that you did for him. That always left you thinking, “Does he not like me back?” & “Is he just not in a relationship with me because of his work?”

✧ Eventually, you got tired of this constant back and forth with him where the two of you would never reach a firm, assuring outcome and completely gave up.

✧ At the same time, William had decided to go forth with his suicide mission. And although even after you gave up trying to get into a romantic relationship with him, he was still someone you cared for. Thus, you tried to stop him but in the end, your efforts were in vain.

✧ Although the news declared that William was dead, they had still not found his body — therefore, there was a slim chance that he could be alive, somewhere in the world. And that guess, that belief in you was correct.

✧ After waking up from his comatose state in America, his mind immediately drifted back to remembering your face. Everything you did for him and said to him, it all came back in a flash, suddenly making his heart clench in regret. You were one of the few people that genuinely cared for him, and he felt a great loss towards how he treated you so indifferently.

✧ When he returns from America, the first thing he does is try and find your whereabouts — which he does easily due to his connections and intellect. Upon finding you, he immediately apologises to you for doing what he did and treating you how he treated you.

✧ You, someone who had given up in the two of you long ago, calmly tell him that it's okay and you forgive him.

✧ His expression is one of surprise and.. hurt? Sure, he's very grateful that that you forgave him but that face you had — uncaring and distant — it made a shudder go down his spine. It was so different from the one that he was used to seeing before his dissapearance.

✧ Over the next few days, he tries to hang on to you, following you around everywhere with the excuse of “I simply want to catch up with a friend that I care deeply for.”

✧ You were fine with these for a few weeks before things eventually started turning out more eerie. You always found that his eyes were on you — via the reflection of the spoon's handle as you ate your food, showing how William would be watching you from the dark hallways behind you.

✧ Along with the fact that he always knew where you were, dropping by in the most convenient of places whenever you required help or assistance, perhaps for something as mundane as picking up something too heavy for you to carry or because you were trying to save a dying animal on the side of the road.

✧ “You're not following me, are you?” “My, I would never even think of doing something such as that and stoop that low.” “Then why are you always there everytime I need you?” “A mere coincidence, love. Surely, you aren't angered that I assisted you in something you, quite desperately, may I add, needed help in?” “...I was trying to tie my shoe laces tightly, Liam.” “I think that is desperation enough.”

✧ William definitely gaslights and manipulates you, playing the victim card whenever you accuse him of stalking you. He's also begun to use teams of endearments even if the two of you aren't in a relationship.

✧ You ignore his ever-so-growing-by-the-second romantic advances towards you, making William even further obsessed and intrigued by you. Oh, how he's dying to have his hands on you. But that's something he can't do - no - he has to be gentle in his actions, cautious with his scheming, otherwise you'll just run away from him even further.

✧ William's begun to drop you flowers everyday, sometimes infront of your doorstep, sometimes infront of your workplace, anywhere he has easy access to and won't make you suspect him.

✧ Not that you care anyway, right? You think of his actions like how one would when being gifted something on your birthday, as if it was the norm, as if it was something that happened too many times for you to count, or care.

✧ He'll find this adorable as well, thinking of this as a game between the two of you, a switch in power. He wants you to cave in and he will die trying.

✧ “After all,” He thinks. “How long can this game of yours last — knowing I'm cornering you by the minute?”

taglist: @wearelordofcrime

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x y/n #william james moriarty x you #moriarty the patriot x you #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x you #serraaphim answers

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normspellsman · 1 year

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To Be Forgiven

part one | part two | part three | part four (wip)

pairing: ao’nung x fem!sully!reader, bff!tsireya x bff!reader, & mentions of lo’ak x tsireya

genre: angst (lo’ak still hasn’t apologized yet), comfort (from tsireya to reader), & fluff

word count: 4k+

warning(s): mentions of lo’ak & ao’nung physically fighting, mentions of lo’ak being a douche to reader, neteyam + tsireya beating (not literally disappointing i know) some sense into lo’ak, cursing, reader thinking lo’ak was right about her (ifykyk – read part one if you don’t), mentions of blood + injury, lo’ak in deep shit that he won’t be able to get out of, slight mention of lo’ak having self loathing thoughts, lo’ak feeling guilty for what he said, & mentions of ao’nung defending your ‘honor’

taglist: @aonungsmate @optimisticblazetrash @dearstell

word bank: eywa / great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, tsmuke(s) — sister(s), irayo — thank you; thanks, skxawng — moron; idiot, ilu — aquatic creature residing on awa’atlu used for riding + hunting, & txe’lan — heart

note: so i lied, this series is probably going to be three or more parts 🫣. enjoy tho! <3 we stan tsireya in this fic frfr

He was fucked. Lo’ak was royally screwed.

He knew the minute that those degrading words came out of his mouth that he was severely fucked.

He could say he didn’t mean it in the moment, but he did. He knew he did. And that’s why he knew he was going to get a new one ripped into him by his older brother and girlfriend once they found out, but not before Ao’nung nearly beat him to a darker shade of blue and purple.

Both Lo’ak and Ao’nung had left your secret hideout with multiple bruises and blood running down their noses. The boys had shown each other the extent of their frustrations towards one another, yet again. But this time, it was over you.

The two boys walked home silently and limping, washing themselves off in the sea before making their way into their separate marui pods.

Lo’ak had prayed to Eywa that none of your siblings were awake by the time he arrived at the pod, but alas, it seems as if the world is not on his side, once again.

“What the fuck happened to you?” A groggy voice asked, making Lo’ak stop in his tracks and wince at getting caught.

Yep. He was going to get his ass handed back to the Great Mother tonight. He could only pray for a safe return into the deities arms as he turned towards his older brother.

The familiar scowl Lo’ak always saw on Neteyam had painted itself on to his face, eyes narrowing at the various injuries on his skin.

“What did you do?” Neteyam harshly whispered out, striding towards his idiotic younger brother, pulling on the boys ear as he guided him towards one corner of the marui where they kept all healing essentials and forced him to sit down, tsking at him as he did so.

Lo’ak yelped in pain once his older brothers slim fingers pinched the soft skin of his sensitive ear, leaning into the grasp in hopes of easing the pain by a fraction. He rubbed the spot his brother was pinching once he was pushed into his bottom side to sit, pouting at Neteyam’s roughness.

“It’s nearly sunrise and you manage to get yourself into trouble, again!” The elder hissed out, mumbling to himself about how careless and utterly idiotic his younger brother was, shaking his head at his whispers. Always taking care of this skxawng, he thinks, annoyance settling itself in his chest.

Lo’ak decides not to say anything, knowing that if he were to open his mouth and speak, he wouldn’t stop and end up confessing to his crimes due to guilt. He didn’t want to die just yet. He needed time to figure out how he was going to make it up to you and get you to forgive him for the stupid words he spat at you in anger.

Being twins had come with its advantages and disadvantages. Firstly, it was a rarity amongst the Na’vi that it was considered a myth or even a sacred omen, many praising Lo’ak and you after your births and even during the day as you two grew older. Much lore surrounded twins within the Na’vi culture, most of it being just that, lore and myths, little truth behind any of it. So due to this, the Omatikaya practically worshipped the ground the both of you walked on when you were younger, receiving many gifts and prayers to Eywa as a token of their gratitude for gracing them with your presence. But all of this was put to a stop by your Grandmother, Mo’at, once she realized this. She didn’t want all the attention to go to your heads, especially your brothers. Secondly, the both of you were so in tune with each other’s emotion that it was freaky to see you finish each other’s sentences, give the other needed comfort, and see you move together in sync. This proved to be advantageous during training or scouting, one of you following the other and tag teaming whatever came your way. And thirdly, you were the eldest twin, the first born. So you always held it over Lo’ak’s head whenever granted the chance, annoying the boy to no end.

Lo’ak loved you dearly. So much that it was often hard to express or put into words. You were his other half. The other part of his soul. So he knew just how much his words had impacted you. He could feel it. Feel the cold, bitterness of sadness rest atop his chest, right where his heart laid. He felt so guilty. He just wanted to take back the words he said, but he knew it wasn’t possible. He was going to have to work for your forgiveness.

“Sit still and be quiet,” Neteyam mumbled as he sat in front of his younger brother and dipped his fingers into the cream white healing paste Kiri had made a couple days back, lathering it onto Lo’ak bruises and open wounds.

Lo’ak bit back his tongue in pain, wanting to hiss out at the coldness of the paste and the rough application of it. He could tell that Neteyam wasn’t very happy with him. And he was going to be absolutely livid once he found out the truth behind his wounds.

He wished sunrise never came.

———

When you left Lo’ak and Ao’nung to their own devices last night, you made way to another spot of yours that only you, your sisters, and Tsireya knew about. The four of you often came to it to have some girl time and gossip about whatever was going on in either of your lives or just to be in each other's presence and braid another’s hair. It was a bit of a ways away, so you called upon your ilu to take you there.

Once you reached the seemingly tiny island, you noticed another body sitting in the sand, fiddling with something in their hands.

You’d come to quickly realize that it was Tsireya who was on the island, finishing up the bracelet she had promised to make Tuk just last night.

“Hey,” she softly said, turning her head around slightly to glance at your figure, sensing your presence behind her.

You shot a small smile towards the girl before sitting down next to her, bringing your legs close to your chest as you sighed out the breath you seemed to be holding in ever since you left Lo’ak and Ao’nung.

“What’s wrong?” Tsireya asked, concern laced in her voice and evident on her face.

The Metkayina girl had a knack of knowing if something was wrong with you, creeping you out a bit when you first started to get to know her. It was how she found out you and her brother were seeing each other. She practically pried it out of you, squealing in delight once she got you to utter the confirming words, hugging you and excitedly exclaiming that you were going to be tsmukes and how she was glad you were going to be the one.

Tsireya’s question brought a frown to your face, water beginning to pool at your waterlines. Eywa, how you did not want to cry in front of your best friend and boyfriend's sister.

“It is fine if you do not want to tell me, tsmuke,” she reassured, putting one of her four fingered hands onto your back, softly rubbing it up and down in comfort, “I will be here whenever you are ready to say it.”.

Her words were the tipping point and you found yourself sobbing into the sweet girls arms, wrapping around your shaking form as she tried to comfort you the best she could.

“Was it my brother?” She asks, her tone serious and flat. If it was, she wasn’t going to hesitate to smack some sense into her brother. You’re one of her dearest friends and she’d hate to see her skxawng of a brother be one of the reasons you cried.

You shook your head at her question, swallowing down another sob that tried to crawl its way up your throat.

You could only imagine what your brother and beloved were doing to each other in the dark of your hidden spot. Punches were definitely being thrown and insults were most likely being shouted at one another. You felt bad for leaving but at the same time, you needed to leave. To get away from your brother and his angry gaze and hurtful words. You needed time to think and process.

“It was mine,” you reply, reluctantly pulling yourself out of Tsireya’s comforting embrace. If you didn’t, you knew you’d only further continue to sob into her arms and barely get any words out in an attempt to answer any of the questions she asked you.

Tsireya frowned at your words, beginning to worry about what he did to make you this upset.

She knew the kind of relationship and connection the two of you had. That’s what she loved about the both of you. You always followed each other around like lost puppies and rarely ever fought, only arguing over stupid things like who got the last yovo fruit or whose turn it was for Tsireya to teach. So seeing you this distraught over something your twin brother did, had the girl extremely worried.

“What did he do?” She questioned, pointed ears tipping towards your frame in anticipation to hear your answer.

You explained to her what happened. How you and Ao’nung were spending time together. How Lo’ak managed to stumble upon Ao’nung feverishly kissing your neck. And the kinds of words Lo’ak spat at you and how they made you feel.

To say the least, Tsireya was pissed at her moron boyfriend.

“I hope Ao’nung beats the shit out of him,” she mumbled, tone angry and harsh as it came out.

You managed to chuckle at her response, stopping your crying momentarily. Tsireya joined you in your short chuckle, giggling to herself.

“I’m serious though, (Y/N). I hope he beats some sense into him,” she added, bringing you into a hug, gently stroking your braided hair. “He shouldn’t have said those words to you. There’s no excuse. There’s no truth behind it, my tsmuke. You are not what he says you are for seeing my brother,” she finished.

You only hum in response. Your head couldn’t help but think that a part of his words were true. Why were you seeing someone that was known for bullying you and your siblings? Why did you feel for him the way you did? Was it because you were what Lo’ak said you were?

Tsireya’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as she laid both of her hands gently onto your damp cheeks, making you look at her as she spoke, “I am serious. You are not a slut for seeing Ao’nung. Yes he may have done some questionable things in the past that aren't excusable. But you have made him a better person. You changed him for the better,”.

Her words bring another wave of tears to your eyes as they run down your nearly raw cheeks. Her words make you feel a bit better about what Lo’ak said prior.

You smiled at your friend before bringing your forehead to hers, both of them resting against each other.

“Irayo,” you replied, truly thankful to have someone like Tsireya in your life.

“Anytime, tsmuke,” she answered back, her dimpled smile spreading across her lips as she did so.

———

“You stupid, stupid boy!” A familiar voice yelled out from outside of the Sullys marui pod.

Lo’ak froze.

Shit, he thought, I’m going to die by the hands of my girlfriend. Fuck.

The teen boy stood still in his tracks, dreading the moment he’d have to turn around.

It was barely sunrise and Tsireya was already out for blood. His specifically.

“Hello, my love,” Lo’ak tried to milk out, hoping she’d melt at the nickname he gave her early on within their relationship.

But all she did was scoff, “Seriously, my love? How dense do you think I am, Lo’ak?”.

To be frank, Lo’ak had a feeling that you’d tell Tsireya about what happened or Ao’nung would, making his stomach twist in anxiety at the thought. He was right though. You told Tsireya of the events that occurred only hours prior and now he was going to feel the wrath of your best friend and his girlfriend.

“Look, Reya, I can explain,” he tried to rush out, pleading with her to at least listen to what he has to say. But she was having none of it.

“No, Lo’ak. You will not. Did you know your sister cried in my arms until sunrise?” She spat, anger clearly evident in her tone and body language, wide tail swishing to and fro behind her.

Lo’ak swore he saw his life flash before his eyes at his lover's harsh tone and deadly glare directed towards him. Tsireya was never the one to resort to violence or anger, believing that killing them with kindness worked best. So seeing her practically growling at him and very much angry made him want to crawl into a ball and cry.

“Oh, right. You wouldn’t know because you were the reason she was crying in the first place!” The girl continued, more angry at her boyfriend's attempt at trying to get her to hear him out.

She knew that what he said was completely wrong. No brother should ever call their sister that, no matter how angry. Ao’nung would never, had never. At this moment, Tsireya found herself thanking the Great Mother for giving her a brother like Ao’nung. One who treated her with respect and would never spit out degrading words like that to her.

The poor girl was shaking in anger, an emotion she rarely ever felt or expressed.

Before Lo’ak could utter another word, another voice chimed into their conversation.

“Trouble in paradise you two?” Neteyam asked, a playful smirk etched into his lips as he leaned against one of the many open arch ways of his family’s marui.

Neteyam had been rousing from his slumber when he heard Tsireya’s loud hissing, curious as to what was the cause of it. He’d say he’s not surprised that it was directed at his younger brother. Lo’ak had a tendency to cause that kind of reaction from people wherever he went.

The younger brother groaned out in annoyance, not wanting his brother to get into the middle of his and Tsireya’s conversation.

“I’m glad you’re here, Neteyam. Maybe your presence will smack some sense into your brothers thick skull,” Tsireya spat out, never taking her glaring gaze off of Lo’ak.

The smirk on Neteyam’s lips fell, his usual frown overtaking it. “What do you mean? What did you do, Lo’ak?” He asked, now standing upright, full attention on his brother.

Lo’ak ears drew back to press up against his head and his tail curled itself between his legs, a telltale sign that he fucked up big time.

“I…I caught (Y/N) with Ao’nung last night,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for Neteyam to hear.

Neteyam had a sneaking suspicion that you and the Metkayina boy were seeing each other behind their backs. Sure the realization hurt but it was your love life and if you weren’t ready to tell your family that you were seeing someone, then it’s your choice. It’s not like you were a child who couldn’t comprehend consequences or make your own choices. You were a woman and were allowed to make whatever decision you thought fit for yourself.

The older boy blankly stared at the younger, not seeing a problem in what he just said.

It was then that Lo’ak realized Neteyam knew about your relationship and that Tsireya most likely did as well. A new sense of anger crawling its way up his stomach. Why couldn’t you tell him? Why did they know and he didn’t?

“And…” Tsireya urged him on, losing her patience with the Omatikaya boy.

“And…” Lo’ak continued, avoiding eye contact with both teens and looking down at the soft sand beneath his feet, “I called her some…things as a result.”.

“Things?!” Tsireya scoffed, clearly over her boyfriend's tiptoeing over the actual truth, “You called her a slut, Lo’ak. For seeing my brother.”.

The growl that left Neteyam’s throat made Lo’ak shrink in on himself in cowardice, still refusing to meet his brother's gaze.

“You skxawng!” He shouted, pushing at Lo’ak’s shoulder, making him stagger back, “You’re an imbecile! Why would you call her that?”.

Lo’ak growled back at his brother in retaliation, anger getting the best of him.

“I was angry! I wasn’t thinking straight,” he hissed out, fists clenched into balls by his side.

Neteyam scoffed, “Clearly. You never do, Lo’ak! All you do is talk but never think. Look at where thats gotten you now!”.

Lo’ak wanted to pounce on his brother and punch him in the face, repeatedly. But he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere, especially after last night. It wouldn’t solve that sadness you felt nor the anger he harbored. So, he just bit his tongue in hopes that the pain would distract him from his impulsive thoughts to bury his fist into his older brothers face.

“You really hurt her, Lo’ak,” Tsireya spoke out, voice becoming soft again as some of the anger dissipated over the course of their conversation. She was still mad at him but it started to seem like Lo’ak was beginning to finally understand the weight of his words.

“She cried so hard in my arms that she fell asleep. I had Rotxo help me carry her to my marui so she could sleep peacefully,” she continued, catching Lo’ak’s eyes shift from the sandy floor to her, concern creeping on to his features, “She told me how sad your words made her feel. How she thought they were true.”.

That made Lo’ak’s heart break into a million different pieces. You thought that you were a slut? That he truly meant his words? Oh, Eywa. He really did fuck up.

“We know that you didn’t mean it. She knows. But, Lo’ak, your words have an impact on people and they made a significant one on (Y/N) last night,” Tsireya adds on, gently approaching Lo’ak as she took one of his hands into hers and put the other on his cheek, making him look at her, “You need to make it up to her. You need to tell her that there was no truth behind your words and that you were a skxawng for saying them. She needs to hear your apologies from you.”.

The anger Lo’ak once felt disappeared, guilt replacing it.

He was so stupid. Such an awful brother. He should’ve never said those things to you. He should’ve walked away from you and Ao’nung to collect his thoughts instead of insulting you and beating your boyfriend. He felt terrible. But he deserved it. He should feel terrible for all the pain he caused you with his words.

How was he going to make it up to you?

———

You awoke to a body shifting behind you, bringing you closer to their chest as their arms gripped you tighter.

“Morning, yawne,” a deep and familiar voice groggily said.

You smiled at the voice, immediately recognizing that it was your boyfriend who had you in his arms, just like last night.

“Morning, Ao’nung,” you whispered back, getting comfortable in your boyfriend's warm embrace.

Ao’nung never failed at lifting up your mood and making you feel better. It was his speciality. Just one look at his adorably stupid face and everything in life seemed so much better, more brighter.

The boy had only gotten back from his fiasco with Lo’ak when he realized you were fast asleep in his bed, laying on your side as you brought up the thin sheet he always slept with to your chin. His sister had explained to him why you were in there, feeling even more anger towards your twin. He hated seeing you like this. He wished he could take all your pain and awful thoughts away and transfer them to himself so you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

“I love you, Ma (Y/N),” Ao’nung mumbled against your skin, burying his face into the space between your shoulder and neck.

You giggled at the tickle of breath against your skin, recoiling a bit from the sensation. You turned around to face your lover to combat the ticklish sensation, coming face to face with Ao’nung.

Your eyes widened and jaw dropped when you saw the state of his face.

Ao’nung saw the grimace on your face and gently took your hands in his and kissed each knuckle. He knew fighting with your brother wasn’t the smartest idea and would most definitely end up with him receiving a few scowls from you in return.

“Did Lo’ak do this?” You softly questioned, afraid to speak too loudly in fear that it would bring unwanted attention from his parents.

They had been proud of their only son for no longer picking fights with Toruk Makto’s son and you didn’t want to ruin that by yelling at or reprimanding him for it. You suppose this situation wouldn’t count though. He had defended you against your brother, basically fighting for your honor. It was different.

Ao’nung only hummed in response, placing your palms against his warm and bruised cheeks.

Tsireya had seen to his injuries when he came limping into the marui. She and Rotxo had just gotten you situated into bed when he arrived. She scowled at him for fighting with Lo’ak, but praised him for defending you. She was proud of her brother for being a good partner but was disappointed at hers for saying such cruel words to you.

Your heart broke at his confirmation, though it didn’t come as a surprise. You knew what was going to happen if you left the two boys to deal with the situation themselves but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay there any longer. You needed some space from your brother.

You opened your mouth to apologize, feeling guilty for leaving Ao’nung to handle your twin by himself but he stopped you before you could, placing a soft kiss against your lips.

“It is not you who needs to apologize, my txe’lan” he says, reading you like a book, “It is your skxawng of a brother who needs to.”.

You chuckled lightly at his words, bringing your lover closer into your frame as your hands continued to rest against his cheeks.

“He’s stubborn,” you reply, slightly doubting your brothers ability to apologize first.

For a majority of your shared childhood with Lo’ak, he rarely apologized for his actions. You could count on one hand the amount of times he’s genuinely apologized to you. All of the forced and half assed ones don’t count in your book.

“He’ll come around. He has to,” Ao’nung retorted, resting his forehead against yours.

Although he too doubted Lo’ak ability to apologize first, you were just as stubborn, if not more, than your twin. He knew you’d do any and everything in your ability to ignore Lo’ak until he came to his senses and gave you a genuine apology he actually meant. That’s another thing he loved about you. You refused to have anyone walk over you, including family.

“I hope so,” you sadly replied, a small frown painted onto your lips.

Your response made Ao’nung copy your frown, feeling guilty for the kind of brother you had. Albeit Lo’ak not meaning his words and being careless with them and his actions, they still had an impact on those around him. He just hopes that he comes to his senses sooner rather than later.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Ao’nung questions, trying to lift up your saddened mood.

Swimming and exploring with Ao’nung is something you always enjoyed, finding peace in his presence and joy in doing something relatively new, even if you’ve been on Awa’atlu for months now. So you nodded at his question, happily pulling your boyfriend up to his feet and out towards the beach.

No matter what, you knew that Ao’nung would do everything in his ability to make you happy for as long as you were together. And you hoped that even with this small bump in your long, adventurous road together, that it would be forever.

If only Lo’ak could see that. If only he understood.

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cerebralinvasion · 1 year

Text

not thy will, but mine

trigger warning: yandere, obsessive behavior

summary: godhood isn't as flashy as most make it out to be, your existence was truly not something you took much pride in. it seemes, however, that despite your line of thinking you'd gained yourself a very devoted follower.

pairing: fyodor x reader

notes: this was inspired by @spacexseven's god reader au! please go check it out they're really cool!!

in your honest opinion, being a god was overrated. at some point in the past, you would have disagreed. but millennia upon millennia have passed since you’ve thought that way. it was nice a long time ago. when there existed many gods each with their own domain, their own concept to be in charge of. back when gods had grand followings and were omnipotent. back when you were recognized as the god of literature, a symbol of creativity, thought, knowledge, and dissemination. but it’s been a very long time since then. most, if not all gods have died, and you have lost your recognition. you’ve lost power. that is, of course, not to say you have no power. you’re undoubtedly more formidable than any currently existing human. but it’s a negligible fraction of the omnipotence you once bore. you doubted anyone even knew your name at this point. you knew your place in this world. above the earth and below the fractured heavens. entirely alone, you’d lurk in your catchpenny apartment, isolated from any of the humans who once adored you. mount olympus has crumbled, there is no home– nowhere for you to return to.

you’d grown used to this treatment, having experienced nothing but it for thousands of years. which is why you were genuinely surprised when you came to the realization that someone was worshiping you. you could hear their prayers, you received their sacrifices. you’ve been acknowledged for the first time since the fall of the gods. it was just one. only one worshiper. you could note a few others becoming aware of your existence, but none going as far as to believe in your existence, let alone worship you. only a singular voice praying to you every night and morning. before every meal, and after every stroke of good luck. they were nothing but dedicated. it warmed your heart at first, to be appreciated once again. but after long enough, it grew to be disturbing. it seemed you were near every other thought on their mind. everything they did, in your name. everyone they hurt, in your name. prayers and prayers of promises that they would complete your desire, enact your will. you barely communicated with them, other than something small every once in a while with your limited abilities. meant to be nothing more than tokens of your appreciation to their care. but they still claimed to act as your hand, as a vessel for you. parading themself as a servant despite you never having asked anything of them.

it was honestly pathetic.

despite how it continuously became worse, you never expected this to end in you being summoned. you didn’t even know you could be summoned. called upon? invited? sure, you’ve been asked to manifest before, but you’ve never been summoned. you’ve never been forced to appear, much less forced to stay. it must have been an immeasurable amount of research and preparation, to confine a deity against their will. but it seemed he was dedicated. when you opened your eyes you found yourself in a throne room. priceless decorations adorning the room from corner to corner, yourself seated on the throne. and a man kneeling on the ground before you.

a tall and slim young man with long, dark, and messy hair that reached his shoulders. you couldn’t see his face as his head was bowed, but he wore what appeared to be a buttoned white shirt and white pants. he gripped a ushanka in his hand, trying his best to show his respect. you peered down at him, unsure of what to say. he tilted his head up slightly, peeking an eye open to look at you, purple and sharp. just as quickly as he’d stolen a glance, he was back to bowing at your feet. the action was timid and full of fear as the silence lingered.

“my lord… thank you for coming.” he whispered out after what had to be several minutes. he thanked you as though you had any choice in the matter. “my name is fyodor dostoevsky. i am your devoted servant.”

you opened your mouth to speak, before shutting it. you didn’t know what to say.

“i know, i'm not worthy of your grace. but, i have been diligent in my work. everything is going according to plan.”

after another moment fyodor looked up at you once again, his gaze lingering for longer this time. waiting a few seconds, you gave a tentative nod of acknowledgement. you didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about. but it seemed this small display was more than enough to calm his nerves. he exhaled, loudly. body slumping down from it’s stiff position.

“thank you.” he whispered, barely audible.

in your opinion, being a god was overrated, you really weren’t all that special. but the way this man seemed to worship the very ground you walked on, it seemed your opinion wasn’t shared by all.

#yandere fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #god reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader

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tigerjisunz · 4 months

Text

binded lotus (preview)

art, beauty, death and forbidden love.

SUMMARY: y/n, a passionate young 20 year old artist who is hired by the sim family to paint their portraits. the most prestigious family who comes from old money. jake finds himself obsessing over her. the family does does not see y/n to be in favor for jake or his future. the forbidden love between them leaves jake and y/n alone together.

WARNINGS FOR THE BOOK OVERALL: sex, drug usage, mentions of physical abuse, manipulative jay, small love triangle, murder, suicide

a/n: this book is loosely inspired by the beautiful movie, saltburn, starring berry kehogan and jacob elordi. please do not copy, translate or reuse this story for your own page.

w/k: 2.5k

————————————————

your eyes graze over the beautiful flowers planted into the ground, the vines growing over the walls in twisted patterns, and the beautiful deep blue sky while it waited for the moon to fall dusk on it. walking onto the estate, your heart pumped faster, not knowing what to expect from this palace.

this palace is a place from storybooks, hundreds of rooms, and amazing victorian architecture. it's the kind of place you could explore for days and not be able to see everything. you were staring at it in awe as the sunset beat on your face. its the early 2000s, intricate architecture is dead now, this place comes from old money.

the sims, they ruled over the region of south korea. now they are working on annexing switzerland. which is where you are now. they were a powerful family that was known for extending their territories across the globe. you were shitting bricks to even be in this family's presence.

the family's chauffeur walked alongside you, and helped you carry your baggage to where you will be staying in their house. you had many suitcases. they were carrying all of your clothes, oil paints, and supplies.

you walked the paved concrete with beautiful designs, taking in every detail, seeing how the sun hits the ground, how the shadows linger in between the cracks.

knock knock knock

the chauffeur used the door knocker, the knocks are heavy and prolonged. the man who opened the door for your was what seemed to be a butler. the chauffeur left the bags in the foyer of the house. the butler had a small smile on his face and welcomed you to the estate.

"welcome to this estate ms. y/n." the butler said with a small bow. "i will lead you to your room." he swiftly turned around to lead you there. he had a slim silhouette, trimmed eyebrows, little amounts of hair on his head and pointy shoes.

"thank you sir." you reply. you didn't know the formalities.

"i have worked for the sims for 3 decades, i will be here to accommodate any of your needs during your stay. you may refer to me as valentino." he says as he walks through the hallways.

as you walked through the various rooms of the house, you feel immediately inspired by the artwork surrounding you. the architecture of the house was old, victorian, beautiful and intricate. the endless colors and different shades of greens, blues and pinks painted on the walls. every room had a different vibe and tone, but every room was beautiful. there were luxurious woody fragrances that you picked up on. there were huge windows spanning from the floor to the ceiling.

as you looked out of the window to your left, there was a patio. a man sat there, while he sat on a beautifully carved wood bench. this man had a journal in hand, writing like he was running out of time. he was extremely beautiful, like Aphrodite herself had bestowed a fraction of beauty onto him.

though there was glass separating you two, you felt as if his aura was seeping into your skin. maybe it was the glow of the sun reflecting off of him, but he has such a innocent beauty radiating from him.

he had a very strong jaw, with soft eyes. he was deep in thought with his furrowed brow, while he bit down on his lower lip.

there were beautiful flowers behind him, the golden sun was starting to shine down on him, and the sky was turning pink. while he sat on the bench, a light blond dog ran up to him.

the man's face changed from serious and deep in thought, to lighter expression. a small smile was forming on his face while he petted his dog. you stopped to watch.

you had realized that you weren't following valentino anymore. fuck

fuck fuck fuck

there was a set of stairs that he could've gone up to, or the hallway to your right which lead to another room. "damnit" you whispered to yourself. how can you already mess this up.

"ah!" a high pitched voice from a woman calls out. she has an expensive australian accent. "you must be y/n! it's nice to finally meet you. jay has told me so much about your work!"

"nice to meet you elspeth." you hold your hand out to shake hands with her, she looks at it, and slowly looks up at you, then back down to your hand. she was the woman who was in change of the estate. a very important woman, she is the one who hired you.

she gives a dirty look and gives a small bow, "you may find your living quarters." as she looks away. she immediately went to page someone as she walked away.

the interaction left you feeling confused and felt a pit in your stomach, knowing that was a bad first impression. you knew she was the main woman in the house. you knew there were two women and two men you would be doing portraits on.

"y/n!" a sharp snap of a man's voice. you find his face to match the voice, and it is valentino.

his demeanor started as upset, and quickly shifted to a calmer one. "it seems that i have lost you there. follow me up to your room."

you walked up the carpet lined stairs to the room.

"your bags are all here. we searched them and everything seems to be good." he says while closing the doors.

you immediately sit on the bed and take a deep breath to decompress from what had just happened. as you look around the room that you are in, you see how marvelous it is.

the tall ceilings, the walls are painted a rich red, with accents of chartreuse and gold. the bed was king sized, with long curtains draped from poles that were part of the bed frame. the slightly opened window let in the soft sunset and a quiet breeze.

turning your attention, there was a huge vintage wooden dresser. gliding your fingers along the edge of it, you got a splinter in your middle finger.

"ah!" you say in a moment of pain. you immediately go to pick it out of your skin and you get it. there are some band aids in your backpack which you reach to get.

while doing some more exploring you find a cd player and lots of cds, madonna, MGMT, rihanna, gwen stefani, and destiny's child. there was some good shit in here, with lots of obscure artists who you've never listened to, but you will have lots of time to get to know them.

stuffing away all of your clothes, books, and bags took some time. by the time you finished, you threw your body on the bed. letting your muscles relax. today had been long, with the travel, weird out of touch rich people and feeling grimy. you had to shower.

you walked into the bathroom and it was just how you expected, fancy. on the counter, there was a beautiful vase with intricate designs. the vase was filled with in bloomed roses. it was very nice, there were 4 towels folded, with a handwritten note on top of them.

“be sure to call the service line when you need fresh towels.”

you placed the note on the sink and turned on the shower.

———————————

night time

you had been rotting in your huge bed for the past few hours. after showering, you lounged in the robe that was hanging in the closet for you. you did some skincare.

you needed some brain stimulation, after all, you were going to be using your brain a lot. painting took like of thinking, analyzing and thought. it made you feel like your brain was more of a muscle than a fatty organ with the way you felt like you were always challenging and working out your brain.

doing fine art was like working out for you. making you stronger, and it made you explode with endorphins. color theory, composition, anatomy, all of it. creating art makes you feel like you are your most authentic self. so, you decided that since you were here on a work trip, you needed to do some practice.

anatomy was your favorite, the way the body was created. drawing and analyzing the human figure was amazing to you, you had a deep connection with it. the way muscles, arteries, veins and fat lay on top of each other. the way the muscles and bones created movement, form and shape. you could learn about it forever. drawing from life was your favorite.

you went into the bathroom and took your robe off. you didn’t usually do self portraits from the mirror, because it is a bit challenging. it was nothing sexual, you just didn’t feel like drawing anything else right now.

your robe was now off your body, and you were looking at yourself wondering how you should pose. this felt kinda awkward for you, but why should it? it’s just you, alone.

you stood there for a second, moving your body in different ways to see what would look good. you decided to go for a sensual pose where you had your left hand grazing your left boob, with a rose in your hand. and your body was leaning a little.

you would take classes down at your local art school, so this was nothing irregular for you. random strangers would pose for the art classes you would take.

sketching your body was easy, detailing was a little more difficult, but nonetheless, you could do it easy. the rough sketch took no more than 3 minutes, getting the shape down. then after a few minutes, you started detailing, adding shadows, value and tone.

you suddenly jumped at a knock at your door.

“y/n. it is supper time in 5 minutes. be sure to come down.” valentino’s stern voice says to you.

“okay valentino. thank you.” you yell back as you were surprised. you subconsciously covered yourself with your hands out of fear that he would open the bedroom door and see you naked in the bathroom.

you rushed to get ready for dinner. you didn't know that were was a mandatory dinner. you didn't know what to wear. you didn't have many fancy things, so you just slipped on your cutest "formal" outfit. this would be the first time you meet the family.

the five minutes have passed and you put some makeup on, you looked cute. you went downstairs to see the headmaster and his wife eating without you. they were laughing to each other. you walked in and they all stopped to look at you. you felt the air get heavy and awkward.

the dining room was extremely huge. beautiful table settings, and a marvelous ceiling with renaissance paintings. the table was also huge, even though there were only a handful of people eating on it. elspeth and her husband sat at opposite heads of the table. a harpist was performing in the corner, playing strings of beautiful harmonies. the live music was so good.

elspeth looked at you with an annoyed expression on her face. the annoyed expression turned into a grin. valentino stood there, along with servers who started at the wall, waiting for a command to come their way. "why valentino, do not be a drag to young y/n? set her a plate at the table. she is our guest after all." she had a chuckle to herself. "be a darling and sit next to me y/n? i would like to talk to you about your work."

you walked over, sitting in the empty chair nearest to elspeth, chuckling in embarrassment. did valentino purposely give you a late heads up? what the fuck.

there were only 2 people at the table. elspeth, and elspeth's husband, sir james

"i thought i was supposed to be doing 4 portraits?" you thought to yourself.

"tell me darling, why are you so late?" elspeth laughs to herself. she was being passive aggressive towards you.

"i'm so incredibly sorry. i was not aware that there would dinner at a specific time." a pit in your stomach is arising.

"well yes, there is always a list of all daily activities in all rooms. every morning they are delivered." she looks at you as if you're stupid." valentino, be a dear and check if there is one in y/n's room for me."

you did nothing. you said nothing. you sat there embarrassed, you have been staying for 5 seconds and already feel unwelcome here.

"i hear you're a very talented young girl." sir james tells you.

"thank you. i'm very grateful to be able to-" you were cut off by a sudden clap by sir james.

a server comes close down to sir james, and kneels down to him. the server then brings out a small bag with a white substance. a small spoon, and puts it to sir james' nose. he snorts the substance.

"WHEW!" a loud yell comes out of his mouth as a reaction from the drugs, with a euphoric look in his eyes and his hand hitting the table. he squeezed the tip of his nose and looked back at you.

"i feel the most inspired when im using my sensory extenders. lets talk about art. so i wa-" he says before cutting you off.

"oh yeah!" you said to go along with his ideas. you spurted that out due to not knowing how to handle this situation. on the inside, you were shitting. this man that you've never met just did fucking cocaine in front of you, and you will be living with him for the next few months.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP. let me finish." he yells at you for interrupting you in his sentence.

you physically felt yourself get taken aback. the hairs on your arm stood up. you felt your face getting hot, your throat closing and your eyes tearing up. you felt frozen in fear.

"darling, do not talk to our guest like that." elspeth replied with a stern look, and a champagne glass in hand.

for a few moments, you just sat there, not knowing what to say. you looked down at your empty plate, trying not to cry.

you heard someone running into the dining room for on the other room. it was the man from earlier with the journal. he ran in looking concerned, but he slowed down once he got inside.

“what's going on. mom are you okay?" he comes in, but he seems as if this is nothing new. as if this is something that happens often. you and him lock eyes.

elspeth looks away in shame “im so extremely sorry y/n. we are sophisticated people with class.”

sir james sits there, looks at you and claps once more. the man from earlier looks at his dad in anger, looks at you, and goes over to you and elspeth.

he whispers into his moms ear and she just looks at him with a disappointed look. the man leans down to you and asks if you want to go with him.

“i know this must be overwhelming. my dad isn’t usually here most of the time. i’ll just take you somewhere else if that’s okay.” he says in his soft australian voice. he grabbed out your hand to kiss the back of it. “my name is jake sim by the way.”

——————————————

a/n: hope you enjoyed this! i had sm fun writing it and i have tons of amazing ideas for this story. stick around til the next time. i will be letting you guys know when chapter 1 comes out. :)

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

Note

Hero rescued villain, and brought them into their house, villain offers to pay for their expenses living at the house before leaving. And hero’s heart breaks. Because they can’t explain it to villain on how many levels he’s wrong. Also make it gay.

The villain’s gaze wouldn’t rest. His eyes jumped from spot to spot on the carpet and the hero had almost thought — nearly feared — there were stains on it. But no, embarrassment never reached him but instead, his mind filled with questions.

Eventually, the villain let out an insincere chuckle and scratched the back of his neck. Nervousness had followed him ever since the hero had taken him to his place.

“Funny thing, though. I actually only have like ninety dollars in my bank account,” the villain said, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

The hero raised his eyebrows as the gears in his brain turned and turned. Despite the villain’s unpredictability, he felt relatively safe with him in his own house.

The villain could be very calm when he needed to be but the restlessness was undoubtedly related to the nervousness. Maybe that was the embarrassment the hero had searched for. Maybe the villain was embarrassed.

Oh god, was the hero being awkward again?

“What do you mean?” he asked. He tilted his head and observed the villain’s fidgety fingers. Long and slim fingers that had little wounds cut into them here and there. Proof of the villain’s imperfections. Proof of the villain’s mortality. Of their vulnerability.

“I don’t know if that’s enough. I’ll be gone by tomorrow, don’t worry. I don’t know how much you want from me.” The hero felt stupid for not knowing what the villain was talking about. For a moment, he accused himself of staring too much, of admiring too much. But he only allowed those thoughts for mere seconds.

“Huh?”

The villain looked up, looking weaker than ever sitting right there on the hero’s bed. A tired face of hunted prey. Sometimes he looked angelic, the hero thought. And other times, he looked like an angel that had fallen from heaven.

But it was all the same. He looked tortured, haunted, in every minute of his life.

And didn’t the hero just want to be that person who could change that? The one and only who could take all the weight from the villain’s shoulders and all his worries from him?

He knew he wasn’t that. But, hell, he craved to help the villain. Craved to be a hero, truly a hero, for once and save someone from drowning.

“I mean, I will obviously not be staying here for free. But I’m short on money right now and…” He inhaled deeply and made an involuntarily weak sound.

“Wait,” the hero said. He shook his head slightly and repeated the villain’s words in his head. “You want to pay for staying here?”

“…yes.”

His heart crumbled a bit. Losing both his hideouts with all his equipment was probably bad enough but then feeling like he had to pay the hero to stay here…

“I don’t want your money,” the hero said.

“What do you want then?”

A fraction of you. A taste.

“Nothing,” the hero said. Now he was the one who avoided eye contact. He tried to clean his mind. The villain was easy on the eyes, brilliantly easy but this wasn’t the right moment. The hero and his little crush had been going hand in hand for months now and slowly, it was driving him mad. Whenever the villain looked defeated or needy, the hero’s knees got weak.

Stupid timing.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he said again. “You’re a guest in my home and not someone who booked a hotel room.”

“Are you sure?” the villain asked softly. “I could get more money from elsewhere.”

The hero blushed, simply because the villain’s voice had gone this soft.

Horrible timing.

“Just tell me what you want me to make for dinner and we’re square.” The hero turned around quickly so the villain wouldn’t notice his spreading blush. “I’ll check on you later if that’s alright…”

When he had calmed his racing heart, he decided to make lots of dessert for the villain. No one should mistake kindness for a debt.

#BEEEE WHO YOU ARE #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #mlm #happy slay month

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ageofevermore · 1 year

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FELL SWOOP

SUMMARY — after wanda, it feels like the only thing you’re capable of being is angry. but for natasha, it feels like she’s lost both her partners in one fell swoop

PAIRING — wandanat x reader

WARNINGS — canon infinity war events, grief, anger, hurt/comfort, maybe slightly angsty

AUTHORS NOTE — @cuinaminute229 gave me the prompt for this, and @family-house-of-m was definitely there also.

PROMPT — let your anger run its course but don't let it eat away those feelings you're using it to hide

You were angry at the world. What reason did it have to take everything from you? To strip you of the family you’d found and the friends you’d loved? How could it leave you in the ruins of your romance only to feel your heart bleed in her absence?

It wasn’t fair to Natasha. Your remaining girlfriend. But since the snap, since Wanda, you were a shell of yourself. Natasha had changed too, but nowhere near the state of you. It worried her. You couldn’t sleep in bed with her anymore, you couldn’t sleep period. Any time you closed your eyes the reflection of Wanda turning to dust haunted you. It chilled your bones so cool you were curious if they’d become brittle enough to wither away like she had. You wished they would. You prayed to a god that you didn’t believe in to leave this fucked up world behind without being the one to wield the blade.

You couldn’t leave Natasha though, some part of yourself, buried deep behind your anger, knew that. You loved her first. Before Wanda found herself into your dynamic, it had only been you and Tasha against the world, you needed her all the same as you did then, but now something felt off. Something felt eternally changed. You wanted to care for her, to hold her in bed when she cried like you knew she did, but all you could feel was a blinding rage that brought you back to the feelings you tried so hard to escape as a teenager.

Natasha had had enough of your elusiveness. You shrugged away from her embrace when she came up beside you, shut down conversations faster than she could build them, snapped when she just wanted to feel like she wasn’t as alone as she felt. You’d been a horrible partner, but she could understand. She just couldn’t let it tear you apart any longer.

“Malysh.” She started, learning her slim body against the kitchen door frame to stop your retreat back to the guest room. Her arms were crossed across her belly, pushing her boobs up and together in what was, Wanda’s favorite black tanktop. Your heart sank to your feet, a lump formed in your throat. The world became blurry with salty tears you’d been keeping at bay for hours, but you knew, that if she were here, if she were standing in the golden light of sunset in the kitchen with you and Natasha had walked in like that… you knew it would only be minutes before the three of you were tangled limbs in a sweaty bed. Now, not even a spark of desire lit the flame in your belly. Now all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you hole. “Look at me. Don’t leave. Malysh.”

“Let me pass.” Your words were calculated, hard. They were sharp enough to cut her, but they didn’t. Not when she could see the ocean in your eyes ready to fall over the edge and the quiver in your chin like a terrified bunny. You were never really as mean as you tried to come off. You were her soft girl, her sensitive partner, the fraction of your trio that cried of the slightest thing. Wanda had said she wanted to bubble wrap your heart and protect it forever, how would she feeling knowing she’s the one who broke it.

“Solnishko.” Natasha dared to step closer, to break the routine she’d allowed you to create of just backing down for the sake of giving you space. She couldn’t give you space anymore. She took the bowl of pasta from your hands, set it on the island, and pinned you so close between her body and the countertop that you could feel her heart beating. “I know that you’re hurting. I know that you’re angry. I am too. But you can’t live like this. Let your anger run its course but don't let it eat away those feelings you're using it to hide. Come back to me. Talk to me. Be mad about it with me. Let me hold you in bed, and wash your hair in the shower. We lost her, I know how much that hurts angel and no amount of time will ever fix that hurt. But, I lost you and her all in one day.” The oceans that were in your eyes spilled over your cheeks like a waterfall, and that was all it took to break you entirely. Everything you’d been holding in since you’d watched the love of your life turn to dust poured out of you in pathetic sobs and whimpers, and yet Natasha held you through it all.

For the first time since the Avengers won and you lost, you allowed yourself to feel the grief and sadness that your anger had suppressed. In Natasha’s arms, the smallest piece of your heart started to beat again.

#wandanat #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #wandanat angst #wanda maximoff angst #natasha romanoff angst #wandanat blurb #wanda maximoff blurb #natasha romanoff blurb #wandanat fic #wanda maximoff fic #natasha romanoff fic #avenger!reader

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chrollohearttags · 11 months

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𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 • 𝐇𝐁𝐈𝐂

synopsis: the head of a notorious fraternity decides to go toe to toe with the student council president after a very heated hearing.

content warning: black fem reader, soft dom Phinks, choking, deep missionary, unintentional creampie, praise kink, make up sex, fingering, use of bitch and bastard.

this is the second installment in the HunterxHunter collegeverse commission from @annie-franny. I thank you so much for your support and patience on these. I am so incredibly sorry it has taken this long but I really hope that it has been worth it. I’ve loved working on this series and I can’t wait to finish the final one as well.

wc: 4.7K

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“Miss president, the council is waiting for you. Right this way.”

“Thank you.”

The short exchange took place between (y/n) (l/n) and one the twelve members of the Yorknew State University Student Council. The dozen, hand selected co-eds, who’ve exhibited exemplary behavior among their peers, as well as maintained exceptional grades..all to be considered among the upper echelon. You were held to a much higher standard than the rest of the student body. Because of this, it was your job to maintain order and hold others to the same standards. Who better than to cast judgment, critique and friendly advice than the very same people they’d attend class with? Besides, with a fellow student, the chances of facing true consequences for their actions were slim to none, right? At least that’s the way it was until (y/n) (l/n) came along. Ruling the campus with an iron fist and keeping order when others refused to. You had been coined ‘The Ice Queen’ for how intolerant you were to your cohort’s behavior. It could’ve been chalked up to the fact that you were used to being the one who constantly watched others get away with so much whilst you had to walk on eggshells to even get a fraction of the accolades they were handed. Hence why you had no interest in showing mercy when it came to passing down punishment. Today’s hearing was no exception..

“Miss President, the defendants should be arriving shortly. Please, take your seat.”

“This is already a waste of my time as far as I’m concerned so they might want to make it quick. Has everyone been briefed on the situation?”

Receiving a nod from your subordinate as you both made your way over to the plush chairs; regal-like decorations scattered about the room. A Victorian-esque interior lining the walls and providing a dark academia aesthetic. Dressed in your normal council uniform attire; a blue blazer, plaid skirt, black leggings and flats, you’d toss the freshly styled box braids over your shoulder, checking your lip gloss over once more and crossing your legs, (y/n) proceeded to open the black binder sitting before you as you began sifting through the papers clamped in them. On the docket today? “Bring him in.” soon the old, rustic doors to the entrance would open and a fellow scholar appeared. Tall with distinct facial features, blonde wefts combed over to the right..dressed in a black button down, gray slacks with a gold plated belt buckle and a small matching chain dangling from his neck, along with a wristwatch. Another rich boy prick probably expecting to walk in here unbothered and walk right out unscathed. No consequences for their actions whatsoever. Unfortunately for him and the others currently filling the room..you had other plans! Hell, because several members of said fraternity had given you a hard time in the past, maybe you’d make a nice little example out of them.

“Mr. Magcub..you and your fellow fraternity brothers are here on accusations of defamation of school property, reckless endangerment and misappropriation of funds. How does the accused plead? Speak..one at a time.” Once issuing your orders, the four gentlemen stood in a straight line, heads to the ground and faces scrunched into a scowl. As if they were angry kids being chastised by their mother. Too bad, this was the result of their very childish actions. They’d lean up to the tall blonde and whisper something before he’d wave them off entirely. Rather, he’d take a step forward and bow his head. As if he were truly remorseful. And yet, what followed were a string of not guilty pleas. So typical. Crossing your arms, you’d scoff and proceed to flip to the next page of your notes. Then, he’d proceed to speak once more.

“Ms. (L/N), on behalf of the Alpha Phi Delta fraternity, I’d like to offer my sincerest apologies for the destruction, pain and problems that myself and my fellow brothers have caused. As their leader, responsibility rests solely on my shoulders and I am willing to atone purely on my lonesome. So as long as my brothers will be spared any repercussions.." Having heard of your reputation and how brutal you were when laying down the hammer, it wasn’t a fate that Phinks would wish on anyone but it was a burden he was willing to bear entirely on his shoulders. Because that’s the type of man he was..a true leader and a stand up guy. Because you’d have no way of knowing this, but the property damage? Faulty electrical in their house almost started a fire so rather than bothering the one sole maintenance worker, who was stacked to the brim with repair requests already, Phinks decided to take matters into his own hands and hopefully teach his privileged frat brothers a thing or two about hard work. Where he came from, if you wanted the job done, you rolled up your sleeves and got to it. It damn sure wasn’t handed to you on a silver platter. However, they had a few hiccups and put a couple of holes into the wall of the main corridor. Reckless endangerment? one of the four standing there decided to mess around while another was on a ladder, doing some patchwork; causing the boy to fall, resulting in a brief hospital stent and a broken arm. And for the misappropriation of funds? Well, all a dumb misunderstanding and honestly, a mistake. They probably should’ve consulted an actual electrician but instead, Phinks utilized the knowledge he gained from working at his father’s own electric company as a teen and decided to take the two grand to Home Depot and do it all on his own. If anything, his only crime was being too damn stubborn and cheap to hire professionals! However, that wasn’t going to cut it..

“Gentleman, I trust that you all understand the severity of these accusations. At YorkNew University, we hold ourselves to a higher standard..we do not tolerate nor accept such trivial and downright dumb behavior. Regardless of the circumstances, what you all did could have resulted in much more bodily harm than it already has. Or something far worse. These are matters that should have been brought up to your superiors rather than taken into your own hands. I’m not only angered but extremely disappointed. As a leader and president, Mr. Magcub, I would expect you to implore far better common sense and yet, you neglected to do so…” as he stood there, listening to you scold him in front of his peers, the entire room fell silent..without so much a single whisper. And no one with half a brain would dare interrupt you either. You were ruthless and practically inconsolable when you got on these rampages. There truly was no stopping you, honestly. Yet, Phinks couldn’t help but to respect and empathize with you. He knew how rough you had it with some of these students and how a few of them even resented you for your punishments but you had no choice. Especially when said accused have been getting away scot free their entire lives. Tossing daddy’s money at the problem and expecting it to go away. You were sick of it..little did you know, that wasn’t the case with Phinks. He was the furthest thing from. Even so, it wasn’t going to sway you in the slightest nor would it change how you were going to proceed with this..

“..as it stands, I hereby call for the indefinite suspension of Mr. Magcub and his immediate resignation as president of Alpha Phi Delta. Meeting adjourned, thank you all for your time.”

the words couldn’t even make it out of your mouth good before the entire place erupted. Audible gasps, slamming of books from your fellow council members and the four frat brothers, raising hell on the floor below you. If anyone had ever encountered the Ice Queen, then they knew your word was absolute and that there was no changing your mind. Standing from the chair; dutifully pulled out by one of the male cohorts, you’d proceed to get up but were quickly interrupted by shouting from the others. “You can’t do this, lady!” “Yeah, he was only trying to help! You can’t kick him out over a fucking mistake.” Still, you stood firm and your decision was absolute. Despite all of their ranting and complaining..the only one seeming to understand that was Phinks himself..or so you thought! With his head still hung low, he’d wave an arm up to his brothers as to silence the riled up trio. “It’s fine, boys. Really. That’s a part of life. Owning up to your mistakes and facing the consequences, I get it. Don’t worry about it..” but the second you’d turn on your heel, thinking the ‘former’ frat president had accepted his fate lying down, he’d hit you with another surprise:

“I have a question though, Miss President..or should I say (y/n ‘s nickname)..since when did you become such a bitch?” Soon, everyone was glaring at the two of you as if they had heard some shocking revelation. And truthfully, it was..for you at least! It was like a shot to the gut hearing that former childhood nickname being hurled at you because as far as you had known..there was only one person in your entire life to refer to you by it. Even so, you had to remain poised and professional. Stand firm within your ruling and not little petty, trivial cheap shots sway you either. Dismissing the remainder of the council members, (y/n) stood near the door; arms folded and guarded as the room dissipated to only yourself, Phinks and his frat brothers. That was until he ordered them to leave and said he’d catch up later. Once the two of you were officially alone, you’d lock the door and resume your discussion without pause. You had a few questions of your own but first…you’d gladly answer his.

“Who the hell do you think you are?…calling me a bitch? Talking to me and throwing out silly nicknames as if we’re old acquaintances. Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

spewing the words with pure vitriol and anger. Your plump lips curled into a scowl as he glared at you with that signature stupid smirk on his face. You hated him…hated him for making you look like a damn fool in front of your peers and embarrassing you. But Phinks was quite unbothered by the entire matter because he saw right through that facade. Through the big words, tough exterior and iron fists. When he looked at you..all he could see was that little girl with the curly afro puffs that used to be parted into buns atop your head as the two of you explored the neighborhood. The one who he used to play with until your parents had to all but drag you back in the house..and the girl he became a man with in his senior year of high school..losing his virginity together with the only woman he’d ever trusted. Holding hands as he claimed your sweet flower for his own. Kissing you softly on his bed as he begged you to stay quiet out of fear of someone hearing the two of you. Wiping your tears when that proverbial cherry popped..telling you to scratch his back if it ever hurts. The best night of his life, if he were being frank and yours as well. But somehow, that all changed when the two of you went to college. When he began so foolishly neglecting his best friend for others and soon, you were nothing more than an afterthought. Telling you he loved you only to allow another girl on top of him shortly thereafter. That heartbreak manifested to pure hatred for not just these other petulant students, but men entirely. For Phinks and anyone who reminded you of him. You wanted them to suffer and when you finally got your opportunity to enact revenge on the sole scorner of your fragile heart, you laid down the hammer without so much as a second thought. Even though you were never dating, it still stung and it was a wound that never healed. Still..he wasn’t about to let you and your lust for power get him booted out over a simple misunderstanding!

“You can drop the whole wicked mistress act, it’s just you and I here, alright? No need to be so uptight, sweetheart.” That deep tone of his vibrating throughout your body as he stepped forward..bridging the gap of space between you. As he approached, you caught a whiff of that cologne radiating from him. Tom Ford. A far cry from the Axe he used to practically bathe in when he was younger. Truthfully, it was all he could afford. His entire demeanor had shifted, quite honestly. He seemed so mature..so poised..so handsome. The Phinks you knew would’ve never stood for such an injustice and would’ve been throwing things around the room but for (y/n)? He was a different man. One who had spent the past two years contemplating the actions of his dumb mistakes. Not just with the frat but in general. The fact that he all but abandoned you the second he touched campus soil. Wanting to fit in and find a different crowd so badly, he forgot the one person who had always been there. You were bitter and rightfully so. But if he could do anything to rectify it..it’d be right here and now. Because it would be nearly impossible to ever have this access to you again so he’d make his shot count!

“I’m sorry, (y/n). Sorry for humiliating you like that and calling you out of your name but I knew it’d be the only way to get your attention. The only way you’d respond is if I pushed your buttons. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” “A little too late for that, don’t you suppose?” Still stoic and stonewalled as ever. Turning your face in the opposite direction so that you didn’t have to look at him. But like always, he got the better of you. Running a finger underneath your chin, he’d tip your head up and twist it back towards him so he could glare into your eyes. Far past your soul as he had such a horrible habit of doing. Smooth talking and charming his way out of it. By now, you were pressed against the end of a nearby table and he was closing in on you..softly caressing your cheek in the process. “I see you’re still wearing the necklace I got you. Can’t believe you kept it after all this time.” Referring to the thin gold chain and heart locket dangling from around your neck that he gifted you for your seventeenth birthday and still at twenty one years old, you were still sporting it. Along with the scars and pain he left on your fragile heart. Scars he wanted to heal right here and now..

“(Y/N)..listen to me. I can’t turn back time. I can’t erase what I did in the past but I’m trying my damnedest every single day to become a better man for it. I know you’ll probably never forgive me and I don’t expect you to, that would be selfish..but I hope that you can at least hate me a little less. I don’t want you bearing this feeling forever. Not because of my stupidity..”

with your faces only a few inches apart, you’d glare; transfixed on his eyes as yours welled with tears. Hard as you may have tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to not be infuriated. So much so, you’d smack him with an open palm across his right cheek. Unable to contain those overflowing emotions. The tears, the anger, the pure, raw passion that you had for him. That never faded after all that time! “You bastard..how dare you? How dare you leave me and then come back after all this time? I missed you so fucking much and you just left—“ by now, you had broken into full blown hysterics, inconsolable being back in the arms of the one and only man you had brought yourself to love. Rather than meeting your melodramatics with more hostility, he’d simply cusp your cheek into his hand and bring you towards him for a searing kiss that caused your words to trail off into nothing more than a muffled whimper. In that split second, your entire world seemed to have come to that of a complete stand still. Frozen right there in his grasp and when you finally came back to reality, you didn’t want to end..without so much as another word exchanged between the two of you, Phinks reeled you back in, this time deepening the smooch and bridging the gap between your bodies. By now, there wasn’t a single other soul in the vicinity to witness this spectacle. Or to interrupt it for that matter. Regardless of the fact that the two of you had just been in the midst of a heated dispute moments ago, and now, attempting to disrobe the other, it was apparent that whatever feelings you had for one another were still as strong and that once dormant flame of passion was burning brighter than before.

his hands roaming your body, yours trailing his…it was all a blur but finally, Phinks found himself shirtless and you working away at his belt buckle when he came to. But he was quick to halt you..as he had plans of his own. “Wait, sweetheart. Stop..” “What do you mean? Are you—“ however, before you could complete whatever rant you were about to partake in, he’d press a finger to your lip, instructing you to be quiet. “Don’t..don’t speak. Please..”’Even taking it a step further and allowing you to suckle on his fingertip. Normally, if a man had said such a thing to you, it’d be literal hell to pay. But something about Phinks and that gentle, domineering nature of his always threw you into submission..as much as you hated it! “Just let me make things right, okay?” Slowly, that same finger trailed south and to your own top, unfastening the buttons one by one as you watched along with bated breath. Your chest heaving with every passing moment as your skin became exposed to the cool air wafting throughout the room’s ventilation. Shortly thereafter, becoming marked by the curvature of his soft lips. All the while, tracing his fingertips up your bare legs. Which he’d prop on the table and spread apart. “Do you have any idea..how long, I’ve waited to have you in my arms again, (y/n)? To say I’m sorry for being so shitty? For making you feel less than your worth?” Amid his speech, his fingers would make haste in hooking around those thin lace panties you were wearing and pull them back. Exposing your warm and dripping sex to the cool air as well..you’d suck your teeth when he made slight contact with your clit. Biting your lip as you’d watch him carefully. “But I won’t be so stupid this time, I promise.” Before you knew it, you found yourself filled to the brim with one of his thick fingers, releasing a loud gasp in response. Sliding down, you’d begin gently rock on those digits.

“So just lay back and let me take care of you, alright? Don’t worry about anything..” closing your eyes whilst you let him overtake your body. Holding dominion over you in ways you could never imagine. Merely listening to the sound of his voice to get yourself off, not to mention being impaled on his middle and index. The tight bundle of nerves becoming undone by a few pushes to your g-spot. Meanwhile, your nipples lie dormant in his mouth, gently suckled...flipped around by his tongue and kissed by his lips. Eventually, allowing them to trail back up to your neck. Muttering into your ear with a smirk plastered his face. “You remember that night after graduation..when you let me finger you in the backseat of my old Camaro?..I recall that night so vividly. You looked just like this..so cute and innocent. Just begging me to keep going..” sweetly taunting you with his thumb parting your lips. “It was the first time we had complete privacy, without having to cover our mouths. And we were being so damn loud. I swear, you had the prettiest moans.” Making you both begin to laugh, reminiscing on those times. He continued to speak when all you could muster were muffled whimpers. “You got so wet for me..damn, you were so wet..” “..yeah, and I freaked out because you made me squirt for the first time and thought I had done something else.” Prompting you both to laugh about it. The memory unlocked something inside of him that drove the tall jock to sink his fingers further and even grunt. “Yes…fuck. I couldn’t forget. You had my seats covered in it but it was kinda my fault. I couldn’t stop fucking you. You just felt too good.” Nibbling at your ear with that slick grin before pressing deeper and mashing your very swollen clit with his thumb..making slow circles until your head fell backwards. Which he’d tug back up with a gentle hand, staring you right in the eyes.

“Which is why I’m going to do it again.” Declaring as those digits continued pumping in and out, drawing forth high pitched wails and plenty of juices..never had a man made you feel the way this one had. And as quiet as it was all kept, you had no use of interest in anyone else other than Phinks. There was something about him that drew out your softest energy; made you feel safe and protected, not to mention free to be yourself. “I’m going to make love to you right here and now..because I don’t want to spend another second being apart from you, (y/n). Two years..two long years. I missed you.” The tone in his voice causes your legs to tremble on instinct. The sheer pleading and desperation doing something to you. But before you had a chance to truly gather your bearings..he was already another step ahead. With his pants shuffled to his waist, unfastened and unbuckled, you could spot his exposed pelvis but once he withdrew those fingers, you found yourself filled with his cock instead. “Hnghh! Oh God..” eliciting a loud cry from your lips which were muffled by his own as that swollen tip made its way inside of your entrance. (Y/N) was heaving, trembling and clawing at his shirt whilst holding him close. Your legs spread wide and placed atop his shoulder as Phinks eventually tucked the end of his shirt between his teeth, holding it out of the way so that he could get a perfect glimpse of his cock sliding in and out of that wet warmth..coating him with the two gentle strokes that he had already given. Whining from the sensation of “Shh..it’s alright, baby...” cooing to you quietly. He could tell that you were still having some trouble taking him so he’d go as slow as possible. Letting you become acclimated to his size again. Meanwhile, a sheath of silky cream began dripping down his shaft as he was able to work a few more inches in. Wiping those stray tears away in the process. “..just like our first time, angel. You’re so tight..you’re with me now, where you belong.” It’s that sentence alone that allowed you to open up and unclench for him, allowing him a little more room to maneuver. Feeding you those deep strokes at a steady pace. Your eyes averted down to watch him go in and out.

“Phinks…I—I’m so sor—“ but before the words could leave your lips, he was halfway to the hilt, grunting and pulling you further into his grasp. And now, forming a slight bulge in the pit of your tummy. “No..don’t you dare apologize. This is my fault. All me, baby. But I’m gonna make it—up to you, I promise. Will you let me do that?” Practically pleading as the grip of that pussy began to take its toll on the frat leader. He was a strong, stoic and tough guy. Epitome of a stereotypical jock or athlete when it came to braun. But as with anyone, Phinks had his Achilles heel and you were most certainly it. He became weak and quite frankly, pathetic when you were in the mix. He couldn’t contain himself..losing all semblance of control with no regrets. So much so, his voice began to crack and that once established rhythm sped to sporadic stroking; some sharp and others all over the place. “You can take me, baby. C’mon. Let me have it..let me have that pussy, please.” By this time, the table underneath your bodies was rattling around, knocking against the wall. Your skirt was flipped to your stomach and your breasts were jiggling wildly, from your unfastened shirt. “Mmm! Please..don’t stop. Take it, this is yours..fuck!” That sentence alone forced him to lose it. Clutching a hand around your throat, he’d shove his tongue into your mouth and pound you until he began pulsating through those walls. Your flesh cusps him and refuses to let him go..which led to something neither of you expected:

“Oh God! (Y/N)..fuck!” Crying out with a guttural moan, Phinks’ hard pounding ceased all together and before you knew it..he had you filled to the brim with his cum. That warm, milky load stuffed and nestled inside of you as if he wouldn’t dare put it anywhere else. The two of you stared in shock before bursting into laughter, examining the aftermath. “Jesus, (y/n)..I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—oh fuck, you felt so much better than I remember. I just couldn’t help myself.`` But you didn’t hold it against him too much. In fact, you thought it was quite funny and you liked the sensation a little more than you’d expect. Leaning down, gently stroking your clit, you’d watch it seep out onto the wooden furniture. “It’s okay..I’ll be fine.” Planting a kiss to his lips as he worked to regain his composure. Tilting his chin up so that you could stare at him as you uttered your next words. “Hey…I love you, Phinks. I always have.” “I know, gorgeous. And I love you more. I promise I’ll never leave your side again.” Still resting inside of you whilst your bodies remained close. He never wanted this moment to end or to be apart from you that long ever again. However, there was still one order of business that you two had to sort out…

“So about this resignation..you seriously gonna kick me out?”

batting those eyes at you as if they would change your mind but the previous events may have definitely softened your heart just a tad bit.

“Meet me in my dorm later for round two and we might be able to work something out.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were propositioning me, ma’am.”

but all in all, it seemed that things were finally on better terms with the two of you and you were thankful because being apart from the only man meant for you was exhausting!

“Well sir, it’s a good thing that you do. Now help me up.”

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delta-pavonis · 17 days

Text

Last Line Tag Game x4

I have had FOUR people tag me in this game in the past few weeks but my life has been categorically WACKYDOODLES so I am just getting to this now. And SINCE it has been so long since I posted a single slim word, here is one blurble for each tag. @tj-dragonblade, @tryan-a-bex, @zzoomacroom, @moorishflower thank you for the tags!! In return I tag... anyone who is excited about A Thing and wants to share! I want to know what y'all are working on that you are excited about! ALL OF YOU!! BWAHAHA. From a still untitled Castlevania: Nocturne (blame @dancinbutterfly for pointing me towards Olrox fic) Olrox/Adrian WIP that is fanfic of the fanfic Until the Sun Rises Again by @ifishouldvanish:

He decides to deflect, smirking as he looks at Adrian through his lashes. “Are you asking me about vampires who I have taken as lovers? Bold move. Considering applying to join their ranks?” One golden eyebrow arches. Something flashes in those keen eyes as he lets the silence stretch. Olrox feels the temperature of the air change when Adrian makes a decision, a fraction of a second before he responds. “Apply? I thought I was already offered the position.” The surprise alone makes Olrox throw his head back and laugh, a burst of deep amusement the likes of which he has not felt in far, far too long. Adrian sits with a smirk clear in his eyes as Olrox lets his laughter peter off naturally. When he is done he tilts his head to the side, studying the beautiful, witty thing before him with simmering desire coursing through his veins. Throwing caution to the wind, Olrox leans forward and grabs Adrian’s hand, brings the bone-white fingers towards his lips, and enjoys watching the dhampir’s pupils dilate. “That you were. And the offer stands for there are so many different positions you could fill.” Something dangerous glints in his eyes and then, with a twist of his wrist, Adrian is holding Olrox’s chin in his hand and pressing the nail of his thumb into the vampire’s bottom lip. He doesn't gasp, not quite, but he does freeze, entranced by this turn of events. “So you agree that I would be the one doing the filling, do you? Pity,” the nail, sharp as a razor, slides sideways and brings up the smallest drop of blood. “I had rather hoped there would be a struggle over it.” Olrox inhales sharply and stares. This is it. This is the fulcrum, the turning point. He can taste it.

Now three Dreamling WIPs... which I will put under a cut because not a single one of them isn't filthy, first two more than the last. CW for D/s relationships, edging, fisting (and mention of some extreme versions at that), charity auction for a date with a person, concerning lube choices, semi-public sex in the back of a car

From the next fic in the museum curator Dream/doctor and TikToker Hob series, currently titled Special Exhibition, where Hob ended up fisting Dream before Dream got up to ride him:

“Another night you’re gonna come like this, with half my arm buried in you,” Hob looks up and meets Dream’s heavy-lidded, lust-fogged gaze with his own. “But not tonight.” He pulls his hand out, slowly, with some extremely loud protest from Dream, but then grabs the lithe man by the waist and rolls them so he is laid out on his back with Dream straddling him. The leather chaps creak with the quick movements. “Now take what you need, my sweet Dream.” Dream growls greedily, teeth bared, as he maneuvers himself over Hob's hips. “Gladly. Though you may soon rethink the suitability of the adjective sweet.” He howls when he seats himself onto Hob's cock then immediately starts seeking his pleasure, riding Hob fast and hard, changing angles and rolling his hips until he finds the spot that forces all the air out of his lungs all at once with a deep groan. Dream repeats the motion, slamming himself down faster and harder on each pass until he is making one constant warbling noise.

It’s hot and slick and not goddamned enough. Dream is busy using Hob’s cock to pound his prostate into oblivion, without a care for the fact that he is so deliciously open his hole isn't actually giving Hob much to work with at all. He is held hard by the ring around the base, but otherwise it is a maddeningly teasing glide of heat around him. Dream is hard and leaking and Hob watches as his spine arches and Dream… doesn't come. He has his long fingers wrapped tightly around his cock, squeezing out a noise of frustration. “Gonna edge myself on you, baby. Use you to drive myself to insanity. Only after I’ve had my fill am I going to take that ring off you. Maybe then I’ll be tight enough to provide stimulation for you.” Sweet Christ.

This is from bury me with my guns on, the WIP I have where Hob is former mafia doing a fishbowl rescue with his former lover (my OC Sandro). Dream is having post-fishbowl touching people issues and Sandro has the bright idea that Dream should instead tell Sandro what to do to Hob, to act through Sandro. They've just finished that scene and are playing with the idea of Dream calling Sandro "his tool":

“Anything you ask of me,” tumbles out of Sandro's mouth before he can think better of it. “I know every sexual fantasy of every human who has ever dreamt upon this Earth.” His eyes are heavy-lidded, smoldering. “There is a terrible variety of things I could ask of you.” “Hob knows better than you my willingness to comply… to obey.” He can’t help but smirk. Dream’s expression darkens further. “You wish to be tested?” Sandro can tell that Hob is going to interrupt, so he speaks loudly and quickly. “You said you wanted to see what I am capable of, yes?” “Sandro, don’t–” “Then I will see you take Hob’s fist,” Dream practically purrs. “And then his arm. To the elbow.” Sandro is pretty sure he blacks out for a minute at the thought. When his awareness returns Hob is soothing him as if he is a scared animal. “Please, my bird, you don't have–” “I have never wanted anything more.” Hob's mouth snaps shut and he stares at Sandro. “Do it, my love. I would have you fuck me wider and deeper than I have ever been. Show Dream his naming me his tool is not misplaced.” He grinds in Hob's lap. “And perhaps, if I am Dream’s tool, I am his substitute, then if you do well enough with me, you will be allowed to do the same to Dream himself? One day?” Hob goes deathly still and just his eyes slide to Dream, who has gone even more lax in his corner of the couch. “Hmm,” he runs a hand down his black T-shirt clad chest, down his abdomen, and it cuts the fabric as it goes, opening it like he pulled a zipper. “The fae folk call me the Shaper of Forms. It would be of little consequence for my body to accept both of Hob's arms up to his biceps if he wished it be so.” The cry that emerges from Hob is the sound of a man going insane.

Last is from a brand new WIP inspired by an ask that @gabessquishytum answered that my brain took in a totally different direction, including flipping who is on the auction block... for context Hob and Dream knew each other in college and Hob is now the increasingly popular host of Britain's Favourite Dancer, who is up for "auction" as a fundraiser. Dream bidding an obscene amount for him is the first time they have seen each other since Dream promised he would come back to Hob 15 years ago. They barely make it to Dream's car out back.

Dream is pulling Hob out of his suit with ruthless efficiency, clothing being flung all over. He’s down to his skivvies when Dream’s shirt is finally coming off and Hob cannot help but boggle even as he is wriggling out of his underpants. “Holy hell, when did you get all this, dove?” Hob’s got his boxer-briefs around one ankle and that will have to do because he refuses to take his hands away from all the dark chest hair that has just been revealed to him. Pale skin takes on a charming blush everywhere Hob touches. “I… used to wax. Thought you,” Dream groans and leans into Hob’s hands, “I thought you preferred it.” Hob stops his roaming hands and brings them very deliberately up to frame Dream’s angular face, forcing eye contact, which only makes the man above him blush more. “I should have been clearer then. I prefer you. It doesn’t matter what it is or how it looks: if it is you or yours, that is what I want.” Dream is kissing him in an instant, with a lack of finesse and hungry teeth, as he shucks off the rest of his clothing. “Then there's no question that you want to take my cock.” He says that as he settles between Hob's thighs, presses both their pricks together with one of his hands. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Hob arches into it, voice high-pitched and thready, eyes slamming closed. “But if you keep twisting your hand like that I’m gonna come before you get to the main event.” Fuck. Dream’s hand actually speeds up. “Good. I could use something other than spit to finger you open with.” Hob doesn't even try to contain the moan that image draws from him. “Then I am going to fuck you until you’re hard again. Might take a while. Maybe until the benefit auction lets out around us. Can you imagine that? You never were a quiet lover… you know that I can make you scream loud enough for passersby to hear. Think they would recognize your voice, hoarse with pleasure? I can see the headlines now, Beloved TV Host Out on Medical Leave–Railed to Within an Inch of His Life.” Hob would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't busy coming harder than he has in the past decade.

#Pavonis writes #last line tag game #Dreamling #Castlevania: Nocturne #Olrox/Adrian #content warnings in post above cut

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