#not to mention he's back where he's supposed to be!!!

[milksnake-tea]

━━ a taste of heaven . ( 1 )

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: their first kiss with you ❀ ˎˊ- characters: aventurine, jing yuan, sunday ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: lots of kissing/physical affection, mentions of alcohol/getting drunk in sunday's, preestablished relationship in jing yuans ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: KICKS OPEN THE DOOR UHM checks watch WAY TOO LATE HERES WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE VALENTINE POST (its been almost 4 months.) OOPS WITH more physical affection because im touch starved guys send help preferably in the form of a smart cute snarky boyfriend with long hair. also there is a part two or three coming eventually i just mentally died and i wanted to get this thing out of my drafts already so i cut out like half of the cast i was going to add in

Rarely did Aventurine ever doubt himself, and yet, here he was, watching you cautiously as you obliviously sipped at your drink, occupied with the wondrous sights of the city. Now, he didn't see you as an enemy - quite the opposite, if the stirrings in his chest were anything to go by.

His gaze was not one of distrust, but rather, hesitation. All his life, Aventurine had been fighting for survival, his charismatic and vain character a shield he'd built up to protect himself. Vulnerability, weakness, these things that left him open for attack, these were components that were guaranteed if he continued with his decision.

The kiss, in a way, was a test - or rather, a gamble for your reaction. He'd studied you beforehand, even when the two of you were had become close, to assure himself that no, he wasn't hallucinating and that you did feel some semblance of affection, attachment, and - dare he say it - love for him. But he had to be sure, 100%. Aventurine might've lived the life of a gambler, but when it came to this, he couldn't afford to blindly take the plunge - he refused to.

You still remember the look in his eyes when he took you by your chin, his grasp uncharacteristically gentle as he guided you - with the tips of his fingers - to face him. You couldn't describe the emotion you saw in those iridescent irises; it was a mix of fear, anxiety, yet hope and repressed yearning.

Wordlessly, those eyes of his flickered down to your lips, then returned to meet your gaze, asking for your permission. In response, you merely closed your eyes, slightly melting as Aventurine tentatively pressed his lips to yours.

There were rumors circulating the cosmos that Aventurine was a playboy, someone who went through partners like social media trends and was experienced in intimate matters. But you found that when he kissed you, he was anything but experienced.

He kissed you as if he was unsure how to kiss you. Hesitance and doubt, what he couldn't allow you to see, bled into his lips. What Aventurine could never put into words, he poured into his kiss, giving you a taste of the years of yearning and restraint, restraint that still keeps him back from drowning you in his emotion. Like a temporary breeze, he ghosted over you, wanting to hold you closer yet refusing himself.

For what seemed to be an eternity, he lingered there, his eyes half-lidded, only shutting them to indulge for a moment before he pulled away. His lips were parted, quiet breaths intermingling with your own.

"Well?" he'd ask, in that same confident tone you knew so well, only this time, there was a slight breathlessness to it. Aventurine observes every bit of you, his gaze trailing from your dazed expression, to the watercolor of your eyes as your lids lifted, to your breath, still catching up with everything. Nothing indicating discomfort so far.

However, it seemed that you were far from satisfied from just that. A small sound of confusion leaves him as you turn to face him fully, and your hands come to hold his face. That smile of his wavers momentarily, before it clicks and he stifles an amused chuckle, only to yelp (embarrassingly so) when you roll your eyes and yank him towards you, crashing into yet another kiss, one where he didn't have a choice but to melt into.

He'd complain and tease you when you're done, because he always has to have the upper hand in the end. But you don't mind. He can whine and pout all he wants, pretend to be unaffected by your assertiveness. But if there's one thing Aventurine can't hide behind a smile, it's the bright crimson that paints his face like flame.

Sparks flew as blade scraped against blade. Ginkgo leaves fluttered around you like golden snow, brushing your cheek as the wind carried them away. Amidst the otherwise peaceful morning, in the blissfully empty garden, adrenaline rushed through you as the sound of clashing metal filled the air.

It goes without saying that an opportunity to spar with Jing Yuan comes to very few, if at all. At most, his glaive would only meet against the swords of three people: his master, his disciple, or his enemies. Rarely did he cross blades with another outside of those three, and yet, here you were, fighting for your life to catching Jing Yuan's strikes in time.

The general, by no means, did not go easy on you, leaving very little - any - room for you to attack between his barrage of attacks. He wielded his glaive with the experience of centuries upon centuries, tossing the heavy weapon from one hand to another as if it weighed less than air. And to top it all off, he fought with that same lazy smile that you knew so well.

Predictably, your spar session ended up with you against the ground and the tip of Jing Yuan's blade at your chin. Sighing in both defeat and exhaustion, you accepted your defeat, letting your head fall against the dirt. Jing Yuan chuckled in that honeyed voice as he withdrew the glaive and instead offered you a hand and a break.

You've never been so thankful just to have a drink of water, practically downing the liquid as you sat under one of the many ginkgo trees that filled the general's garden. Jing Yuan himself leaned against the trunk besides you, relishing in a quick drink himself.

Truth be told, it'd been a while since you'd last seen him without his armor. Here, he simply wore a high-collared, sleeveless compression shirt that did little to hide the taut of his muscles, instead emphasizing his arms. From a distance, you could've convinced yourself that the spar had been a walk in the park for him - he looked basically the same as if he would've had he just woken up from a nap. However, up close, you could see the faint outlines of sweat as it beaded on his skin and the slight heave of his chest as he caught his breath. Pride swelled within you at the sight, knowing that despite your defeat, you at least provided a decent challenge for him.

The longer you looked at him, the farther your gaze wandered. It hadn't been long since the two of you had officially become lovers, and even now you still couldn't believe that you had managed to court Jing Yuan, of all people. Everything about him was just too perfect, too beautiful, from the golden amber of his eyes, to the ivory silk of his hair, to the slight curve of his lips that made your heart swoon.

Your eyes lingered on his lips, noting their subtle pink color that deviated from the rest of his fair skin. The two of you had yet to kiss, as most couples usually do, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like, to kiss the esteemed general. What would he taste like? Perhaps the Immortal’s Delight he was so fond of, or something else? Would he be gentle, or addictively rough? What would it be like, to be held in his arms, and to hold him as close as possible?

You didn’t realize you were staring until Jing Yuan’s amused voice broke you out of your thoughts. Looking up, you realized that he had been watching you the whole time, a pleased twinkle in his eyes.

“Love,” he cooed silkily in that drawl of his, “it’s rude to stare.”

He leaned over you, casting a shadow over you with a knowing glint in those honeyed irises. 

“If there’s something you desire, it’s common courtesy to ask.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you ducked your head, your face burning even further as he laughed heartily above you. Leaves rustled underneath Jing Yuan’s boots as he plopped himself down next to you. His hair tickled at your face, the general resting his head onto your shoulder.

The thing about Jing Yuan was that he loved to tease, to provoke, and to observe, and even you, his lover, weren’t an exception to this. Despite being older than many on the Xianzhou and having lived through various Amber Eras, he still held this cat-like curiosity in him - always itching to push the cup off the shelf, just to see what you’d do with it. And you, you were fresh and lively and expressive and wonderfully beautiful, and he wanted to see every bit of you - especially the parts that the public weren’t allowed to.

And of course, naturally, you’d see the same of him.

“Now, now, eyes on me.” He’d take your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as you looked over at him. “You know I only mean to tease.”

You huffed, but you were already smiling. “I know. Still…”

He raised a brow, his own smile growing. “Yes?”

Yes, he was going to make you say it yourself. He was stubborn like that, but you knew what you were getting into when you decided to court him. Being shy wouldn’t get you anything but more teasing.

Bringing your face a whisper away from his, you felt a twinge of satisfaction when Jing Yuan’s breath hitched - barely noticeable, yet apparent all the same.

“Kiss me, Yuan.”

And that was all the leeway he needed.

Like the lightning he wielded, Jing Yuan’s kiss was nothing more than electrifying, sending sparkles throughout your nerves. Instantly, you melted into him, bending to his will as he coaxed you to part your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

He kissed with the fervency of a starved man, his hands holding you in place as he ravished you with his tongue, drinking in your taste like fine wine. One way or another, he ended up on top of you, cradling you in his arms as he had his fill. It was all you could do but to hold onto him and his broad shoulders to ground yourself.

When you finally parted, a string of saliva connecting you, the two of you panted as if you’d gone through another sparring session. Never in your life had you seen Jing Yuan this… disheveled. His pink lips were swollen, his chest heaving, his hair tousled and his eyes dilated. You imaged that you weren’t faring much better.

He looked like he wanted to go for another, but had decided that this was enough. There’d be more chances for him to savor you, after all.

For now, he rested his forehead on yours, that striking gaze of his never leaving your own.

If there's one thing that Sunday hates, it's getting drunk. He's always been careful with just how much wine or SoulGlad he drinks, making sure to put the glasses away the second he feels just the slightest bit tipsy.

It wasn't like he despised alcohol, but rather, it was the lack of control that came with its ecstasy that deterred him. Not only could he accidentally slip up and reveal information he didn't want to, but it was almost embarrassing how easy it was to get him drunk. Hence, why he limits himself to a mere sip or two, and only out of obligation for important guests.

And yet, here he is, flushed and dazed, alcohol slowly bringing him to a blissful lightheadedness.

It’s a cool night in Penacony. Silence fills the lavish halls of Dewlight Pavilion in place of distinguished guests. All he can hear is the distant chatter of Golden Hour, the crackling of a fireplace, and you.

It’d been a while since you’d last visited the Planet of Festivities, as you’d been traveling by yourself for the past few years. Upon hearing of your arrival, Sunday had immediately welcomed you into his home, ushering you into the more private quarters of the Pavilion to catch up.

Perhaps that’s why he decided to pop open a bottle of wine, a novelty gifted to him ages ago, and put himself in such a vulnerable position. Then again, it’s just you, so he supposes he has nothing to worry about.

His gaze wanders back to you at the thought. A glass of wine, matching the one in his hand, swirls in your grasp as you recount the tales of your travels beside him. Excitement bounces in your eyes like fireworks, more beautiful and dazzling than any show he’d orchestrate for guests.

A fond smile pulls his lips upward as he watches you animatedly describe one particular scene. He’s listening to what you’re saying - or at least, he’s listening the best he can - but to tell to the truth, Sunday is more enraptured by you rather than your stories.

Your voice is a balm on his figurative burns, soothing him and coaxing him to relax and forget his worries. The bounce in every move you make, subtle or not, is endearing and adorable. His eyes are distracted by the sheen of your lips, and he can’t help but wonder how you’d taste.

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or maybe, just maybe, it’s the ache of having been separated from you for too long that compels him to act on that wonder.

Before his dazed mind can catch up to reason with him, he leans in - the couch creaking as he does so. Your story stops as you stare at him, dumbfounded and flustered - in the back of his mind, Sunday thinks he likes that expression on you.

He can’t imagine what he looks like right now. Probably a mess, nothing like the prestigious leader that he was supposed to be. But he couldn’t care less about that. Right now, there was only one thing on his mind, only one thing that he could think about.

Distantly, he hears the clink of the wine glass as he sets it down - or was it you?

In his blurred vision, he sees you move closer to him. Your eyes are closer than ever, your breaths mixing into one. Fireworks turn into constellations, splashes of nebula and clouds of cosmoses. His breath hitches, caught in his chest like a weight.

His wings shiver, then unfold as he dives in. They shield him from the rest of Penacony, from the Family and from the Dreammaster. He shuts his eyes tightly as he connects his lips to yours.

Truthfully, he doesn’t know what he’s doing - he’s never acted on any crushes nor pursued any relationships until now, the Family - no, the Dreammaster - wouldn’t allow him to. Kissing, cuddling, love, all of it, he’s only seen in movies, and they never really seemed real - not until now.

His chest constricts as you begin to move against him. He feels you reach to tilt his head so that you can deepen the kiss. Sunday relents, allowing you to take the lead. His gloved hands find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them as little whimpers leave him.

It’s over before he knows it. He barely registers the absence of your lips as you pull away. Something tickles against his cheek - likely his wings, flapping and fluttering as he struggles to process what just happened.

He closes his eyes again, and buries his head into your shoulder to hide. Your fingers thread through his hair as he inhales deeply, taking in your scent as much as he can.

Giddiness bubbles in his stomach. Soft giggles escape him as he nuzzles deeper into you, his smile turning ecstatic.

He was going to regret this tomorrow morning, he knew it. But the embarrassment and self-reprimanding could wait for then. In this moment, he was the happiest he’d ever been - and he’d be damned if he’d let himself ruin it.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei

@akutasoda, @naraven

#—stellaronhvnters. #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine hsr #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #hsr sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #archives 🏵️

[ovaryacted]

HANDSY

PAIRING: Jackson! Joel Miller x afab! reader

SYNOPSIS: Your cycle is ruining your mood, and what better thing to do than get a free massage.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Suggestive content. Titty massage. Slight daddy kink. Established relationship. Joel being a little bastard. Ambiguous age gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in their 20s). Mentions of menstrual cycle and female characteristics about the chest. Banter and teasing. No use of y/n.

WC: 1.2k

A/N: Alright, I'm kinda on a Joel Miller streak and I was just thinking about getting my tiddies rubbed by a man with strong & rough hands and this happened. Don't look at me like that okay, this is self indulgent and I just had to alright. Hopefully this is relatable for some of y'all lol. Shout out to everyone who has to deal with periods, you are stronger than the marines. Anyways, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

➣ TLOU was created by a zionist and is based off of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Please refer to this link to learn how you can help the Palestinian people.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Another month. Another week of unruly irritation, mood swings, and uncomfortable reactions to anything that breathed too hard or moved too fast. In the hecticness that was your current reality, dealing with the devil’s wrath was supposed to be something that slipped past your mind. Yet, in the efforts of your survival, having a menstrual cycle still took you off guard every time it came punching through your gut.

Tossing and turning in bed, you tried to get in the best position to ease your cramps by curling up in a fetal position. You thought it would make things better, but instead, the discomfort you felt all over your body pissed you off even more. A frustrated grumble filled the bedroom, flinging the sheets away and furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of relief.

Where the fuck is he?

Throwing on a pair of slippers you luckily claimed on a supply run, you shuffled down the creaky stairs of your home and wandered about until you reached the living room. Joel was hunched over his seat on the couch, currently messing with his guitar strings, aware of your presence the moment you hit the base of the stairway.

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” He questioned you as he took in your features and noticed your pout. You were upset; that was obvious when he found you in bed earlier today instead of somewhere else in the house. Simply kissing your forehead and letting you rest as best as he could, he expected you to come down to talk to him eventually when you had the energy to do so.

Joel didn’t say anything as you came closer to him without uttering a word, slipping your legs over his thick thighs and pressing your face into the curve of his neck. He put his guitar to the side and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, hands instinctively digging into your lower back where you felt the most sore. He could tell from the way you clung to him that it was that time of the month, already having gotten used to your changes in demeanor to see the signs.

“Uncomfortable?” Joel asked again, trying to get a better read on your emotions, but he only received an annoyed grunt in response. “Guess we’re just gonna sit here then.”

He ran his fingers up and down your spine, trying his best to lessen the strain you felt. He could snag some herbs to make you tea later if you were in the mood for it, but right now, a massage is what you could handle. His touch made you sigh with alleviation, focusing on the pressure points along your shoulder and backbone. Even with his attempts, the front of your body continued to ache.

“My boobs are fucking killing me.” You declared out loud, a deep rumble of a chuckle escaping from the back of his throat.

“You need me to massage them?” Joel offered, and his intention of doing that was purely to make you feel better. Though, you couldn’t ignore the slight flutter in your belly at the idea of having his hands elsewhere. 

Giving him a nod, you sat straighter on his lap, holding his gaze as he slipped his hands underneath the flannel you wore and made a beeline for your chest. Joel didn’t flinch at the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, being told once or twice how freeing it was not to have to deal with the constant friction of clothes against your heated skin.

He palmed both of your breasts and squeezed, his grip just strong enough to calm the throbbing of the swelling from your change in hormones. Your eyes closed as you focused on his touch, allowing Joel to do whatever he wanted with you, what he knew best.

“Feelin’ better?” You heard him ask, humming out in reply. He grinned at your reaction, the hum sounding close to a purr as he pawed at your chest.

Taking his hands out from underneath your—his shirt, you whined, a smirk tugging at the corners of Joel’s lips. Lifting the top of the flannel to rest on your collarbone, his attention went back to your breasts, looking at them with a mix of desire and affectionate pity.

“Poor baby. Hormones got my girl all cranky and upset.” He said, placing a soft kiss on the top of each breast before handling your body once more. You don’t know whether or not he was deliberately teasing you when you were the most vulnerable, but just hearing his voice was doing wonders to soothe your nerves.

You’ve always been fascinated with Joel’s hands since you met him, watching how he’d hold the handle of his gun or insert ammo into the magazine before reloading. His palms were rough, and his fingers were rougher, representing a man who’s lived a long life, who’s done unspeakable things to survive and get to this point. To most, they’d dislike the feeling of having so much of a contrast, but to you, the difference of his skin against yours was almost euphoric.

Joel squeezed with more purpose, focusing on tightening his grasp along the sides where the pain was the most prominent. One harsh thumb came to stroke at your sensitive nipple in gentle circles, pulling a breathless moan from between your lips. The smile on his face widened when his ears picked up the sound, moving to do a combination of deliberate squeezes and circles on the exposed nubs.

The warmth of his touch morphed into something else, need coiling in your stomach and clawing up your throat. As discretely as you could, your hips shifted further into his, craving much more than what he was giving you. Joel couldn’t help himself and brought you closer to him, grinding his hips up into yours. That got your attention, looking into his hazel eyes to find his pupils narrowly dilated.

“If you need me to rub somethin’ else, I can.” Despite the years worn on his face, he still had a certain boyish charm that jerked at your heartstrings when he flirted with you. Or, maybe it was just his southern gentleman persona, ever so willing to tend to your needs no matter what they may be.

“You’re annoying.” You mumbled to him, stubbornly refusing to outright beg for his affection, regardless of how badly you craved it.

“And you’re moody.” Joel kissed you tenderly, drawing away and snickering when you leaned forward to chase his lips for another.

“Let daddy make you feel good. Alright, darlin’?” You nodded dumbly at the proposition of getting something more than your tits massaged.

His eyes flashed with lust, making quick work to peel off the flannel and toss it to the ground. Already growing hard at the thought of having his way with you, he tilted towards you, kissing the column of your neck and letting his beard tickle your skin. You released a shaky exhale, fingers running through his graying hair and tipping your head back to grant him more access to your skin.

“Atta girl.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel x reader #joel x you #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #tw menstrual cycle #tw periods #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

[urfavlarry]

If you're comfortable with that, maybe female reader getting the stars tattooed on her forearm sh scars? Like the "you drew stars around my scars" line by taylor swift. And some of the stars are just normal stars, some lines and some are stars drew by joost. And also maybe before tattooing them, her asking joost to draw stars on a piece of paper

You drew stars around my scars

Joost Klein x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of sh scars, swearing, some school trauma, back stabbing/fake friends, most likely bad grammar

genre: fluff/hurt comfort

summarry: Joost has never really noticed your sh scars despite being with you for almost half a year. You got used to covering them but you decided it would be a cute idea to get a tattoo on the things that caused you such sorrow in your high school years

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Joost kept asking you about what the stars were for all week, following you around and trying to get at least the slightest bit of information out of you. You never gave him a straight answer or you avoided the question completely. Joost was going mad, staying up with his thoughts and questions running through his mind like mathematical equations. What could you possible need him to draw stars for? A week ago you came up to him with your beautiful and sweet smile which lit up his day all the time. He hugged you, kissing you on the nose before letting you speak your mind. “Could you pretty please draw a few stars for me? Different sizes please.” You ask and he raises a brow at your mischief, but did as you told him, drawing you quite a lot of stars, circling the ones he like the most before handing the piece of paper to you. You smiled and kissed his forehead before going off somewhere.

A week later he was home alone while you were off somewhere in another country visiting a friend you haven’t seen for quite some time. Joost would’ve gone with you but he had important plans for the day of the departure which you understood. He texted every day, asking you how your day was and sending you videos or voice messages of him telling you and showing you how his day way and what he did. He missed you dearly but you were coming back tommorow night, which gave him so much energy he couldn’t even sleep from the pure excitement of seeing you again. You on the other hand were nervous. Of course, excitement filled your body from even thinking about going back but it was the first time you would be telling Joost about your high school years. Well it could go many possible ways, but you mostly tried to think about the positive outcomes. Joost wasn’t the type to get angry at someone for this, he’s going to be there for you and you’re confident in that statement.

Around 5:38AM you got to the airport, the plane was supposed to be departing at around 7:40AM. You texted Joost the whole time you were waiting for the plane, saying your goodbyes once you were supposed to board the plane. The hours felt like 15 minutes, getting off you took a uber home so you wouldn’t bother Joost. Once you got there, you walked to your shared apartment and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Anxiety filled every single part of you, but you tried your best to shake it off, unlocking the door and get greeted with the warmth of the apartment. A quiet curse could be heard in the room and a few crashes, which alarmed you but then again you’re living with Joost Klein, so you weren’t that scared. You walk to the living room/kitchen and see Joost there holding your favourite flowers and what looked like a hand made gift. You smile softly, walking over and hugging him, not letting him go for a few minutes. He looked tired but happy to see you, leaving kisses all over your face.

Spending the day with Joost was all you could’ve asked for, but he still didn’t notice the new tattoo that was on your upper arm. That’s where the scars that haunted you during your high school years were. You hoped he would notice them first because you didn’t have a clue how to even start that conversation. What would you even say? Hey so I hurt myself in highschool and got this tattoo! Cool ain’t it? Of course not! Little did you know that Joost noticed the tattoo, he was just trying to approach the subjest in a not ignorant way. He understood how you felt, life gets really tough and he’s sad to see you went through something so bad you had to go to that for comfort. He decided to run his fingertips along the scars, making you gasp slightly and put your hand on top of his. You look at him, beautiful ocean blue eyes looking at you with nothing but sympathy. “I.. uh, how do I start this..” You say, trying to explain yourself but Joost just brings you into a warm embrace. “You don’t need to explain yourself my love, I’m sorry you had to go through something so horrible to make yourself do this.” He says with comfort but hesitance, choosing his words carefully. It was clear he cared but he had no idea what to even say in this situation. “I think it’s time you know.” You say and he nods, kissing your forehead and grabbing your hands, and interlocking your fingers.

And so you tell him everything, from start to finish. How school overwhelmed you and never finding the right people at school, all of them always stabbing you in the back in some way. You felt like it was a silly reason, something that wasn’t as serious as other peoples problems but he made you push those thought away. “Everyone has their own struggles, none are bigger then the others. They are all the same. It’s something that bothers you and just because someone had a ‘better reason to do it’ , which is totally not true and nobody should say or think, you should never think they aren’t important and don’t need help because the internet says they aren’t valid.” His soft smile was intoxicating, slowly making your frown turn into the smile he so loved.

“Thank you, thank you so much Joost.” You say, tears threatening to fall. They weren’t sad tears, of course not they were the tears of pure relief and joy. He wiped your tears, kissing your cheek and then looks at you with his signature, cute smile. “Live the tattoo.” He says and you giggle, showing it off to him. His eyes light up when he sees the stars he drew, along with other stars. You told him about every single one and who they were from and what they had to do with it and why you even let them draw a star for you. He listened to every single word that came out of your mouth, asking about your silly tales every now and then, which made you even more excited to talk about it. Joost couldn’t stop looking st the tattoo, tracing both the scars and stars, taking multiple pictures and showing them off to both his fans and friends. “So proud of her.” He would say to everyone, which made your heart melt.

That night he made a promise with you. “I promise on our never ending love i’ll always be here whenever you feel down, unworthy, unloved, sad. I’ll always be here no matter the situatuon and promise to listen to your problems.” He says, kissing your soft lips and embraced you for what felt like the 100th time that day. You stayed like that in each others comfort, letting all the bad emotions wash away into the stars of the night sky, miles and miles away.

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

!! do NOT copy or repost any of my work on other platforms !!

#joost klein fanfiction #joost klein x you #joost klein x reader #joostice for joost #free joost #joost x reader #justice for joost #joost klein #joostice #stand with joost #i love joost #joost klein requests #joost klein x y/n #joost klein imagine #eurovision requests #eurovision x reader #eurovision fanfiction #europapa #eurovision

[stayinlimbo]

Hoodie Season

pairing: lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to friends with feelings(?), fluff, subtle realization of feelings(?), or maybe they've been there all along, pitiful attempts at me trying to be funny, mc has hair long enough to be blown in their face, mc's gender not specified word count: 1.13k note: this has been torturing me for months. i really tried my best here, so go easy on me ♡

“Yes.”

“No.”

"We have this conversation every time. Yes.”

“No, and that’s because you won’t admit that you’re wrong,” you huff, biting back the urge to stick your tongue out at your best friend. You refuse to stoop down to his level.

“Because I’m not? Just accept it, zip-ups are better,” Minho shrugs, lightly bumping his shoulder into yours. Or at least what he thinks is lightly before he watches you stumble onto the strip of grass next to the sidewalk and almost hit a tree. 

Catching yourself, you whip your head back towards public energy #1 and glare at the sheepish smile he gives in return as the two of you continue walking past a row of quaint shops lining the vacant street. To where, you have no clue. You don’t even think he knows. Minho just texted you to be ready in ten minutes and wear something warm for another Saturday afternoon of following wherever your best friend’s feet decide to take you. 

But let’s not forget the very important topic at hand. 

“Hoodies are superior and I will not entertain any other viewpoint,” you declare, fiddling with your warm and comfortable and warm, and, oh, did you already mention warm hoodie’s drawstrings.

“What happened to your goal of being a more open-minded person this year?”

“That’s besides the point. This is entirely different,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. The chilled wind nips at your fingers before you bury them deep into the front pocket of your hoodie. 

“Sure it is,” Minho drawls with a quirk of his lips, ignoring the not-so-subtle side eye you throw at him. “Okay, I’ll humor you this time then. Why are hoodies, in your misguided judgment, so much better?” 

“Hey— okay you know what, I’m going to let that slide this time to save your from further embarrassment while I destroy your—”

“Boo, get on with it already.”

“Don’t rush me,” you scold as Minho raises his hands in a playful surrender. “Thank you. Now, as I was saying —look at me, this is serious— hoodies are an easily available and affordable luxury item; pull them over your head and bam, instant warmth.”

“How is that any different from zipping up a jacket?” Minho deapans. “You’re not very convincing, you know that right? And what if I don’t want to look disheveled with messy hair?”

“Is that supposed to be directed at me?” you ask with a laugh, hair blowing into your face. 

Minho’s smile returns. “You said it, I didn’t.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you continue. “I’m strong enough to admit that hoodies may be a cause for bad hair days but they’re so soft and comfortable that it’s worth it. Not to mention they’re more flattering too. Just look at me.”

“You look like you got swallowed by a fabric monster that decided you weren’t tasty enough to finish eating,” Minho teases, eyes twinkling with amusement as they scan over your heavily clothed figure. 

Okay, he’s got you there with…whatever that comparison means, but it’s not your fault you just so happened to grab the baggiest hoodie you own before rushing out the door. You can’t even think of a comeback before he’s already moving on to his next question.

“What’s wrong with how zip-ups fit anyway? I think I look fine,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You can’t argue with that one either. Fine is an understatement. The black zip-up he’s wearing compliments his physique perfectly, the not too tight or loose fabric accentuating the strong-build of his upper body. Ugh, he’s really not helping you make your case here. 

“You’re an exception,” you admit with a slight shrug of your shoulders, averting your gaze upwards as the rustling leaves above begin to fall on you both. 

Minho’s hand suddenly grabs your shoulder, halting your footsteps and causing you to look back at him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. Heat rushes to your cheeks as he steps closer to you, wordlessly lifting his hand from your shoulder in favor of gently plucking out a couple of stray leaves stuck in your hair and lifting your hood over your head, shielding you further from the crisp air. 

“There, now what were you saying about me being so good-looking that I defy your zip-up expectations?” Minho chuckles, letting his hand drop back to his side. 

Your face flushes even harder. At this point, you’re not even going to need a hoodie anymore with how hot your body feels. 

“Uh, calm down, I never said that.” you defend hurriedly. ”You’re lucky I have my hands in my pocket or else you’d be the one falling on the grass.”

“Leaves you vulnerable, though.”

“Huh? What do you mea— MINHO!”

Your vision becomes blocked when Minho swiftly tugs your drawstrings, leaving only a small oval of skin exposed to the biting wind. His uncontrollable laughter dances through the air around you as you attempt to pry the hood back open, increasing in intensity when it takes you an embarrassingly longer time than it should to reveal your eyes to the world again. 

“Oh, you think that was so funny, huh?” you interrogate, glaring at his hunched over figure.

Minho stands back upright, wiping at an invisible tear. “Yeah.” 

The cheeky grin he wears slightly falters as you stalk a couple of steps forward, bringing your face closer than you ever have to his. Softer pinks hues begin to color his ears and cheeks, likely from the cold wind or his laughter, you think. 

His gaze softens as it trails down to where your hand is carefully lifting up towards his chest, finally resting flat right above the opening of his zip-up hoodie, the proximity causing a flutter in your chest. The wind begins to pick up slightly, blowing your hair into your face again. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as he lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face and tuck behind your ear, fingers delicately lingering as he opens his mouth.

“I–” he starts.

Zippppp. 

The polar breeze hits his undershirt as an involuntary shiver runs throughout his body. Your laughter rings happily in his ears, the bright sound floating in the air as it is carried by the wind. 

You pull yourself away from him, backpedaling when he sends you a faux frown threatening to break as his lips try to fight the smile blooming across his features and already residing in his eyes. Giggles escape the both of you when he takes a step forward, rezipping his jacket, before breaking into a run as your shrieking laughter and his lighthearted swears fill the empty street, footsteps echoing on the pavement.

Looks like this time, he’ll be following you. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist:  @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn @inlovewithstraykids @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21

@feelikecinderella

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know #lee minho #skz x reader #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids lee minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids minho #skz #kpop imagines #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz scenarios #lee minho fluff #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x you #stray kids x you #lee know x you #lee know x y/n

[roachspeaks]

King!Sukuna x Princess!Gojo!Reader

Part 1 to a possible series? If it’s something the people would like to see. Ideas and feedback are very appreciated. MDNI

Warnings: smut, Sukuna doing another woman, brother Gojo, young child Choso(it will come together later trust me), mentions of Sukuna cumming in another woman(nameless faceless concubine), Sukuna being a little bit of a dick, fluffy material?, uraume being possibly ooc?, Sukuna being slightly sexist(i think), cursing,(let me know if i missed anything)

MDNI

Arranged.

You’d always hated the word. Your soon to be marriage wasn't arranged. It was just seen as a fact. Something you’d endure for the sake of your kingdom, the survival of your family and people. You had no choice in the matter and you hated it. One of the downsides of being a princess in a falling kingdom. An enemy kingdom, ruled over by the infamous king, Sukuna. Threatened siege if there wasn’t an agreement. A compromise. He wanted heirs, and trade from your family. But you suppose that was just a perk of being a Gojo. Always highly desired, and yet making enemies everywhere. Your brother, Satoru, wanted to fight it. But that was what he always wanted to do. Fight against the inevitable. Your family saw it easier to just hand you over. That way there would be no war, and they’d gain an ally. As well as more heirs to both the Gojo line, and partially the Sukuna one as well. The elders in your family viewing the arrangement as beneficial on all accounts, send you off as soon as they can. Satoru, your precious baby brother, insists on accompanying you to make sure you’re safe on your journey. You want to refuse his offer, you want to keep him safe within the walls of your childhood home, but he’s stubborn. 

So now, you sit in a puffy white dress your parents, the king and queen, had practically forced you into. Claiming it would make you look like more of a presentable bride. You ride on your horse, a cloudy white stallion contrasting Satoru’s jet black mare. You’d always had a habit of doing the opposite of one another. Opposite temperaments, opposite passions, opposite opinions. Most notably opposite opinions. He adores his freedom. Sure he has his responsibilities as crown prince, but he has gotten extremely talented at avoiding those things. You however, do not have that luxury. You're the eldest, the most responsible, dependable, the one your family knows they can put pressure on. You love your family, more than the silly freedoms and indulgences that Satoru chases. 

“You look ridiculous.” He smiles teasingly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s a sadness in his piercing blues. You can’t even imagine Satoru admitting to the fact that he’s gonna miss you, but you know. He hopes you know.

“What? You don’t like my bridal attire?” You chide back. Raising your nose at him in a sort of mock offense. 

“You look like a cream puff.” He bursts out into laughter, and you can’t help but giggle(more modestly than his loud, obnoxious hysterics). You were gonna miss his laugh. 

“Oh please. You couldn’t pull this off.” You roll your eyes jokingly. He snorts, but then his face falls a fraction. He’s not smiling, his mouth in a tight, tense line. His eyes drift to where he holds his leather reins. The edges digging into the pale flesh of his hands. 

“If you ever need me…” He starts, glancing between his hands and you. 

“I’ll write you, I promise.” You smile that kind signature that he’d grown to both love and hate. He hated that your kindness made you a target for your families agenda. He recognized a long time ago that the only reason either of you existed was for the benefit of the Gojo line, and he refused to fall in line with what they wanted. He just wished you’d fight with him…

“If that Sukuna bastard lays a hand on you,” If he got any angrier at the thought, there’d be steam leaking out from his ears. “I’ll kill him.” He finishes confidently. As if there was no way he could lose. And you believe in him. In the dedication and loyalty carved into his features. 

“You think you’d win in a fight against the cursed king?” She chuckles slightly. 

“Oh yeah, I’d win.” He grins proudly. So incredibly sure of himself. But that was just Satoru, and you loved him for it. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, uneventful. Then you notice as the environment around you starts to change. As you loom closer to Sukuna’s kingdom, the sounds of birds and life fade into silence, and dark clouds roll into the sky seemingly out of nowhere. Both you and Satoru pull on your hooded cloaks as it starts raining heavily. Your loyal steeds not appreciative of the sudden change in scenery, but they press on. It doesn’t take long until you’re at the gates. The walls are tall, made of dark coloured stone. Sharp wooden spikes lining the top of the wall where guards notably patrol. It’s an intimidating sight. 

You are quickly recognized by the guards, just by the look of you and Satoru it’s clear what family you belong to. The large, heavy looking gate is opened, and you both ride slowly into the large open space. Houses stretching far, shops can be seen down one road, while stables can be seen lining another. But the thing that catches your attention is the castle. It’s tall and every part is so…intimidating. Is that truly where you’d be living? This place seems so..devoid of life. Of color and sunlight and joy…

You dismount your horse, thankful that though you may look like a cream puff, your dress reaches just high enough that it doesn't drag on the muddy ground. There is a short, fat, angry looking man that shouts at a small boy to fetch your things from your horses. The boy in question couldn't be older than 12. With a dark brunette head of longer hair, tied up in spiky pigtails, and notable redness under his eyes. Like he’d been recently and frequently crying. As well as a scarred line running from his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, to his other cheek. He scrambles to do as the man instructs. But the bags are heavy, so you go to help him. 

“Hey, I’ve got these two. Okay?” You speak softly and sweetly. Helping him with the heavier bags. “What’s your name hun?” You smile.

The boy stares awe struck at you for a couple seconds. His mouth hung open as he stares. Like he was staring at an angel. 

“Choso…I’m Choso, Kamo.” He fumbles over his words. Clearly anxious.

“Well Choso, would you mind helping me bring my things inside.” You Nod to the castle. He seems to squirm at the thought. 

“That’s king Sukuna’s domain, I don’t want to get into trouble..” He speaks quietly.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.” You raise an eyebrow to him, and he cracks a little smile. Practically beaming as he helps you with your things. 

You turn to Satoru, drawing him into a tight hug. This could be the last time you ever see your baby brother, and damn if you’d let him get away without one hug.

“Stay out of trouble.” You whisper. “And tell Suguru and Shoko they have my thanks for keeping you safe.” You give him a light squeeze. He returns it silently. 

Then, with a guilt ridden look, he rides off. And you’re left to carry your things into the throne room of the castle. Little Choso at your side. Well really behind you, glancing around nervously at every movement or flicker of candlelight. 

You find the throne room easily, it’s in the center of the castle. But when you arrive at the entrance, the big dark doors. There’s a girl, an advisor from her attire. Long white and black robes, she seemingly guards the entrance. Looking slightly irritated, but mostly just stoic. Her hair is white, with unique red splotches. Cut short, with bangs just almost covering her eyes. When she catches sight of you, she stands up a little straighter(if that was even possible). 

“You’re the Gojo princess, correct?” She speaks respectfully, no malice or ill intention in her words. 

“I am, I was hoping to see lord Sukuna, before anything else.” You speak slowly, and she nods in understanding. 

“He is…occupied. But I'm sure he won't mind your interruption. Too much…” She murmurs the last bit. “ Though I will warn you, the…business he is attending to is not for the eyes of a young boy.” She warns, waiting for your reaction. 

Slightly puzzled, you respond. “Well…would you take Choso here, to where I’ll be staying? To deliver my things.” You glance at Choso, who still looks determined to finish his task in the big scary castle.

“I’d be happy too.” She replies, seemingly relieved to get to leave her place at the door. “Come along then.” She holds her arm out for Choso to walk ahead of her. “Good luck…” She sighs quietly.

You push open the throne room doors, using minimal force that doesn’t get you very far. Stepping through, to a rather shocking and…crude, sight. Your future husband, the king of a kingdom, with a…concubine, in his lap. His cock inside of her as she raises herself up and sinks back down onto him. You seemed to arrive at the most inconvenient moment(for you) because he glances at you, making direct eye contact as he grabs her hips, slamming her back down as he fills her up. Spurts of white dripping out of her gaping hole down her thighs as he unhooks her leg from his own thigh. Pulling out of her harshly. Shoving her off of him as if she was an animal. An object for his use. The woman doesn’t say a word, actually she only says four. Murmuring something about ‘thank you my lord’ as she scurries out of the throne room. Her shawl wrapped around her bare upper half. You take not that her other clothing(what little of it there had been to begin with) had been torn, 

Sukuna looks upon you, with a rather bored expression etched into his face. Resting his head against his hand, his elbow perched on the arm of his throne. He doesn’t bother putting his cock away, still covered in various juices, still standing rock hard.

“Lord Sukuna…” You address him, breaking the weird silence that suffocated the room. 

“Princess.” He looks you slowly up and down. “I’d apologize for the…mess. And the filth..” he glances toward where the woman had scurried off to. “But I don’t care.” He finishes crudely.

“My lord, excuse my bluntness, but why am I here? You’re clearly making an effort to get an heir in…other places.” You speak with a sort of frustration. You’d been dragged to a whole different kingdom, a dreadful one, to find the man who claimed he wanted heirs, spilling himself into another random woman. 

“She cannot give children. Neither can any of the concubines in this castle. They are infertile, deemed undesirable by others in society. But they get their use serving here.” He explains it with such..simplicity. Like it’s the most basic of concepts you don’t understand. 

“And you intend to continue…this, throughout our entire marriage?” You question, growing more irritated at the circumstances.

“If my desires are not satiated.” He rolls his eyes. As if this is boring him further, as if you don’t entertain him. But you aren’t here to entertain him, you’re here to keep your kingdom from war. “Well? Come here.” He orders.

You slowly, begrudgingly make your way over to him. Standing before his throne. Up close, he’s very handsome you have to admit. Pink hair and those intense red eyes…

“Sit.” He pats his thigh. And your eyes widen. You would not sit. Not when he was still dripping in the essence of another woman. Sure, he may be handsome. But your self respect, your dignity, would not allow this. 

“I will do no such thing.” You scoff. Glaring at him with a fury he’d never seen in any woman before. It almost surprises him. Almost. He could play chase, usually he’d bore quickly of cat and mouse, but for a pretty, stubborn little thing like you? This would be fun.

He watches as you storm off, and only when you exit the throne room, does he let his grin spread across his face. He’d have you begging for his cock before the official wedding ceremony, he was sure of it.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way through the castles halls, eventually finding Choso sat on a decently sized bed. In a room with large windows. At least it didn’t feel like a prison. 

“You’re still here?” You ask carefully, still recovering from her previous interaction with the cursed king.

“I thought I’d wait for you to find your things, in case you got lost.” He stands from the bed. Looking stiff, like he’d been caught doing something bad.

“Won’t your mom be wanting you home?” You inquire, not meaning anything by it. But Choso’s face sinks. Looking visibly sad. 

“I don’t have a mom, I had my brothers…but they’re gone now.” He mumbles. His eyes drifting to the floor. This poor thing…

After barely a moment, an idea pops into you’re head. You could invite him to stay here with you. Surely Sukuna wouldn’t care(it didn’t seem to you like he cared about much of anything). 

“Choso, would you like to stay here with me? For the night, and if you wanna return to town in the morning, you’re more than welcome.” You offer the same sweet, kind and inviting smile you had when you’d first arrived. He’s practically tearing up as he hops around, excitedly chanting. ‘Yes yes yes yes’. 

That night Choso sleeps beneath the moonlight couch that sights by the window. A couple blankets wrapped around his sleeping form. You lay restless longer than you should. Just staring up at the ceiling. Wanting to be almost anywhere else. You’re grateful for the seperate sleeping arrangements, even if it’s probably only until the wedding. Tomorrow would be better, you’d just avoid Sukuna with his rude, vulgar tendencies. And he could fuck all the concubines he wished. Hopefully when you consummated you’re union, it would just take. Then you’d hopefully never have to do it again. He’d get his heir, and that would be the end of it. Though it’s an unrealistic sentiment, you hope for it to be possible. As you slowly drift off. Plagued with nightmares of some dark creature, four arms, covered in familiar black markings. The ones you’d noticed on Sukuna…

I do not give permission for my writing to be copied, republished, put through ai simulations, or anything of the sort.

If you’d like to add to this, or submit asks and feedback you can and are encouraged to do so through reblogs, comments, and asks. I’d love to interact.

#x reader #Sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk au #sukuna x reader #Jjk x reader #anime #Gojo!reader #smut #sukuna smut #Jjk smut

[nanaminokanojo]

Between 7:00pm and 8:31pm | gojo x you

TW/CW: mentions of death/dying | shibuya arc | misanthropic thoughts | just angst | strong language

"For the greater good? Fuck that."

Four pairs of eyes simultaneously darted towards you, devoid of judgment. More or less, they understood what you were getting at, but you knew what they meant without words. You weren't supposed to say that. Such was your duty and purpose as a jujutsu sorcerer. But you did anyway, giving a voice to the white elephant in the room, acknowledging what everyone was afraid to even give a single moment's thought.

The greater good? Who does it serve anyway? At whose expense? Your friends' lives? Why? Because you were stronger than the rest of humanity? The strongest for the preservation of the lives of the weak?

You were strong. That should be the end of the conversation. You didn't owe anyone for it. You chose to be strong, and those who were born like you weren't there to play the role of anyone's savior just because they have the means.

Fushiguro Megumi was right: you weren't heroes. You may choose whom you want to save. Your addition to that was the fact that you can choose whether to save others or not. That's the cold, hard truth you wanted to live by without having to apologize for it, but that would shake the very foundations the jujutsu society stood for.

You looked towards Gojo. You knew he was looking at you even with his blindfold on and the lack of physical indication that his attention was on you. And somehow, it seemed to weigh more than any of the looks every one else in the room gave you. It angered you that he was resigned to it all when he was the best out of all of you, the strongest, the honored one. He can do whatever the hell he wants and yet he was there with you, wholeheartedly accepting orders to deal with whatever was happening in Shibuya at the moment.

Alone.

"Now isn't the time to –" Nanami spoke, and you usually wouldn't dare with the degree of respect you held for him, but you interrupted him.

"No, seriously. What does this have to do with us?" you asked, stunning them further. You looked at Nanami who was able to escape this life but came back anyway, confusion and rage glimmering in your eyes despite your calm manner. He could have a good life away from everything, but what the hell was he doing there?

And now they're thinking of sending Gojo alone to play along with whatever schemes the enemies are brewing? They're letting him walk into something that – although he was possibly capable of putting an end to – was, by all means, a trap? You refused to stand for it.

You didn't understand. Ever since you were a child, you were taught and trained to become what you are: a jujutsu sorcerer before you were a human; a tool for this greater good – whatever that meant – before you're a feeling, living being. But as time passed by, watching all the people you knew, good ones, lose their lives for this one-track cause, the less you knew. Why do you have to save them? Lives begin and end. It's just there. Why should those people's lives matter more than yours did? Because they're good? On whose standards?

"Y/N," Yaga warned, evidently seeing the ghost of someone he thought he knew well from last year. "This has already been decided by the higher-ups."

"And nobody dared question it?"

"You're treading dangerous waters there," the principal stated, raising his voice. "This is what we do. It's what you chose to do. Have you come to resent it?"

"There lies my mistake."

Shoko placed a hand on your shoulder. "You don't mean that."

"Geto was right." There, you said it, distabilizing the very principles you all stood for.

"Don't go there –"

You gave everyone a sweeping glare, silencing even Yaga. "His methods will never be right, but he knew what he was talking about." You chuckled bitterly. "He always did. And now he's gone."

You started walking out of the room but paused by the bench where Gojo was seated, still looking unbothered. "I never cared that you were the strongest. To me, you're just Satoru."

You looked behind your shoulder. "That applies to you all."

"Where are you going?" Nanami asked.

"You will excuse me if I do not wish to have a hand in murdering my friends or myself for that matter."

**

"You underestimate me."

You blew the cigarette smoke you were holding in as you stared at the clear signs of veils laid out over the busy streets of Shibuya from where you stood on a building rooftop. Without acknowledging the presence behind you, you finished the last drag of smoke, the burn in your throat and lungs feeling better than all your bitter thoughts and feelings towards the world you've come to know.

"'Just Satoru', eh?"

"You're purposefully being an idiot if you didn't understand what I meant by that." You glanced at Gojo when he came close enough. "Even more so if you think I'll ever underestimate you."

He chuckled. "So, you don't want me to go?" he asked in that melodic, carefree voice, slightly bending down towards the side as if he needed that to take a better look at you. "You have so little faith –"

"Faith, I have too much in you, not because you're strong, but because you are you. What I don't have is sympathy or trust for anyone who thinks they can rely on you all the time to straighten things out."

"And proud?" You let out a humorless laugh. "There's nothing to be proud of in death. There's never any ounce of dignity in it whether you die saving others or if you get snuffed out meaninglessly. It all ends the same way."

His weirdly glossy lips protruded at your sentiment. "Aren't you proud that people are able rely on us?"

"This is wrong." Everything was conveyed in those three words you uttered without any need for elaboration. Gojo merely smiled.

"So, you're scared of dying?"

"No. Dying is easy. That's all where we're headed at one point. You know what's terrifying though?"

"What?"

You finally looked at him. "Giving your life to this cause knowing it changes nothing."

"How very nihilistic."

You shrugged. "A hundred years from now, curses will still be around, kept alive by the very beings we're fighting for at present. And for what? For future generations who will produce curses, stronger and harder to fathom and defeat? All because they can't accept they're just products of a chance in their search to have higher purpose and superiority in life.

We ourselves are cursed. We control that very form of energy to prevent it from evolving into monsters, but it eats us up for the very same reasons."

"Those reasons being...?"

"We're stronger so perhaps we should be responsible for protecting lives around us. Whoever thought of that was fucking cocky, but really, who are we kidding, Gojo?"

He snickered, no doubt thrilled by your unfiltered thoughts. After him, you were probably the biggest thorn on the higher-ups' side with your radical thoughts, at least by their standards. But he still wanted you to jump all the hoops. "Thus your belief that Suguru was right?"

"I'm worse than him. I just don't act on it. I'm super sold on the fact that humans are the scum of the earth, sorcerer or not."

"You're human and a sorcerer?" he pointed out, trying to vex you.

"Exactly."

Gojo patted your head. "And yet you're still here for the very purpose you dare spit on."

You smirked at him. "I don't want you to have to kill another one of your friends for insubordination and subscribing to the ideologies of our realm's Lord Voldemort."

"Suguru had hair and a nose though?"

"He's prettier, too, that cult-leading fucker, but not the point, dumbass."

It was both funny and sad how you speak of the fallen Geto Suguru so fondly as if he didn't kickstart the most massive chaos in recent jujutsu history. But like Gojo, to you, he was just Suguru.

Just then, Gojo pulled you into his long arms, giving you a bear hug that annoyed you more than anything. "You've always been our sweetest Y/N even if you act like Ryomen Sukuna's spawn."

You pushed Gojo off of you, straightening your hair out in irritation. "He's my ancestor after all."

You both made disgusted faces at that little detail about you, but as always, Gojo was quick to recover into his cheerful façade. "Don't worry. I'll be back."

He said that, but not even an hour later, you were hearing Itadori Yuuji screaming from the top of a building in the middle of the deserted Shibuya.

Gojo Satoru has been sealed by none other than the very person – or at least whatever now resides in him – whose beliefs you agreed were right.

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk #jkk x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst

[hisfavoriteflvr]

Summer Wine ✿

Jude was a man that acted on impulse, you knew that, but it never ceased to shock you each time he made decisions on the spot. You certainly weren't expecting him to randomly ask you to accompany him to a vineyard somewhere in the countryside of Madrid, but you were never one for much self control either. He told you it would be for a single weekend, during which you’ll stay at the guesthouse, and receive a thorough tour from the workers. You were even allowed to keep a bottle or two of the wine made, and that was enough to convince you.

The only downside to the trip was that Jude couldn’t drive, and up until the morning of departure he hadn’t mentioned what method of transportation you two were going to take. You surrendered, believing you were going to drive all the way to the countryside, but you were saved that morning when Jude started rushing you, telling you the car was here. 

“It’s just one weekend, baby, please” he whined as you shoved a few last minute items into one of the bags, rolling your eyes as you walked past him, finally ready. “Fucking hell, thank you” 

The ride was as long as you had expected it to be, the sun nearly blinding you where you sat in the backseat. Jude sat next to you, as clingy as ever, refusing to sit in the passenger seat. 

“Jude, get off me, it’s too hot” you muttered, pushing at him, but he simply got closer to you, muttering something about the ac being on. You sighed, giving up as he kept himself draped over your side, his head resting on your shoulder with your arm linked in his. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep in that position, now making it for sure impossible to move him. 

But you deemed all the struggle worth it when you finally got there, waking Jude off only to quickly hop out of the car, admiring the place. It was flawless, you could see the rows of lush green vines from where you stood, the farmhouse standing big and tall before you. You paid no attention to Jude and the driver until the car drove off and jude stood next to you, dragging both of your bags, with your purse on his shoulder, ever the gentleman. 

“Hey, come on I want to take a picture of you in front of it” he ushered you, dropping the bags and pulling out a film camera from his pocket. You giggled at his gesture, not expecting the noise signaling that he had taken the picture. As he made his way to where you stood by the entrance, pocketing his camera and smiling at you, you couldn’t help but tease him for being so sappy.

“You love it” he grumbled in response, nudging you inside. You let him take care of all the talking, simply following him around to your supposed room, then to where the tour guide sat. 

You tuned out that conversation as well, simply fascinated by the scenery. You were getting dragged by Jude, his hand never leaving yours as you two followed the tour guide that was talking about what you briefly picked up on to be the history of this very place. 

“Here, try it” the tour guide then handed you each a handful of grapes, before proceeding to walk away. The two of you ate away at the grapes for the rest of the walk, Jude only turning around to take another picture of you mid bite with his camera.

“Are you gonna keep those?” you groaned, having no idea what you looked like in those pictures that he took, and he simply nodded. 

By the end of the tour you got to the winery, where you two were allowed to do a little wine testing, and sure enough you were allowed to keep a bottle as well. And when you finally got back to the guest house, neither of you wasted any time in showering, tired and worn out as you got into bed much earlier than you usually would. 

“See? You should start letting me plan stuff more often” Jude chimed from his spot against your chest, clearly fighting sleep to revel in his victory. You decided to ignore him, not wanting to admit that you were indeed pleased with his decision.

✧ --------- ✧ --------- ✧

asks/requests are open

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid #jb5 #jb22 #x reader #jude bellingham fanfic #fluff

[neonghostlights]

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Actress!reader

Best friends to lovers

Series masterlist

A/n: thank you for those who stuck around and still love these two as much as I do.

Warnings: Reader is healing from domestic abuse and a car accident, injuries mention, alcoholism and drug addiction.

Chapter Fourteen: I Wanna Get Better

November 1992

“There’s only one bed.”

His voice was solemn, worried. Like he expected you to panic. 

“Eddie, that is hardly the end of the world.”

Eddie’s head snapped up to look at you, argument ready. 

You held up a finger to silence him. 

“We have slept in the same bed more times than I can count, probably more times than I’ve slept on my own . Why is it a big deal now? Because I know for a fact that you know that I know you snore.” 

You walked to the bed, one hand on the wooden four poster frame and the other running over the soft white comforter. 

“Because you’re supposed to have your own space. You’re supposed to be healing,” he argued, voice whining slightly, the way it always did when he knew he was losing an argument. 

It was strange how much you remembered about Eddie. The little things about him stayed tattooed in your memories. But it wasn’t like you still felt close to Eddie. Your time apart had made him feel like a stranger to you and it was a strange feeling of discomfort that skated across your skin when you realized that this stranger probably knew everything about you too. 

You brushed those thoughts aside as you looked at the plush bedding. The hours of traveling and your injuries were catching up to you. You still ached head to toe and you could feel your eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment the longer you stood beside the bed with the promise of comfort before you. 

“Do you need to rest?” Eddie asked, and you nodded quickly before pulling down the bed sheets and climbing into the bed without even changing your clothes. 

“I’m just gonna take a really quick nap,” you mumbled. You drifted away before he even had the chance to respond. 

—

It was dark in the house when you opened your eyes again. 

And for a moment you panicked before you realized where you were and what had happened to you. He hated when you napped. He always said it was lazy. You would probably would have been tired enough to fall back asleep but the fight or flight rushing through you had you sitting up in the bed and searching the room for Eddie. 

You had half expected to see him standing in the same spot as you left him. 

You slowly climbed out of the bed, stepping lightly enough not to irritate the injury in your ribs. 

You didn’t have the time to explore the bedroom that would be yours and Eddie’s for the next unforeseeable future. The planner in you hated that you had no plan at all. 

But Eddie had asked you to trust him to take care of you. So you were going to do that even if he had let you down before. Trusting him was all you were able to do now. 

Your feet met the hardwood floor when you stepped off the plush rug that sat under the four poster bed. You shuffled to the window, pulling back the sheer curtain slightly. You half expected to see a line of cameras waiting for you but all you were met with was the moon shining on the water and the glistening sand right outside the window. 

Eddie had brought you to a little beach town in Rhode Island. From what you could see from it on the ride over was that it was small and charming. 

All you could do was hope that no one found out where you were. The news would die down eventually. People had short memories and they would move on to something else at some point but that point in time was a mystery to you. 

You saw a wave roll into shore and you knew that despite how beautiful it looked that the air would be freezing with the coldness that came along with November in the north. 

After finding a bathroom with an impressive jacuzzi tub that you knew was going to feel amazing when you had the energy to get into it, you wandered off to find Eddie. 

You found him writing in a journal, sprawled out across the tan couch in the center of the living room. He had the curtains drawn so he couldn’t see the outside world, or more importantly it couldn’t see him. 

His brows were furrowed as he wrote with one hand and flicked something between his fingers on the other hand; it had to be a guitar pic. 

“You’re awake,” he stated, snapping this journal shut and sliding the pic into his pocket. “You want something to eat? They stocked the kitchen for us with all of your favorites.” 

You could tell when he was hiding something. 

“What were you writing? Corroded Coffins next hit?” You teased, trying to hide the tension that was smoking up the room. Was it hard to breathe for Eddie or just you? 

You padded across the room and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

Eddie looked away from you and you could tell by the way his shoulders stiffen that he didn’t want to say what he was about to. 

“Corroded Coffin is taking a break.”

The tone of his voice made you think that it wasn’t as temporary as he was trying to portray, nor was it seeming like it was his decision at all. 

“A break?! Why? Because you’re here with me? Eddie, you built Corroded Coffin yourself. They can’t force you out because for once you’re not touring or partying with them and god forbid you just take a break for once in your life. I can’t believe this! I mean who-” 

“Breathe, breathe,” Eddie reminded you with his hands up in the air, ushering you to calm down. 

“You’re jumping to conclusions….sort of. I’m going to tell you something that I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you and I didn’t think I would have on our first day here but, damn it, you know how hard it is to keep secrets from you. I should’ve figured you would force the truth out of me eventually.” He fiddled with the guitar pic that he had pulled from his pocket and you watched as it smoothly guided through his fingers. 

You nodded for him to keep going, knowing that if you interrupted he would probably force this conversation down something completely random just to get out of saying what he needed to. 

“I…have a problem. And it’s taken me a long while to admit it. This trip isn’t just for you to heal but me too. The partying lifestyle finally caught up to me while me and you weren’t speaking and I became addicted…to a lot of things. The band kicked me out because I went too far and embarrassed them during an interview and I really am trying to be better. I went to a short stay at a rehab and I’ve been clean for a little over six months,” he admitted, holding out the guitar pic to you that wasn’t even a pic at all, but a 6 month sobriety coin. 

“I let you down. I let the band down. I let Wayne down,” he continued. “And even now that I’m back on track the guys won’t answer my calls and at the hospital was the first time I had the guts to even speak to Wayne and I just feel like there are a million ways to tell you how fucked up I am now.”

You blamed yourself. If you had been there instead of parading around town with Collin then you would have been able to stop this, to help reel Eddie in when things went too far. Even you knew that thought was ridiculous. There was no such thing as reeling Eddie in. The man had always fought against control, even from you. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted. There were a lot of thoughts bouncing around your head, all of which you wanted to scream. You wanted to yell and hit and break things but you also wanted to grab Eddie and hug him. You wanted to tell him that he would never have to fall to that dark place again because you would always be there to turn on the light for him. 

But you couldn’t say that to him because even you were able to note that the time apart had taken a toll on the both of you. Were you still close enough that you could hug him now? Or is that only a privilege people who are truly close with him can have? 

“Just say something,” he practically begged. 

“I’m so proud of you for getting help,” you told him, deciding that a hug would be too far so you placed your hand on his instead. He welcomed your touch, sandwiching your hands between his. 

He released a shaky breath and let go of your hands to slide the coin back into his pocket. 

“Eddie Munson, I think you and I have some healing to do,” you finally said. 

And Eddie smiled.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #rockstar!eddiemunson x actress!reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader

[houserautha]

honestly don’t really remember if you’ve done this trope already BUT “who did this to you?” WITH FEYD?? I NEED

I haven’t but WHY HAVENT I??? IT WORKS SO WELL FOR HIM

My instant thought is that this would fit well with a mini fic I’m slowly working on, where Feyd acquires a Fremen wife after killing her husband in an Amtal Rule fight.

TW: mention of abuse

“Who did this to you?”

The darkness, thankfully, obscures your face from him. Yet you still turn away.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say softly.

“Tell me.”

The tone of his voice suggests that you ought to listen. Your throat works as you swallow, doing your best to curb the memory of your deceased husband’s hands on you. “Drafir,” you tell him.

Feyd stiffens behind you.

You had been perched on the edge of the bed together when he reached to loosen your stays for you, the protest that formed on your tongue dying before you could even utter it — Feyd’s fingers were deft, confident, and it had taken no time at all for him to undo the laces. And as the dress fell away, you clutching it to your chest, he got a glimpse of the crisscross of scars on your back. You had avoided any opportunity to see the aftermath of the abuse, but you supposed there was no hiding it now.

A sob catches in your chest when you feel the feather-light brush of his fingers across the raised surface of your scars. There’s no lust in his touch, not that you can detect, just quiet curiosity.

“If I would’ve known, I would’ve made his death much, much worse,” Feyd rasps finally.

“It doesn’t matter,” you reply, attempting to subtly cover yourself again. You suddenly feel too exposed, too vulnerable, like a kangaroo mouse under the gaze of a hungry vulture.

“Don’t hide from me,” Feyd says, firmly but not unkindly nudging your hand away. “I want to see what he’s done. I want to see every strike that I should’ve given him in return.”

“You don’t have to avenge me,” you tell him. “Like you said before, I am not your wife in any matter but tradition. My pain is mine alone to bear.”

Feyd launches to his feet and at first you believe him to be angry at you, which is paralyzing. But then you realize that the cause of his pacing is Drafir, the dead man, the one that he had killed but apparently not violently enough. He stops abruptly, standing before you, indecisive and torn but ultimately sinking to his knees at your side.

His hands are large, warm, enveloping yours, rough with callouses but surprisingly gentle. “I know this is not the life you wanted to live, but I do not regret killing him. My only regret is that I didn’t make him suffer how he deserved.”

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #fanfic writing #fanfic

[skywalker1dream]

Title: The uncertain future

note: im sorry if i hurt anyone.... believe i cried while writing this too.... i wanted happy ending but.....yea..dont hate me pleas.

Summary: As the sister of Lewis Hamilton, you watched the friendship between him and Nico Rosberg flourish and then crumble. Your heart, however, has always belonged to Nico. Now, with old wounds reopened and hidden feelings exposed, you find yourself torn between the love of your life and the brother you adore. In this tragic love story, you must make a heart-wrenching decision that will change everything.

Warnings: Angst, emotional conflict, family tension, panic attack

---------------------

The sound of engines roaring in the distance was a constant reminder of the world you lived in. The world where your brother, Lewis Hamilton, was a star, and where your heart had silently but steadfastly clung to Nico Rosberg.

You were standing at the edge of the paddock, watching as Lewis and Nico avoided each other, the tension between them palpable. It had been years since their friendship had broken down, and yet the pain was still fresh. You could see it in Lewis’s eyes whenever Nico’s name was mentioned, and you could feel it in the pit of your stomach whenever you saw Nico.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The three of you had grown up together, sharing dreams and ambitions. But as Lewis and Nico’s rivalry intensified, so did the cracks in their friendship. You were caught in the middle, torn between the love for your brother and the hidden feelings you harbored for Nico.

Nico spotted you and walked over, his eyes softening as they met yours. “Hey, can we talk?” he asked quietly, his voice a blend of hope and hesitation.

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Sure, let’s go somewhere private.”

The two of you found a quiet corner away from the prying eyes of the media and the team. Nico took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I know it’s complicated with Lewis and everything, but… I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Nico, I… I’ve felt the same way. But Lewis… he’ll never accept it.”

Nico reached out, taking your hands in his. “I know it’s not fair to ask you to choose, but I can’t pretend anymore. I need to know if there’s a chance for us, despite everything.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into his. “I want to be with you, Nico. But I don’t want to hurt Lewis. He’s my brother, and he’s already lost so much.”

“Then what do we do?” Nico’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how.....how to choose between you two.”

-----------------

The next few days were a blur of races, press conferences, and strained conversations. You avoided Lewis, knowing that your face would betray the turmoil inside you. But you couldn’t avoid him forever.

One evening, Lewis cornered you in your hotel room, his expression a mixture of confusion and hurt. “What’s going on with you and Nico?” he demanded, his voice tight with emotion.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the secret you had been carrying. “Lewis, I didn’t want to tell you because I knew it would hurt you. But… I’m in love with him. I have been for a long time.”

Lewis’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, as if physically struck by your words. “You’re in love with Nico? After everything he’s done?”

“It’s not that simple,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “I love him, but I love you too. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Lewis shook his head, his expression hardening. “You have to choose, [your name]. You can’t have both. If you’re with him, you’re betraying me.”

Your heart shattered at his words, the decision you had been dreading now laid bare before you. “Lewis, please don’t make me do this.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to,” he insisted, his voice cold and final. “It’s him or me.”

----------------

That night, you met Nico in the hotel lobby, your heart heavy with the decision you had made. He looked at you, hope and fear mingling in his eyes. “What did he say?”

You took a deep breath, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “He said I have to choose. And I.....I choose him, Nico. I’m..... I’m so sorry.”

Nico’s face crumpled, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I understand. I always knew it might come to this. I just… I wish things were different.”

You clung to him, the tears flowing freely now. “So do I. More than anything.”

-------------------

The days that followed were a blur of pain and heartache. You watched as Nico moved on, his eyes losing some of their spark. Lewis, too, seemed more distant, a part of him closed off forever.

You had made your choice, but the cost was more than you could bear. In choosing your brother, you had lost the love of your life. And in losing Nico, you had lost a part of yourself.

As you stood alone at the edge of the paddock, the roar of the engines a distant echo, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had made the right choice. But some choices, once made, can never be undone.

One particularly grueling day, the weight of your decision bore down on you more heavily than usual. Every interaction felt hollow, every laugh forced. You felt like a ghost of yourself, drifting through life without purpose. The pressure built until you could no longer hold it back.

You were in the paddock, surrounded by the familiar noise and chaos of race day, when the panic attack hit. Your chest tightened, and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. The world spun around you, and your vision blurred. You stumbled, clutching at your chest as you tried to draw in a breath, but it felt like your lungs were being squeezed by an iron fist.

Lewis was the first to notice. He rushed to your side, his face etched with worry. “[your name], what’s wrong? Talk to me!”

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was shake your head, tears streaming down your face as you fought for air. Lewis wrapped his arms around you, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. “It’s okay. Just breathe. I’m here.”

Gradually, the world came back into focus, and you managed to draw in a shaky breath. But the relief was short-lived. The emotional dam broke, and you snapped.

“This is all your fault!” you screamed, pushing Lewis away. “You....you made me choose! You made me give up the love of my life!”

Lewis’s face fell, hurt and confusion mixing in his eyes. “[ your name], I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” you spat, the anger boiling over. “You tore my heart in two! You made me choose between you and Nico, and now I’m broken. I can’t....I can’t live like this anymore, Lewis. I can’t live without him.”

Lewis’s expression crumpled, and he reached out to you, but you stepped back. “I need to fix this. I need to be with Nico.”

Before he could respond, you turned and fled, your heart pounding as you made your way to Nico’s home. Every step felt like a race against time, a desperate bid to reclaim the happiness you had lost.

------------

When you arrived at Nico’s door, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorbell. What if it was too late? What if he had moved on, leaving you behind in the wreckage of your choices?

But you had to try. Taking a deep breath, you rang the bell.

After a few moments, the door opened. But it wasn’t Nico who stood before you. It was a woman, her expression one of polite curiosity. “Can I help you?”

Your heart plummeted. “I… I’m looking for Nico. Is he here?”

The woman hesitated, glancing over her shoulder before looking back at you. “He’s not here right now. Can I tell him who’s asking?”

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. “Just… tell him [your name] stopped by.”

She nodded, offering a sympathetic smile. “I’ll let him know.”

As the door closed, you stood there, feeling the weight of the world crashing down on you. It was too late. Nico had moved on, and you were left standing on the doorstep of what could have been.

----------------------

The drive back was a blur. You felt numb, the pain of your decision and the realization of its consequences settling like a leaden weight in your chest. When you arrived at your hotel, Lewis was waiting for you, his expression a mixture of concern and guilt.

“Did you find him?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, unable to meet his eyes. “He’s not there. He’s with someone else now.”

Lewis stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, darling. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you finally looked at him. “But you did, Lewis. And now I’ve lost everything...”

He pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly as you sobbed into his chest. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

But as you clung to him, the void inside you remained. The love you had lost, the life you had given up, all of it weighed heavily on your heart.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #sir lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #nico rosberg x reader #nico rosberg x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fanfic #brocedes #brocedes fic

[doomhands-jr]

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 1

Noah Sebastian X Reader Summary: Noah is a delinquent and you are the pastor's daughter.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Masterlist

__________

“Why would someone do something like that?” you asked, staring down at the picture on your phone.  “I don’t know, sweetheart,” you dad’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I can only guess that he’s clearly lost and hurting.”  You stared once again at the photo displayed across your screen. A black, horned figure stared back at you with the letters HAIL SATA scrawled in red underneath. At least they didn’t finish the last word. Could someone go to Hell for saying that? You weren’t sure. It made you uncomfortable though.

You didn’t like to think about anyone going to Hell. Suffering for eternity with no way out? A lifetime of being burned alive? Your throat started to close up and you knew you had to stop thinking about it too much or you would have an anxiety attack. That happened sometimes when you thought about Hell too much. It’s why you always tried to make sure you were on the right side of the Bible.

“Do they know who did it?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Caught him trying to scale a fence. The paint on his forefinger matched the colors on the wall. He spent the night in custody. They’re asking if I want to press charges.”

“Do you?” you asked.

“Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like to negotiate his sentence. Some community service would do him some good, don’t you think?”  “I suppose,” you mentioned, not sure where your dad was going with this.  “I need you to monitor it.”

“Monitor what?” you said, not quite putting two and two together.

“The community service. Are you listening?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, shaking your head rid of the thoughts that had crept in. You’d started thinking about Hell again. “Why me?” you asked.  “Because I trust you,” he said. You groaned internally. “I need you to witness to this boy. He’s a lost soul and needs to be brought to the Lord. It’s only for a few weeks. Saturday mornings from eight to noon. I know you can do that.”

You sighed. Your father always did this. You were tired of the guilt trips, but they still worked every time. Besides, what’s more important to you? Sleeping in on Saturdays or someone’s eternal fate? You were being selfish.  “Fine, but I want a leadership role at the youth center this year.”

“Done. I’ll call you later with more details. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You slumped forward. There goes the rest of your Saturday mornings. They were the only day out of the week you actually got to sleep in, since you had Church every Sunday morning.

At least you’d be working closely with Isaac during the week. You melted a little even thinking about him.

He was the praise and worship leader for the campus youth group, and the most attractive man you’d ever seen. You’d kissed last summer during a game of truth or dare among the rest of the staff at the summer camp, but haven’t made progress on that front since.

You sighed and fell back into bed, acknowledging that this was likely your only opportunity to sleep in for a while, allowing your thoughts to stay on Isaac and go as far as you could before it turned to lust (a sin).

_________

The chilly mid-October wind sent shivers coursing through you. Three weeks had passed since your dad had informed you that you’d be conducting community service. It was 7:56 AM and you were standing, clipboard in hand, next to the marred wall of the youth center, waiting for the delinquents to show up.

Delinquents, plural. Apparently, they caught the guy’s accomplice with the help of security footage. 

“Excuse me, am I in the right place?”

You looked up from the clipboard to see a young man with a friendly smile.

“Name?” you asked.

“Nick,” he answered. You looked down at your clipboard and wrote the time next to his name.

Nick had striking features. He wore a backwards ball cap, a black hoodie, black jeans, and a denim jacket overtop. A nose ring decorated one side of his face. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through a mop of messy brown hair in a way that let you know that he knew it was attractive, before placing the cap back on. He had a friendly, disarming smile that you didn’t expect from a delinquent. It was charming in a sickly-sweet sort of way. 

“Good. Okay yes, you’re in the right place. Do you know where the other guy is?” you asked.

“Noah? Not sure. He should be here soon though. He knew we had this today.”  It was 7:59. You had to report him to your father if he wasn’t there by 8:00. You sighed. Was it so hard for people to be on time? You arrived to everything at least five minutes early and had no problem with it. It irked you whenever people blatantly disregarded rules, but you supposed you could have expected so much from someone who vandalized houses of worship for fun. In your mind, that was just mean.

Your father characterized him as someone who was just sad and hurting. And maybe he was, but he was also a jerk. 

When he still hadn’t arrived at 8:10, you determined he probably wasn’t going to and figured that there was no sense wasting time.

“Okay Nick. You see the buckets and sponges over there? Grab a sponge and start scrubbing.”

“Aye,” he answered and walked off. He was much more chipper than you’d have expected for a criminal. But then again, Jesus hung out with criminals, so they couldn’t be all bad.

You didn’t talk much. Nick got to work quickly and you observed, not knowing what else to do. A semi-awkward silence fell between the two of you and you busied yourself flipping through the pages on your clipboard.

It had all the rules and regulations you needed to follow, as well as the schedule for the next twelve weeks. Nick and Noah were to report to each location by 8:00 AM sharp. Failure to do so would mean another week of community service tacked on to the end of the program. They could potentially shorten their sentence if they demonstrated punctuality and good behavior, but not before they’d scrubbed and painted the wall they’d vandalized.

You’d read through all the instructions several times, yet you still had a feeling you were underprepared for this. Were you really just supposed to watch them? Or were you supposed to help them, too? You deliberated for a while until a deep voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“I’m here for my community service?”

You were greeted by a tall, slender figure with long brown hair hiding a pair of dark, indifferent eyes. He wore a black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and matching black jeans with rips on the knees. On his arms, you could see a spiderweb of tattoos extending down to his hands and all the way up his neck.

This, you realized, was exactly what you had in mind when you pictured a delinquent. Everything about him whispered ‘danger.’ He wasn’t dressed all too different than his counterpart Nick, but something about the way he carried himself made him seem much darker. He wasn’t the sickly sweet type. If Nick was children’s cough syrup, Noah was arsenic.  “Noah?” you asked, voice a bit hoarse.  He grunted in affirmation but made no other move. You checked the time. 8:42.

“You’re forty-two minutes late,” you said. He blinked, but didn’t respond any further. “Which means I’ll have to report this.”

He shrugged. “So report it.”

His demeanor wasn’t something you’d ever experienced. In the church, everyone was always friendly and accommodating. It was a stark contrast to his counterpart, Nick, who reminded you of many of your church friends with how willing to cooperate he seemed. 

“Well, grab a sponge and get to work, I guess.”

He did exactly that, wordlessly taking his place beside his accomplice. Together they scrubbed, not making much progress overall. It took them the entire session to reach a state where some of the graffiti could be painted over.

As they worked, you observed. For the most part, Noah remained stoic, but every once in a while, Nick would get him to crack a smile, either by flicking water at him to making some humorous comment you couldn’t quite catch.

Noah’s smile, you noticed, changed his face completely. It was much more innocent than you’d expect. It was rare, but genuine when it did occur, which humanized him to a point you were uncomfortable with, considering how angry at the two of them you still were.

“That’s all the time we have for this session,” you said once it had reached noon. “See you next week.”  Without even saying bye or offering to help clean up the supplies, Noah dropped his sponge and walked away. Nick was a little kinder, telling you he’d see you next week and placing his sponge back in the bucket.

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” you muttered to yourself, and got to work cleaning up the supplies.

_____________

“So what was it like?” your friend Ava asked.

You shrugged in response. “I don’t know. They’re delinquents,” you said. “One of them was fine, I guess. The other was a bit of a jerk. But it was just kind of boring, really. They didn’t talk much. I just kind of watched them work.”

“A jerk how?” she asked. You could tell she was desperate for more information. She’d been hoping to hear an exciting story about how “bad kids” acted, and you got where she was coming from. You’d always been curious, too.

The church elders (your parents included) had always warned you about who to befriend and who to stay away from. These bad kids who go out drinking every night and get themselves into bad situations. In their stories, they always end up addicted to drugs and feeling lost with God in their lives. These were the people who needed to be witnessed to. But how were you supposed to tell them about God if you were also supposed to avoid them?  It was all very confusing to you.

Both you and Ava had grown up entirely within the church community. Both of you had gone to private school, and while there were definitely some people there who were more misbehaved than the two of you, there were no real bad kids.

The biggest scandal you’d seen is when you found out Jason Carver had sex with his girlfriend. Which, admittedly, was a pretty big scandal because you were under the impression that everyone in that school had taken their purity vows seriously.

You couldn’t fathom what possessed Jason to commit such an outright sin. You were sure Jesus would forgive him, but seriously. What was he thinking?

Although the boys hadn’t been given quite as many purity talks as the girls had, so that could have had something to do with it. Each of the girls in the school were given a silver ring called a “promise ring” signifying their promise to stay pure until marriage. There was a whole big ceremony, too. Getting your promise ring was a huge deal in school. It was basically a coming-of-age ceremony.

You fiddled with the silver ring still on your finger. Ava had a matching one. You two had also made a friend pact where you’d both stay virgins until marriage. Though you weren’t sure how that would work out, because both of you had plans to marry Isaac and both of you were stubborn enough to hold out for him.

Regardless, the church community was pretty close-knit, and neither of you had interacted much with people who didn’t follow the same code of conduct. You could tell Ava was fascinated by the idea but so far, nothing too exciting had happened.

“Both of them drink alcohol though,” you mentioned. “I overheard them talking about a party they’d gone to the previous Friday, and Noah had mentioned he was really hungover and that’s why he’d woken up late.” He said this only to Nick, not to you.

“Wow. I wonder what that’s like.”

“Ava!” You scolded.

“Oh, whatever. Jesus himself drank wine,” and you just shrugged, because you didn’t have an argument for that. She was right. You supposed drinking didn’t go against the Bible. Just the rules your parents had laid out for you.

“Come on, we’re going to be late to practice,” she said. “Maybe we’ll get to see Isaac.”

You picked up your pace.

____________

Isaac was indeed there, looking very Jesus-like with his long hair in a bun on top of his head and his scruffy face. You supposed that might have been what drew you to him in the first place. He wore loose-fitting jeans slung low on his waist, a pair of Birkenstock sandals, and a plain white V-neck tight across his chest. He had a silver cross necklace that matched the silver purity ring.

Isaac was impossible not to fall for. He played guitar in the worship band, had the voice of an angel, and really practiced what he preached. So much so that it had been him to stop your kiss from progressing last summer, saying he didn’t want to do anything with you that either of you would regret. 

A man who protects your purity rather than challenges it? What could be hotter?

“Okay, let’s run through ‘He Reigns’ again,” said Isaac, and he began to strum out the opening lines. Ava was on keys, Darian was on drums, and Josh played bass. You and Isaac sang.

It’s the song of the redeemed

Rising from the African plain. 

It’s the song of the forgiven

Drowning out the Amazon rain.

You launched into a harmony with Isaac. This was one of your all-time favorite worship songs. You loved harmonizing with him. Your voices blended together so perfectly that the act felt almost intimate. Sometimes you’d hit a really beautiful note and you and Isaac would lock eyes and it felt like you were singing to each other.

Every night before bed, you prayed that God would bring the two of you together. And perhaps if you were good enough, he would answer those prayers, so you also prayed that He would be with you to help you not sin as much. Anything to improve your chances.

________

Noah was not thinking about his community service tomorrow. Six beers deep, he was only thinking of how he could see Madison Lewis’s nipples through her silky white shirt and that he’d like to wrap his lips around them if he could.

Madison hasn’t let him hit it in a while. Not that he was desperate. He’s had plenty of women since her, and will have plenty of women in the future. But she was always a particularly good fuck. Something about how unashamedly loud she moaned his name—especially when there were people just outside the bedroom door—really sent him.

She’d been making eyes at him all night, and he had a feeling tonight would be his chance if he played his cards right.

He kept his distance from her. She liked to play hard to get but didn’t want someone that simped for her too hard. He’d have to find his moment. If he knew her well enough, she’d get tired of the charade and present an opening to him, and then he’d move in for the kill.

That’s what set Madison apart. Noah was a hunter. He had no problem getting laid on a regular basis, but most women made it too easy. He barely had to show them attention for them to be practically throwing themselves at him. A good fuck is a good fuck, but he preferred a challenge.

Not that she would be super challenging, but at least she understood the game. Fucking her was like playing chess. There was strategy involved and she knew how to hold her own. The better he played, the more rewarding she’d be. She was reliable in that way.

Plus, she was one of the only women who knew what it was. She didn’t linger. She got in and got out without trying to pretend it was something it wasn’t—or worse, trying to force it into something it was never meant to be.

Too many times, he’d bang a girl who had played it cool with him at first, only to get obsessed and practically stalk him afterwards until he was forced to tell her he wasn’t interested. Whoever it was would cry and make him out to be the asshole, when he had been up-front about what he wanted from the beginning. For some reason, they always believe they were going to be the one to change him. They never were.

And okay, he might be an asshole in the fact that he always knows which of them will get clingy. By now, he’s had enough experience to tell. They come on too strong. They give him too many openings, worrying that he somehow didn’t understand what they were trying to communicate if he responded the first time. He got the hint. He just wasn’t interested. 

At least he wasn’t interested if there were still other options available. If he got to the end of the night and all the good options had been taken, he’d throw them a bone and give them a good time, fully knowing that he was in for a week or two of headaches after they realized that he wasn’t going to suddenly fall in love.

Madison caught his eye and gave him a once-over. He was in. She turned to climb the stairs, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she walked and he followed, taking one last swig of his drink before setting it down on a nearby table and following her up. 

_________

“Any idea where he is?” you asked Nick.

It was 8:07 and Noah still hadn’t shown up yet. Nick shrugged. “I was with him at Jolly’s party last night, but he disappeared and didn’t come back to our place. My guess is with Madison.”  “I don’t know any of those people,” you said.

Nick laughed, showing a charmingly crooked front tooth. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Why is he going out partying if he knows he has community service in the morning?” you asked.

Nick chuckled as he pried the lid off the paint can. “I’m guessing you don’t get out much.”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked.

“Have you been to a party before?”

“Sure.”

“I mean one with alcohol,” he deadpanned. You blushed. “That’s what I thought.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because if you’ve been to a party, you’d understand why we go even if we have to get up early. That’s the fun of it. You get drunk. You hook up. You meet new people and you suffer the consequences because that’s what life is about.”

“Life is about more than just partying.”

“Something tells me you could use a bit of fun,” he replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said, offended.

“Nothing,” he said, now pouring the paint into the tray and swiping his hair across his face. “Just that you seem a little uptight is all.”

You wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but you didn’t want to prove him right by getting upset about it, so you said nothing.

Nick sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to become a whole thing. I was just teasing.”

“I’m not upset,” you said, albeit defensively.

“Clearly.”

You sat with his comment for a moment.

“I have fun,” you said.

Nick smiled to himself. “I’m sure you have plenty of fun.”

“I do!” you protested. “Just not the kind of fun that ends up in having to do a semester of community service.”

He chuckled again, the smile not once having left his face. “And yet, here you are, with me.”

You didn’t have a response to that.

Someone cleared their throat behind you. You looked up and saw Noah towering over the two of you. “I know I’m late again,” he said. “In my defense I didn’t know that being late meant serving more time.” You noticed the tiniest of lisps sneak out of his mouth on ‘defense’ and ‘serving’ and it further humanized him in a way you wished it wouldn’t.

“You didn’t think there would be consequences?” you asked. He shrugged, removing his hood. His long hair was tied in a bun at the nape of his neck and a deep purple bruise appeared on the skin next to it.

“Shit,” said Nick and gave a low whistle. “Madison?”

Noah nodded without making eye contact with his friend.

“Good for you, man.”

“I’ll remind you that we’re on church grounds. Please watch your language,” you said.

Noah and Nick shared a look that you knew was meant to mock you, but you were adamant. They could behave however they wanted on their own time, but this was your time.

“We were just talking about how Saint Mary over here could use a little fun,” said Nick as he handed Noah a paint roller.

“Ha, ha,” you said sarcastically. “My name isn’t Mary.”

“Might as well be,” said Nick.

At that Noah snickered. “Why does he think you could use more fun?” asked Noah. The fact that this was the first time he was choosing to make conversation with you was not lost on you. And though you knew you’d get teased, it was worth it to establish some sort of rapport, or else how were you ever going to talk to him about God?

“He’s judging me because I’ve never been to a drinking party.”

“A drinking party?” asked Nick. “Did you hear that, Noah? A drinking party!” he said, clutching at his chest in mock scandalization. 

You crossed your arms and sucked on your teeth for a moment. “I don’t think you’re the right judge for what kind of fun I should be having, frankly.”

Nick didn’t speak for a second, then held out his hand for you to shake. “Alright, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Do you attend this church?” said Noah. 

“Yeah,” you said. “And it wasn’t cool to vandalize it. It’s really important to me.”

“I stand by what I did,” said Noah.

“Sorry Mary,” said Nick. “Won’t do it again.”

“Again, my name isn’t Mary. And don’t think I’m going to let you off easily. It’s because of you two that I’m roped into doing this for the next however many weeks.”

“They aren’t paying you?” asked Noah.

“No,” you replied, pointing to the wall to refocus them on the task at hand. They picked up on the hint and started working again. “My dad’s the pastor at the church that sponsors this youth center. He asked me to do it as a favor to him.”

“You’re dad’s the pastor?” said Nick, eyebrows lifting up on his forehead. His expression turned unreadable.

“Nick,” Noah said, soft but stern. They shared a look you couldn’t decipher and you sensed the tone of the conversation had shifted to one you weren’t familiar with. Noah looked serious. You couldn’t determine what expression was on Nick’s face. Something hung in the air between the two of you and you had a sneaking suspicion you weren’t going to like it.

________

“A pastor’s daughter!” Nick repeated when they got back to their shared apartment.

“Don’t even think about it,” said Noah.

“A pastor’s daughter, though.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Whyyyyy?” Nick whined.

“Forget it, man. I’m not doing this with you again. First of all, you have terrible taste. They always get clingy. Plus, we have to spent the next ten weeks with her. If it goes poorly for either of us, it’s going to be awkward.”

“A hundred dollars,” said Nick.

“And second of all,” said Noah, “you’d lose anyway. I already caught her staring at me.”

“Two hundred,” countered Nick.

“That chick is so prude, she wouldn’t open her legs for Jesus himself.”

Nick laughed at the imagery. “She’s kind of cute though, in a mousy, goody-two-shoes, kind of way.”

“Nick, I am begging you. Do not make this some sort of mission to bed her. There are enough prude women out there that offer whatever kind of challenge you’re looking for. Leave this one alone.”

Nick sighed. “You never want to have fun anymore.” 

Noah rolled his eyes. “I just have better things to do than to compete for who can bed the pastor’s daughter. Plus, I learned my lesson from last time. Remember that groupie?”

Nick smiled. “Chelsea.”

“Yeah. Her. She wouldn’t leave me alone for weeks.”

Nick laughed. “Yeah but dude, she came to me as a rebound and straight sucked out my soul.”

“You are so missing the point, man. I’m not interested in your games anymore.”

Nick pouted. “You’re no fun. Guess I’ll just have to make it a solo game.”

“Just wait until community service is over, please?”

“No promises.”

Noah sighed and retreated to his bedroom, throwing himself down on the bed and rolling onto his back. Truth be told, he had already thought about what you might look like under your high-necked sweater. Nick was right about you being cute. And he could definitely use a challenge.

Plus it would be the ultimate fuck-you to the church. Sleeping with the pastor’s daughter? Taking her virginity? Corrupting the innocent?

He actually had some level of sympathy for you. Clearly you were raised in a household where you had to subscribe to that shit. You probably never even questioned your devotion to this made-up religion. You’d never been to a party. You definitely had never gone past first base with anyone. You lived life with such rigidity and fear of wrongdoing that you probably never let yourself stray from that tightrope.

He knew it well. He’d been raised in a catholic household by grandparents that had instilled the same kind of fear in him. Luckily, he got out when he was still in high school, but he still remembered what that catholic guilt was like. And what happened when he broke out. 

All that pent-up self-control? The sexual shame you were taught to have. He knew what that looked like when it finally burst, and you were in for a wild awakening.

Logically, he knew he should stay away. Let you live your life. He wasn’t responsible for saving you from the church. But another part of him wanted to see you freed and felt like he’d be doing you a disservice by not exposing you to the other side.

__________

“I want to go to a drinking party,” Ava whined.

“Are you serious?”

“What? It sounds like fun. We don’t have to drink. We could just go and have a good time and stay sober.”

“Am I the only one who doesn’t want to risk getting an underage?” The two of you were headed to the World History class you shared on Mondays. She’d been prying you for more information on “the bad boys” as she called them. “And you really want to come home smelling like weed and booze and whatever else happens at those parties?”

“Sex?”

“Ava!”

“I just want to know what life is like on the other side is all.”

You sighed. “We don’t need to know what it’s like on the other side. It’s probably just a bunch of idiots getting sloppy drunk and grinding on each other.”

Ava laughed. “You’re so judgey! God won’t send us to Hell for attending one party.”

“I know,” you said, though your throat tightened infinitesimally at the mention of it, because really, who could know for sure? God could be testing you. 

“Just promise me, if they invite you to one, you’ll bring me along?”

You laughed. “I doubt they’ll invite me to one. They seem like they already have all the friends they want.”

“You never know!” she said.

“True.”

Part of you was also curious about what happened at these parties that made them so fun that Noah and Nick still went even when they had to get up early, but another part of you wondered if this was His way of testing your commitment to determine if you were worthy of Isaac.

If it was a test, what would you need to do to pass?

_________

“You’re on time,” you said.

“Who’d have thought?” Noah replied. It was 7:48, and you’d only just arrived at the side when you had spotted Noah walking towards you, long arms swinging casually at his side. He wore a white shirt with a gray hoodie today. You tried to get a better look at the tattoos painting his forearms, but they were so numerous it was hard to identify any specific designs without making it obvious that you were staring.

“Is Nick with you?” you asked.

“He should be here soon. He was showering when I left.”

“Okay. Well, I guess we should get back to work.”  Painting had finished last week, so this week, Nick and Noah were to rake the leaves that had fallen on the ground and in the parking lot. Noah got to work immediately and without complaint.

“How was your weekend?” he asked. You were surprised he was actually speaking to you, considering how distant he’d been the past two weeks.

“It was good. Yours?”

“Good.” 

The conversation fizzled out before it had a chance to go anywhere. It was awkward being alone with Noah. You were trying to stay polite, but he didn’t give you anything to go on, and you were still so angry with him for what he did to the church.

It was so much easier to like Nick. He was at least friendly with you, which made it easier to forgive him. Plus, he seemed genuinely sorry that he had upset you.

“I went home early last night, like you said.”

“What?” you asked, having not processed the information.

“I went home from Jolly’s party early last night,” Noah said.

“Who is Jolly?” you asked.

“Our friend. He plays guitar in our band.”

“You have a band?” you asked.

He nodded. “We’ve only played basement shows locally so far. Nothing major, but it’s fun.” His lisp came out again and your heart softened towards him just a touch.

“What do you play?” you asked.

“A lot of instruments, but in the band I just do vocals.”

“No way,” you said. “I sing in our worship band.”

A small smile broke out on the corner of Noah’s mouth. “I’m guessing our music is a lot different than yours,” he said.

“What kind of music do you play?” you asked.

He cleared his throat. “It’s like…heavier than what you’re probably used to.”

“So like, screamo or whatever it’s called?”

Noah chuckled softly. “Something like that,” he said, focusing on raking up a stubborn clump of leaves.

“So why did you leave early?” you asked.

Noah continued to focus on where his rake met the ground in front of him. “I didn’t want to keep adding time on to the end of my service,” he said.

You laughed, picking a leaf on the ground and twisting it around in your fingers by the stem. “Turning over a new leaf, are we?” you asked. You waited for him to look up and notice the pun. When he did, he stopped raking and stared blankly.

“Did you really just say that to me?”

“I stand by what I did,” you said, echoing his words from last week.

Noah stayed still and silent for a long moment, before nodding to himself, and then quickly, without warning, using his rake to kick up a large pile of leaves in your direction.  “Hey!” you shouted, brushing off the leaves that had stuck to your wool sweater. Noah said nothing, turning back to raking. The half-smile never left the corner of his mouth.

Had you misjudged Noah? He had seemed so cold to you at first, but he’d already become much friendlier than he had been that first week.

“So do you think he went back to bed?” you asked.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” said Noah.

You sighed and fell back into the large pile of leaves Noah had been working on. He continued raking, piling the leaves on top of you.

“You know that’s how you get ticks,” he said. You hadn’t thought of that. You jumped up, brushing all the leaves off you and scanning yourself for ticks. You took your hat off to examine it and ran your fingers through your hair.

“Do you see any on me?” you asked.

“Let me check,” he said, and paused raking. You stood with your back to him, feeling awfully short compared to his towering frame. Noah crouched down to peer at the back of your neck. He lightly brushed the remaining leaves from your shoulders, and then you felt his icy fingers on the back of your neck when he pulled your collar out to check.

“Your fingers are so cold,” you said, voice coming out breathier than you would have liked.

“Sorry,” he said softly from behind you. His voice was gentle as he focused. His fingers pushed your hair out of the way so he could see and tingles erupted over the back of your neck. “Forgot my gloves. Hold on.” You felt him pick at something that clung to your hair. When you turned around, he was inspecting a brown speck pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “I think it’s just a leaf. You’re good.” He flicked the speck away and went back to raking. You, however, couldn’t shake the memory of his fingers ghosting over your skin.

“Did you go to church?”

It felt like a loaded question, but you decided to entertain him. You needed something to focus on.

“I did. Why?”

He shrugged, continuing to watch himself work rather than look at you while he spoke. “No reason.”

“Okay then,” you said, guarded.

“Do you go every week?” he asked after a few more moments.

“I do.”

“And do you like it?” he asked.

“Why? You thinking of giving your life to God?” You meant it to be teasing, but it came out more bitter than you intended.

He smiled to himself. “Just curious as to what you get from it. Why you’re so devoted.”

“It’s not all rules and restrictions, you know,” you said, feeling yourself growing more defensive. “It can actually be kind of fun, and pretty meaningful too.”

“If you say so,” he said. “I just don’t see the fun in being told how to live.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” you said. “I like having some guidelines to live by.”

He shrugged, but didn’t say anything else and you fell into an uncomfortable silence.

“It’s not like that all the time,” you continued after a while, watching him rake leaves into a modest pile. “There’s a lot of encouragement. And it can be really rewarding to devote yourself to a greater cause.”

“Seems like a cult to me.”

“It’s not a cult.”

You’d heard the arguments from people before, especially online. Every Atheist you’ve ever talked to does this same dance. They are upset that you believe in something they don’t like and react by trying to disprove God. Each of them brings up their own version of the same argument, all thinking that they, in their brilliance, have somehow got it all figured out and can change your opinion. They never can.

“Do you follow all the rules?” he asked.

“I try to. Why?”

“Just wondering. So you believe everything that the Bible says is true?”

“It’s complicated,” you answered honestly.

“How so?”

This was the part of the conversation you didn’t like. You were well aware the Bible had a lot of contradictions, and you were willing to admit that some of the stuff in there wasn’t realistic, but most people you talked with couldn’t fathom how you still subscribed to an idea that wasn’t completely perfect.

“There’s a lot of great wisdom in the Bible. But it was written by humans, and sometimes humans don’t always do a good job of interpreting God’s will.”

“So how do you know what parts to believe and what not to believe?” he asked.

“I don’t. I just do my best and hope that God will guide me,” you said.

“I guess I can respect that.”

“You can?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still think it’s bullshit, but I’m not here to tell you what to believe. I’m not the church.”

“Touche.”

He cracked a genuine smile, and you were caught off-guard by how pleasant it was. It was almost enough to distract you from that horrendous neck tattoo.

Just then Nick came jogging up.

“You’re—,” you began, but were cut off.

“I’m late, I know,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. “My bad.”

“Well, grab a rake and get to work,” you said, gesturing to where the other rake was leaned up against the tree.

“So what don’t you agree with?” Noah asked, continuing your conversation from earlier.

“Most of Leviticus is garbage,” you said as Nick fell into line between you and Noah and began raking. “Like, that stuff about women not being able to leave their house during their period? Or not wearing blended fabrics? Ridiculous. I think they were all health codes written for the time.”

Noah nodded. “What about homosexuality?” he asked.

That was a sore spot between you and your church. “I don’t think it’s wrong,” you said. “I think if God is love, then love can never be evil. My father doesn’t exactly agree. We get into a lot of arguments about it. It’s something I feel strongly about and have to pray about a lot.”

Noah nodded. “I can accept that. But the church has still done a lot of harm to that community. They should be held accountable.”

“I agree,” you said, moving out of the way so Nick could rake by your feet. “And some churches do outreach to try to heal some of the wounds. One of our sister churches even goes to the local pride parade every year. And they do fundraising to help with AIDS screening.”

“What about your church?” he asked.

You shifted. “My church still has some learning to do.”

“And do you try to educate them?” he asked. “As a pastor’s daughter, you probably have more influence than most.”

“I try,” you said, starting to feel like you were standing trial. “But I’m just one person. I don’t have as much influence as you’d think. I have hope it’ll get better though. I see a lot of churches moving towards a more progressive stance.”

Noah nodded, but didn’t say anything else. You figured that was about as much approval as you were going to get. Still, it was better than nothing.

“I just can’t get over the whole sex thing,” said Nick.

“Nick.” Noah’s voice came out stern and full of warning.  

It took you a few moments to register what he had said. When you did, you inhaled sharply through your nose. Nobody in your social circle ever talked about sex openly, aside from saying how they wouldn’t have sex before marriage. You sensed this conversation could be a dangerous one, but your curiosity was piqued.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you’re not allowed to have sex, right?” asked Nick, ignoring Noah.

“Not until marriage,” you said.

“How do you live like that? I could never!”

On the surface level, there was a part of you that was aware that most people in the secular world did not actually wait for marriage, but because you’d been mostly confined to your immediate social circle, you hadn’t actually conversed with someone who was so openly comfortable with talking about sex. You were both intrigued and so far out of your comfort zone that you struggled to keep up.

“I avoid tempting situations,” you said, noticing the hard set in Noah’s jaw that hadn’t been there earlier. His brows were furrowed and he raked slightly more vigorously. 

“How do you not get into tempting situations?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know. I just…don’t?”

“Do you just…not think about it? What happens when you’re talking to an attractive guy?”

“What do you mean? I just talk. I mean sure, I might get giddy or nervous, but I don’t like…I don’t know,” you trailed off. “What happens to you when you talk to an attractive woman?”

“I honestly don’t know if I should tell you, sweet child. It might be too much for your virgin ears.”

“Gross,” you said.

Nick threw his head back into a big belly laugh, ignoring the rake for the moment.  “I can’t help it! I love women. They’re so beautiful and…just…sexy.” He said this while drawing a set of hourglass curves with his hands.

“Can’t you admire them without lusting?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. That’s like asking me not to breathe. What’s the point? I’m not interested in being a masochist.”

You leaned against the brick building and crossed your arms, sizing him up.

“You’re not afraid of the consequences?”

He faced you, leaning on his rake. “Consequences? Like STDs or pregnancy? I’m not an idiot. I use protection.”

“No, I mean. Like. Aren’t you afraid of going to Hell?”

“Hell?” he asked, bewildered. “You believe in that?” 

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “Yeah,” you answered. “Don’t you?”

“No!” he said. “I didn’t realize people still believed in that.”

“What about you?” you asked Noah.

“I’m not part of this,” he said, refusing to look up from his rake.

“He knows better,” said Nick.

Noah continued working, but eventually spoke. “I believe it’s something that adults make up to scare children into behaving. Like the boogeyman.”

“It could be real,” you said.

“Doubt it,” interjected Nick. “And if it was, I think it would take a lot more than a few fucks to wind up there. That being said,” he shrugged, and went back to raking, “a life without sex seems pretty hellish to me.”

“Nick,” said Noah with even more bite. “Drop it.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, raising his arms up in surrender. “Just making conversation.” He grabbed his rake and went back to working on the lawn, while you finished out the rest of the shift in relative silence. A strange and curious energy hung in the air between the three of you. It wasn’t a bad energy, exactly, but it wasn’t altogether comfortable.

You reached your hand up to wipe away another leaf from the back of your neck, fingers brushing over where Noah’s had been earlier. The tingles stayed with you throughout the next several hours.

____________

“Ladies and gentlemen, there is a war going on. And it’s not a war of the physical realm. No, it’s a war for the soul of the world,” Pastor Jeremy said, in his stern but somber preacher voice.

This was a common theme for sermons. How there is a constant and ongoing battle for the soul of the world, and how Satan and his army are using every tool in their belt to corrupt the hearts of the innocent.

“It is our job,” he continued, “to make sure the devil doesn’t win.”

A message of evangelism. According to many pastors, it was each of our responsibility to save the souls of everyone else. Church goers do this through all sorts of methods. Missions trips were popular. You’d been on one to Guatemala when you were in high school. A group of students went down to build schools and teach other kids about the gospel.

But lately something had been bugging you about this kind of message. Because what if Noah and Nick were right, and Hell didn’t exist? What if it was just something adults told to children to scare them into behaving?

And furthermore, did that mean that your faith was only present because you were afraid of going to Hell? What would your relationship with God look like if you didn’t fear that fate? Would you have one at all?

These questions weighed on you heavily.

“Hey,” said Isaac, nudging you with his elbow. The sermon had ended, and you’d gotten up and started walking out along with everyone else without fully realizing what you were doing. You, Isaac, and a few other students from the campus ministry usually went out for lunch after church on Sundays.

“Hey,” you said, falling into stride with him as he walked into the foyer.

“What’s up?” he asked. “You seemed a little distracted today.”

It was odd of Isaac to comment on your demeanor. You weren’t used to him paying enough attention to you to mention anything.

“Oh. Maybe I was. I didn’t notice.”

He put his hands in his front pockets and leaned his weight on one hip. He looked good in this pose, and it was possible he knew that.

“Anything on your mind?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Not that I can think of.”

Isaac seemed to notice the difference in your mood. Normally, you’d be the one asking him all the questions in an attempt to connect.

“I know what it is,” said Ava, sidling up to the two of you, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Or should I say who.”

“Ava,” you warned.

“Who?” asked Isaac, his interest piqued.

You sighed in frustration. Ava, for as good of a friend she was, loved involving herself in drama and jumped at the chance to involve everyone else, too.

“Oh, just a couple delinquents,” she said in a teasing lilt.

You didn’t know why you even told Ava about the conversation you’d had with them. You’d like to think she wouldn’t use that information to her advantage, but she hadn’t always been the most reliable friend. Truly, she was as much a friend because of circumstance as she was a friend because you shared any solid connection.

Few people understood what it was like to grow up in a church and be sent to a Christian school. Your graduating class only saw fifteen people. You connected with Ava the most out of everyone, but that didn’t mean you trusted her very much.

And you were right to be hesitant, considering she was currently repeating your private conversation to Isaac simply to gain his attention.

“Is that so?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “And who are these delinquents?”

“You’ll have to ask her dad about that one.”

“I’m not listening to this,” you said. “I have sleep I need to catch up on. I’ll see you guys later.”

Truthfully, it was just an excuse to get away from them and clear your head. As much as you usually craved opportunities to spend time with Isaac, you were not feeling it today.

Ava was right. You were distracted because of a couple delinquents—one in particular—and you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t.

Perhaps this was Jesus telling you that you needed to spend more time with him. Perhaps maybe you’d be the one to guide him towards the light?

On the other hand, it could be temptation from the enemy. In which case, you needed to guard your heart.

The only way to know for sure was to pray about it, which you had been doing in earnest, but there was still no clear answer in front of you.

__________

“So I have a theory,” Nick said softly as he took a break from vacuuming the carpet of the worship center. Noah was across the room, headphones on and head bobbing as he dusted the backs of the chairs. He’d apparently given up on trying to tame his friend.

“And what is that?”

“Okay, so it’s maybe you magically just have an inhuman amount of self-control, and I’m not saying it’s not possible, but I’m willing to bet that it’s more likely you just haven’t been tested.”

“Nick, what are you talking about?” Noah asked from across the room.

Nick placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Our conversation last week,” he said. Noah rolled his eyes and went back to dusting, but he let his headphones dangle around his neck, freeing his ears.

“Okay, and?”

“You say it’s not hard for you to avoid tempting situations, but I imagine you probably don’t get into many with the crowd you run with. Like, have you ever even kissed a guy?”

“Why is that any of your business?” you said.

Across the room, Noah sighed and padded over to the two of you.

Nick took the tiniest side-step closer to you. “Just making conversation.”

You took a deep breath, trying to decide whether or not to play whatever game this was. On the one hand, it really wasn’t any of his business. On the other, you were interested to see where he was going with this.

“Okay, I’ll bite. I have kissed before.”

“One of the church guys?” he asked, shifting his body to face you more. Noah observed silently from beside his friend.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “At summer camp last year.”

“Who initiated?”

“He did, but we’d been flirting all summer before then.”  “And when was this? What happened? Paint me a verbal picture.” Nick was visibly interested, shifting his weight from converse-clad foot to converse-clad foot as he looked at you expectantly. You had to admit that it was kind of cute. Noah remained stoic but attentive.

“It was late August,” you said. “Like I said, he and I had been flirting all summer. It was the last night of camp, and all of the counselors were having an end-of-year party.”

“You were a counselor? Oh man, this is too good.”

“What does me being a counselor have anything to do with it?” you asked.

“Nothing. Keep going.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking that you might not even want to know the reason. “So anyway, we take a walk down to the beach. The sun had already set by that point and it was a new moon, so we could barely see anything. We get down to the beach and decide to go for a nighttime swim.”

“Oh, damn,” he said.

“Language,” you said. “We are in a house of God.”

He made the sign of the cross and put his hands together in mock prayer. “Forgive me. Go on.”

You had to admit, it felt good to have someone hanging on your every word like this, even if his motives were less than ideal.

“Okay. So don’t get too excited. We were still wearing our bathing suits under our clothes from the beach game tournament we’d had with the campers earlier that day. But we get in the water, and he’s like ‘where are you?’ because we couldn’t see anything, and I reached out my hand. He took it and pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. Then he said he really enjoyed hanging out with me this summer and asked if he could kiss me.”

“He asked? Ugh,” Nick scoffed.

“What’s wrong with that? It was sweet. He respected me.”

“It was weak,” he replied. “No wonder nothing else happened.”

“What do you mean by that?” you said, crossing your arms. You had appreciated that Isaac cared about getting consent before he kissed you.

“I don’t know how to explain this concept,” he said, resting his hand on his chin. “Noah? Want to take this one?”

 Noah pursed his lips, debating whether or not he wanted to get involved, but ultimately relented.

“It’s like,” he said, “a guy who asks to kiss a woman is kind of a coward. When you really want to kiss someone, you just do it and risk getting shot down.”

The image of Noah, standing in the lake with you instead of Isaac, tattooed hand grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss flashed in the forefront of your brain before you could shake it away.

“I don’t know about that,” you said. “I always thought it was like, a sign that a guy respects you.”

“Nuh-uh,” said Nick. “It means he’s afraid of rejection.”

“Is that really true?” you asked, looking at Noah. 

He nodded. “A guy who respects you reads your body language and understands context. He’d know whether you want to kiss him because he’d pay attention to how you’re acting. You wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.”

“Huh,” you said, processing what he had said. You’d never considered it like that before, but looking back, you had put in a lot of work dropping hints to Isaac, going as far as to make it obvious that you were into him.

“How was the kiss?” said Nick. 

“It was nice.”

Nick slapped his thigh and barked out a laugh. Noah cracked his signature half-smile.

“So it sucked.”

“What? No! It was really nice.”

“Trust me,” Nick said. “If it would have been a good kiss, you wouldn’t describe it as ‘nice.’”

“I don’t know if I agree with you. I think a kiss can just be nice sometimes.”

“Yeah, if you’re an old married couple maybe. But it just goes to show that you’ve never actually been properly kissed. And that you don’t know true temptation.”

“I don’t think I like this conversation anymore,” you said. “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

“I might be, just a little bit,” he said. You bristled. “And I’m sorry,” he finished. “I don’t mean to make fun of you. I just think you’re missing out on some really important life experiences. And frankly, it’s a shame that the men in your life have failed you so terribly.”

You softened a bit. “I don’t like being mocked, but I suppose you’re right. I do wish the kiss would have been a little bit more…I don’t know,” you trailed off.

“Passionate?” Noah offered. You locked eyes with him and a warmth grew in your stomach. You liked feeling like he understood you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d dreamed my whole life of my first kiss, and when it finally happened, it was exciting because it was Isaac, but—,”

Nick perked up. “Isaac?”

You hadn’t meant to say his name.

“Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Does Isaac go here?” he asked.

“Nick, please. I don’t want any drama.”

“I promise I won’t say anything. I’m just curious.”

“I’m not telling you anything else about him,” you said. “All you need to know is that he kissed me. It was okay. And then he stopped because he didn’t want to get tempted.”

Noah made a face when you said that last part, and you knew there was something behind it, but you didn’t want to ask. He might just join in and make fun of you.

“I’m done dusting,” said Noah finally. “Want me to start on the windows?”

“That would be great, actually,” you said. “Take Nick with you.”

Noah nodded and latched on to Nick’s collar, directing him over to the supply closet where the window cleaner was kept.

You sat on the steps leading up to the alter and crossed your arms over your knees, resting your chin on them.

You were disappointed in the kiss, you realized. They were right, and you hadn’t even noticed until now. After that night, you and Isaac hadn’t spoken about it again. It was as if it had never happened.

You had always surmised you were just better at self-control than your secular peers, and had clung to the identity, basing a level of self-worth on that idea, but what if that wasn’t true? What if they were right about the rest too, and you were missing out on all these important experiences? Were you just naïve?

You supposed that was a good thing. After all, chasing after those experiences could get you in a lot of trouble and lead you down a bad road. But then again, how were you supposed to resist temptation in the future if you couldn’t even recognize it? What would happen when something came along that did tempt you? How would you handle it?

Did you even want to know? 

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction

[barbarianbookhoe]

I swear I'm never gonna find the love I know I right-fucking-fully deserve

I just rewatched Bridgerton season 3 for the 3rd time already, and MY GOD, if a man does not yearn for me like a Bridgerton man😩

Request: Kaz Brekker x drunk (fem) reader (this is a long fcking one)

Too Sweet

TW: fluff, mention of assault

"And then, THEN he said I am just as useful as a rock. A damn rock!," she scoffed as she swayed in her seat. "Rocks can bee useful," she mumbled, "you can throw 'em at people. Like me! I can be thron at people," she hiccuped once before pointing at her glass for the bartender to re-fill.

The guy just shook his head at her and told her to stop shouting at costumers, or find someplace else. Apparently, she's been a lot friendlier than she thought.

She dropped some kruge on the counter, not having enough common sense left to count if it was even enough.

"But his eeeyes while he looked at me, oh Saints, his eyes are so beautifuuul, and sooo blue, they make me swoooon," Y/N told a waitress, who just laughed at the lovesick girl, who's been talking about a boy for the past 10 minutes.

"Oh honey, you have such a soft spot for that boy!" She laughed, and Y/N just nodded. "Yeah, and-and you should see his cheeks and ears, that when he gets flustred, no, flusterred, uh, flus-tered, yes, they turn red but he hides it, and no one sees, but I see it, because he has such a preeeetty face," she tells her on a high pitched voice, and even rests her head on her arms and lets out a sigh.

Y/N talking about her love life being the only thing actually happening in the small bar, the waitress sats down in front of her after getting out a round of drinks. The two women began their discussion about the boy, and the way Y/N cannot stop smiling while talking about him makes the waitress smile herself.

The sound of a cane tapping on the floor makes the lady turn around, only to find the Bastard of the Barrel himself staring right at her. No, not at her, but the girl on the other side of the table. She gets up and with a quick goodbye slips out of her seat, to make her way to the other side of the place.

Kaz Brekker, as if he had all the time in the world, slowly walked over to his Crow, who was supposed to be in the Club with their group hours ago.

He'd only been trailing her for an hour or two, but in that time she already went through 3 bars. Not counting the one, or ones, where he wasn't present. And without paying. Kaz made sure she wouldn't be in debt by the next morning. As he looked at her drunken state, he began questioning his own plan to get her home as soon as possible.

"Jeeesss!" Y/N looked up at him giddily, practically dragging her words out. "Come 'ere you silly," she signaled for him to sit down, to which Kaz just rolled his eyes. She must've drank quite a lot if she thought him to be the sharpshooter. "Why you in black?" She shook her head as if getting rid of her question and looked at him giddily yet again.

Kaz couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that slowly made its way into his well-guarded heart. The feeling that she looked the happiest in that moment, drowned in alcohol, probably on the edge of alcohol poisoning, and staring at him with such joy Kaz rarely saw anymore on her, even less in his life. It was clear to him that she was going through something, he just didn't know what it was.

If he had any talent for it he would've drawn her right in that moment, to capture her smile, the shine of her eyes, to keep her this happy at least on paper, to keep her smiling.

"Alright, get up. You're going home," Kaz sternly told her to which she just scoffed. "Ah, but Jesper we have so much to talk aboouuuut," she whined as he took a step closer. "This wasn't a question. You. Are. Going. Home."

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Y/N mumbled to herself as she tried to steady herself enough before attempting to walk on her own. After a few seconds of failing to do so, she quickly straightened her back and began her uncoordinated, swaying march for the door. Kaz was just two steps behind her, and when they got out on the street, he took half a step closer as he stepped next to her.

"Am I late for that meeting? Nahh," She mumbled loud enough for Kaz to hear. "It don' matter. What do I do?" She turned her head to Kaz for a split second before loudly continuing. "I'm talking Jespeeerr!" Kaz quickly shushed her, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to them.

"Don't ssssshhh me, Kaz sssssh-ushes me, not you!" She said and had it not been for Kaz, she would've tripped in her own foot. "I feel like he doesn't like me anymore," she said then, but Kaz just kept quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I want to tell him to shut up for once, to give 'im my opinion," she began gesturing before herself, as if she wasn't even talking to him anymore, more to herself.

"I feel like... punching him, givin' 'im a piece of mind. Yah, let'ss do that!" She quickly turned around, probably to find Kaz who was standing next to her, but Kaz caught her elbow and stood her in front of him. "You won't do that, alright? You're going home to sleep, and if you still feel like it, you'll give him a punch tomorrow."

"But whyyy? He's always up at night, and that'ss when we taaalk. I can't tell 'im during the dayy!" Her words began to slur again and she was swaying, so Kaz took it as a sign, that she was still in fact really drunk. He didn't let go of her elbow as he guided themselves towards her little flat near Fifth Harbor. It was more like one big room rather than a flat, but she didn't spend that much time there to care about it.

"And why can't you? Is there an unkown force keeping you from it?" He told her while he fought the nausea slowly coming up his throat. They'll be there in a few minutes, he reminded himself. "Jess, why are you the one asking? You're always telling me to lissen to my heart, to not overthink, to just say it. You're not Jesper, that's why!" She said more to herself than Kaz.

"Say what?" Kaz turned to Y/N for a few seconds, trying to see her face to determine what she was feeling. He found himself as curious when he was just a small boy, watching the magicians on the streets of Ketterdam. He watched every little detail of her face, from the flatter of her eyelashes to the unnoticeable tremble of her lips, trying to guess what she was going to say.

"Again with the questionss," she mumbled and right after spoke up on a sad tone, her vice slightly trembling, almost as if she was holding back from crying. "You sound like my landlord. Saints, I hate 'im. He's always angry a-and yelling, and soooo tall, taller than Matthias," she said and Kaz noticed the barely noticeable crack in her voice, making him worry about what more she had to say.

"I mean, I fought 'im twice yesterday, you know, 'cause he was demanding the rent I already payed, givin' me a great punch to my ribs, but like, you know, I'm a fighter, I can take 'im any day, but I mean, he's sooo tall and, and I was tired, so you know I didn't have too much "fight" in me." Y/N rambled, probably unaware of admitting that she was assaulted and making it seem less serious than it was, but still, it made Kaz's vision fog up with red.

How did he not know? How could he let this happen under his watch? Why didn't he felt the need to investigate her place, like he first intended to?

She was still rambling about her landlord and their multiple fights, yes, multiple Kaz realized, getting angrier by the second, when she stumbled and Kaz had to yank her up before she fell on the hard ground.

Without a second thought, or any thought at all, Kaz put her arm around his shoulder and carefully slipped his other arm around her waist to keep her somewhat standing. They were just a block away from her place, but Y/N seemed to cling to Kaz, her legs barely functioning at this point, and Kaz had to lean themselves against an old brick building before they both collapsed.

He also had to take a breather from all the touching, not being used to touching her for this long. Yes, they've stitched up each other countless times, sometimes even caring enough to change each other's bandages. But that never lasted longer than half a minute, or one, which was the limit for Kaz.

As soon as he calmed down, he felt warm fingers touching his face.

He froze in his spot and he had to close his eyes and concentrate on his breathing if he didn't want to start panicking. A minute passed by, and the hands still didn't leave his face, but they began to explore his every feature. It started at his cheeks then to his jaw, his forehead, the hand smoothed over his eyes so carefully as if he was made from glass, then the fingers stopped at his lips. He didn't even know he was forcefully keeping them in a thin line until the warm touch made them slightly part.

When Kaz opened his eyes he felt his heart stop and melt all at once, he felt it cease to beat only to then began pumping his blood with so much force he felt as if his heart was trying to fire up his veins.

Y/N was looking at him with a longing gaze, as if this was her last, yet the first time seeing him. As if he was something worth looking at.

She kept looking at him even though Kaz swore his heart was about to burst into a mess of blood and flames. Her fingers lingered on his lips as her other hand came up to softly caress the side of his face, touching a strand of hair. As if she wasn't able to stop touching him. Kaz felt his lips part even more than before, and his breath got stuck in his throat at her touch. He kept his eyes on her as he felt the need to close them for just one second. He felt his heart throb too fast for his liking, feeling his head getting dizzier by the second.

He was sure he was about to faint.

When her thumb caressed his lips for one second, just one second, she moved both of her hands to the side of his face ever so gently, and Kaz felt his knees tremble under her gaze. They never once broke the eye contact, which made the moment feel even more intimate. The way she was looking at Kaz, the way her eyes reflected the dim light next to them on the street made her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, and Kaz felt himself quietly gasp for air.

Kaz Brekker gasped for air, mesmerized by the sight of her.

He was trying to figure out the emotion behind the look she was giving him all night, when she mentioned him or his name, when she realized he wasn't Jesper, when she took his face in her hands, as she caressed him with such tenderness, as if one wrong touch could shatter him like the finest porcelain.

But when she moved her thumb back to his lips again, slightly caressing it without even noticing, Kaz finally dared to speak up.

"What are you-," He couldn't finish the words he was whispering, because Y/N put his handkerchief between their faces, holding it onto Kaz's lips, as if she was about to...was she? Was she about to...kiss him? Kaz felt like fainting again.

When she spoke up, the drunk look was somewhat gone from her eyes, and bittersweetness took over. "My imagination is wicked, but this might be the cruelest thing it ever did to me, making me see you as if you were real, as if you were here." She whispered it so gently that Kaz had to take a second to grasp what she was saying. "I'm here Y/N, I've been here all night." He said, but she just sadly shook her head.

"You're another hallucination, dream-Kaz, because I can never kiss you in the real world. And even in my dreams, I can't do it without respecting you first," she whispered, smoothing the handkerchief over his lips.

Kaz couldn't pin-point when did his heart pumping began too loud for him to hear, or when did he forget to breathe, but what he knew exactly, was the fact that these all made his thoughts cease to exist. Except one.

"You...dream about me? Above all people you could have choosen, you chose me to dream about?" He asked breathlessly, not believing how small his own voice sounded. Still, tears began welling up in Y/N's eyes, which she tried to keep at bay, but a single drop escaped and she let it stream down her face as she spoke up.

"You're... everywhere, all the time, and I can't escape you from my imagination, sometimes even preferring to hallucinate because that's where I know I'll find you, where I'm brave enough to-to say 'I love you' to your face, without having to deal with your rejection, because I-" As she glanced away from him trying to blink away her tears, Kaz gently took the handkerchief away from his lips and instead held her hand which put the handkerchief on him.

Kaz finally realized how she looked at him. If their racing hearts, her shallow breath, the tremble of her voice wasn't enough clue, than her touch certainly was. Throughout her speech her hands were still on his face, unmoving, not daring to move, instead keeping them there in a tender touch. She was in-

"I'm irrevocably, unconditionally, and fatally in love with you Kaz Brekker."

Sharp breaths and worried looks.

Unnoticeable steps and reassuring nods.

A trembling exhale.

One quick step, and Kaz was kissing her.

Their lips colliding against one another like the sun sets on the dark sea, like the moon takes the sun's place, like fireworks lighting up the sky. Her lips a mix of cheap alcohol and something sweet, his the scent of coffee and something salty. Her shyness, afraid of hurting him, clashing with his yearning movements, all of a sudden forgetting everything that wasn't her. His hand found its way onto the back of her neck, while the other gently touched the side of her face, just as she did mere seconds ago.

Kaz couldn't begin to think about his aversion, nor his nausea, because he was surrounded by her. Her scent, her lips, her hands on his face, her gasp in the kiss. He kissed her as if she was the air he was breathing, and he had been drowning, therefore he took the breath that belonged to him. Kaz never kissed anyone before, nor did he imagine himself doing so, but he did it with a strange hunger, as if he was a starving animal in captivity.

In a way both of them were animals, walking the cruel roads of the city, taking down anyone that crossed their paths in the need of survival. In a way, Kaz was no better than a starving animal, looking for crumbs to feed his hunger, finding any way for revenge to ease his anger. And in a way, Y/N was the first healthy taste that could keep Kaz from starving again.

She was addicting. The kiss couldn't have lasted more than 5 seconds, but Kaz already felt himself in need of another. He only tasted her once but he wanted more. So much more.

His knees didn't stop weakening, and he still couldn't quite catch his breath, and maybe it was from the lack of air in his lungs, or his heart beating too loudly in his ears to hear anything, but despite his past with touch, despite his head trying to tell him to stop, almost as soon as they broke apart Kaz captivated her once again.

This kiss was more tender than the first. Kaz still kissed her with wild hunger, but now he took his time getting familiar with her lips. Although, Y/N didn't let herself fall under his spell this time, she daringly smoothed her fingers through his raven hair, stopping at the nape of his neck and gently caressing some strands. She stood still, letting Kaz do what he wanted with his hands on her.

It all felt like a dream, a dream that she was bound to keep like a memory, not just another one of her hallucinations. She knew this wasn't real, it couldn't have been, because she knew her Kaz could never touch her like this. Not in this lifetime. So she let herself get lost in this dream more than she should've let herself to, because she knew her drunkenness would be a reasonable excuse.

Therefore she couldn't bring herself to step away from him. She wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him, desperately, and if this was the only way she would do so, in her drunk imagination, then she would have to settle for it. She had to accept that this lifetime wasn't meant for them.

Kaz knew his anger. It was hot and messy, uncalculated, selfish and greedy, which brought out the monster in him. It made him destroy everything in his path, without a single care about who's coming down with him. Kaz knew his anger.

Except this time. As he stepped inside Y/N's flat, looking at the broken chair in the corner, the different marks on the walls, and the small droplets of dried blood at the entrance, he felt a deep rage take over him, and out of instinct he tightened his arm around Y/N just a bit more.

He imagined every scenario as Y/N talked about the fights, from the bad to the worst, but seeing the remnaints of those fights in the organized and neat place felt almost ridiculous to him.

Y/N didn't bother with covering about the damage. She kept her place clean and comfortable as always, and now her place looked like as if the two sides of her life clashed against one another.

Kaz walked over to the bed with her and sat her down, before he grabbed a glass and poured her some water. He signaled for her to drink it and she agreed, probably unaware of what she was drinking. Meanwhile Kaz looked around and lit up a few candles around the room. Then Y/N moved to take off her boots, failing to do so. After multiple attempts and swearing under her breath, Kaz spoke up.

"Stop that and lie down. I'll help," he told her and set his cane down on the bed next to her. She began giggling as he knelt down on one knee to take her boots off. "If you wanted to get me into bed, you could've just asked," she chuckled and Kaz felt his face heat up. He was grateful that she couldn't see his face right now.

"And what would be the fun in that?" Kaz asked and Y/N could hear the cockyness in his voice. "The easiness. I would let you without thinking, you know." Kaz sat her boots next to her bedside table and looked up at her as she slowly sat up.

"You're not an easy woman Y/N, therefore I wouldn't want easy with you." Kaz told her and watched her smile faltered and her eyes got bigger, like when she was concentrating on something. He took it as a sign to continue.

But before he did, he took a moment to really look at her like this. Face red from drinking, eyes shining in the candelight, her gaze full of emotion, hair messy from touching it too much, a few strands sticking to the side of her face, probably from sweat. Kaz moved to tuck those strands of hair behind her ear, and Y/N watched his tender movements with a sleepy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Kaz, still on his knees, told her to go to sleep and she happily obliged. She fell back on the bed, quickly moving around for a comfortable position then closed her eyes and fell asleep in just a few minutes.

"I'll be right here," Kaz whispered as he got up from his kneeling position, and got to work.

Y/N woke up to the sound of keys jingling. Against her tired muscles she quickly sat up and grabbed her knife from under her pillow. When her front door opened she threw the knife without hesitation.

Knowing that she probably didn't aim right she grabbed another knife from her bedside table and rushed to the intruder. She grabbed the back of their coat and held the knife to their throat, or she would've, if the person didn't block them with their cane. With the beak of the crow.

"This is how you greet your friends?" Kaz asked mockingly to which Y/N just rolled her eyes and took her knife away from Kaz's face. "Why are you here?" She asked back.

"Good morning, yes I'm quite fine, how are you?" He said and the small grin on his face made Y/N want to kick his cane from under him. "Been better. Could do without the slight headache though, but I'm sure it comes and goes with you," Y/N told him and turned her back to get the knife back in its place.

"You were much better company last night." She turned around abruptly. "What did I do?" Kaz didn't answer at first, which made her worried she did something stupid again. "Kaz, what the hell did I do last night?"

"For starters, you hit up probably half a dozen bars to drown yourself in whatever was cheapest. Then you poured your heart out, probably would've fallen into the canal if it wasn't for me," He said the last words with a mix of mocking and smugness. "Better question: what did you do?"

"A thank you would suffice for saving your ass," He told her and she just scoffed. "Thank you, for being a-" Y/N started but as she hopped down on her bed she felt her ribs ache and she had to breathe loudly to ease the pain. Kaz was in front of her in seconds and had an almost worried look on his face. "What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just-nothing. Probably slept in a bad position," she winced as she put a hand on her left side, but she didn't miss the fact that Kaz reached his hand out. It was only a second, or half a second before he took it back, but she saw it.

Imaged of him touching her flashes through her, his hands in her hair, on her face and neck. She could still feel the touch on her lips, and for a second she just stared back at him in surprise. Was it...was it real? Kaz looked at her questioningly, not knowing what just went through her mind.

Then Kaz sat his cane on her bedside table before he got rid of his coat and put it next to her on the bed. Another image came up: the same position, but he was kneeling in front of her. Y/N shook her head a little, trying to get rid of the images.

"Kaz, what are you do-AH," Y/N shouted as Kaz lifted up her shirt and put his hand on her ribs. He kept poking her left side all the while she was cursing him into oblivion. When Kaz finally stopped and reached for the hem of her shirt she grabbed her clothing and clutched it.

"Hey! No more of this! What do you think you're doing?"

"Measuring up your bruises. I need to know how many punches you took," Kaz told her as a matter-of-factly, and Y/N stared back in confusion. "From who?!"

"Your landlord. Mr. Kozar."

Silence fell over the room. Kaz could see the confusion turn into embarassment, then into fear. Y/N was still clutching her shirt, but this time with a tight grip to ground herself in reality.

"How do you-" She started, but then stopped as she looked up at him. "I told you last night, didn't I?"

"Yes, everything," Kaz had to slightly bite down on his lip, so as not to tell her what did he plan for her landlord tonight. The sight of her, slowly curling in on herself, looking as if she wanted to disappear, when Kaz knew better than anyone that she always made her presence known everywhere she went.

Kaz gently touched the hem of her shirt, next to the piece of fabric she was currently holding in an iron grip, when she looked at him again, this time with uncertainity. Kaz just waited.

"If you want to take off my clothes, at least ask my permission first. Be a gentleman," Y/N told him quietly and loosened her grip on her shirt. Kaz scoffed quietly as he kneeled down in front of her. "I'm anything but gentle," he said, his touch on her shirt never tightening.

"Can I?" Kaz asked on a voice so soft it could've melted gold. Y/N never heard him talk that way, therefore she had to take a moment to grasp her head around how sweet his voice sounded. "Can I take off your shirt?" Kaz asked her again, his soft, sweet voice not faltering. Y/N gently nodded. "Yes."

The minutes while Kaz looked at her bruises, sometimes poking them again, she felt like crying the entire time. Not from the pain, that she was used to living in the Barrel for this long, but from how tender his touches were. He may believe he's not a gentleman, but Y/N knew the truth. She knew the heart behind the iron bars.

After Kaz finished, he handed her shirt back and even helped when she had to stretch out her side. He told her one of her ribs might be fractured, but it shouldn't cause her any trouble tonight.

"Is there a job tonight? Wait, was the meeting I missed last night about this?" Y/N asked Kaz quickly after she reached for her boots to put them on. She was stopped by Kaz's cane snatching them away. "This isn't a job, only if you want to look at it that way," he said carefully and it made Y/N suspicious.

"What did you do?"

"I? I did nothing. Your landlord, on the other hand, did more than what's understandable, even more so, hurting someone close to me, which I believe you don't tolerate either, therefore I set up a meeting with him," Kaz said and rested his hands on the top of his cane, looking at everywhere except her eyes. Y/N didn't miss the way he described their relationship. Someone close to me. Was she still dreaming? Or was this real life? Before she could ask him about that little detail, another thought formed in her mind.

"What meeting?" She asked but the way Kaz glanced at her for just a few seconds before putting his coat on to go on his way, told her more than his words could've. "Oh, a meeting, as in, torture,"

"Only if you want it to get to that point," Kaz said and Y/N was up on her feet right in front of him, and her subconscious got giddy at the fact that he didn't move away from her. "Why Kaz? You didn't have to bother with any of-"

"I did." He said suddenly, and his tone made Y/N go silent. "I do, because I wasn't careful enough to investigate this place like I did with the one before, because I trusted you enough to handle things, because I knew ypu would fight your way out of it. Then you told me you were assaulted, multiple times, multiple fucking times Y/N andyou never once told any of us. You never onced mentioned it, not to anyone, not to me." Kaz told her getting angry at himself for not making sure you were alright, because he was too absorved in his own thoughts, in his feelings for you, trying to punish himself for feeling the way he did. Meanwhile it got to a point where he forgot to protect you. He forgot. He never forgot to look after you. "You didn't ask my help."

"You had enough on your plate now that Pekka's out of the picture. You had business to run, I couldn't have just walk through your door saying my landlord is a greedy asshole who's attacking me at any inconvenience. You wouldn't have cared."

"I would!" Kaz said louder and Y/N looked at him in shock. She was about to speak when Kaz interrupted her. "I do. I do care. I care about your well-being enough, that I wouldn't care at which time of day or night you came for my help." He practically whispered the last few words and he could almost feel her lips against his, the memory suddenly blinding him. "Never be too stubborn to ask for my help. Just come to me."

Y/N could hardly breathe in that moment. All of the flashes from her dream, they weren't dreams at all. She really touched his face, and Kaz really kissed her. Now she remembered how his lips moved against hers as if he had been hungry all his life. And as Kaz looked at her with his pale blue eyes, she was reminded of the fact that he initiated the second kiss. Y/N wanted to know how he kissed, now that she was sober. If it felt addicting while she was drunk, she couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like now that she's sober.

"I need your help Kaz," she whispered and Kaz's face turned serious at the mention of his name. "I'm afraid I don't remember much from last night." Y/N whispered as she slowly held her hand up next to his face, not wanting to be too quich with her movements, but Kaz gently grabbed her hand and put on the side of his face.

"And now?" Kaz asked raspily. Y/N felt like fainting, as she took a quick inhale. "Not familiar," she said and Kaz moved her other hand to the nape of his neck while he put a hand under her jaw, on her neck. "How about this?" He asked, the words a whisper against her lips. "Still not remembering," she moved her head just a little closer to him and heard Kaz quietly gasp for air, to which she let out a small smile.

"This, you remember," Kaz didn't waste time hugging her even closer to him, so he could finally kiss her again. Saints know he's been itching to do so.

Y/N let out a small gasp in the kiss and Kaz poured all of his years of yearning into their kiss.

Since that night the Barrel had something worse to fear from Dirtyhands: his love and devotion.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #six of crows #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker x reader #grishaverse fic

[rumisgf]

“GET MY F**** NAME TATTED SO I KNOW IT’S REAL” - DENKI KAMINARI x BLACK!READER

summary: your boyfriend has it all: tattoos, blonde hair, nice sleeper build, can dress, funny— he’s on the way to becoming one of the top 5 heroes for lord’s sake. but, even with all that, he can’t help but feel some type of way when he sees other dudes trying to get as his girl. he doesn’t know what comes over him, and he always starts thinking a little irritational.

includes: college!au eventual smut, tatted!denki, little plot (i sorry), females pronouns used once or twice, jealous!denki, denki calls reader ‘mama’, denki refers to himself as ‘daddy’ once, penetration, dom/sub undertones unprotected sex, recording, squirting, spit!kink, implied relationship, assumed that denki and reader record themselves fucking a lot, possessiveness, breeding kink if you squint, mentions of potential pregnancy, nasty sex

this isn’t fair. he’s finally got a hot, amazing girlfriend and everybody wants her. it makes him sick.

“woah kaminari, that’s you? how’d you bag that?” all his friends always seem to ask this same question in different variations, and their laughs afterwards seem to be filled with malice in his ears. and what’s worse is that you have no idea. you post all these pretty pictures and thirst trappy tiktok’s for random people in your comments to fawn over you. so, denki could not possibly be seething with more anger right now when someone he only sees in the dorm hallways come up to you.

“hey, um, you… seeing anyone? sorry i just saw you in class and couldn’t stop thinking about you, you are gorgeous.”

he watches as you smile, looking over to where he is as he’s supposed to getting his lunch. “o-oh, uh… thank you but i’m taken.” you shyly respond. the dude follows your eyes, and he only smirks. “well, he doesn’t seem like too much competition.”

you roll your eyes at the corny ass guy talking to you, and cross your arms. as you tell the guy he has no chance, you fail to notice denki look down at his own feet as he contemplates causes a scene at this very moment. but clearly, he didn’t care to think logically. you’re his.

suddenly, you feel a set of haste footsteps followed by two hands slowly find your waist. your movements halt as they massage the skin and pull you closer to the figure’s chest. “hey cutie, who’s this?” your boyfriend asks so innocently, making direct eye contact with the guy who’s face is beginning to flush. “mm, some dude who won’t leave me alone..” the guy furrows his eyebrows as he struggles to open his mouth. “woah, it’s like that, bro?”

“don’t know what you’re talking about.” denki says, responding for you. he softly kisses your shoulder, “she’s mine though, so you should go on somewhere.” with that, the guy reluctantly walks off, failing to hide his embarrassment.

you slowly push denki off of you, giving him a quick peck on the lips as a thank you. then, you both head back to your dorm to get away from the crowd of people at your university’s cafeteria— the habitat of horny, and corny men.

denki closes your door and plops onto the edge of your bed, holding his arms out. “c’mere mama.” you find your way on his lap as you face his grumpy face. he looks down at your body as his hands massage the sides of your waist. “so tired of that, i wish everybody would leave you alone…” he pauses, and it’s the same pause before he’s about to say one of the most outlandish things you’ve heard.

“tattoo my name on your neck.”

you smack your lips, lightly pushing his chest as you roll your eyes. “boy, i am not chrisean rock.”

“well how else are dudes gonna know you’re fucking mine?” he slowly dives into your neck, teasing the skin with his mouth as your lips part, threatening to let out a moan. “kami, you know i don’t want anybody else.” you say shyly, beginning to writhe in his lap as he’s know placing full mouth kisses on your neck. “but they don’t know that,” he mutters. he pulls away and immediately grabs you by your neck, bringing your face centimeters away from his. “if you won’t get me tatted, i’ll find another way to make sure they know you’re mine.”

he closes the spaces by kissing you fiercely, yet slowly. you drag your hips up on his lap, his hand gripping your waist once more as your back arches with the kiss. you wrap one arm around his neck while your other hands finds his chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat. his other hand doesn’t leave your neck as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. you moan into his mouth, making him subconsciously buck his hips upwards. with that, you slowly start grinding on his lap and begins to bring into your clothed crotch himself. you move in rhythm with each othering, chasing the burning feeling of lust in your stomachs. then, he shoves his hand under your shirt and you finally gasp into his lips. he fondles with your soft breasts, wishing your bra wasn’t it the way. this makes you grind on him harder, and you’re sure he can feel the throbbing pulse of your now soaking pussy even through his pants. denki goes back to your neck, licking and biting your skin until several hickeys begin to show. he was serious, he was gonna find a way to mark himself on you one way or another. his hands now find your ass, squeezing both cheeks as he moves you faster on his laps and his own soft moans begin to spill out his mouth.

kaminari pulls away, both of you breathing heavy. “i’m about to fuck the shit out of you, you know that right?” he says in a direct tone. looking at him half lidded, you nod. without another word, he lifts you off of him and moves fully onto the bed. you follow him and immediately get pulled under him by his tattooed arms. his lips crash back onto yours, your hands frantically grabbing at his body. he grinds onto you, making sure you feel his hard bulge on your cunt that’s close to soaking through the panties under your jeans. “kami, please…” you whine, not knowing entirely what you’re begging for— you just know you need him in every way possible.

he quickly discards of own your jeans, then his own. immediately, his eyes meet the thong that perfectly displays your arousal dripping out and staining your folds that are halfway shown. he nearly drools, running his finger through your clothed slit. “mm-!” you moan, wincing at the pleasure flowing through you just at how eager you were for him to touch you. wasting no more time, he lifts off the bed and stands at the side next to you, pulling you on the edge of the bed in front of him. he pulls down his boxers and slides off your underwear. you gawk at his long, hard dick right in front of you, and he smirks. then, he reaches over to pick up his jeans, pulling his phone out his pocket.

he unlocks his phones, then points his camera to his dick in front of your sopping cunt. he rubs circles on your clit with his tip, “mmm, so wet baby.” he hums, before slowly sliding himself into your entrance. your walls give him a warm hug as your slick squelches once he enters them.

he wastes no time giving you every inch of him, and you cry out. “oh- shit! babyyy!” the pace is almost too much, him pumping into you like he was mad at you. “uh huh, love this dick don’t you?” he uses his free hand to grips your thigh, pushing it back. instinctively, you hold your legs back for him as close to your head as possible. “good girl, let me see that pretty pussy.”

you’re almost embarrassed, your helpless state on display as he ruins your pussy. your normally sweet boyfriend is deep-stroking the brain cells out of you with a dark, sinister smile on his face. but.. you can’t complain, he’s fucking you too good right now. “ohmygod please… i can’t..” he slaps your thigh, making your body jolt. “yeah you can, c’mon. you got it.” you throw your head back, moaning his name like a prayer. “yeahhh, my good girl.” the praise sends your head spinning as the room grows hotter by the minute. “say you’re mine. *smack* say you who belong to.”

“i’m yours- shitttt- i’m yours! i’m all yours” you say, the command causing a white ring to form around his dick from you creaming. “yeah, you like that shit? love being my good little whore?” he slaps your thigh again, making you whine. he relishes in the state you’re in, completely vulnerable to him. he loves nothing more than showing that he could really dick you down when he gets this frustrated. all the anger he gets from all these guys constantly hitting on you- he takes it out as he examines your soft, sweet body that’s all for him: down from your pussy to your mouth, “open up.” he demands. before you can even fully open it, he spits in your mouth from above you. it takes you by surprise, but he gives you not time to think even if you could…. which, you can’t, from the way he ms fucking you. “swallow that shit.”

you lick the excess spit off your lip and swallow, looking him in the eye when you do so you can see him smile. “such a good girl.. so good f’ me.” denki picks up the pace, the camera shaking with his movements. your voice jumps with every thrust as you moan out for him. his breath huffs with every thrust, sweat beading up on the both of your bodies as you fuck like dogs in heat. your body is littered with hickies and red marks that were intentionally painted on your body by your boyfriend. although they’re not permanent like tattoos, they still holding the same meaning that you belong to him and him only.

he grips your waist as he fucks you into pure bliss. you feel a strong knot threaten to burst in your stomach. “i- fuck! ‘m gonna cum~”

“yeah?” he taunts, immediately rubbing your clit. “you wanna cum already? ‘m fucking you that good?” his ego grows by the second as you become putty in his hands, legs threatening to give out. you let out a drawn out moans as he punctuates his hips, abusing your g-spot over and over. your eyes roll to the back of your head as your toes stiffen in the air, losing control of your body.

“go ahead, nut all over this dick.”

you scream his name as your juices squirt out of you and onto his stomach. he continues fucking you as you making a mess on the floor, the bed on him, and yourself. your body shakes violently as your orgasm takes over you, him pulling out and smacking his dick on your clit as you violently squirt on him. then, he slides back into you, groaning at how soaked you are. “my good little slut… all mine— nobody can fuck you like i do. say you’re my little slut.”

you let out a slurred “i’m your little slut” as you feel another orgasm build up. in a matter of seconds. he pulls your body closer, leaning forward so he can fuck you deeper. in another minute, you’re squirting on him again as he fucks you, moaning so loud your housemates can definitely hear you by now. “fuck baby… so fucking messy.” he moans, now chasing his own high. “fuck- where you want it baby? huh?”

“in me- please!” you beg, looking up at him with doe eyes as he relentlessly bullies your cunt. his eyes spark up, slightly taken aback from your response. “yeah? dick so good you want me to give you a baby?” you nod eagerly, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks from the overstimulation. you both know you’re out your right mind and this is not a logical decision to make on a whim, but you pray that maybe god is on your side just this one time— even though this is such a sinful act. “yes please put a baby in me!”

“daddy’s gonna make you a mama- fuck- gonna fuck my kids into you.” he pants, thrust becoming frantic and rigid. and though he doesn’t wanna admit it, he’d love nothing more than for you to be swollen and soft because of him. the though of you carrying his child with an large stomach that contrasts your smaller figure brings him right to his own orgasm. with a hard, deep thrust, he lets out loud strings of moans matches with the thick ropes of his seed seeping into your cunt. you moan at the warm feeling, eyes threatening to close shut. he pulls out of you, rubbing your clit as cum leaks out of your used hole.

setting his phone down after quickly adding it to his special folder, he grabs a spare towel from his closet to clean the both of you up. then, he lays down next to you after you scoot into your covers, legs still shaking. he looks down at them, letting a chuckle out his mouth.

“damn, i fuck you that good?”

you smack his chest, only causing him to laugh more. “bitch i had you whining to cum in me, hush.”

“oh really? cause if we watch that video back right now you’ll clearly hear you begging for me to-”

another smack lands on his chest, as you hush him frantically. “hey, at least if you have my baby they’ll really know who you belong to.” you sigh, sinking onto his chest. “then, i’ll have as many babies as you need me to.”

@ rumisgf

#denki kaminari x reader #denki headcanons #denki kaminari #kaminari headcanons #mha #denki x black reader #kaminari x black reader smut #denki kaminari x black reader #kaminari x black reader #kaminari smut #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki kaminari headcanons #kaminari hc #denki x reader smut #denki smut #denki x reader #mha denki #denki hcs #bnha denki #denki x y/n #denki fluff #denks !!

[apollodarling-writes]

Babycakes can you pretty please write a male y/n x yan!ghostface where y/n doesn’t die in the end and lowkey falls in love 🤭 (also pretty please make ghostface a praiser 🙏🏽)

FAMOUS LAST WORDS

yan! dbd! ghostface x gen jockey! male! reader

cws : yandere themes, a bit of dry humping, praise, creampie, choking, rough sex, kinda ?? handjob (reader receiving), orgasm control, knife play, anal, pronebone, dubcon??? , mentions of public masturbation, thigh fucking, danny is a tease, refer cleans his blood off of the bowie so blood play but ingestion??? , cum eating i guess but the reader is made to clean up his cum from danny’s gloves.

the fog that hung between the trees was particularly thick this trial. the red forest was known for being hard to navigate in some areas due to the low lighting, and the natural fog scattered throughout the landscape was of no help either. you were unsure if one of the survivors offered the entity a bottle of murky reagent, but it had become harder to see than it already was. you suppose you couldn’t complain as it made you harder to track, and thus it was easier to hide.

your group had completed two generators without a single person being hooked. anxiety knotted your stomach as you mulled over what the killer was up to. was the killer waiting for your group to finish the generators and then camp the gates? were they watching from the shadows and getting some sort of sick pleasure from watching the lot of you squirm? the answer to these questions was beyond your reach, and you knew that all you could do was focus on the task at hand. if you struck the wires too early, you would blow up the generator and the killer would surely know your location if they didn’t already.

a chill runs the length of your spine, gooseflesh raising the hairs on your body. you stop repairing the generator for a moment, the feeling of being watched prevalent as your swivel your head to find the source of the gaze. you’d been in this realm long enough to abide by your instincts. your gaze flits through the trees, your heart thumping in your chest as you are unable locate the source. chalking it up to the quietness of the trial, you busy your hands with firing the wires of the generator, successfully sparking one portion. you sift through your toolbox, searching through old and rusted scraps for something to replace one of the broken parts.

a hand suddenly grips the back of your neck, hoisting you off the ground. a hand muffles your cry of protest, bending your front over the generator.

“shhh… just be quiet now, baby.” a muffled voice all but pants, their chest pressing against your back as they lean forward to whisper in your ear. “i’ve finally got you to myself….”

you recognize that voice — the ghostface. realization washes over you; the quietness of the trial, feeling watched, the lack of a terror radius…. it all made sense now. your tongue darts out to lick the leathery material of his gloved palm in a feeble attempt to get him to release you.

“be patient now,” the ghostface groans, “we’ll get there, pretty boy.”

the ghostface maneuvers his fingers to grip your wrists, pinning them behind your back while grinding his half-hard cock into the meat of your ass. you squirm at his touch, feeling disgusted at the desperate panting the man behind you let out.

“i know you’ve been thinking about this,” the masked man grunts, his breath hitching. “i’ve seen you fuck yourself in trials before — did’ya think i wouldn’t know?”

shame and embarrassment wash over you, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as a hand snakes around to palm you through your bottoms. “n—not here… please—“

“god, look at how cute you are,” the ghostface coos, his gloved hand slipping past your waistband and cupping your length. “keep begging like that and i won’t be able to control myself.”

“i’m not—“

“ah-ah, quiet now… don’t you wanna be good for me, baby?” he purrs, your hips bucking as his thumb brushes against your cockhead. ”mmm, so sensitive. i think im gonna have fun with you…”

the ghostface’s hand tugs down your pants, your protests going unheard as you hear his robes shift. his cock slides between your thighs — the intrusion unwelcome and unfamiliar.

“stop… i cant — we can’t… not here.” you panic, your gaze flitting through the areas you could see. god forbid any of the other survivors witness this and get the wrong idea. you’d be considered a fucking traitor. maybe they’d even think you were selling them out. or, shit, what if they thought you were slutting yourself out to survive?

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, his cock brushing against your shaft. “just sit there and look pretty for me, ‘kay?”

your mouth immediately closes, figuring it would be better to just let him have his way and hopefully all five gens will be done by the time he finishes. your body is tense with shame and guilt, your thighs clenched around the masked man’s length in an attempt to get him off faster.

the ghostface spits in his hand, wrapping his fingers around you again, and pumps you in time with each thrust. with each movement, you find yourself melting into his touch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. he was too good at this, and he fucking knew.

“y’like that, baby?” you could hear the smirk in his tone.

“fuck you.“ you grit out, hating that you were becoming aroused at such an invasive, disgusting act.

“oh, i plan to, little bunny.”

the masked man removes his hand just as you were on the cusp of your orgasm, a soft whine leaving your lips. your cockhead is flushed an angry red, beads of precum now smeared along your shaft. “why’d you—“

you suck in a breath as a finger slowly dips into your ass, curling into your g-spot. the feeling was foreign, and it hurt like a bitch, but fuck did it feel good. “yeah? just like that, pretty boy?”

he slowly pumps his finger, careful not to hurt you as he works up to another one; his fingers scissor and stretch, curling into your prostate. before you knew it, the man had gotten three fingers in you, your legs shaking and your whimpers increasing in volume as you come closer and closer to your climax.

“fuck — ‘m gonna cum.” you pant, your back arching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. through a lust-induced haze, you hear a faint chuckle before the sensation you crave eludes you. the ghostface removes his digits, your cock twitching and aching for release.

“oh, you poor thing. were you gonna cum?” the man murmurs teasingly, his own erection throbbing beneath the layers of his robes. he eagerly grips the back of your neck and ushers you on your stomach behind the generator, lifting his clothing just enough to carefully push inside of you.

“y’so fuckin’ tight..!” he hisses, releasing your wrists to press down on your lower back. your fingers find purchase in the dirt of the forest floor as the ghostface slowly thrusts into you, your gummy walls hugging the man’s cock so deliciously.

with each thrust, you found it harder and harder to control your volume. with the way the man had angled himself, the tip of his cock bumped against your g-spot damn near constantly. your stomach tightened as your release began to approach once more, desperate whimpers and whines leaving your lips as tears pricked your eyes.

“i’m gonna cum – ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum…” you whine, “please, i need more!”

the killer groans in ecstacy at your desperation, his cock twitching inside of you as one hand wraps around your throat, lifting you from the dirt. “gonna have to fuck you more often, yeah? youre doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

his digits tighten around your throat, cutting off your air supply as your jaw slackens at the brutal pace. a gurgled moan parts your lips, your face growing red from the lack of oxygen. mercifully, he releases his grip on you, but is quick it with the cold steel of his bowie knife.

the ghostface snakes an arm around your midsection, pumping your cock in time with each mind-numbing thrust. you hold yourself up as the blade trails along your flesh, drawing thin lines of blood. it seemed that the man was getting off on the pain he inflicted, his thrust becoming harder, faster.

the blade trails up, pressing against your lips. “open up, baby. gotta clean up your mess.” the ghostface breathily groans, his thrusts growing sloppy.

your lips part, the blade resting on your tongue as your lips close around it. it tastes like iron, your own blood coating your tongue as your cock twitches in the killer’s fist. ropes of cum spill onto the leather of your assailant’s glove, a long moan erupting from your throat as your vision blurs with tears. your hips buck into his grasp, the killer never once stopping. your mind melts into a delicious quiet, the only thing you’re able to focus on is how fucking good it feels.

“fuck — you feel so fucking good, bunny.” he groans, sheathing his blade and replacing it with the cum stained leather. “be a good boy and clean off my glove, yeah?”

the killer pants as you mindlessly obey his order, the bitter taste seemingly only serving to arouse you further. you lap at the cum on his glove while the killer fucks into you with fervor, breathy groans leaving him as the chill of his mask presses into your shoulder. the ghostface weakly thrusts into you as his climax washes over him. his cock twitches inside of you, cum painting your insides as he slowly comes down from his high.

the man is quick to fix his attire as the exit gate sounds, leaving you breathless as cum drips down your thighs, the scent of dirt and sex staining your clothing. with shaky legs, you pull up your bottoms and quietly mull over what just happened as you make your way to the exit gate on the opposite side of the map.

#apollo #male yandere #tw yandere #personal headcanon #yandere dbd ghostface #yandere dbd #yandere dead by daylight #yandere drabble #yandere danny johnson #yandere danny #yandere dead by daylight ghostface #yandere ghostface #yandere slasher #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere x reader smut #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #dbd danny johnson #dbd jed olsen #dbd x you #dbd killer x reader #dbd x male reader #dbd x reader

[i-yap]

Love your writing! Can you write Dick grayson reaction to his s/o falling asleep on him 💕

I GOT A DICK GRAYSON REQUEST YAYYYY + A COMPLIMENT

dick has anxiety in this cause in some comics they do mention that its a small mention dw

Dick Grayson x y/n

He is just so warm and cozy. His shoulders so firm but comfortable to rest your head on and his arm is holding you firmly rubbing soothing circles into your tense shoulders while the other hand is pressing your tired feet resting in his lap. Some ghibli film plays in the backgroud- your choice at that. If you sleep rn he is gonna give you so much teasing for it the next time you want to choose a movie for movie night. And you've missed him so much and you were supposed to be spending precious time with him. But that's a problem for future you.

As soon as dick notices you have fallen asleep on his shoulder, he immediately melts. To him, aka Mr trained by paranoid never sleep with others around and no backup plan in place batman, this was a symbol of trust, of the fact that he could calm you enough to fall alseep even with a bright movie glaring at your face.

He shuts off the movie and just sits there thinking about how right everything is at the moment. How he wants these moments to last forever and keep on happening. How he wouldn't mind a dog sitting by your feet right now, or even a kid cuddled up to your side or between you guys.

He thinks about how his anxiety isn't acting up right now, and how calm and right this feels. the sort of right it never felt with the other girls he's been with. But then again, none of them compare to you. you come with a surety, a comfort and an excitement he never felt about anything before.

And since this is dick we are talking about , he of course worries. Are you working too much? why are your shoulders so tense? Maybe he should take you for a small vacation to that country you mentioned yesterday . You would look nice with some time off and he has just missed you so much . He has been too busy and he knows what he prioritizes

He picks you up bridal style and carries you to bed where he gently spoons you to him.

"d-dick..hm is the movie over' you rasp softly , being roused due to the movement. " Yes baby , go back to sleep, I've set your alarm for tomorrow don't worry" "oh thank you" " goodnight sweetie"

Youre already out . He kisses your forehead , and pulls you in just a little tighter. Yea..he knows his priority ...its you, its always gonna be you.

#Dick Grayson x Reader #Dick Grayson x You #Dick Grayson x Y/N #Dick Grayson Fluff #Dick Grayson Angst #Dick Grayson Comfort #Dick Grayson Headcanons #Dick Grayson Imagines #Nightwing x Reader #Nightwing x You #Nightwing x Y/N #Nightwing Fluff #Nightwing Comfort #Batfamily #Batfamily x Reader #Batfamily Fluff #Batfamily x You #Batfamily x Y/N #Batfamily Headcanons #Batfamily Imagines #Batboys #Batboys x Reader #Batboys Fluff #Batboys Headcanons #Batboys Imagines

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️ Fifth Course: Watching his delish life in pictures comes with a sense of dread. Isn't it vexing that he's living the life while you're out there vomiting in pungent public restrooms? 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Good 4 U

wc: 543

genre & warnings: angst like yn is really mad lmao, nonidol!san, yn is drunk af, mentions of alcohol and drinking, cursing, lovers to exes, betrayal, mentions of vomit etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

"Y/N, you really should stop drinking excessively y-"

"Shut the fuck up!" you slurred, slumping on the wall of your bathroom and glaring at your ex whom your friends did the honor of calling to get you home safely.

San sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he's had enough of your childish antics. You two have already broken up a few months ago so really, you are not supposed to be his responsibility.

Still, he's not that merciless. He can't just allow you to go home by yourself where potential danger could get you killed. Unless your liver suddenly decides to give up on you.

His kindness does nothing but to further aggregate you, though.

No, not kindness. Consideration.

Yes, that's the right word.

It infuriates you to no end that even in the middle of the night, he comes running to the bar and picks you up to get you to your apartment in one piece.

But what you hated more is seeing him in a state of good life.

After all the shit he's put you through. You're here still suffering the repercussions of his actions while he's out there being happy and lovey-dovey with your former best friend.

Truly a vomit-inducing situation even without the help of alcohol.

Imagine, back then, if you would have known that they'd get together after he dumped you for no reason then you wouldn't have trusted them.

Fucking hell.

It did you no good to remember that shitty place that you promised not to visit ever again. But life ain't that easy, because if it is, then you'd be rich and happily married to the love of your life.

You were snapped out of your maddening stupor when his phone rang, not paying attention as he excused himself and chose to fixate your gaze on the crack of your bathroom floor.

Then again, sometimes, you hear bullshit when you don't need it the most.

He's talking to her. In your house. In a very loving voice. The same tone that he used to utilize whenever he speaks with you, now reserved for someone else.

"Yes baby, I'll be home in a while, okay? Okay. I'll see you later. I love you so much."

Disgusting, vile creatures that are incapable of feeling guilt. Oh, how you wish you could just strike them with thunder so they can finally go to hell, where they can burn together.

"Y/N I will h-"

"Get out here." you mumble lowly, standing up from your position and he frowns.

"What's your problem?" he asks, confused as to why you're acting sober and gloomy.

You laugh weakly, coming closer to him only to push him out of the bathroom, "My problem is none of your business. So, get the hell out of my apartment and do not ever, fucking ever show your face to me again."

You did not give him the chance to reply as you shut the door on his face, your whole body flopping on the cold tiles.

Soon enough, you heard the main door of your apartment close and you can't help but chuckle despite the tears streaming down your face.

It really is not difficult for him to leave you after all.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @xdannix @nsixns @heartssol @vixensss @shakalakaboomboo

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