#also at what point is it so close of an approximation that there is no difference?
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Two Worlds: Novel vs. Series (Part 1)
A few days ago, I mentioned that I had begun reading the novel for Two Worlds because I was curious about the changes that had been made for the adaption. Truthfully, I've been curious about it since the special and enough people liked my post to encourage me to put this together, so here we are!
Few things. Firstly, the official English translation of the novel is only updated through chapter 7 which equates to about episode 3 of the series. Approximately.
Secondly, good god is it convoluted so to make things easier on myself and on you, I'm going to break down the changes to each world in two separate posts and not jump around which is what the novel does.
Thirdly, if you'd like to read the novel yourself, the first seven chapters are available for free here! It's the official translation and updates are a bit irregular but it is being updated! Trigger warning for discussion and sometimes graphic mentions of suicide. Please proceed with caution.
I also have to thank @thainovels for being so lovely every time I've asked them for help. What are the odds the novel updated the day after I asked you for help finding a complete version?!
This is gonna be LONG so to spare your dash and anyone who doesn't wanna be spoiled, I'll begin under the cut.
World 1, aka our starting world in the series
Okay so, broad strokes. One of the biggest differences between novel and show so far is how much time we spend in Phupha's perspective and indeed, in perspectives other than Phupha's or Kram's. We really only get Kram's perspective in the chapters dedicated to World 1 and he's barely appeared in the chapters dedicated to World 2 so far.
This author also really loves to go on a tangent which kinda bugs me in a "I'm a writer too and I wouldn't do things this way dammit" sort of way and while that's my own cross to bear, objectively it does pull focus from the main plot and make the story more confusing than it has to be. Although I do appreciate the insight into the other characters.
How Things Start Off
Unlike the show which opens with Kram painting by the river, the novel opens with Kram trying to make friends with Phupha. At this point it's unclear how long Phupha has been staying at Kram's house but it doesn't seem like it's been very long.
In the show, Kram is the grumpy one who doesn't wanna talk or hang out and Phupha is the more open one, but it's flipped in the novel. Kram is a lonely lil ball of sunshine and he's excited to make a new friend and Phupha's generally very grumpy about his circumstances.
Kram also calls him "your grace" which I suspect is what the translator chose to use in place of "khun chai" since Kram also calls him that in the show a few times. I really wish the show had kept this detail because unlike in the show, Kram uses khun chai playfully and eventually affectionately. It's also worth noting that he doesn't call Phupha "phi" despite their age difference because he doesn't want to create distance between them.
Their first bonding experience is going for a walk just like in the show rather than walk aimlessly in the forest, Kram takes him to see the waterfall that is so central to our story. The locals refer to it as Moonshadow Cave.
We learn that Phupha is afraid of heights (and very traumatized) because of the circumstances surrounding his mother's suicide. He opens up to Kram about it and also tells him why his father sent him to stay with Kram and his father.
At one point, Kram steps onto a little ledge around the back of the waterfall and gently coaxes Phupha to join him so they can see the view. But remember, Phupha is afraid of heights and traumatized so after a few moments he panics and goes to turn back. But he turns back a little too quickly and stumbles and ends up face to face and very close to Kram.
SO THEY KISS ABOUT IT. Maybe it's adrenaline, maybe it's horniness, who knows! Certainly not Phupha!
It's getting late so they come down from the mountain to go home. Kram's head is spinning from the kiss, he's confused, he can still taste Phupha. Phupha's confused too, he doesn't know why the hell he kissed Kram, and just as he's in the middle of telling Kram that it was just the adrenaline and didn't mean anything, they hear something rustling in the tall grass.
The Tiger Incident
Yep. The thing they hear is a tiger smack in the middle of having a deer for dinner. Here is the first of two or three major plot points (so far) that were cut from the adaptation entirely.
They come across the tiger and even though they try to move as quietly and slowly as they can to get away, they don't get very far before the tiger notices them and starts chasing them down. As they're running, Kram falls and hurts his leg. Kram knows of a small cave where they can hide, and They manage to duck into it just in time. Fortunately the entrance is too small for the tiger to follow them in there so they're safe but homeboy is still waiting outside to eat them, so they're forced to stay there until morning or until he gets bored and leaves.
Kram and Phupha snuggle together for warmth because of course they do and in the middle of the night, Phupha realizes that Kram has a fever.
The next morning, Phupha sees that Kram hasn't gotten any better so he decides to go and get help for him. Luckily the tiger is gone, so he leaves the cave and marks himself a path so he can find his way back. When he exits the forest, he sees Kram's dad and a group of villagers talking amongst themselves. They'd been looking for the two of them since they hadn't returned from their walk and are very relieved to see Phupha.
Phupha tells everyone what happened and they go back for Kram, and this is where things get very weird. He notices that the branches he broke to mark his path aren't broken anymore and when he and the villagers arrive at the cave, the weeds that were covering the cave entrance are thicker than they were before. And Kram?
Kram is fucking gone.
He is straight up gone. He is not in the cave where Phupha left him despite being sick and unable to move because of his injured leg. Phupha obviously begins questioning his sanity as a search gets underway.
Fifty people including police search the forest for two entire days to absolutely zero avail. Kram is nowhere to be found. It's like the forest swallowed him whole and Phupha is feeling so guilty and Kram's dad is being so kind and not blaming him at all and it's all very fraught.
The search is paused on the third day because of heavy rain but that's not about to stop Phupha. He needs to find Kram and he's in the forest desperately wracking his mind for every last detail of the path he took from the cave and the surroundings while rain is pouring down on him. He thinks he might've found the right spot and sees a cave, but passes out before he can reach it.
When he wakes up, he's back at Kram's house being tended to by Duandow, Kram's childhood friend (we'll get to her in a bit). First thing he does is ask about Kram and miracle of miracles, KRAM HAS BEEN FOUND AND IS OKAY! His leg wasn't broken and he's in rough shape after not having any food or water for a couple days but he's expected to make a full recovery.
Duandow tells him that the cave Kram was found in--the one Phupha passed out in front of--was in an area that had already been searched by the police and that the locals believe that dark magic blocked the entrance to it, which is why they hadn't been able to find Kram before.
If that sounds really goddamn weird to you, THAT'S BECAUSE IT IS. Something fucky is going on with this forest but there are absolutely no answers I can give you as to the why and the how. The novel hasn't given us anything yet.
Phupha and Kram
Another huge difference between the show and the novel is just how much the relationship between Phupha and Kram progresses and how physical it actually is. In the show we only get a few kisses and some snuggling but they go a lot further in the novel.
A lot further.
After the tiger and the fucky forest trauma bond them, they're hanging out on the mountain near Kram's house one evening and as they get to talking and open up to each other some more, they're interrupted by a swarm of fireflies. Kram tries to catch one for Phupha but can't quite manage it, and somehow they end up very close together again.
SO THEY KISS ABOUT IT. AGAIN.
Not only do they kiss about it, clothes start coming off and things start getting hot and heavy before Kram's dad calls up and interrupts them. He doesn't actually see anything (since they're horizontal and shielded by the brush) but he does notice the state they're in when they come down.
Which leads me nicely to the painting.
The Nude Portrait
Remember the nude portrait Kram did of Phupha? In the show, it comes about after Kram accidentally paints Scarface Tai. Phupha sees the painting and realizes how skilled Kram is and hires Kram to paint him.
In the novel, Kram shows Phupha a spare room where he stores all his works and as they're looking through them, Phupha comes across a nude portrait Kram had done of DUANDAOW. KRAM'S CHILDHOOD FRIEND.
Kram tells him that she had agreed to pose for him one day so he could practice painting figures, as all artists do, and Phupha gets all quiet and grumpy and jealous about it. So what does he do? Hire Kram to paint a nude portrait for him like the one Kram had done for Duandaow.
If you'll recall, this is pretty much what happens in the show when Tai asks Kram do paint a nude portrait of him. He gets jealous because Kram had done one of Phupha and asks for one just like it. It seems like the writers reworked that bit since they also wrote out that Kram had done a portait of Duandaow.
And that's not all they reworked.
The painting session with Phupha in the novel begins the same as it does in the show. Kram is doing his thing while Phupha looks all pretty with his cloth in the river. But just like the nude painting scene with Tai, Kram starts getting distracted because of how good Phupha looks.
And I just have to say, the author always makes a point to describe how beautiful Phupha is, but I especially appreciate them taking the time to tell us that Phupha has lovely ample breasts and pretty nipples. Especially because wiping sweat off those lovely ample breasts is what brings Kram so very close to Phupha for the third time. Except this time, they don't just kiss about it.
THEY FUCK ABOUT IT. RIGHT BY THE RIVER. AND THEN GO RIGHT BACK TO THE PAINTING SESSION WHEN THEY'RE DONE.
In the show, this painting scene is where we get their first kiss but as you have seen, beloved reader, we are several kisses in by this point in the novel
Dilok
It's after this that we cut to Kram's dad's perspective for a bit, and I only mention this because it's so goddamn funny and also serves to highlight a few of important points.
The man is just so endearingly oblivious. He saw how disheveled Kram and Phupha were when they came down from the mountain as I mentioned above and assumes they fought each other after having an argument. This man interpreted two horizontal silhouettes moving together as a FIST FIGHT. He assumes they're angry at each other when they won't even look at each other.
THIS MAN THINKS KRAM AND PHUPHA ARE FIGHTING TO THE DEATH EVERY TIME THEY GO UP TO THE MOUNTAIN AND COME BACK LOOKING SWEATY AND FLUSHED AND RUMPLED AND IF THAT'S NOT THE FUNNIEST THING GODDAMN THING I'VE EVER READ I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS.
In one instance, Dilok catches Phupha leaving Kram's bedroom early in the morning and believes Phupha when he tells him he "fell asleep" after he and Kram "talked" all night. Dilok even thinks to himself how proud he is that they're so mature and communicate so well! I love Dilok so much, you don't understand.
That aside, however, his hilarious misinterpretation tells us that unlike in the show, Kram and Phupha are fucking on the reg. And bear in mind that Kram still technically has an ash exchange ceremony coming up with Duandaow but before I get into everything with her, I wanted to share this passage where Dilok happens upon both her and Phupha's portraits because it says something important about Kram's relationship with Duandaow. Also because I love it.
Duandaow
Duandaow's presence is yet another major difference between the novel and the show.
The show doesn't tell us a whole lot about her. We know only that she has an ash exchange ceremony coming up with Kram and that when she realizes that Kram has feelings for Phupha, she takes herself out of the equation so they can be together.
The novel gives us so much more. She's featured prominently when Kram disappears in the forest, she cares for Phupha when he passes out, she appears every time Phupha goes to her grandmother's store to get medicine for Kram, and of course there's the fact that Kram painted her.
She has been in love with Kram her whole life. In addition to getting her history, we learn that they've known each other since childhood and that they were very close since they were the only two children in the village that were the same age. And it's partially because there's no one else for either them that being with Kram is a foregone conclusion to her and it's why she assumes that's the case for him as well.
She confesses to Kram and he responds with something along the lines of "Who would I love if not you? It's just us here." It's not an "I love you, too" but she takes it that way. Kram literally has no one else so his response may seem sweet but to me, it reads as him accepting on some level that there's no other option and settling.
I do think he cares deeply for Duandaow but I don't think he's in love with her. Several things drive this home for me (including that passage above) but the one that stands out the most is actually when they lose their virginity to each other.
It happens one day after they go swimming together (at the infamous waterfall I might add). She makes the first move and he hesitates at first but he gets swept up in the moment and it's all very shy and sweet. Thing is, after it happens, Kram keeps things strictly friendly between them. So much so that she thinks the whole thing got wiped from his memory.
And this sense of "who else if not you" persists pretty much their whole lives up until this point. They have an ash exchange ceremony coming up because why wouldn't they? There's no other option. Oh, the comphet of it all.
She isn't stepping aside for Phupha because she doesn't realize there's something between him and Kram. She notices something there that makes her suspicious but those suspicions are nebulous at best. It never occurs to her that they could have any relationship beyond friendship because why would they?
The Other Love Triangle
Phupha has had silent, one-sided beef with Duandaow ever since he saw that painting of her. He's polite to her but just barely, he doesn't make any effort at friendliness or real conversation. He's jealous and he has good reason to be, because he and Kram haven't declared any feelings for each other or had the "what are we" conversation.
Not only that, there is an ash exchange ceremony coming up. Phupha has no idea what that ceremony is until he asks Kram's dad one day and Dilok tells him IT'S A MARRIAGE CEREMONY. Show!Kram had some nerve getting pissy at Phupha for having a fiancee he didn't tell Kram about when Kram had one too!
Here Phupha is, so very in love and in a very physical relationship with Kram, and then he learns Kram is about to get married to someone else. He doesn't know whether Kram returns his feelings, he doesn't know where he stands, there's been no hint of calling off the wedding, so what does he do?
He takes himself out of the equation just like Duandaow does in the show.
Phupha chooses not to confess his feelings to Kram, he spends one last night snuggling him, and then he takes the L and quietly goes back to his life in Rattha.
Oh, what's that you say? You wanted some salt in that wound? How about the fact that KRAM GOES THROUGH WITH THE CEREMONY AND MARRIES DUANDAOW?
More? HE ONLY REALIZES HIS FEELINGS FOR PHUPHA AFTER HE'S ALREADY GONE AND ONLY MARRIES DUANDAOW OUT OF OBLIGATION AND BECAUSE PHUPHA IS NO LONGER THERE.
It's a MESS and there is no resolution for it because the novel translation isn't done!
*screams*
Tai
You might have noticed that I haven't really talked about Tai and that's because he only shows up once in these few chapters we have so far. The ones that take place in World 1, that is. But boy howdy does he come in with a bang when he does. Literally.
When Phupha hires Kram to paint him, Kram asks him to take him into the city as payment. There's an arts festival happening and Kram wanted to go so he could show off his dad's paintings.
Everything is going lovely, everyone is having a good time. At least until Duandaow shows up and Phupha turns into a salty salmon about it but we already talked about her.
The brand new chief of police has been asked to make a speech to inaugurate the festival and a short while after he gets on stage to make it, there is a bang. It's followed by screams and a second bang.
Tai showed up at the festival, shot an officer in the gut, and then killed the chief in cold blood to get revenge for the chief recently killing his father.
Bedlam ensues. People are screaming and terrified and fleeing the scene and Tai is looking to flee the scene too, but it just so happens that Kram is blocking his escape route. Tai shouts for him to move but something comes over Kram and he's not budging. Doesn't matter how much Tai threatens him or how much Phupha pleads with him, Tai belongs to the gang that killed his mother and he ain't moving.
My boy doesn't move even when Tai points a gun in his face. That's how much he hates this man and everything he represents. And Tai fully intends to kill him, but there's a moment where he locks eyes with Kram and something shifts within him.
There's a shot, but because we switch to Duandaow's perspective in that moment, we don't know exactly what happens. We know only that the shot missed and that Phupha rushed to hug Kram to his body and shield him from the shot.
Kram was in point blank range. There was no way in hell that shot missed unless that's what Tai intended. But that's all we've gotten of Tai in World 1 so far so there hasn't been a chance to dig into anything more.
The Stabbing of Viroj
There's one more thing I wanna mention, which also happens to be the stopping point for the translation at this time.
In the show, in World 1, Phupha's biological father Viroj gets attacked after Phupha and Kram go talk to him about the incident in the gallery with Tai and the conversation Phupha had with his father.
In the novel, that conversation with Adisak and Phupha's aunt and stepmother takes place right after Phupha goes back to Rattha and for the subsequent conversation with Viroj, Phupha is obviously alone.
The circumstances that precede the stabbing at a little different but that's a whole other tangent so I'm not gonna get into it. The rest of it is largely the same as in the show.
Someone breaks in, stabs Viroj, Phupha hears a scream and comes upon the scene, he has the realization about his hemophilia, he calls an ambulance and the police.
Only a few details are different. In the novel, he does actually manage to call for help but help never comes so he decides to take Viroj to the hospital himself. Unfortunately Viroj dies before Phupha can take him.
After his death, Phupha calls his dad Adisak to tell him that someone killed Viroj and to ask him to call for help. Adisak does, and when Phupha gets a call from the paramedics asking for more information, the paramedic asks where the patient was stabbed.
Problem is, Phupha never told Adisak that Viroj had been stabbed. Phupha immediately suspects that Adisak knows more about the attack than he let on and was possibly even behind it.
This is as far as the translation has taken us so I have to stop here. Sometime before the finale I'm gonna write up part two to this absolute saga, which will be the differences between World 2 in the novel and show.
If you've read this far, thank you. You're lovely and I love you. ❤️
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My question is: do demigods actually have like human ADHD, or is that just like the closest thing the human psychologists can diagnose it as? Like things get misdiagnosed a lot, right? ADHD is diagnosed as anxiety, autism is diagnosed as ADHD, etc, etc. So my question is do they have human ADHD, or is calling it that just an approximation?
#please discuss#percy jackson#pjo series#percy jackon and the olympians#percy series#pjo#pjo books#pjo tv show#adhd#neurodivergent#not that it matters#and it shouldn't prevent anyone from like identifying with them#I'm just curious#&thoughts#misdiagnosis#approximately#also at what point is it so close of an approximation that there is no difference?#anyway
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BEKKATHYST 10th Business Anniversary Giveaway!
~This giveaway is in no way affiliated with Tumblr.~
Please read thoroughly before entering!
Hello lovely Tumblr folk! It’s that time again- I have a giveaway for you all. This one is extra special because my business/shop turned 10 years old earlier this year! 💜
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One of our long-term customers graciously asked to sponsor this giveaway, so I'd like to give a huge thank you to @classicintp !! Also thank you to everyone who voted on which crystal should be featured in the giveaway. Opal won in a landslide!
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What could be worse than a valentine’s day alone? Exactly, a valentine’s day spent with your academic rival, Jeon Wonwoo, stuck in the home eco’s kitchen because you were both sentenced to take over the cookie baking for this season’s day of love.
pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader
genre: academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)
warnings: sexual content, smut warnings under cut! wonwoo is a little bit mean? but like not too mean? she’s also kinda mean. but they are in love! promise.
word count: 5k
a/n: hi everyone!! this is part of the cupids collab hosted by the wonderful @wongyuseokie for @svthub! this work is dedicated to the wonderful, the lovely, the hilarious @highvern! i hope you like it, babes!! sending you loads of love this valentine's day and thousands of kisses, mwah! i had loads of fun writing this and am happy to be a part of this collab, hehe. also thank you @ourdawnishotterthanourday for betaing, ily! <3
“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move.
“Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.”
Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him.
“Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.”
“I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”
smut warnings: minimal degradation (usage of the word “slut”), praising, pet names (princess, sweetheart, darling, pretty girl) oral (f. receiving), begging, softdom!wonwoo, unprotected sex (you know the drill - wrap it before you tap it, folks!), creampie (get it… cream…pie? cookies & cre- ok i’m sorry).
There are approximately seven thousand three hundred and twenty eight places you would rather be than here.
Nothing has helped you get out of this unfortunate situation. No pleading, no begging, not even wanting to send Seungkwan in your stead. Professor Yoon had been adamant in his decision to send you and him to this god forsaken home eco kitchen to bake the badge of cookies for the Valentine’s day sale.
“It’s not even a real holiday!” you had whined to Seungkwan, “if it were, we wouldn’t even be at class in the first place!”
All your best friend did was rub your back and tell you it was all gonna be fine, all while writing a text to Vernon on his phone in his other hand. He was used to your antics when it came to Jeon Wonwoo. Everyone was, at this point. Both of you had not made it hard to get used to - just by the amount of times you had decided to fight and dive right into rivalry when there was no reason to. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t even a bad idea to put you two in one room together for several hours with no one else. It could give you time to talk out your differences. Call for a truce. Screw the anger out of each other. Anything that would make Seungkwan’s life easier.
That day comes sooner than you wanted it to, and while your hand lays on the handle of the car door, you feel the uneasiness inside you raise.
“I can’t do this, Seungkwan. One of us is gonna end up dead.”
“Yeah, my money’s on Wonwoo. Please don’t disappoint me.” Seungkwan hums back, hands on the steering wheel and his eyebrows raised. You turn around, your mouth slightly agape before scoffing and opening the door.
“Pick me up at 4?” you ask and your best friend nods, waving at you once the door is closed. He truly hopes neither of you ends up dead (but if push comes to shove, obviously Wonwoo because then Vernon would owe him 5 bucks).
Professor Yoon had told you that all necessities would be at the university and that you wouldn’t have to bring anything except for a good mood, something you didn’t dare to say was impossible in the given situation.
You aren’t stupid (Wonwoo would beg to differ), you are well aware that your professor is trying to end whatever war you and Wonwoo have going on by pairing you up for this. And while you get the sentiment and might even appreciate it a little - you’re more than sure that nothing will ever come out of this - Wonwoo and you despise each other. It has been like this since your first semester and it most definitely wasn’t going to change over something as trivial as baking cookies together.
The home eco’s kitchen is in the basement of the economics building and you are happy to notice you’re the first to arrive. Smiling to yourself, you fish the key to the room out of your bag and unlock the door, walking in and turning on the lights.
The kitchen is spacious and modern, everything is made out of gray steel, with a few dark wood accents on the cupboards. You spot the boxes with ingredients on the island, and place your bag next to it before unpacking the things provided for you and Wonwoo. It becomes your mission to arrange the cookbook with the recipe in the center of the right side of the island, gathering all the needed ingredients around it in the order you would need it. Then, you search the cupboards for a big bowl, wooden spoon and a mixer.
You have gathered almost everything except for the mixer, spotting it in one of the higher cupboards you most definitely can’t reach without some sort of help. Biting down on your lip and gnawing on it, you look around the room, coming up empty. There are chairs in the room next to the kitchen, but you don’t have the key for it. With a sigh, you stretch yourself as much as you possibly can, hand reaching for the kitchen gadget - with no luck. Just when you’re about to climb on top of the counter, you feel something shift behind you, a body suddenly pressed against yours and an arm reaching up to grab the mixer for you without any trouble at all.
Wonwoo. Your body stiffens at his touch and only relaxes once he backs off, putting the mixer down next to the other stuff. Immediately you turn around, your eyes glaring at him.
“Someone decided to show up, after all.” You spit at him and he rolls his eyes.
“I was forced, if you must know.” He says not even looking at you. His eyes are focused on the ingredients on the counter, his lips slowly drawing into a smug smile.
“Control freak much?”
Your head burns and you scoff, walking over to the door and feeling his eyes on you as you move.
“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move.
“Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.”
Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him.
“Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.”
“I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”
For the most part the two of you are quiet. Mainly because you don’t have anything to say to each other. You split the ingredients evenly (either one of you starting with their own batch since there is a whole lot of cookies to bake) and begin working on opposite ends of the kitchen. You get through the first batch without so much as exchanging looks. You do your thing and he does his. Only, when you get the first batch out, you ask him to hand you the oven mittens, which he does without any fuss. You’re surprised but don’t say it.
It’s when the both of you start to work on your second batches that things… change.
You hate to admit the tension in the room. In fact, you’ve been hating it since the first day you’ve met him. It’s a shame he’s so hot when he’s the absolute bane of your existence. Your friends (mainly Seungkwan, really) tease you about your obvious attraction to the man you call your archnemesis every chance they get, causing you to flip them off, or scoff, or just roll your eyes at how extremely wrong they are. If you could change it, you would! Finding him attractive whilst hating him truly is exhausting.
Slowly, you let yourself turn around in hopes he doesn’t notice. Thankfully, he is entirely focused on sprinkling chocolate chips into the cookies - white chocolate chips. You let out a gasp and your wooden spoon falls onto the top of the counter you’re working on.
“That’s cheating!” You shout, pointing at the package of sweets that he so obviously brought himself. What a jerk!
Not even looking at you, Wonwoo chuckles at your words, placing the chocolate chips next to him and wiping his hands on the apron he had put on earlier. Then, he turns to you, hip leaning against the counter, arms crossed and his eyebrows raised as he smirks like the douchebag you know he is.
“Cheating, yeah?” He repeats, licking his lips, “not sure it counts as cheating when it was clear from the beginning I would make better cookies, sweetheart.”
His condescending way of talking to you has always succeeded in making your blood boil, just like right now. You scoff, shaking your head and cleaning your own hands with a kitchen towel to your left.
“You know, considering these are for the day of love it is quite ironic Professor Yoon paired me with you, the person I hate the most.” You present Wonwoo with a honey dripping smile that couldn’t be more fake. Wonwoo doesn’t waver though. He just continues to smirk, his eyebrows shooting up even more, and before you know it he starts walking towards you, a click of his tongue almost making you flinch.
“See, love and hate are like siblings. While on the surface they couldn’t be more different, in their core they are irritatingly similar,” his voice is deep and his eyes are right there on yours and somehow you feel like he has taken away your ability to breathe. What the hell is he doing?
“You were always fascinating to me, darling. Always so sure of your opinion, never wavering. That first day we met, do you remember? How you were on my ass for the rest of the day because Professor Cha liked my answer better than yours?”
“He did not!” You shoot back, surprised by your own whiny tone. Looking at Wonwoo’s face, the defined jawline and cheekbones, the round specs on top of his nose and the brown soft curls falling into his forehead, you immediately regret speaking up at all. There is something in his eyes now, something you have never seen before - at least not on him. Something inside of him shifted, like a switch that had been flipped, and the way he looks at you makes all of your skin erupt in goosebumps.
“Ah, so I imagined things?” Wonwoo only so much as whispers, his large frame coming even closer, “Are you saying I’m a liar, pretty girl?”
Pretty girl. What the fuck? Your eyes widen and you feel your throat closing up. Absolutely not, you could not freeze right now! He was testing you, seeing how far he could go before you actually fell for whatever he was trying to do. Gathering all your confidence, you bring your hands up to place them on his chest and softly push him away. It gives you extreme satisfaction when you see the surprise on his face.
“And if I am? What are you going to do about it, Wonwoo?” Your smile turns smug and the little vein on Wonwoo’s forehead pops out just slightly. About to retrieve your arms, you are met with his hands around your wrists and his body even closer to yours.
To say he catches you by surprise would be an understatement. Your lower back is pressed against the counter, your hands in his grip and your lungs missing the necessary air to not get dizzy. Why does he smell so good? You catch yourself thinking thoughts you normally would try to suppress at any given time - especially when Wonwoo is right in front of you. This time, though, there is no escaping. Not with him so close, not with him staring right into your soul.
“I have learned one thing over the years we’ve known each other, Y/N,” he breathes, eyes not leaving your face, “you can be a real fucking brat.”
The gasp you want to let out gets stuck in your throat. Instead, something like a choke comes out, something that makes Wonwoo smirk and your legs weak.
“You really think you’re sly. Do you honestly believe I don’t know how attractive you find me? How you need to look away everytime I come in wearing tighter shirts or pants that hang low enough to see the waistband of my underwear? You always try to act like you hate me and, you know what, maybe you do, but what I said earlier isn’t wrong, darling, love and hate are like yin and yang - they can’t exist without the other.”
He has your wrists in a strong grip and his lower body is now pressed against yours, something you never realized you craved. Feeling his growing erection against you, knowing he is turned on by you, by the situation, you feel like your head is about to explode.
“So, what if I tell you that maybe I don’t actually hate you, but I actually find you attractive as well? What if I tell you nine out of ten times I want to shut your annoying mouth up by shoving my cock right down your tight throat? Or how whenever you bend over your desk to tell someone something you, of course, know better than them, I want to take you just like that and make everyone see just how much of a desperate pretty slut you actually are?”
You’re done for. With every word he’s saying, you can feel yourself actually becoming what he says you are. Desperate. The heat between your legs has turned into liquid in your panties, has turned into your heart beating at triple speed.
“Y-You can’t just say that!” You stutter, knowing full well he will just laugh at you. And he does. He laughs and he throws his head back and then he looks at you again, his eyes glinting with want that only gets emphasized by the hard cock pressing against you.
“Oh, sweet, sweet baby. Of course, I can,” he hums, finally letting go of one of your wrists to carefully tug a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so beautiful, especially when you’re flustered.”
He must be playing with you. It has to be one of his games. He wants you to give in, wants you to fall for this only to hold it over your head for the rest of your college life. His mixture of dominance and sweetness is about to give you whiplash, especially when he begins to caress your cheek and leans down, his breath hitting your cheek.
“We need to finish those cookies, Wonwoo.” The words are whispered and almost inaudible, but he hears you and he smiles.
“We’re alone in this basement, sweetheart. We’ve got all day to finish those cookies.” His hand wanders down, finding its place on your hip. You shiver slightly, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips and when his nose bumps against yours, something tells you that maybe he is serious.
When he kisses you, you figure that something is correct. What’s supposed to start soft turns into something deep, and hot, and uncontrolled, right off the bat. Kissing Wonwoo feels like the only thing you had ever missed out on in life and now you finally got the chance to take what belongs to you. His lips are soft and his tongue is warm, pressing against yours and entangling it in a dance of fire. Your hands are in his hair and his are on your hips and you’re sitting on top of the counter with all of your ingredients pushed to the side, your wooden spoon falling to the floor when Wonwoo lifts you up.
As if on instinct, your legs wrap around him and you moan against his lips when his hands move up, groping your breasts through your shirt. He licks into your mouth, your fingers digging into his nape, nails dragging along his skin.
If you could see into Wonwoo’s brain you might have gotten scared. Not because he’s thinking actual scary thoughts but because of how many times he has imagined this. You’re always there, somewhere in his brain, your smile, your eyes, your laugh. And when he’s alone and can’t sleep you’re there too, but this time it’s how he thinks you’d sound when he’s inside of you, when he sucks on your neck and squeezes your tits. There hasn’t been a day since he met you that he hadn’t thought about you.
It’s a shame you immediately called him out to be your academic rival on that day because all Wonwoo wanted to do back then was to make you his girlfriend, basically falling in love with you at first sight. As cliché as it sounds, it’s even more cliché considering he just played along with you, acting like he hated you, riling you up during class in ways he would rather switch for moments like this one right now.
Never had he imagined he’d get you alone, especially considering how good you are at avoiding him. But when Professor Yoon had asked him to bake the cookies for the Valentine’s day sale - he couldn’t help but suggest you as his partner. Hours would be spent together in a kitchen, hours you had to spend with him.
He loves how right he was. How right he was about you giving in, about you finding him hot, about you wanting him. He loves the sounds you make when he begins kissing down your neck and when his hand wanders under your shirt and shoves away your bra to touch the breasts he had been dreaming about. He sucks marks onto your neck and feels himself grow harder with every passing second. There is nowhere on this earth he’d rather be than right here, between your legs.
“Been dying to do this, you know?” He mumbles against your neck, licking up to your earlobe and twitching in his pants when he feels you shivering under his touch.
“R-Really?” You whimper back and Wonwoo nods, both hands moving to your cheeks, lips back on yours in a heated, passionate kiss. He thinks that nothing will ever feel as good as kissing you.
“Yeah, baby, wanted to kiss you forever, fuck,” he moans when your fingers move underneath his shirt, when you touch his bare skin and all of him begins to burn.
“Wanted to touch you, taste you.” His words echo in your mind and you open your eyes, a horny daze in them that makes Wonwoo question his sanity. He moves down now, kissing your neck again and shoving your shirt up to kiss your stomach and breasts over your bra, nimble fingers opening the apron you had laced around your hips earlier.
“Can I taste you, pretty girl?” He asks then and you think you nod, at least you want to nod, but your head is clouded and you feel like you’re about to pass out. When he moves to get the apron off of you, focussing on opening your pants next, you figure you did in the end.
Having you half naked in front of him makes Wonwoo feel like he has reached the gates of heaven. Your pants are on the floor and your chest is heaving, eyes glossy as you watch Wonwoo move to the floor, his tall body still reaching the top of the counter when he kneels in front of you. He moves his arms, wrapping them around your thighs and pulling you closer, his nose tapping against your sensitive core the next second. With a gasp, your hands reach for his head of hair, grounding yourself in it as you stare down at the way he eyes your pussy as if he had never seen anything more delicious in his life.
When he moves your panties to the side, his finger softly gliding over your folds, you feel yourself shiver once more. You let out another whimper, biting down on your lip that feels hot and a little bruised after the way Wonwoo had kissed you.
“God, I can’t even tell you how many nights I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He kisses the inside of your thighs, making you moan quietly, fingers coating themselves in your juices, ready to please you.
Watching him is messing with your head in the best way possible. The way he looks at you, so full of endearment and adoration. How he touches you as if you’d break if he touched you too vehemently. He lets his tongue glide over your skin, moving until it reaches your dripping cunt, licking over your lips, tasting you for the first time. The moan he lets out has you digging your nails into his scalp, mouth dropped as you continue to stare down, continue to watch Wonwoo, your archnemesis, begin to devour your pussy like a Michelin star dish.
He starts off slow, licking over your folds, not touching your clit even once. If he died right now, he’d be content. Tasting you, hearing your sounds when you’re aroused, him being the cause of it - it’s almost all of his dreams coming true. His fingers move, one of them circling your entrance, your whines growing louder by the second. You want his fingers inside of you, you need them inside of you. Wiggling your hips against him, Wonwoo chuckles at your antics and finally moves his finger, inch by inch sinking into your needy hole, your eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him.
“So, so eager, princess,” he mumbles against your pussy, another breathy laugh causing you to thrust forward, his finger now completely inside of you. And, fuck, do you feel wonderful. So much better than anything Wonwoo had experienced before, better than anything he could have imagined. Perhaps, he figures, it’s because it’s you.
Next thing you know, Wonwoo’s lips are around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, tongue flicking against it and leaving you to moan his name time and time again. Your hips move against him and he lets you, his cock straining against his pants in desperate need for attention. But not yet, he isn’t done with you. First, you’d have to come undone on his tongue and his fingers, first you had to scream his name as you experienced complete and utter satisfaction. Wonwoo does everything in his power for that to happen. He adds another finger and fucks you open, his long fingers meeting your sweet spot with every thrust as if he had studied your body for hundreds of hours. His tongue does the work of a god, his lips kiss you like you had never known you needed to be kissed, especially down there.
“D-Don’t stop! Oh, fuck, Wonwoo!” You cry out, your head thrown back as you focus on nothing but your pleasure, on how he feels on your pussy, how it all is too much and yet not enough. You think about what’s to come, about how he will fuck you next, will sink into you with his cock, will make you feel like you’re the most precious woman on this planet. Even more than he already does. Your high is nearing, it’s so close you can feel it right there in front of you, that tight knot in your stomach about to break free and give you one of the most intense orgasms of your life.
“Cum for me, baby. Fuck, I want you to cum on my tongue.” Wonwoo’s words are like magic, like a spell that he puts on you. A lewd whine escapes your throat and you do as he wishes, cumming all over his tongue and fingers, your juices drenching his face. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, anticipation filling him when he finally parts from you.
Immediately, you pull down to kiss him when he stands. Tasting yourself on his lips with your hands opening his apron and getting it off his tall frame with his help, you can’t wait to get even closer to him. You slip out of your panties with his lips steadily on yours, a faint sound in your ears when they hit the floor.
“Need you so bad, Wonwoo, please hurry,” you cry out and he laughs, kissing your neck and your cheek, his hands opening his belt, zipper and button, shoving his pants down only for you to gasp at the sheer size of his bulge. He grins, hands back on your face to make sure you’re looking at him.
“Naughty, aren’t you? My perfect, pretty slut,” he kisses your lips again and your eyes roll back, your pussy throbbing in want. And obviously he knows how much you want him - he wants you just the same. As he continues to kiss you, he moves to pull his briefs down, his hard erection springing free, angry tip red and smeared with pre, oh-so ready to sink into your warm embrace. You part from him, eyes now setting on his cock, your mouth watering at the sight.
“Fuck, you’re big,” you say, swallowing down the saliva pooling in your mouth. Wonwoo only grins wider, his big hands finding purchase on your hips as he leans down again.
“Beg a little for it, baby, and you might get it.” You shiver and bite down on your lip, your hands wandering over his still clothed torso and down to his cock, slowly wrapping your hand around it.
“Please, Wonwoo, please fuck me…,” is your whispered plead, and the man standing in between your legs groans against your neck, sucking yet another mark into your delicate skin before nodding and grabbing his cock out of your hand, lining it up perfectly with your entrance and slowly sinking in.
His forehead is leaned against yours when he bottoms out and his hands caress your head, coming to a stop on your nape.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, kissing the tip of your nose and you smile, giving the tip of his nose a kiss back. Then, he parts from you and the look in his eyes changes from soft to dark. He does his first thrust, catching you off guard, a loud moan escaping you. Your hands grab onto his shoulders as he continues his thrusts, fucking you deep and hard, his eyes focused on your face that contours in absolute bliss. When he said you’re beautiful, he meant it.
He is holding onto your hips again, pulling you as close to him as he can, his hips chasing yours, his cock in the deepest bits of your pussy, your gummy walls squeezing him for his pleasure. There is nothing you can do besides begging him to go faster, begging him to not ever stop and crying his name when he leans down to suck on your hard nipple over your shirt.
“Wonwoo! Fuck!” You clench over and over again, stars dancing in front of your eyes accompanied by beautiful lights that slowly but surely turn into fireworks. With every thrust of his hips, you feel yourself coming closer to the edge again. You want him to fill you, want him to claim you as his, make you feel full of him and only him. Nails are digging into his shoulders, your head falling back against the kitchen cabinet, his groans and the beautiful sound of your name coming out of his mouth chasing you off the cliff and into the warm waters of yet another intense orgasm.
“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, oh- Wonwoo!” It’s done, you are done, your climax hitting you hard and making you gush all over his length that is still so deeply buried inside your sensitive cunt. Wonwoo moans, feeling your pussy clench around him, squeeze him, beg him to cum, to decorate you in his shades of white. And he wants to, god, there is nothing he had ever wanted more. His breathing becomes labored and he leans forward, engulfing you in yet another heated kiss, one arm wrapped around you, the other letting its hand rest on your cheek, thumb caressing your chin as his tongue flicks against yours over and over, mixed with his breathless moans.
When you squeeze him the next time, he erupts. He moans your name, hips becoming frantic as he shoots his load into you, spurts of white and hot cum filling your spent pussy, your and his combined releases dripping down your thighs even as he fucks his cum so, so deep into you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants against your mouth, continuing to kiss you right after, riding out his orgasm and only stopping when you’re both completely out of breath.
It’s silent for a few moments, the only thing audible your almost synchronized breathing. Your hands are still on his shoulders, his hands are still on your waist and your cheek. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and he softly kisses your sweaty skin, nothing but pure happiness running through him at this point. He softly caresses your face as he leans back again, his eyes searching for yours.
“Y/N,” he then breathes, a small and maybe even shy smile playing on his lips.
“Wonwoo,” you sigh back, pulling him into a hug that he accepts with a laugh, both his arms now fully wrapped around your body. He’s still inside of you and only leaves you when you part from the hug, more of his release now dripping out of your core. He doesn’t ask whether you’re on birth control because for all he cares he would love to have you pregnant with his child. The thought alone makes his head spin.
“Well,” he begins, a smug smile on his face as he leans down to pick up your panties, “that definitely gives ‘cookies and cream’ a different meaning.”
You stare at him, slightly bewildered, for around three seconds before you burst into laughter, grabbing your underwear from him and jumping back onto your shaky feet.
“You’re horrible,” you say and shake your head and Wonwoo’s smile grows even wider.
“Maybe. But I promise you, sweetheart, I’ll never ever be horrible to you again.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that, Mr. Know-It-All,” you smile and give his cheek a peck that he reacts to by turning bright red.
It is in that exact moment you realize Wonwoo was never your archnemesis. Nor has he ever been as much of an ass as you had made him out to be. Jeon Wonwoo is nothing but a loser who’s been in love with you since the very first day you met him, and perhaps you had always known. Perhaps you finally let yourself realize right now, the moment after he had cum inside of you and still blushes like a little kid when you kiss his cheek, that the only reason you had chosen him to be your rival was to run away from how much you knew you’d fall for him if you didn’t.
“Come on, let’s do what we actually came here for.”
And for the rest of the day you and Wonwoo bake the cookies for the sale and talk about what your plans are for Valentine’s. To no surprise those plans immediately involve hanging out together. Maybe, you think, to give ‘cookies and cream’ that new meaning over and over again.
#svthub#svthub.collab#wonwoo fanfiction#wonwoo smut#wonwoo au#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo fluff#kvanity#ksmutsociety#wonwoo scenario#wonwoo imagine#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen smut#seventen imagines#svt smut#svt imagines#seventeen au#svt x reader#jeon wonwoo x reader#seventeen fluff#jeon wonwoo fluff#wonwoo x you#wonwoo imagines
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As much as I adore your (highly) interesting takes on medievalism and how it differs from what we actually know (or hypothesize) about the medieval period, I don't think I've ever asked: are there any books set in either the real middle ages or some fantasy approximation of the period that you WOULD recommend? They don't have to be "perfect" representations, obviously, but it would be nice to learn about any books that side-step the usual potholes. Thank you!
Hi, friend! A of all, thank you; B of all, there are and I would. From the following list it will become apparent that my criteria are idiosyncratic. Really, I think, the most important thing for my own enjoyment -- for any historical fiction, but especially for that set in the place/time I know best -- is that the work and its author are exploring the period as a way of opening up a conversation between past and present, rather than looking down on the past from the vantage point of the contemporary. This sententious prolegomenon concluded:
The Book Smuggler, Omaima Al-Khamis (eleventh-century Islamicate world, about knowledge and wisdom and religious intolerance)
Morality Play, Barry Unsworth (fourteenth-century England, about justice and law and vocation and community)
The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco (doesn't need my introduction, hilarious and deeply poignant meta-meditation on the genre of the detective story, also on theological debates and the love of one's neighbor and the nature of fear)
Sword at Sunset, Rosemary Sutcliff (fifth-century post-Roman Britain, has some clichés, also some magic, but is so richly imagined and full of people I love. Also good dogs.)
Cadfael Chronicles, Ellis Peters (twelfth-century England; I was wondering why I love these so much and I think a lot of it comes back to how much Ellis Peters loved the particular place she lived/set the books in, and watching the changing of the seasons there, so that that close observation of time -- very medieval! -- is also central. Inequality isn't made invisible or grotesque here, either, and it's often one or the other in Fictional Medieval Europe.)
Isaac of Girona mysteries, Caroline Roe (C14 Spain, also whodunits, but I cannot resist including this charming series about a blind Jewish doctor and his beloved wife and his daughters and the orphan he adopts and his chess-playing buddy the bishop and and and....! It's great.)
The History of the Siege of Lisbon, José Saramago (C12/C20 Portugal, called "metafiction about the instability of history and the reality assumed by fiction" by Kirkus Reviews and... yeah!)
She Who Became The Sun, Shelley Parker-Chan (C15 Ming China, with ghosts, definitely fantasy rather than regular historical fiction, and on the cusp of early modernity, also so so interesting)
The Apothecary's Shop, Roberto Tiraboschi (C12 Venice, deeply weird -- affectionate -- and drawing on Calvino and gialli as well as medieval history; some inaccuracies about women and medicine but I still found it compelling and thought-provoking)
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It took about two hours for Daina Taimina to find the solution that had eluded mathematicians for over a century. It was 1997, and the Latvian mathematician was participating in a geometry workshop at Cornell University. David Henderson, the professor leading the workshop, was modelling a hyperbolic plane constructed out of thin, circular strips of paper taped together. 'It was disgusting,' laughed Taimina in an interview.
A hyperbolic plane is 'the geometric opposite' of a sphere, explains Henderson in an interview with arts and culture magazine Cabinet. 'On a sphere, the surface curves in on itself and is closed. A hyperbolic plane is a surface in which the space curves away from itself at every point.' It exists in nature in ruffled lettuce leaves, in coral leaf, in sea slugs, in cancer cells. Hyperbolic geometry is used by statisticians when they work with multidimensional data, by Pixar animators when they want to simulate realistic cloth, by auto-industry engineers to design aerodynamic cars, by acoustic engineers to design concert halls. It's the foundation of the theory of relativity, and thus the closest thing we have to an understanding of the shape of the universe. In short, hyperbolic space is a pretty big deal.
But for thousands of years, hyperbolic space didn't exist. At least it didn't according to mathematicians, who believed that there were only two types of space: Euclidean, or flat space, like a table, and spherical space, like a ball. In the nineteenth century, hyperbolic space was discovered - but only in principle. And although mathematicians tried for over a century to find a way to successfully represent this space physically, no one managed it - until Taimina attended that workshop at Cornell. Because as well as being a professor of mathematics, Taimina also liked to crochet.
Taimina learnt to crochet as a schoolgirl. Growing up in Latvia, part of the former Soviet Union, 'you fix your own car, you fix your own faucet - anything', she explains. 'When I was growing up, knitting or any other handiwork meant you could make a dress or a sweater different from everybody else's.' But while she had always seen patterns and algorithms in knitting and crochet, Taimina had never connected this traditional, domestic, feminine skill with her professional work in maths. Until that workshop in 1997. When she saw the battered paper approximation Henderson was using to explain hyperbolic space, she realised: I can make this out of crochet.
And so that's what she did. She spent her summer 'crocheting a classroom set of hyperbolic forms' by the swimming pool. 'People walked by, and they asked me, "What are you doing?" And I answered, "Oh, I'm crocheting the hyperbolic plane."' She has now created hundreds of models and explains that in the process of making them 'you get a very concrete sense of the space expanding exponentially. The first rows take no time but the later rows can take literally hours, they have so many stitches. You get a visceral sense of what "hyperbolic" really means.' Just looking at her models did the same for others: in an interview with the New York Times Taimina recalled a professor who had taught hyperbolic space for years seeing one and saying, 'Oh, so that's how they look.' Now her creations are the standard model for explaining hyperbolic space.
-Caroline Criado Perez, Invisible Women
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#caroline criado perez#Daina Taimina#women in stem#women’s history#women in science#crochet#crocheting#female mathematicians#hyperbolic space
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imagine telling zoro you're pregnant
The test results indicate that you were in fact very much pregnant. Having confided in Robin and Nami about missing your period– you had thought maybe it was a fluke the first time, but after a second month without you asked them to help you find a pregnancy test. So, when the crew docked a few weeks later – the three of you went to the local doctor to take a test. Now you sat alone on the deck of the Sunny, results written on a piece of paper. Approximately thirteen weeks. The girls were just as shocked as you and when Nami asked who the father was, you flat out refused to say.
“Not before I tell him.”
They seemed understanding but there were only so many options for them to pick from. It had to be one of the men on the crew, Nami had pointed out. Robin was more respectful and said it was up to you to decide when you told the others – until then, they would keep mum.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”
Looking up from the paper in your hand, you saw the father of your child and felt a wave of nerves. He seemed relaxed in his white shirt and black pants, swords sheathed at his side. He looked perplexed when you shoved the results into his chest and started toward the observation room. The rest of the crew had ventured out onto the island, but you came back with the results, telling Robin and Nami you wanted to rest for a bit. Zoro had gone out too, but he must have gotten back, and it was a good thing too. Going up the stairs that led to the upper deck, you felt his sharp gaze on you then heard a curse in the wind. He called out to you but you kept walking to the observation room. Once inside, you sat down on the edge of Nami’s desk and waited for Zoro. He walked in, moments later, fist closed around the paper.
“You’re pregnant.”
“So, you can read.”
“Not funny,” he murmured, taking a seat next to you. Neither of you said a word for what felt like minutes but was most likely seconds until he sighed deeply. “Well, are we going to tell the others?”
“I don’t know.” Your forehead met his shoulder and he chuckled, giving your thigh a soft pat.
“I never thought of having kids or being a – a father. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to do it.”
“We don’t have to, you know,” you whispered, eyes focused forward. Zoro stiffened beside you. “I’m sure there’s a doctor we can go to…we are pirates after all.”
It wasn’t like the thought didn’t cross his mind in the time it took to read the piece of paper and the walk to the upper deck, but it was a brief though. He didn’t know what kind of father he could be, because he truly never thought of the possibility. Would a child ruin his goals? Would it shift everything in your lives? What about your dream to help liberate people around the world? What would having a child do to those dreams?
“Zoro, what do you think? This can easily go away, and we can go back to our lives.” You stole a look from him, and he turned to you, eyes filled with thought. “It can go back to us sneaking around, just us two. Wouldn’t you like that?”
He stared at your face, recognized the sincere gaze in your eyes – the kind of expression that gave many people hope. That’s what you did, gave people the strength to move forward and do things they never thought possible. Zoro was staring into your eyes and wondered if his child would have their shape. He moved his arm around your shoulder, and you relaxed against his side, the two of you close together as the ship docked quietly.
“No matter if it’s a boy or girl, my kid’s going to learn to three sword style.” You moved away from Zoro to get a better look at him. He seemed resolved and smiled at you. “I’m not raising no wimp. We’ll probably have to add a room to the ship. Sure, Franky’s up for the challenge.”
Like that, Zoro was all in.
“Zoro…”
“…also, Chopper better know how to deliver a baby. Nami and Robin can help.”
“Zoro…”
He stood up and walked over to the wall of books. “Do you think there’s a baby book here?”
Zoro finally looked at you and stilled at the tears in your eyes, realizing then that he hadn’t heard a word from you – what you wanted. He felt ashamed for running his mouth so much when you hadn’t even confirmed that you wanted the kid too. He strode over to you, taking your hand in his. If you were to say you didn’t want to go through with the pregnancy, then that was the end of the discussion. He wasn’t going to force anything on you – not even his own kid.
“Hey, what are you thinking?”
Wiping the tears from your eyes, you laughed. “I’m thinking you’re going to be a really good dad, Zoro.”
The man’s eyes softened, and he asked if that meant you wanted to have the baby. You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be so bad, huh?”
He kneeled in front of you, holding your gaze with a stern expression. “Listen, no matter what, I’ll make sure nothing ever bad happens to you two. Got it? The two of you belong to me now and I’ll always keep you safe.”
“Belong?”
An eyebrow rise had the man turning red and he backtracked, swiftly getting to his feet. “I don’t mean it like that! Just – you now, that’s my kid in there and you’re my….”
Amused, you questioned him further. “You’re what?”
Zoro cursed; cheeks bruised with embarrassment. Taking his hand, you smiled up at him and his body resigned. He pulled you up from the desk and held you at the waist, thumbs caressing the hem of your blouse. Realization hit him that you were going to be glowing with child, his child and the thought brushed away all insecurities. He took you in his arms and lifted your chin, eyes baring into yours.
“You’re the mother of my child and I love you.” Perfected words came from his mouth before his lips touched yours and his arms moved around your waist. He pulled you closer, kissing you gently, cradling your back delicately. He was terrified, a feeling that was foreign to him because now more than ever, he had something so precious to lose. His lips parted from yours and he smirked at the way your eyes fluttered open, and he brushed a thumb over the bottom of your lip. “So, we’re really going to do this?”
“I love you, Zoro,” you grinned, grabbing his hand to place over your stomach. “…and yes, we’re going to do this.”
Lost in the moment, in one another’s eyes, neither of you heard footsteps approaching. Both jumping back when two hands patted your backs – it was Robin at the doorway. “What a pleasant surprise, are you going to tell the others? Nami didn’t place her bets on Zoro.”
Zoro cringed at the thought of anyone else but him being the one to have gotten you pregnant – it made him want to fight Sanji, because he was sure that’s who Nami thought the father was. It made him mad, but then you touched his shoulder. “Might as well tell them all.”
“Yeah, probably,” he sighed contently, feeling your hand on his back. He nodded to Robin and told her to lead the way – the three of you leaving for the main deck where everyone was gathered, showing off the goodies they had purchased in town. Everyone’s attention drew away from their purchases, eyes focused on Zoro and you as Robin stepped aside. The swordsman and you exchanged glances before you blurted out the news. “Zoro and I are going to have a baby. I’m about three months pregnant and I’m sorry if this puts a damper on things for us as a crew….”
“Don’t be sorry.” Zoro placed a protective hand on the small of your back and looked at Luffy. “I intend on seeing all my promises through, we both do.”
Luffy stared and stared, everyone silent, until a smile pulled from the corner of his mouth, and he rejoiced. “How cool! A baby! That’s like another crew member! You’re gonna teach it three sword style, right, Zoro?”
“Luffy, you can’t give a baby a sword!”
Usopp chastised the captain while Sanji sighed. “Zoro, you’re a lucky bastard. I guess I need to go back into town to get more supplies. A pregnancy calls for healthy foods.”
“I’ll need some medical books; you should be taking vitamins as well.” Chopper tapped at his chin, asking if he could do a full examination on you. You agreed to bring him the paperwork from the doctor’s office tomorrow as well. You relaxed as Zoro told Franky about the extra room, the two men moving off to the side to discuss plans for some renovations. Robin mentioned a bookstore in town. “We can go get some baby books.”
Everyone busied themselves with plans and you felt a wave of relief that the crew was actually happy about the baby, so much relief, that you placed a loving hand on your stomach. It was going to be a challenge, further along in the pregnancy, especially with all the situations the crew finds itself in, but they were your family.
Family protects each other.
Eyes teared as you witnessed the love of the crew embracing Zoro and you then you felt a warm hand on your shoulder.
“I should have known it was him,” Nami smiled, patting you lightly on the head. “It makes sense now that I think of it. I do love kids, you know.”
“Good,” you laughed, holding back tears as she hugged your side. “Because we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
Looking to where Franky and Zoro stood, the father of your child found your stare and he smirked. A soft, quiet, knowing smirk that penetrated the depths of your heart and you wished then, that your child would have his smile. Have his small smile and immeasurable strength. The child was going to need it– to the world government, the people that would love them the most, were dangerous people. But your child would know the truth, they will see it with their own eyes and feel it within their heart. They would have a crew full of a family that would do anything for them – no matter what.
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PLS PLS PLS I'm begging you for the play fighting prompt omgggg sanne I'll love you forever (I already do but that's besides the point)
lmfao I am so embarrassed by this 🫣🫣 totally exposing myself right now but whatevs. hope u like it aud (and others). i haven't written smut in a looong time so. baring my soul rn 🫠
jason todd x fem!reader. warnings: smut, playfighting, roughness (?), sprinkle of dumbification (no one look at me), dom jason but also kinda service top jason, fingering, praise, and CONSENT! bc we consent orally here, sir. 18+ only minors get OUT (you shouldn't be here anyway!!!)
heh. anyway. crawling back under my rock now.
****
"Do you think I could take you down?"
Jason raises his eyebrows at you from over his book.
"Come again?"
"Like in that demonstration Kory and Dick did today. Do you think I could do to you what she did to Dick?"
Jason chuckles, setting his book down.
"Baby, I hate to break it to you, but I think Kory's a little more practiced in combat than you are."
"So you don't believe in me. Wow. Some boyfriend you are."
"Of course I believe in you," he says. "She is a space princess, though."
You shake your head and pluck the book from Jason's hands. You make a point of sliding the bookmark in before you close it. Jason squints at you.
You wait approximately a quarter of a second before you leap forward, straddling Jason's chest. He makes a hup sound as you land, and you lift your chin victoriously.
"I got you," you say.
Jason nods, smile widening. "You got me, sweetheart."
"No, I don't. C'mon, fight back, Jay."
His eyes glitter as he studies you. Then he picks up both of your thighs and swings you both off of the couch. You land with him hovering over you, not even holding any part of you down. His hand is underneath your head to cushion the impact.
You huff. You know Jason can do better than this; you've watched him take down fifteen men in less than five minutes.
You lift your head, mouth parted in expectation. Jason understands immediately and happily complies, kissing you warmly.
You take the chance to hook your leg over his hip and throw him off balance. His hand wobbles enough to tell you that he genuinely hadn't been expecting that. Jason rolls on his side, absorbing the impact. You pounce.
"What's gotten into you?" he asks, smirking as you crawl onto him.
"You're holding back," you say, pinning his wrists down.
Jason looks at you mildly. "I told you I believe in you. You got me, baby."
He could break out of your hold instantly. Even if you were matched in strength and size, Jason has years of experience on you.
Something in your brain goes quiet and gooey at the thought. It fades as quickly as it comes.
"Play with me for real," you urge. "Show me some moves."
Jason presses his lips together. "You sure?"
You nuzzle his cheek, scruff scratching you.
"I'm sure. I trust you, Jay. C'mon, show me what you got."
He laughs, unbearably fond, and crosses his legs around your waist. You lose your grip on his wrists in the next moment, and you end up on your back. Again, Jason doesn't let you feel the full impact that he'd unleash on an opponent. He holds your shoulders when you go down to avoid thumping your head on the carpet.
Your breath still knocks around in your chest, though. The lightheaded feeling returns. You shift, pretending like you're adjusting underneath Jason.
"I can show you how to do that if you want," he says, and it's oddly sweet.
Your eyes narrow. Jason tilts his head, immediately suspicious.
"What're you planning, minx?" he asks.
"What do you mean? I'm perfectly innocent."
"Yeah, sure. I see the gears turning up there." He taps your forehead.
"Whatever, weirdo," you say, and push at his chest. "Let me up."
Jason practically scoops you up into a standing position. You busily dust yourself off even though he vacuumed last week. Jason's apartment is always spotless.
Right when you think he's distracted, you go in for the final attack. You launch yourself in his direction, putting all your weight into the advance.
At first, Jason's thrown off. Briefly, the thought that Jason feels so safe around you that he isn't on constant alert crosses your brain, and you melt at the realization.
Then he gets this glint in his eye, and squares his hips, and another feeling overtakes you entirely. He assesses you quickly, and the two of you push against each other for a few seconds. Just long enough for you to witness the emergence of a different side of Jason.
"My girl plays dirty, huh?" he says, voice pitched low.
Your head spins with how fast it happens. You've unlocked something, it seems, by trying to ambush Jason. He locks both of your wrists into his left hand, spins you around, and splays his right hand over your lower belly. Breath squeaks from your throat. Jason doesn't often remind you of your and his acute physical differences, but his large palm cupping your belly, fingers dangerously close to your waistband, reminds you that your boyfriend is at the top of the food chain when it comes to survival.
If he wanted to take you down, he could. That fact sears deliciously in your brain.
Then Jason goes in for the final blow. He pulls you in by your belly while also wedging his thigh between your legs. His ankle hooks yours, and you feel your balance topple as he pushes and pulls you.
You land on your stomach, Jason's hands still on you, and more than a little of his weight holding you down.
You throb underneath the pajama shorts you never changed out of.
All your air pistons out of you when you hit the ground, resulting in an embarrassing catch between a whine and a wheeze.
Jason's grip slackens immediately.
"Shit, baby, you okay? I'm so—"
"Ngh, Jay."
Jason freezes. His grip tightens, just firm enough to make your head go fuzzy again. His breath is hot against your ear when he speaks.
"Oh," he coos, and now you can feel nearly all of his body weight on you. His thigh is between your legs but only to keep them separated. There is no friction against your pussy, you clench around nothing.
"You like that, pretty? Like a little weight on ya?"
"Jay," you pant, wiggling underneath him. "Jay, please."
"Too much?" he asks, and the check-in just makes you wetter.
"No, n-no, want more. Guh—Jay—"
He laughs, a little cruel, a lot pleased.
"Fuck, honey. If y'wanted this, y'could've asked. Feels good, huh? Lighter? Too much on that quick brain of yours; y'need a break, don't cha?"
You've never felt like this before. You'd be seconds away from humping Jason's thigh if you could move.
"Jay, Jay—"
"Oh-oh, I know, sweet. You put up a good fight. Couldn't believe it was my girl, fightin' like that. What happened at that last part, hm? Your pretty head go empty?"
You whine, squirming as much as you can under Jason's weight. He hums.
"Didn't know how easy you get with a little weight on you. Poor baby, gotta keep your wits about you when all you want is to gush all over my thigh. You gushing yet?"
His fingers on your belly slip past your shorts, past your underwear, finally landing where you want them most. Jason gives your pussy sweet, little pets. He parts your folds, shallowly dipping his middle finger, just enough to make you clench.
"Jason, please," you beg, trying to chase his fingers.
"You wanted to play, right?"
You don't say anything, mind hot and cloudy like you've got a fever. Jason pinches your clit, just hard enough to make you jolt.
"Did the words leave you that fast, sweetheart? I've barely done anything. C'mon, you can do it. You're usually such a smart mouth. What happened?"
"Empty," you manage to say. "'M empty, Jay. Needa feel full."
"Oh, good girl," he purrs, two fingers diving into you pussy. You keen. "Good fucking girl. I can keep you full, don't you worry about that, pretty."
His fingers inside of you sound obscene. You might be embarrassed if you weren't on another planet right now.
"God, you're so wet," Jason says, and he genuinely sounds awed. "Little clit's so hard, I bet you can barely think. No wonder you're so dumb right now. Do I even have to do anything? I bet you'd just hump my thigh till you come."
His hand slips out of your pussy and you protest loudly, thrashing and gasping. Jason hushes you.
"Ah-ah, what happened to my good girl? Know all the blood from your brain rushed to your clit, but you gotta be patient, pretty. You think I'd leave you hanging? Be a crime to leave y'wet and aching."
He pulls your shorts and underwear down in one go, then lifts your hips up, slotting his thick thigh right up against your hot cunt. You immediately start to rub against him, out of your mind with the need to come.
Jason laughs. "What'd I say? I take care of my girl, don't I?"
"M-more, touch me, rub my clit," you pant out, nipples dragging almost painfully under your shirt. The carpet bites at your tits even through the fabric, especially now that Jason's given you room to ride his thigh.
You're still one hundred percent trapped beneath him, his weight pinning you down. Your arms remained locked behind your back.
"Mm. A little bossy, but I like you asking for what you want," Jason says, leaning down to nip at your shoulder.
His hand returns to your now bare pussy, and his middle finger quickly finds your clit. He swipes it a few times, then sucks his fingers into his mouth. You hear him lick them clean before he dives back in, now zeroed in on making you come.
It doesn't take long. You moan loud and long when your pleasure reaches its peak, Jason relentlessly working you over. You squeeze hard around his thigh when you come, brain syrupy and light.
"Oh, fuck, God. Look at you, yeah. That's my girl. Feel better?" he rasps, hovering over you.
You don't have time to reply before Jason flips you over, holding you down like that. He's hard, and his eyes are wild, a beautiful, blazing teal. He looms over you, and you feel inexplicably hunted.
"I think you've got another one in you," he says, pawing at the soft fat of your thigh. "Pretty girl can give me more, right? What'd you say earlier?"
Jason leans in and covers your body with his. The weight on your chest turns your brain to soup.
"Oh, that's right. Show me what you've got."
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd smut#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x y/n#red hood x reader#red hood smut#red hood fanfiction#batman fanfiction#dc fanfiction#smut#inbox#blurb#nsft
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is it over now? (was it over then?)
part four
part five: i was hoping you'd be there
Robin managed to keep her shit together for approximately ten minutes after she stopped watching Steve make his way through security and into the depths of the airport. In the ride back to Steve's place, her leg was shaking so much Nancy discreetly grabbed Robin's pinky and held it in the back of the car.
The rest of the trafficky route back to Steve's all Robin could think about was how to fix things. She knew Steve didn't tell her about Eddie so she could fix things and Steve didn't run off to Italy to hide from everything but the situation still bothered Robin. She hadn't known Eddie for a terribly long time but he made her dingus happy so she held him in relatively high regard. It didn't make sense for him to just cut tail and run without leaving some sort of door open for a resolution and Robin was going to her darndest to figure out how on earth she could find that crack.
When they got back to Steve's apartment, Nancy didn't let Robin go long without asking for an explanation.
"Robs, babe, what is going on?" Nancy asked.
"I need to figure out how to solve Steve and Eddie." Robin answered.
"I don't think Steve wants you too. He seemed pretty resolved to close that chapter." Nancy urged.
"I know what he said but that's not what he wants. Also Eddie is a huge dummy if he doesn't realize how good he had it with Steve and also that Steve would never cheat on anyone. Especially not after y'all's whole thing. No offense." Robin continued.
"Okay so we aren't letting this go. What's the plan?" Nancy asked.
"Thanks for your support, love. I just can't figure out why Eddie jumped to the conclusion that you and Steve were together again. I mean no offense but like that ship very publicly sailed," Robin said.
"I'm trying really hard not to take offense but the more often you say it the more I am having trouble not being offended," Nancy snarked.
"Sorry, dingus wormed his way into my little heart long before you so I still gotta give you shit over soulmate solidarity. But back to the matter at hand. Eddie only assumed you would only be visiting Steve if you were trying to get back together when really you were coming to see little old me. So what if I came out. Like what if we came out? And shared some of the pictures from like super early on and thanked Steve for being a great friend for many years when I wasn't ready to take that step," Robin knew she was rambling but, hell, she was on a roll.
"Are you ready for that? I'm happy to take your lead on all this. It's not like we haven't already told everyone who is actually important to us. I mostly write freelance nowadays anyways so there isn't really some big bag corporate overlord I need to worry about. You know Steve doesn't need you to do this? It's one thing if you're ready to come out on your own, it's a whole different thing to do it for someone else," Nancy counseled.
"I really think I'm ready. I'm sick of Steve feeling like he needs to come to everything with me and you're stateside a lot more often and I'd love to go out on dates without the next day having like a million articles speculate if you're trying to move in on Steve. I think it's time," Robin rationalized.
"All right, then. We're doing this. Should we use this as an excuse to make Jon take cute couple pictures of us?" Nancy giggled a little at her suggestion.
"Yes! Perfect. Get him over here. Operation Save Dingus from his Self Sacrifice is a go!" Robin jumped up on the couch to make her point and Nancy immediately had to come to her aid as she wobbled enough to lose her balance.
Robin was excited. She was ready for the next step with Nancy and if it helped Steve get out of his own head and/or convinced a certain metalhead with very few remaining braincells to get his head out of his ass then so be it. Robin couldn't wait to think of all the sappy shit Nancy would pretend to be annoyed at she'd be able to do now. Steve would be back in a few weeks so Robin anxiously awaited Jon's response and started several caption ideas in her notes app.
part six
@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast @mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)
it's not quite fixed yet but we are getting so close!!!
#steve x eddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie fic#steddie#don't worry robin will fix it#angst#angst with a happy ending#rockstar eddie#actor steve#was it over then ficlet
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The sad adventurers
Play as sadness incarnated, being revered as a deity and condemned to cry for the rest of eternity. Join an thrilling adventure with mortals you just met and, for the first time in your life, make real friends! (and try not to make them cry while they're around you and your contagious sadness). Will you help you new friends get what they want or will you get in their way?
The story will have two main points of view: Mc's and Antara Al-Amin's, other characters will also have their own POVs, but they will be shorter and won’t allow you to make choices.
(This is a wip that, unfortunately, will take time to be completed. English is not my first language and I do this just for fun, if you see any typo, please tell me!)
“In the beginning, there was only happiness. The first goddess was born from all the laughs in the world. A woman who shines every time someone laughs or smiles, never sad or angry. Love came soon after, from the desire to share this happiness, from the desire to care and be cared for. They loved and love everything they see. But, when mortal men were expelled from paradise, when they first began to feel pain and cried, from their tears emerged sadness. A deity who cried, cries and will cry forever and ever, cradling all the sadness in the world in their arms. They did not come alone though. Anger, their brother, came from the blood that men have shed and will be strengthened by it in the future. He can never be satisfied and will never be satiated, nothing makes him smile more than pure hatred. and, finally, came Fear. Born from the fear of feeling sadness, pain, fear of losing control of your own feelings, your own body, fear from being hurt and hurting. that’s where he came from.
But, before all of them, we, mortals, were born. The many fruits of the immense tree the love between life and death is. Unlike the Gods, we can feel all types of emotions proportionally and unproportionally. Only we can feel everything and feel nothing at the same time, Without us, the Gods would be nothing. But we are never satisfied, are we? we want everything until there is nothing left and will do everything, everything we can to have it. Everything to have at least one wish, any wish, fulfilled.
In ancient books it is said that if you can gather: hapinness tears, sadness laughter, the blood of love boiling with hate, a little ounce of love from hate and a demonstration of courage from fear, life itself will grant you one wish, ANY wish! That's why I brought you all together here. Together we can make history!” the man closes the book in front of him, smiling from ear to ear. “So? What do you guys say?”
𖦹 Customizable MC
ꕀ Name, personality, species, gender, sexuality, pronouns, appearence, level of naivety, hobbies, your control over your own powers and more
𖦹 Romance 1 (or more) of 6 romanceable love interests
𖦹 Choose between helping the adventurers achieve their goals or completely hindering them
𖦹 Define how you fell and interact with the other gods, as well with your own divinity
Ro’s:
Antara Al-Amin (27) | The leader | (he/him)
An adventurous and brave man. He was the one who brought your group together and is also, the leader. He makes you curious, no one has ever tried such a thing before, no one has ever been foolish enough, and yet there he is, sure that everything will work out.
Everything you do seems to mesmerize Antara, and he seems to do everything just to see your smile, failing miserably most of the times, but never giving up.
You do not know what his wish is going to be, but you know he won't give up on it, no matter what.
Species: Human
Apparence and personality: Antara is a slender but strong tall man, measuring approximately 1.80m. His umber skin is covered in scars from past adventures, which he brags about endlessly. His midnight black hair is styled in long dreadlocks and his amber eyes sparkle with a mischief that he doesn't care to hide. According to him, his stubble is his charm. He prefers masculine clothes, but likes to dress feminine in formal occasions. Antara has a flirtatious and outgoing personality, throwing himself into the arms of anyone willing to hold him for the night. it's clear to you that he cares about everyone in the group, including you, which is silly, but you don’t dislike it.
Rajinder Khan (28) | A good friend | (He/Him or She/Her)
Rajinder at first only joined the group because of Antara, their childhood friend, as they thought that Antara was going completly insane, fearing for his friends life. However, the promise that their greatest wish could be granted was also a factor, who would deny such oportunity after all?
Rajinder was the first to protest when Antara allowed you to join the group. They seem to have a great aversion to showing emotions, especially sadness, maybe that’s why they ignores you everytime they can.
Species: Human
Apparence and personality: Rajinder is a tall (2.00,m 1.98,f) heavy built person. Their golden skin is covered in freckles from head to toe. Male Rajinder keeps his hair in a military cut, female Rajinder wears short braids, both have black hair and almond eyes. They prefer more gender neutral clothing. Rajinder has a distant and cold personality, speaking only when needed.
Yueling Bai (25) | The liar | (She/Her, They/Them or He/Him)
The first thing you learned when joining the group was that you cannot trust a single word that comes out of Yueling’s mouth, for every ten words they say, nine are lies. The only thing they don’t seem to lie about is about how they feel about you and the others.
Yueling is a notorious liar and a extremely famous mercenary, that’s why Antara invited them in the first place, They have many skills that can be extremely useful. Every time the groups wishes are mentioned, Yueling is the first to try to change the subject, or they come up with a new wish. You are not going to lie, this worrys you, but there’s nothing you can do, for all you know, they can't even have a wish yet. They're neutral towards you joining in the group, and find the way you affect their emotions annoying, but despite that, they still treat you with polite deference (sometimes)
Bonus: They grew up within one of the kingdoms in your territory, which is embarrassing since you don't remember most of them.
Species: Half-elf
Apparence and personality: Yueling has a lanky body and is avarage in height (1.64), with olive colored skin, covered in tattos. Their straight short hair flows freely below their jaw, a small red clip pinning their bangs to the top of their head. They wear scarlet-red paint around their eyes which perfectly harmonizes with their jet black iris. Female and male Yueling prefer clothes generally assigned to the gender they identify with, however non-binary Yueling will prefer more masculine clothes. Yueling is a born liar, their playful personality, for all you know, could be another one of their various lies, but you like it.
Felix/Felicia Bellerose (22) | The runaway princet | (He/Him or She/Her)
F comes from the second most powerful empire in the world, Tartarus, a troubled place led by a tyrannical and sadistic Queen, their mother, Hild Bellerose, more know as the “Red Queen”. F's dream has always been to free his empire from Hild’s clutches, but they never had the courage to do so, being raised to be complient and obedient, going against their mother was like a fever dream. Luckily, they know the right people. They joined the group with the help of their royal guard, who helped them escape from the palace during the night. They don't seem prepared to fight, at all, good thing they have their charisma.
They're easily impressed by you and your powerss, treating you with deference.
Species: Vampire
Bonus: Tartarus is one of the kingdoms under Gunnar's territory, you can choose how to feel about it.
Apparence and personality: F is an tall (1.85m 1.82f) skinny person, with pale ivory skin and red eyes. Their curly, sunset-blonde hair is tied in a low ponytail with a crimson red ribbon if male and falls on their shoulders freely if female. They use a big black umbrella during the day and round sunglasses, if female, F will prefer feminine clothes, but doesn’t have a preference if male. F is a shy, air-headed person and a huge people pleaser, but, when needed, they are extremely charismatic and flirtatious. They will do everything to please their companions. They have a really hard time making choices by themselves.
Aza Bonheur (24) | The (un)lucky one | (She/Her)
Aza is F's royal guard and their biggest co-conspirator against Hild, she’s the one who convinced the princet to join the group and is one, if not the only, of their closest friends. She can easily be considered one of the strongest person of the group and strangely, she doesn't seem to have a wish to make.
Aza has an supernatural level of luck (good and bad), which is defined by a magical coin that she carries with her everywhere. She also appears to be able to steal other people's good luck and can transfer good or bad luck to others. She never mentions how she gained these “powers”, avoiding the subject as much as she possible can.
She treats you with deference but has her suspicions about you.
Species: Human
Apparence and personality: Aza is a strong women of avarege height (1,72), with green eyes and rose beige skin, covered from head to toe in scars. Her almond-colored hair is short and gelled back, showing the scar that runs from one side of her face to the other. Aza has a tough but kind personality. She is a serious woman who doesn't fool around but has a passion for drinking games. She doesn't have a preference for clothes, when she is not wearing her armour, she likes to wear anything as long as it is practical.
Douglas, Fear itself | The one who vanished | (He/They)
Douglas is the only God to not have an counterpart. When you were younger, Douglas was a shy and fearful boy, always in the most darkest of the corners, watching everyone cautiously. Neither you nor the other gods remember a thing about Douglas, because, when you separated, all the memories you had of him disappeard...but they seem to be coming back.
You don't know how, but you will find him.
Species: Vampire
Apparence and personality: You remember Douglas as a tall and slim boy, his tanned skin was always sickly pale and he had huge, dark circles under his eyes. Deep crimson red eyes that were always wide open. His hair was dark and oily, going down his back. All you can remember is how he trembled looking at you and the others.
Non ro’s:
Gunnar, Hatred itself | your brother | (he/him)
Gunnar, your dearest brother and the most hot-headed person you've ever met. You are the only person and thing that makes him smile other than hatred and violence. You spent a good part of your life clinging to him. In times of war, where your sadness was so deep that you couldn't stop sobbing and screaming, even if his blood was so hot to the point of melting his skin, he never stopped taking care of you, staying by your side all the time.
You do know where he is.
Species: Demon
Appearance and personality: Gunnar is a very tall man (2.00) with muscular build, and appears to be approximately 30 years old. His white hair falls over his shoulders like waterfalls and his porcelain skin is often red and burnt because of his blood, which boils at the slightest provocation. He has red eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. He does not prefer a specific type of clothing, but generally wears more androgynous clothing. Gunnar hot-headed, mean and sadistic
Bonus: Gunnar is aromantic
Ahladita, Hapinness itself | your counterpart | (She/Her)
You and Ahladita were always fighting in your youth. For being counterparts, the mere presence of each other could ruin the other's work in mere seconds. While she was trying to make something happy, you soon came to make the same thing sad and vice versa. If she tried to make a place sunny, you came to make it rainy, but she always had extra advantage, she was older and trained her powers much more than you did. You can choose whethever this rivalry has passed into adulthood or not
If you are not rivals in adulthood, you will know where she is ;if you are rivals, then you won't.
Species: Fairy
Appearance and personality: Ahladita takes the shape of a woman in her early 20s, who has a curvy body of average height (1.70). Her skin has a golden bronze hue and is soft and shiny. Her curly, black hair is inches from dragging on the floor and contrasts perfectly with her golden eyes. She prefers more feminine clothes. She is extremely extroverted and bubbly.
Itoko, Love itself | Someone interested | (They/Them)
Itoko has always had a peculiar interest in all the other gods except happiness, perhaps due to the fact that you are all mostly negative emotions. Itoko were always very observant and had an unhealthy obsession with your brother, but well, counterparts. You both were relatively close in your youth, and you can choose if this continued in your adulthood. They love you, for they love everything they see and feel, but is not romantic and maybe, it's not even platonic, for all you know, it can be more as if you were a... a story, an subject, an object that they are deeply invested in. After a long time, their curiosity turned to you once again, their attention is completely yours now.
You don't know where they are, but it wouldn't be hard to find out.
Species: merfolk
Appearance and personality: Itoko takes an androgynous appearance in their mid-20s. Their curvy, chubby bodie are a creamy shade and their skin is smooth with a heart-shaped scar in the middle of their chest. They are short in height (1.55) and have midnight black hair, which reaches the middle of their back, styled in a hime cut. They prefer feminine clothing, but are usually naked, with just a cloth to cover their genitals. They are calm and observant and love to flirt.
Bonus: they can shapeshift
Dunia, Life, the beginning of everything. | The creator | (She/Her)
Everything came from Dunia and Orpheus, everything belongs to them. She has looked after you and the other Gods since the moment you were born. You never had the best relationship with her, but she was always there.
You know where she is
Appearance and personality: Dunia takes on the appearance of a woman on her mid 40s with a robust and tall build (1,95), with dull brown skin. Her long, wavy hair is tied into a high ponytail and she wears silver armor, which you've only seen her without once in your life. She is a serious and cold woman.
Orpheus, Death, the end of everything | The beginning and the end | (He/Him)
Everything came from Dunia and Orpheus, everything belongs to them. Mortals fear his judgment. Creator of the 7 layers of hell and a father to you, Orpheus, unlike Dunia, has always been very close to you, taking care of you as if you were his own child.
You know where he is
Appearance and personality: Orpheus takes the form of a man in his early 50s, of average height (1,70), with a slim, frail build and a pale skin full of scars. his wavy blonde hair is cut below his ears and is always messy. He is a calm man and is terrible at giving advice.
Demo tba | Pinterest | Playlists
#if game#if wip#twine game#twine if#interactive fiction#interactive fiction wip#interactive fic characters#introduction post#dating game#dating sim#wip game#interactive fic
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Grian didn’t choose the CuteGuy lifestyle as much as it was thrust upon him. He had made one joke (just one!) about how he could be HotGuy’s sidekick, CuteGuy, and Scar went nuts. Within a week, a shulker box had been delivered to his base, containing some flashy pink clothes, a huge bow with a deadly-looking quiver of arrows, and, most unexpectedly, a bedazzled pink flip phone. There was only one contact in the phone, so, with a sigh, Grian pressed the call button.
“Hello?”
“Scar, what is this?”
“Oh, so you found your CuteGuy readiness package!” Scar gasped excitedly. “What do you think? Do you like my big package?”
“Wording, Scar. And, no, I’m not going to be your sidekick! The CuteGuy thing was a joke, bro.” Grian held up the clothes and looked them over with distain, using his shoulder to prop the phone to his ear. “And pink really isn’t my color, much less hot pink.”
“What do you mean? You’re blonde, you’re basically like a Barbie, you’d totally rock pink!”
“I have an alter ego already, Scar, I don’t need another, much less one that wears… does this shirt have a heart-shaped cutout in the chest? Scar!”
“Oh please.” Scar scoffed. “Do you really think Poultry Man will make a comeback? Let’s all be honest with ourselves now.”
“Hey now, mister ‘HotGuy is like half of my personality’. PoultryMan was the blueprint of superheroes!” Grian put the clothes back in the shulker and closed it firmly. “Scar, this dress up game is going a little too far, don’t you think? There isn’t even a need for HotGuy.”
“You never know.” Scar said in a sing-song voice. “Listen, just keep the shulker and the phone- if I really need a sideki- backup, I’ll call this phone, okay? Please?”
“Fine.” Grian said. “It’s a good thing you’re my friend, or I’d burn all of this.” He hung up the phone and set it down on top of the shulker box. He sighed, shaking his head at the bedazzled and pink nightmare that sat on and in the box before him. He picked the box up and moved it to a shadowy part of his basement. Grumbot looked down at him, lights twinkling in a way Grian took as laughter.
“Listen, Scar never said a thing about me actually picking up the phone, so by technicality, I’m off the hook.” Grian felt a need to explain himself. “If he really wants a CuteGuy so bad, he can get someone else to do it or something. I don’t do sidekick. PoultryMan is main character energy.”
Grumbot just flashed his lights, and Grian wondered if the robot had even been listening at all. He sighed, turning around and gazing out towards the now-dull rift on the other side of the basement.
“Now, to something that really matters, what on earth do I do about this?”
-seven months later-
Much like young Issac Newton theorizing about gravity from an apple falling onto his head, Joe Hills also had an odd series of events happen to him when something big and heavy fell onto his head. But he thought “ouch!” instead of conceptualizing gravity, but that’s besides the point.
“Who is messing with me? Guys, now is not a great time… huh?” Joe looked all around, and his gaze came to rest on a red shulker box on its side, spilling stacks upon stacks of tnt onto the ground. Joe went to pick it up and saw it labeled as Grian’s. “Grian?” There was no answer.
So, Joe did what any good person would do, and gathered up all of the tnt, put it back in the box, and set off for Grian’s megabase, which he had only an approximation of its location. He did manage to find it eventually, or, at least, the amalgamation of Grian and Mumbo’s bases, and he dithered on the spot for a while, trying to remember who’s was which. He eventually just gave up and dove down into what he knew to be Grian’s basement, with that weird robot and rift thing. Luckily, both oddities seemed inactive, and Joe put the shulker box down in the middle of the room, and took out a scrap of paper to leave as a note.
Suddenly, a phone rang, echoing through the basement. Joe looked at the rift, then the robot. Neither seemed to a source of the ringing. It was coming, Joe found out as he looked around, from a bedazzled pink flip phone on top of a pink and horribly dusty shulker box. On instinct, Joe picked it up and answered.
“Howdy, Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee here, how can I be of service?”
“Cuteguy, it’s time! The time is nye! I- wait, Joe?”
Joe recognized the dramatic voice on the other end at once. “Scar?”
“Joe?”
“Howdy, Scar!”
“Wait, I thought I gave this phone to Grian.”
“Well, I suppose you did. I just happened to be by, dropping off a shulker box of tnt that he must have dropped by accident onto my head, and I heard the phone-“
“Hold on, I’ll be right there.”
Scar hung up, and Joe pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it in confusion. He considered leaving, he really did, but after a rather arduous debate in his head of how much time he could be spending on his pinball machine instead of waiting on Scar, he ultimately determined that time spent with friends was always time well spent. He had just come to that conclusion, in fact, when Scar crash landed right in front of Joe.
“Ahh! One heart, Joe, one heart.” Scar said, while Joe helped him right his wheelchair. “Now, where’s CuteGuy?”
“Who?” Joe asked. He took stock of Scar’s outfit, which was a tight black unitard looking thing with blue and orange details. “And what on earth are you wearing?”
“Well, I’m HotGuy, of course!” Scar straightened up, taking out a deadly looking bow and pointing it, clearly posing, which Joe took as the cue to make appropriate awed noises. “But every good superhero needs his sidekick, and I was hoping CuteGuy would have gotten my message.” Scar looked around, like this CuteGuy guy would be hiding in a corner or something.
“Scar, there is no one on the server named ‘CuteGuy’- I feel like Xisuma would have told us if he’d whitelisted someone new.” Joe said very seriously.
“What? No! Okay, Joe, listen,” Scar lowered his voice conspiratorially, and Joe leaned in, keeping an eye on Grumbot as he did- who knows who could be listening. “CuteGuy is Grian’s alter ego. Like how I’m HotGuy.”
Joe put a hand to his mouth in shock, to be polite. “You mean it was actually you who terrorized me all those months ago while I was building a sign for King Ren?”
Scar clicked his tongue in an awkward kind of way. “No time for that, Joe! The point is, I need a sidekick right now, and Grian is nowhere to be found. So, Joe, what do you say- wanna come be CuteGuy for a little while?”
Joe considered this. He had many questions, but Scar had a sense of urgency in his tone. And Joe did like to say yes to new experiences…
“Well, I suppose I could help you out Scar- I mean, HotGuy. But shouldn’t I be called something else, as CuteGuy is kind of more of a Grian thing? I wouldn’t want to invade his creative space.”
Scar rubbed his chin, thinking hard “Maybe… are there other adjectives that are like hot and cute?”
“Oh! I was named the sexiest Minecraft youtuber via a set of tumblr polls!” Joe exclaimed. “Sexy… guy?”
“Tumblr? What’s that, like a disease or something?” Scar asked.
“I- okay, so I could explain this simply, but even that might take a few hours within itself… if I say the words ‘Ball Pit’, does that invoke emotions within you?”
“Joe, we don’t have time!” Scar put a hand over Joe’s mouth. “Listen, I think G will be fine if you borrow the CuteGuy name and outfit. But we really do need to go- crime does not sleep!” Scar opened the pink shulker box and pulled out a couple of sets of clothes, holding them up to Joe and squinting. Finally, he shoved a bundle at him. “Go put this on, and I’ll meet you on Grian and Mumbo’s bridge. Hurry!”
Scar flew up, and Joe quickly changed into the violently pink clothes without much thought. It wasn’t until he flew up to meet Scar did it occur to him what exactly he had on.
“Scar, HotGuy, I don’t mean to complain, but is it really all that sensible to be fighting crime in a crop top and booty shorts? Where is the padding? And the armor?” Joe asked, pulling down on the crop top slightly.
“CuteGuy, in this life, you gotta slay in every way. We’re hotter and cuter then our enemies.” Scar lowered his sunglasses, gave Joe a once-over, and tossed him a huge, glittery pink compound bow. “Now, let’s fly. I’ll explain our mission on the way.” He took off, leaving Joe to put the bow in his inventory and hastily take off after him.
The pink phone began to ring as soon as Joe was coasting in the air, and he fumbled to pull it out of the bag strapped to his thigh.
“Howdy!”
“Alright CuteGuy, are you hearing me alright?” Scar’s voice was cool and collected, if a bit hard to hear over the wind.
“Loud and clear, Scar- I mean, HotGuy.” Joe could see Scar up ahead, and kept pace behind him.
“Fantastic.” Scar turned to give him a thumbs up and a cheesy smile. “Now, for this mission, CuteGuy, we’re heading for the lair of the biggest threat to the server, the goat himself, DocM77. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”
“I… yeah, Scar, sorry, HotGuy, we’ve both known Doc since season five, of course I know him.”
“Good, good. Recently, I, HotGuy, teamed up with two esteemed revolutionaries to form the Buttercups, an elite team set to take down the goat once and for all. The camp has been set, but we need to send a message to the goat that we mean business. Doc may have fancy redstone, but we have determination, grit, and most importantly, obsidian. Oh, and we’re here!”
“Obsidian?” Joe asked, landing beside Scar on the floor of the perimeter, hanging up the phone. “I thought you were gonna say, like, a pipe bomb or something.”
“No, no, CuteGuy.” Scar pulled out a shulker box and set it on the ground. “We just want to be annoying to good ol’ DocM, not actually kill him. So, we’re gonna cover every surface down here in obsidian.”
Joe looked at Scar, then around at the yawning expanse of the perimeter. “I- yeah, okay. And we are the good guys here, right?”
“Of course.” Scar replied, smiling.
——
It took about five hours of painstakingly placing obsidian, but every surface within the perimeter was eventually covered, which was an interesting sight to behold. Scar and Joe stood at the mouth of Doc’s house, looking down into the expanse.
“I think we did good, CuteGuy.” Scar said, patting Joe on the back.
“This bow was surprisingly effective against slimes.” Joe replied, hoisting up the big pink bow.
“That’s the power of the veloci-tay.” Scar said with an understanding nod. “Now, let’s get out of here before Doc gets back.”
He’d hardly uttered the words when there was the distinct sound of someone coming through Doc’s nether portal. Scar and Joe turned around just in time to see Doc emerge from the portal, and freeze at the sight of them.
“HotGuy?” Doc breathed. “What are you doing here? You and your… actually, I don’t believe I’ve met your… friend?”
“Oh, this is my sidekick, CuteGuy.” Scar waved his hand at Joe.
“Name suits you, CuteGuy.” Doc winked at Joe. “Pleasure to meet you. Now, what was I- oh, what are you both doing in my base? Why does CuteGuy look guilty? What…” Doc’s mechanical eye suddenly flew from the socket, whirring into the air with small but powerful blades. It flew behind the two superheroes and looked down into the perimeter. The room went silent, and Joe watched Doc’s face fall, first into surprise, then anger.
“What the- what did you do? Obsidian?” Doc’s eye flew back into socket, and he actually growled at them. “You annoying-”
“CuteGuy, shoot him!” Scar screeched, hiding behind Joe.
“I- what- okay!” Joe pulled back the bow and aimed it at Doc. The arrow missed. Then another missed. Then Doc was standing right in front of him, glowering.
“It’s a good thing you’re cute, because you’re a terrible shot.” Doc growled.
“Run!” Scar screamed, shooting into Doc’s face over Joe’s shoulder, and they both took off to the sky. Doc typed a bunch of angry and cryptic messages into the in-game chat, but didn’t pursue.
Joe and Scar landed on the bridge between Grian and Mumbo’s bases, breathing heavily.
“We did it! Our first mission as a duo!” Scar held out his hand for a high-five. “What do you say, Joe, want to take on the CuteGuy persona full time? HotGuy needs a good sidekick like you.”
Joe gazed into Scar’s grinning face, seeing his own, glittering pink reflection in Scar’s sunglasses.
“Absolutely not.”
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When Emma Falls In Love…
Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader
Summary: If there was one thing Satoru was thankful for, it was you.
| Masterlist |
They say it is incredibly rare to find someone that cares about you without another agenda. One that wants to see you achieves your hopes and dreams. One that encourages you to grow and is right by your side throughout each and every mess. One who does not define love with an ‘if’ or a ‘because’, but with an ‘in spite for’ and an ‘even though’. One that is brave enough to love unconditionally, without ever expecting anything in return; one that just gives.
The world has approximately 8 billion people in it and yet, to love or be loved unconditionally is a once in a blue moon occurrence.
Y/L/N Y/N knew this.
She has always known that love is a serendipity. Something fortuitous. She has always known that it is the greatest curse of all; that loving is giving the other person a gun and have them point it at you, allowing them to decide if you live or die.
Yet, she has also always known that everything that can be considered a curse can be considered a blessing, all depends on the point of view.
So, Y/N has never closed herself off to the idea of love. But she has never looked for it either.
To be honest, even if she wanted to look for it (which she doesn’t) she wouldn’t have the opportunity (nor the choice) to do so. Not when she was a Jujutsu Sorcerer from the Y/L/N clan. Not when she was the heiress of said clan.
She didn’t have choices when it came to trivial things like love. She was set to marry as soon as she graduates to start producing another heir, to make sure to pass her family’s curse technique. She had always known this. She had always been taught about it.
So… why was this happening now?
Why was she ignoring Yaga-sensei’s lesson to stare at her white-haired doofus childhood friend/classmate?
And why was her heart beating so loud?
A paper ball hits the back of her head, startling her. Turning in her seat, Y/N meets the nonchalant eyes of her best friend, Ieiri Shoko. Said girl gestures with her eyes to the paper on the floor, so with a fleeting glance at her teacher Y/N bends to pick it up.
[ Why are you staring at Tweedledee over there? ]
Y/N winces slightly as soon as she reads the message. Hurrying to hide it in her notebook, even if there was no one close enough to read it.
Damn Shoko and her intuition.
Deciding to ignore her best friend, Y/N stares straight ahead at her teacher. Physically restraining herself every single time her eyes dared to try to gaze at her white-haired friend.
When class finally ends, Y/N tries to pick her stuff up as soon as possible, hoping to be able to outrun her curious best friend.
But, of course, she was naive for thinking she could.
“Someone’s in a hurry” Shoko’s unbothered sweet voice states from her side, “Wonder why”
Y/N closed her eyes in defeat before opening them to look at the amused eyes of her best friend.
“Now, will you answer my—?”
“Y/N!”
The loud and excited voice of the boy Y/N had spend most of the class staring at startled them both. And soon they are joined by their two other classmates.
The problematic duo. The strongest boys: Tweedledum and Tweedledee, known also as Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru.
The white-haired beauty rests his arm on Y/N’s shoulder as soon as he comes to her side, Geto mimicking his actions with Shoko. Both of them smirking.
“What are you girls whispering about?” Satoru asks with amusement, “Is it about me?”
Shoko scoffs, “In your dreams”
“How’d you know?”
Geto rolls his eyes, “Ignore him. We wanted to ask you both if you wanted to go to Tokyo, there’s this cafe we want to try”
“Sure” Y/N nods, “We should ask Nanami and Haibara if they want to join us”
Satoru groans loudly as soon as the words leave her mouth, and pushes most of his body weight onto her, making her almost lose her balance.
“I refuse”
Suguru lets out a big laugh after his best friend’s words while Shoko only looks totally amused, as if she had already expected that.
Y/N, on the other hand, looks at Satoru with a frown.
“You refuse? Why would you refuse?”
“Because”
“What do you mean ‘because’?”
“Because”
Y/N narrows her eyes before looking at her other friends for answers, but both of them just smile at her, totally amused by the scene happening in front of them.
“One reason. Give me one reason and I’ll agree”
Satoru shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t like sharing”
“Huh?”
Satoru doesn’t wait for her to try to decipher his statement, instead he grabs her bag before pushing her so she starts walking.
“You said to give you a reason, there it is” he pushes her once more “Now, move”
She does as told, even when her mind still works to try to understand what he said. Either way, as soon as they are all out of their school’s barrier said statement is forgotten. After-all, Satoru had always said vague things like that to her ever since they met, nothing worth frying her brain for.
Okay, something was really wrong with her. Not only had she spent all of last month staring at Gojo Satoru every single day whenever he was close, but now she was glaring at said boy while he flirted with a non-sorcerer.
Why the hell was she glaring? Why was she even looking at them? Satoru flirting wasn’t a new occurrence, on the contrary, it was a daily event. For Satoru flirting was as natural and as necessary as breathing, so why was she so bothered by it right now? It’s not as if she had never witnessed it before, so why did it mattered now?
Why was her chest aching so annoyingly? Why did she feel so nauseous when she had barely touched her food? Why couldn’t she drift her gaze away from them?
Y/N clenched her hands shut, forcing herself to look at her food. Why was it so hard to do something as simple as that? Why did her chest hurt enough that she had to remind herself to do something as natural as breathing?
“Not hungry?”
She moves her gaze from her food to the reason behind her inner turmoil who had finally seemed to remember he came here with her, not with the pretty blonde non-sorcerer he was just speaking to.
“Uh…” she fleetingly looks at her untouched full plate, “Not really”
Satoru frowns, “Do you feel okay?”
Breathe in. Breathe out, she reminds herself.
Why was it that she suddenly felt like crying? Was it because he was looking at her with such sincere worry? Or was it because he had lowered his round sunglasses to really look at her with those mesmerizing blue eyes so he could make sure she was okay?
What was wrong with her?
"Uh—I…Jus—Can we go back?" she stammers, "I don't feel really good"
Satoru’s frown deepens, but he nods and soon both of them are making their way back to their school. In complete silence.
As soon as Y/N makes it back to the security of her dorm, she doesn’t waste a single second. She hurries to lock her door and to close her blinds, grabbing her phone as fast as possibly and dialing her mother’s number.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
She needed answers or she would lose her mind, and the only person who she knew could give her those was the one she trusted the most: her mom.
“Honey?” She hears her mom’s sweet and soft voice as she answers, “You good? You never call”
“I…”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Something is wrong” she whispers.
“What’s going on?”
What was going on? That was a hard question. And so she explained, as best as she could. And her mom listened, silently and patiently. Never interrupting her, even when she was stammering and rambling all over the place.
As the words leave her lips in hurried whispers, her feet pace around her room anxiously.
“Oh, honey”
Maybe it was the understanding in her mother’s voice or maybe the softness in her pet name, but it was then that she understood.
“I’m not in love”
But, oh, how ironic. It was the moment the words left her mouth, the moment she tried to convince her mom (or maybe herself) of it, that she understood it.
She was in love with one of her best friends.
Her feet stop pacing. Her heart stops beating. Her breath slows down and her knees tremble. All adrenaline leaving her abruptly.
She has to force herself to move to her bed so she can sit before her body gives up on her.
“Oh” she whispers, “Oh”
“Yeah, oh” her mom responds, “So, the one blessed with the six eyes?”
“Satoru” she whispers as a reflex, used to having to remind a lot of sorcerers around them that Satoru is more than just that.
“Satoru” her mom repeats, “What is he like now? I haven’t seen him in a long time”
“Uh, well… he is something else, definitely” she whispers softly, “He is kind and loyal. Also funny. Although, he has a huge ego… uh, he—kinda a womanizer”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“He is a womanizer” she repeats, as if reminding herself, “Never one to settle down. Gets bored pretty easily of people. Things he’s above all that—romance, I mean. He’s not really serious about anything, so commitment is out of the question. Doesn’t really trust people with his feelings, so that’d be a problem, right? And—”
“Honey,” her mom interrupts, “sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself about how this could end up going wrong without even trying first”
Huh.
So that’s what she’s doing.
Everything changed after the call with her mom. Everything changed once she finally understood what was truly going on with her. How could it not when she was never one to hide her feelings? Always wearing her heart on her sleeve, never knowing how to hide the light in her e/c eyes.
Everyone noticed and she constantly scolded herself for it. Yet, she couldn’t help it.
She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Satoru as if he hung in the air like the stars in outer space, brighter than the moon itself. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling every time their eyes met nor the way her eyes lit up.
But just as she couldn’t stop herself from expressing how she felt, Satoru couldn’t force himself to reciprocate her feelings.
Satoru had never been one to believe in love. He, as she did, believed love to be the worst curse of them all. But, contrary to her belief, he could never even think of the possibility of it being a blessing. So, even when his attitude towards her never change, there was this new wall built between them that kept her far enough to never reach his heart.
She didn’t need to confess for him to know her feelings.
He didn’t need to reject her for her to know his.
They had always been close, since the moment they met when they were six. They had always understood each other without the need to explain themselves, and maybe it was because of the way their cursed techniques were interlaced but it didn’t matter to them.
Both always knew where the other stood.
Y/N knew Satoru wasn’t ready for the love she felt for him. Didn’t even know if he’d ever be ready for it. But she had no intention of falling in love with anyone else, at least not at the moment. So, whenever he’s ready, she’d be there.
He was her first love. He had forever changed her and she knew no matter how hard she tried, that wouldn’t go away.
So, for now, she was content with how little he gave her. She was content with how careful he was with her feelings even when he had no intention of reciprocating them.
So, when did everything change?
There were only four known special grade sorcerers so far in Japan: Tsukumo Yuki, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Y/L/N Y/N. Although Tsukumo is not associated with Jujutsu High, so the only sorcerers that Yaga would entrust a mission as important as the one of the Star Plasma Vessel are the three special grades in his care.
“Escort the vessel and erase her?” Satoru asks.
Geto and Y/N share a look before focusing once again on their teacher, who confirms the mission. Not even a second later, Suguru and Satoru start whispering about Yaga losing his mind making the only girl present roll her eyes.
By the end of the conversation, the three best friends were on babysitting duty of the girl meant to reset master Tengen’s cursed technique.
Y/N receives her cold black tea from Satoru’s hands before they start making their way once again to the location of the Star Plasma Vessel, all while Suguru tries to answer each of Satoru’s questions.
“Anyways, it should be okay” Satoru shrugs, “We’re the strongest”
Y/N scoffs a laugh, while Suguru sighs and tries to explain to Satoru how he should start dialing down his narcissistic tendencies.
“Sheesh, give me a break” Satoru groans, “Y/N likes me the way I am, right?”
Her eyes widen and a blush soon makes home in her cheeks, making her turn her face away from him to avoid his amused smile.
“Uh—I…”
An explosion saves her from answering, although she isn’t sure she’d rather deal with that. Maybe that’s when everything started truly going downhill.
It didn’t take long for the three of them to take action and defeat the Q workers, saving the girl they learned was Amanai Riko. The young girl was a firecracker that had made Y/N laugh after she slapped Satoru and insulted Suguru. Maybe things would’ve been better if she hadn’t been so innocent and likable; if she hadn’t been so young and pure.
But things hadn’t been better. Honestly, things couldn’t have gone more wrong.
She wishes they’d stayed in Okinawa. All of them had been so at peace there. All of them had so much fun. They had gone to the beach after rescuing Amanai’s caretaker, where Satoru had run to the water with Y/N on his grasps while ignoring her screams. They had eaten and joked around before going to the aquarium.
Maybe she should’ve stopped Satoru from staying awake that night, maybe she should’ve made him rest for some time instead of deciding to make him company before falling asleep on his shoulder. Maybe then things would’ve been different.
But Y/N had done none of that and now she was staring at the consequences.
Satoru was just stabbed in front of her, just after they crossed the barrier around Jujutsu High that protected them.
Y/N had never wanted more to fully dominate her cursed technique. Never had she ever wanted to understand the depth behind the intricate time manipulation cursed technique her family possessed that made them the Gojo clan’s greatest ally. She possessed one of the most powerful known cursed techniques, one that could make her an equal to Satoru, yet she had never truly bothered with anything below the surface.
Not even when her father had explained to her the greatness she was destined to achieve. Not when, like Satoru, her birth had change the world.
She had never wanted to be exceptional, she had always just wanted to be strong enough to protect those she loved. Acquiring her cursed techniques full depth came with a great sacrifice. One she had never been willing to pay.
But now?
Now she’d pay the price without a second thought. What did it matter if she’d have to suffer through the pain of her eyes bleeding until her irises and pupils turned completely white? What did it matter if her lifetime shall shorten with every time she fooled destiny? What would it matter if she’d have to live with the possibility of losing her mind at any moment, never distinguishing the difference between the past, the present or the future again?
She would do it. She would do it without a second thought if that meant not staring at Satoru in the eyes as he orders her to follow Suguru, to leave him behind, as he bleeds.
She shakes her head.
She wasn’t leaving him, not with whoever that man was. She could feel he was dangerous, she didn’t know how she knew it but she did.
Y/N would never forgive herself if she left him behind.
“You have to trust me, Y/N” Satoru’s smile softens, “Trust me”
She shouldn’t have turned around, but she did. She trusted him with her life, so she had to trust him with his own.
She’d never trust him like that again.
Blood flows from her mouth as she lays face down on the floor, wounds all over her body as Fushiguro Toji stares down at her.
“So this is the Y/L/N pride” he murmurs, “Aren’t you supposed to be strong? The Gojo’s Six Eyes biggest ally or something like that? That’s the story, isn’t it? The space and time techniques are supposed to coexist with one another according to the legend of the Six Eyes and the Blind One, am I wrong?”
Y/N coughs out blood, her gaze blurring.
“At least he put up a fight” he scoffs, “You were doing so well until I told you I killed him”
She flinched at the reminder, making him scoff once again.
“The Blind One that sees all” he scoffs in disbelief, “What a joke. Let’s end this here, agree?”
He stabs her once more, forcing her to cough out even more blood before forcing the blade to go from her lower back to the back of her neck.
“You’re no threat with how little control you have over your cursed technique” he murmurs, “but waiting for you to become one is not an option. It was to meet you, let’s never do this again”
She tried to stay awake, tried to remember everything Shoko had ever taught her about reverse cursed technique, but her mind was too out of it to form any coherent thought. Maybe that was how she was meant to die, after all her life had always been intertwined in a way with Satoru’s, so if he was gone what was the point of her being there at all?
Her eyes closed, yet she kept breathing.
Her mind was fuzzy, yet like a mantra the names of every single person she loved repeated themselves over and over again.
That’s when she felt it happen.
Her eyes open wide and a painful scream, strong enough to tear her vocal cords, left her body. Blood started pouring out of her eyes as the e/c and black in them starts being burnt away as if the water in her eyelids was acid.
She had never felt pain like this. It felt as if her eyes were being stabbed by a hundred needles over and over again. And when it finally stopped, and her body started healing herself once again, she understood every word her father had ever uttered to her about their powerful cursed technique.
So this is what it means to be blessed and cursed. To give more time as you lose your own. She had felt herself dying, yet her own cursed technique sent her body back in time, to when she hadn’t yet been hurt. Even as hours of her future self were taken from her for cheating death, she could still see it. It was crystal clear in her mind, as if it was a scene she had seen in a movie.
So that’s what her father meant when he told her she could lose herself to the past, the present, the future, and all its endless possibilities?
That was meant to be her world from now on.
“Y/N”
She blinks once. Twice. Thrice. Before pushing herself to a kneeling position so she could move her gaze to the source. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.
Yet it was. She knew it. It wasn’t one of the possibilities on the multiverses she could see.
Even with her eyesight lost, she could sense his cursed technique. He could visualize him by the way his cursed technique lit up his body shape.
He was here. He was alive.
“Stand up” he tells her, “ Amanai is dead. We failed”
Her knees tremble as she forces herself to stand. How could he be so calm? How could his voice sound so devoid of emotion? She wishes she could truly see him, she always used to know what he was feeling with just one look.
Things were gonna be different now.
It started with little changes. First, Y/N had to return to her clan immediately to train her technique. She had to learn to control what she saw before frying her brain. She had to also learn to dominate reverse curse technique.
She wasn’t just a normal time cursed user like the rest of her clan, it wasn’t just freezing or slowing your opponent anymore. A touch from her could now age, could kill. A touch from her could now rebirth, could save.
She was now a weapon. A shield. More importantly, she was the strongest right hand. Space and time always cohabiting with each other.
When she finally came back to school, everything had already changed too much and she couldn’t even bother herself with adapting to the changes, too trouble by the different dreams of the different future outcomes. Of all the choices that hadn’t yet been made but could be, of all their consequences.
She didn’t remember the last time she had spent some time with her best friends, the only person she spent time with lately being Satoru. Satoru, who for some reason she didn’t bother to analyze, always seek her when he finally had time off from a mission. Never leaving her side unless he really had to.
All of them had forever been changed after their failed mission. So, when was it enough?
She hadn’t been there to see Suguru slowly start to lose himself, too focused on Satoru and herself to notice the little clues laid in front of her of the future she had seen yet refused to believed.
Then, she had seen Haibara’s dead body.
She tried to stop it then. Hoping, wishing, it wasn’t too late. She had run to him that night, meeting him on the courtyard of their school as he smoked the night away.
“Please don’t”
He didn’t look at her. Barely inhaled a smoke before letting his gaze fall from the moon, as if its light was too much for him.
“I don’t know what you’ve seen, but I’m not planning anything”
“I know you’re not” she whispers “but I also know what you’ll see. Please don’t leave us behind”
His dark saddened eyes turn to look at her, really look at her and her breath hitches. One of the things she loathes about being able to see the past is the new perspectives she has of those around her. She had always been living her life as the Earth, always rotating around her sun. Never bothering to look at the moon, that always rotated around her.
Satoru was her sun, but Suguru had quietly always been her moon. And she had never once noticed before.
While she was too busy staring lovestruck at Satoru, Suguru had stared at her. But he had always been selfless, and he has always been happy with just gazing from afar, just like she was always happy only staring at Satoru.
This new depth in her technique made it painfully obvious for her the softness in which he gazed at her, even with all the sadness and conflict he carried in them he could still gaze at her with that particular softness. It made her heart ache.
“I would never leave you behind”
It sounded like a promise to anybody else, but to her it was like a blade to her heart. It was one more step to the future she so wanted to avoid.
She sat by his side that night, giving him the comfort of her presence.
On September, he went on the mission to exorcise a spirit to blame for the mysterious deaths and disappearances on a village.
That day he killed 112 villagers. On that day, he was sentenced to execution on sight as a curse user.
She was the first one to arrive when Shoko called, and the smile he gave her was all she needed to confirm her greatest fear. Her heart bled once she saw the soften in his gaze as he saw her, never wavering.
“I’m sorry I have to leave you behind” he whispered once they were far enough from Shoko, “I don’t want to, but I know you won’t follow me”
“We can fix this. I can fix this”
She could. She had the power to. She would do it if he asked, even if it cost her half of her lifetime.
“I don’t want you to” he whispered softly, “I want you to live a long and full life, not to sacrifice it for my own choices”
“You promised…”
“I know, that’s my only regret” he smiled, “You look beautiful. You are beautiful, I’m sorry I never said it before”
“Suguru…”
Both of them stopped as soon as they felt the curse energy of the only one missing from their group.
“Explain yourself, Suguru”
His smile faltered. He looked at her one last time, softly and full of adoration.
“Don’t let him hurt you” he whispered, “Thank you for everything”
And then, Suguru turned around to face his best friend before leaving them all behind. Before leaving everything he once believed in behind.
“What are you doing here?”
It was around 2 am when a knock on your door had woken you up, the last thing you had expected was to see Satoru’s aura on the other side. Since Suguru’s departure your best friend had started going to even more missions then before, making it impossible for you to actually see him for more than a few minutes.
You hadn’t really expected to see him soon, much less at the current time.
“May I come in?”
His tone is low, with no hint of a joke in it, which makes you open your door wide enough for him to cross without hesitating in the slightest.
Honestly, he could ask anything from you and you’d give it to him. No questions asked.
She feels him move to the middle of her room as she closes the door, his feet drawing circles on the floor showing the anxiety he must be feeling.
“I didn’t know you were back”
“I just came” he murmurs, “I’m sorry for barging in, I just—I needed to see you”
Y/N’s breath hitches and her heart throbs loudly in her chest. It was weird, the feeling of drowning that she had become so familiar with was slowly disappearing, as if just the sound of his voice was enough to remind her how to swim. Enough to help her breathe again.
She had been alone all this time. Shoko had been dealing with the abandonment in her own way by herself, only coming to her when the loneliness became too much. When that happened, Y/N had to ignore her own broken pieces to help hold those of her best friend. And once she was sure Shoko was well enough to go back to her own cave, she was left alone to take on both of their pain to bear it all by herself.
She wasn’t one to walk away, not unless she absolutely had to leave. But all she had needed all this time was to hear Satoru’s voice to remember the strength she possessed.
“You wanna lay down?”
He sees his aura move towards her bed, making her know he agreed to her suggestion.
With a deep breath, Y/N moves to join him. It wasn’t the first time they had ever slept on the same bed, they had tons of sleepovers as kids.
But this was different. They were older and wiser. They knew pain firsthand now. They also knew what the other really meant to one another, and how precious each moment together truly was. How ephemeral everything could be.
So as Satoru pulled her closer to him as he hugged her from behind, both of them felt the tension they had been carrying leave their bodies.
After so long, Satoru finally felt at peace once again. The void that had been his heart all this time felt completed. He could finally breathe without feeling something pushing against his chest.
That was the first time in a while he truly slept.
There truly was no reason for Y/N to love him, so Satoru didn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky. After Haibara’s death and Suguru’s betrayal, after Nanami’s abandonment, Satoru truly didn’t think he was someone worth staying for.
But Y/N never once left his side. Never even thought about it. It didn’t matter that she had spent ten years loving him without even a glimpse of him reciprocating said feelings, she had stayed.
He loved her, he truly did. He just didn’t know what being in love meant or felt like, so he couldn’t say he was in love with her. All he knew, as he stared at her right now while she said her goodbye to Yuta, was that knowing her had changed his whole world.
He had once asked her a few years back why she loved him. She had stayed quiet for a few minutes before finally answering in her soft voice that she reserved just for him.
“You just know. There doesn’t have to be a particular reason. I don’t think you need a reason to love someone, your heart chooses them before your mind even has a say. It’s something you can’t really control, it just takes over you. It hits you when you least expect it. You feel alive, you feel better; I don’t think it’s something anybody will truly understand, and they don’t have to. It’s not something meant to be understood by others, only by your heart”
He hadn’t said anything after her. Hadn’t even smiled or nodded. All he had done was stare at her and repeat every single word in his mind over and over again, until they had been engraved in his memory.
Those words were repeated like a mantra whenever he needed something to give him hope, something to fight for.
Those words along with the memories of the hundreds of nights they looked for refugee in each other’s arms were the inhaler that helped him breathe. He had never truly known what a real home felt like until she had held him with so much care, care he hadn’t ever truly known; care that made him feel like a kid needing to be cared for instead of the strongest everybody expected him to be.
He was grateful for her. For every time she made him feel loved and appreciated. For every moment she stared at him as if he was the moon and the stars and the whole galaxy. For helping him raise Tsumiki and Megumi without ever complaining about it. For helping him mend his broken heart even when the broken pieces scarred her hands until they bled.
He didn’t know if he was in love with her, he just knew that he did love her with all his heart and soul.
And as she finally started walking towards him after letting go of Yuta, with her bright smile that made her whitened eyes crinkle, it finally hit him. She was the person he wanted to come home to every night. The person he wants to tell about his day. The person to share his happiness, his sadness, his success and his failures with.
Everything was better with her. Everything had been better since her, because of her.
She who had loved the parts of him that were not easy to love. For turning the pages in his book gently, and helping him rewrite a happy ending to his tragic narrative.
Y/N was like a book the you couldn’t put down once you pick it up. The kind of girl that would make every bad boy turn good. A shelter for his heart when it rained. A breath of fresh air whenever he felt like drowning.
She was everything and so much more and he truly didn’t know how to tell her. He was never good at expressing how he felt, he was of an acts of service guy. So how could he show you how much you truly meant to him? How much he really needed you? How much he loved you?
“…ru. Satoru. Satoru!” His gaze snaps towards you, seeing you look at him with amusement, “I’ve been calling you nonstop. A penny for your thoughts?”
Don’t ever stop smiling at me. Don’t ever stop looking at me. Don’t ever leave me.
“Ready to go home?”
He can see the confused frown on her face, but her smile is never wiped and that gives him hope of her understanding the underlying message on his words.
Home was wherever she was. So wherever she went, he would follow. He wanted to go home with her, because he wanted to hold her and never let her go. He wanted to be the reason for her smiles and the ones she chose to share her laughs with.
He wanted everything.
“Let’s go home, ‘toru”
He may have been cursed since birth, but it was all worth it if he had you.
[[ Really not my best work but my first Gojo One-Shot. Hope you all like it! I’m open to requests. Thank you for reading!!]]
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#jjk#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x y/n#gojo x oc#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader
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Camillo Carmine x Reader
General Headcanons (SFW + NSFW)
warnings: nsfw, mentions of blood, mentions of biting, cursing
words: 1.4k+
a/n: this was a highly requested work, so enjoy and have fun with the little bonus at the end! This is not really an x reader, but it could be read as such, so oh well. Let me know your thoughts on Camillo's character, and/or if you'd like to see more of him in the near future <3
SFW
✧˚ · . Camillo is basically like a big cat
✧˚ · . Tall motherfucker, standing at approximately 8,2
✧˚ · . The guy is very calm, silent, and sneaky all at once. If anything, he would make an excellent spy and has been offered positions before in that line of work
✧˚ · . Very independent; wont work for anybody but himself and is beyond stubborn
✧˚ · . He is a hardass, but underneath his tough, strong front, is an individual who is a giant kid at heart, who is so deeply loyal and giving that it hurts, and who takes all relationships he makes very seriously, as in he would gladly put his life on the line for someone he cares about; questioning his loyalty is the worst you can do
✧˚ · . Favorite colors consist of greys and purples of any shade; it always struck him as having more of an elegant, dancer sort of vibe, and the display of the colors usually help him to relax in times of distress. His whole bedroom is centered around that color palette and it hasn't been changed since he and Camilla have inherited the mansion
✧˚ · . On the subject of Camilla, he likes to annoy her. His real personality can start to be seen the more time he spends around his sister; they behave just like any normal pair of siblings would. The two have had a love hate relationship growing up and it still is that way, even if just a bit more watered down now. The two like to joke and hang around together every now and again when they aren't off busy with their own lives
✧˚ · . What a Carmine lacks in affection, they make up for in loyalty
✧˚ · . If you wanna talk about dancers, he is one. He loves dancing in his spare time and even uses the Carmine manor as a spot to host dancing lessons amongst sinners willing/wanting to learn
✧˚ · . His silvery pointed dancing shoes are like his literal children, and he always goes into a slight panic whenever he can't find them. They provide him with that sense of security, as dancing is a huge part of his life and he could never stand to be without it; they were also a gift from his mother
✧˚ · . Never likes to ask anyone for anything, especially not help. He likes to cover up his needs with smart-ass comments and handsome smirks that most can't stay mad at for too long
✧˚ · . Has been told he has a very punchable face
✧˚ · . His fangs make for a great, sarcastic smile; his face either consists of a frown or that signature smirk. He uses his fangs for a lot of things, including biting people when they get on his nerves
✧˚ · . Can totally play the piano; claims its a very calming and dignified instrument. He doesn't play it often but when he does, its a gift to anyone around to hear
✧˚ · . On the asexuality spectrum, identifying as demisexual and biromantic. It takes him a little longer than the average sinner to develop feelings for someone, let alone sexual feelings
✧˚ · . As stated before, his relationships are one of the most important things in his life and he handles them with great seriousness
✧˚ · . The epitome of that one secretive, mysterious, tall and mysterious stranger everyone wants to be friends with, but are too afraid to approach directly to ask
NSFW
✧˚ · . It's very difficult to get anything verbal out of this man when he's in the process of being intimate with someone, even if they're his s/o
✧˚ · . The most you can expect is some pleasured grunts, maybe some low groans if you're lucky
✧˚ · . It's not that he isn't enjoying whatever is being brought upon him, he is just one to closely guard his feelings and never really express them too vividly; yes that ends up following him into his sex life
✧˚ · . 9 times out of 10 he prefers to give pleasure rather than receive it
✧˚ · . Loves to degrade and use pet names with his partner; sweetheart, doll, slut, and whore tending to be some of his personal favorites to use
✧˚ · . Big on consent. If you are ever not comfortable with anything he proposes or is in the middle of doing to you, then he will stop instantly and get you anything you need. He may seem like an asshat sometimes, but he is a decent person (if that comes as such a shock)
✧˚ · . Into some form of pet play/leashes, no negotiation
✧˚ · . He always likes to be in control and rarely ever is the submissive one during intimacy.
✧˚ · . Will speak Spanish in bed, usually doing so in order to fluster his partner; it often gets him a positive response
✧˚ · . Being blindfolded is a big kink of his. As a dancer, he is used to having to be accustomed to other senses, so when they are heightened after his sight is temporarily taken from him, he will have a ball of a time
✧˚ · . One of his top favorite things is watching his partner ride him. Just the sight of his cock being sheathed inside your body over and over again as he watches you get off on his lap all on your own
✧˚ · . Dirty dancing is something he is much too fond of. The act of getting all worked up from dancing with one another, teasing each other all the while, then getting to fuck his partner into the ground, whispering praises to them about how well they danced with/for him; he is all too eager to teach you more of what he knows about the dancing world
✧˚ · . The little shit is one of the biggest teases you will ever meet. He honestly has a sex drive that's more so on the lower side and does not need sex as often as most sinners seem to
✧˚ · . But, be prepared when he does have the energy to pleasure you, for he is astounding at it.
✧˚ · . Kissing, biting, steamy makeout sessions, eating you out, fucking you raw; he can do it all and excel in the process
✧˚ · . His fangs usually come into play a lot during sex; a huge fan of biting and leaving marks on his partner to let others know that they have already been claimed
✧˚ · . Camillo is one of those demons you'd be lucky to have sex with. It's not even an egotistical thing, he's just not very sex-coded when it comes to relationships or really anything in general. He believes in a true connection with someone first before engaging in any sorts of those activities, hence his sexuality
✧˚ · . Sex with Camillo is always very serious and passionate. He never allows himself to be as vulnerable as he would be right now, so better to cherish it whilst it lasts
✧˚ · . It's almost like he picks one mate for life, then he's done looking, like some species do
✧˚ · . Thinking of it, when he really gets into action and the rare times he wants to have sex, he fucks like a wild animal. He does have his vanilla, gentle side where he will care for you nothing short of a husband, but if he has the chance or some pent up anger to release, you better prepare to go for multiple rounds of very rough sex
✧˚ · . To top things off, he does have a praise kink. It may be hard to pick up on at first, but if you praise him, let him know how good he's making you feel, he's a mess (at least internally). Nothing really gets him going more than knowing he is fulfilling his job as a partner; making you feel good in every aspect that he can. It gives him purpose and that's really all he needs when he's with his s/o
BONUS~
✧˚ · . One of Camillo's wildest fantasies is to have his lover cockwarming him whilst he plays a song for them on his piano. He can imagine struggling to not fumble over the keys, not let his fingers slip, as he feels you clench around him, biting his lip or your shoulder hard enough to draw blood in order to stifle any noises that may find their way past his lips. That vulnerability is something he knowingly holds sacred; you could potentially be the one to coax it out of him.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x you#xreader#carmilla carmine#hazbin hotel carmilla#carmilla x reader#carmilla hazbin hotel#carmila carmine#hazbin hotel camillo#camillo/carmilla#camillo#camillo hazbin#camillo hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel genderswap#x reader#carmilla carmine x reader#carmilla carmine x reader smut#sfw#headcanon#headcanons#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel oc
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Kinktober Day 8: Breeding
Rating: R-18+
Word Count: 6762
Warnings: Afab!reader, Hunter/prey, noncon, baby trapping, lots of pregnancy talk, biting, marking, doggy style (Heh), vaginal sex, cream pie, pheromones, sex pollen? Kind of?? Don't know what else to call it lol
⭐
The forest could be a dangerous place if you didn’t keep your eyes open and pay attention. That was the very first thing he’d taught you. A hard lesson to learn after you’d nearly tumbled straight off a high embankment right into the croc infested waters below, just because you’d been a bit too distracted by the lush scenery to watch where you were going. He’d chided and lectured you for upwards of twenty minutes about safety, situational awareness, common sense and self preservation after none too gently yanking you back from the unseen ledge.
A mother hen. That’s what you’d thought of him at the time.
But he’d never warned you about this. Had never told you what to do when the impending threat did not stem from the forest itself or the wildlife that inhabited it. When he was the danger nipping at your heels rather than the crocs or the jaguars, or the territorial fungi defending their young.
Somewhere along the way you seem to have forgotten that Tighnari was still a predator no matter how polite or friendly he may have otherwise seemed.
Twigs and branches snap a deafening chorus around you as you barrel through the underbrush, barely even seeing where you’re running but just knowing you had to flee. It wasn’t so much a higher functioning thought as it was an instinctive compulsion that had gripped you in a chilling fist when you saw the way he’d looked at you back at the small camp. The way he’d prowled towards you, his well groomed tail stiff and flicking out behind him. You’d never seen Tighnari look at anyone like that before, least of all yourself, and it had scared you. There was no denying that when you were currently making a mad dash through the damp, sticky rainforest on the slim hope you’d be able to make it back to Gandharva Ville and dissuade him from further pursuit.
But you also felt hot in a way that did not seem to have anything to do with exertion or the muggy, oppressive atmosphere in the oxygen dense environment. A bit dizzy, even though you should have had more than enough stamina to make the sprint without becoming faint.
Confused and gasping, you reluctantly slow to a stop and reach out to brace your sweaty palm against the rough bark of a tree. The opposite hand presses over your middle, clutching at the deep stitch in your gut that was making it so difficult to breathe. What was happening to your body, now of all times? You don’t get to linger on that thought for very long.
A soft, deliberate rustle of leaves somewhere behind you brings your head up with a sharp snap. Not only was Tighnari close but he wanted you to know it. You’d watched him track a large male boar that had turned overly aggressive at the height of its mating season rut without making more than a whisper on the forest floor. The wild, mindless thing hadn’t even realized it was in danger until it was much too late … He never would have allowed you to hear him moving around like that unless he wanted you to.
Wait.
Mating season? Rut?
Your eyes go big, widening to the approximate size of dinner plates. But before you can fully process the implication of what that would mean, what it would suggest, you hear the snap of a branch directly behind you and quickly spin around.
Tighnari offers you what you think is supposed to be an apologetic smile. But his usually crystal clear eyes are so shuttered and glazed over with some unknown heat that it does absolutely nothing to comfort you. The stark flush staining his round cheeks seems to stand out against his complexion like someone had taken harsh brushstrokes to his face. Perhaps most incriminating of all, though, is the way his sharply pointed, proud ears curl down to droop low over his skull. He was visibly a wreck, and he looks at you across the scant distance like you were dinner.
“Sorry about that,” He murmurs in such a hushed voice you have to strain to hear it. “I knew this time of year was coming, but I thought I’d be able to better control myself than this. I wasn’t expecting you to start ovulating at the same time.”
A shudder dances up your spine and you straighten, subconsciously digging your fingers into your stomach as you let go of the tree. So that was it, then. “It’s okay.” You whisper back. You were frantically trying to sort through your whirlwind thoughts without setting him off any further, avoiding both quick movements and loud noises. Maybe if you just stayed very, very still … “You just startled me, is all. I thought you were mad at me or something so I thought I’d head back early.”
You force a quiet laugh, hoping to ease some of the tension sparking between you and him, but when Tighnari opens his mouth nothing comes out. He looks like he wants to groan as he slowly drags his gaze down your front, lingering briefly on your chest before sinking lower to lock on the hand you’ve got cupped around your middle. Shoulders stiffening in response, you force yourself to uncurl your arm and let it hang at your side. It doesn’t work though, and his hazy eyes remain locked on your belly even when you take a shuffling step back.
Oh, this was not good. This wasn’t good at all.
“Tighnari - -“ You start to say, but he cuts you off before you can try to reason with him.
“Can you feel it too? The surge of hormones, the sensitivity … is your blood pumping as fast as mine is right now?” He takes a sedate step towards you then, and you quickly back up another pace. Looking a little sad about that, a little disappointed, he seems to force himself to stand still instead of pressing closer. “Humans can be funny creatures, you know. They’re just as susceptible to changes in environment as any other living organism, but they often overlook the real reason for their sudden mood swings or shifts in behavior. They think it’s some higher force dictating their actions. Like their sentience absolves them from hormonal influence.”
He pauses then, looking at you with such barely contained animal hunger it makes every single hair on your body stand on end. It was like he wanted to consume you. Rip you open and gorge himself on everything right down to the bones. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if he wanted to mate with you or eat you alive.
But he just licks his lips after a time, clearly struggling to rein in his control. “I know you’re scared. I can taste it on the back of my tongue, but I promise I have no intention of hurting you. It’s just — sudden, isn’t it?”
“That’s an understatement.” You grumble even as you force yourself to draw a deep, shuddering breath meant to ground you and calm your nerves.
But when you let it out with a stilted exhale Tighnari faintly shivers as if you’d physically touched him, his eyes slipping shut in what could only be savory pleasure. You can see his tail eagerly flicking behind him, like his every instinct was screaming at him to pounce and to claim, and to take; and a fresh wave of horror washes over you when you realize he’s scenting you on the air. Whatever you were currently feeling was only a very small, dulled fraction compared to his heightened senses.
Idly, you think you should try running again, but he speaks before you can muster up the courage to follow through.
“Do you know what else I taste? Arousal. So hot and thick it’s even overpowering your fear response. I don’t think you realize how innate your body’s reaction is to me right now.” Letting out a shuddering exhale of his own, Tighnari slowly looks at you again with an expression that is so miserable, so needy, it makes your knees grow weak.
And not because you were scared, you’re more than a little horrified to realize.
“You��re so fertile it’s making it hard to even think straight. All I want to do is pin you down and bury myself in you for hours on end, and your subconscious hormonal response tells me you want the same. Humans can’t go into heat. Not really, anyway. They’ve long since lost the need for seasonal mating cues when they can reproduce at any time of the year thanks to their societal based advantages … but I think you’re the closest you can get to it right now. You don’t understand why you want me to take you to mate but you do feel compelled, don’t you?”
You probably would have laughed if your heart wasn’t wedged inside your throat, threatening to choke you. Even at the height of his rut — that was the only thing you could think to call it — he was still so scientifically minded and intelligent that he was actively analyzing the situation, even lecturing you in the gentle, prodding way he always nudged you towards the right answer. It was almost insidious how benign this conversation would have otherwise been if you hadn’t been doing everything in your power to ignore the sharp throb in your lower belly.
He was right. You did indeed feel a stifling amount of desire for him and your cunt seemed to squeeze around nothing every single time he mentioned or even alluded to mating, claiming, heat and, perhaps most alarming of all, reproduction. It was as if a venomous worm had crawled inside your brain while you were sleeping and taken up root there, influencing your decision making with its potent toxin. Your judgment was extremely clouded, yes, but even despite that you still recognized what a dangerous game this was. How foolish you would have been to play it.
You wanted him, in that moment, more than you could ever remember wanting anything else, but the consequences of taking that plunge were another matter entirely. It was just too soon. You were still a young researcher, still had plenty of time to give yourself over to another and make a family together. Maybe it would be with Tighnari, maybe not. But like this? You just couldn’t rationalize it in your head.
“Listen to me carefully,” You finally speak up, feeling like you were facing off with a very dangerous apex predator when his ears give an aggressive twitch and attentatively swivel towards you. “I understand what you’re saying. I feel it too. There’s no denying that, but I don’t think this is a good idea for either of us. You have so many responsibilities already and I do too. This isn’t the kind of decision we should make on a whim. I can’t — I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
Rather than backing down, he surprises you by taking a sudden step forward. “If it’s your livelihood you’re worried about, I make more than enough to support you as well as any kits we might have. I can take care of you.”
“K - kits!” You stammer, absolutely gobsmacked.
“Yes, and it’s not like it’s unheard of for female researchers to suddenly become pregnant during their studies at the Akademiya or shortly after graduation. This is a normal part of life, and some of them even manage to return to their fields after having children. It doesn’t mean an end to your work, just a … pause in it.”
You just stand there, gaping at him in shock and disbelief alike. That was all quite easy for him to say because he wouldn’t have to worry about the toll it would have on his body, the strain and stress of giving birth to another tiny, helpless life or taking care of it afterward the same way you would be expected to. He couldn’t make milk to feed a baby, he wouldn’t need to pause his work to stay up late tending to it or take hours out of his day to change and clean the damned thing. All of that would fall on you, and even if you could somehow manage to find enough energy to work on your research while juggling an infant at the same time … how much would you realistically be able to devote to those pursuits? How much would you waste just raising the offspring he was trying to foist on you?
Going through with this would spell the end of your career and he had to have known that, so why? Why was he looking at you like what he’d said was perfectly reasonable and logical? Like you were the one with the problem?
Your stomach cramps so hard it threatens to bowl you over on the spot and you stumble, blindly reaching back to brace against the tree again. He watches you do it with so much attentive interest it makes you feel vaguely like a bug being studied under a microscopic lens but you’re a bit too focused on trying not to hyperventilate to pay it much mind. You felt like you were going to be sick. Never before have you experienced such suffocating, oppressive dread and you have no idea how to process any of it.
But then, he makes the decision for you.
When he takes another step closer you bolt, lurching into a dead sprint that nearly sends you tripping head over heels into the underbrush. You manage to keep your balance though, somehow, and you careen through the trees at such a blind dash it’s a wonder you don’t knock yourself out slamming into anything.
The heavy sound of his footfalls behind you doesn’t come as a shock but it does encourage you to run faster, harder, your legs screaming in protest while you gallop across the uneven terrain as fast as they can carry you. A stray root catches your foot and makes you stumble, but even then you don’t stop. It feels like your heart is going to erupt right out of your chest cavity at any given moment and you just keep running like your life depended on it because, well. It probably did.
You aren’t sure how far you actually make it or for how long he lets the pursuit go on, but you’re distinctly aware of him right on your heels the entire time, much to the detriment of your quaking nerves. Tighnari keeps pace with you easily enough though, making it quite clear that you were at a sore disadvantage in the forest he knew like the back of his own hand, and you realize it’s a losing battle long before he actually puts an end to it. You weren’t sure how much more of this terrible hunt your body could handle.
You’re so strung out that it almost comes as a relief when he finally slams into you from behind and lands on top of you in the dirt and grass, crushing you under his sturdy weight. Gasping and heaving from the impact as much as exertion, you jerk your head up as if to scream — thinking perhaps you were close enough to Gandharva Ville that someone might hear you — but you don’t get the chance.
Aggressively curling himself over your shuddering body, Tighnari slips a gloved hand under your jaw to keep your neck craned back and slams his mouth against yours. It’s not so much a kiss as it is nipping teeth and bared fangs, but it still muffles the plaintive shriek you let out against his lips. You feel him shift on top of you and slowly grind against your ass, his knees forcing you to stay in place where they bracket your hips, and you outright choke at the hard press of his straining cock. He takes quick advantage of it and delves his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch of you he can reach as you groan around the intrusion.
It’s like there’s a second heartbeat between your legs now, just as frantic and uncontrollable as the one in your chest, and it pulses so hard it almost hurts when he humps you with increasingly fast, stuttering snaps of his hips. You think he’s completely lost control if he can’t even wait to get your pants down, the total absence of his usual calm, levelheaded demeanor a decidedly bad sign for how this was going to play out. You didn’t think you could stop him … but maybe, just maybe you could reason with him.
“Tighnari!” You croak when he finally, abruptly disengages from your mouth. Sucking in harsh, gasping mouthfuls of air as he directs his attention to your jaw and your neck, mindlessly nipping at your skin, you desperately try to think of something to say that might persuade him to listen. Easier said than done, of course, but you finally settle on, “I don’t mind having sex with you - -“
“Thank you, thank you,” He practically sobs against your pulse, sounding so needy and desperate it inspires a sympathetic flutter low in your gut. “You’ll be an amazing mother, I just know it. Thank you.”
“N - no!” Blindly reaching around, you try to shove at him with one hand but it’s no use. He’s solid and unbudging on top of you. “We can have sex but — ahhn! But you can’t cum inside! Do you hear me? You have to pull out!”
A vibrating growl rises low in his chest, bleeding into you as he seems to settle his weight more firmly across your back. You choke at the sensation of him laying out on top of you, his legs splayed wide to press the full brunt of his straining cock into your defenseless backside while his feet hook over your calves. In a move that would have greatly impressed you under better circumstances, he forces your legs apart in this prone position until it feels like the only thing stopping him from claiming you right then and there is the thin layer of clothes separating him from you. Completely vulnerable and helpless like this, all you can do is lay there and take it when he starts thrusting his hips again.
“If we mate,” He snarls into your ear, grunting at the sensation of his cock dragging over your cunt. “There won’t be any stopping it. No pulling out. You will be mine and that will be the end of it.”
Letting out a keening groan, so low and heavy it seems to make your eyes vibrate in their sockets, you weakly claw at the dirt in an attempt to ground yourself. You could tell you were slipping under now, your body running so hot on fast pumping adrenaline and potent endorphins that you couldn’t help but crave the release he promised. It was sickening, in a way, the instinctive arch of your back. The way you subtly angle your throbbing cunt up at him, welcoming the pressure of him digging into you. How he just keeps grinding and thrusting until you’re hyper aware of not only how soaked you were but how badly you actually wanted to feel him moving like that inside of you.
You didn’t just want it, you needed it.
“Ahhn … T - Tighnari! If you really get me pregnant - -“
“Not if.” He cuts across you so forcefully you seethe, squeezing your eyes shut in distress. “I will. There really isn’t any room for debate on this. You’re so fertile, sweetheart. I can taste it. Your mind might not be in agreement, but your body is just begging to be taken and bred. This is what you were made for, don’t you see?”
Choking on your protests, you plaintively shake underneath him when he somehow manages to wedge his hands under your sweaty, heaving body. It’s a tight, pinching squeeze and you hiss as he palms at your top and roughly yanks to get it pulled up. Realizing what he’s doing, you twist underneath him with renewed frenzy but it’s useless. He’s got you so thoroughly pinned all you can do is let him inch it up bit by bit until your tits finally spill out and you seethe when they touch the cool ground. You didn’t really want to be taken like this, like an animal in the dirt, but even trying to desperately cling to your shirt isn’t enough to dissuade him, and he soon has it yanked right over your head.
You just barely manage to snag at one of the sleeves when he carelessly tosses it aside, trying to pull it back towards you even if only so you can spread it out under your body, but you’re not quick enough. Tighnari’s hands immediately slip under you again, and you outright yelp when he squeezes at your chest in a much too tight hold. The sound that comes out of you is haggard and bleating, and he ignores it completely in favor of kneading the bountiful flesh with a quiet groan of his own.
“You really were made for this,” He seems to marvel, the awed inflection in his raspy voice doing nothing to make you think it was a compliment. “Your breasts have a good shape and the weight of them is pleasing as well, but the fat distribution suggests you’ll not only produce high quality milk but plenty of it too. Even if we were to have twins, I suspect you would have no issues keeping them fed and happy.”
You twist against his hold, hating the words as much as the way he squishes your tits in his fingers. “N - nooooo!”
“Yes.” Shoving his face into the dampened crook of your neck, he issues another low snarl against your pulse. “Just thinking about you holding one of my kits to your chest is going to make me cum … I really don’t think I can control myself much longer. I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but … but I’m not going to let you up off the ground until I’m sure you’ve been properly bred. You’ll be with child long before I’m through with you today, I promise. I promise.”
His breath catching as if just saying it was enough to make him feel pleasure unlike any other, Tighnari nuzzles into you with an affectionate little rumble in his throat that sounds oddly like a pur. It’s almost enough to stop you in your tracks, because you’ve never heard him make a sound like that before, but then he directs his fingers to the tips of your breasts and you can’t quite stop yourself from squawking when he latches onto the nipples.
“These are also nice. A little small right now, but I’m sure that will quickly change once you start producing milk. They’re firm but pliant, and,” He pauses to give them a quick, biting pinch and a squeeze, making you wail underneath him. “Very receptive by the looks of it. That might prove to be an issue, though it shouldn’t be anything too major.”
“Nghn … w - what do you mean?”
“Hm? Oh, I just meant it might cause you some discomfort at first, with the fangs and all.”
Groaning, you weakly drop your head to rest on the grass in complete and utter defeat. You were exhausted and horrified at how casually he was discussing this but even that was not enough to deter your own pulsing arousal from robbing you of the will to fight. His perfectly reasonable, if not breathless, manner of speaking on these matters wasn’t exactly helping either. It was a little hard to keep up the pretense of being an unwilling participant in all this when he made it sound so perfectly benign … so normal. So expected that you don’t protest when he hunches further over you to put his face close to yours; big, crystalline eyes taking in your expression from a scant few millimeters away.
Evidently seeing that resignation reflected back at him, he tips his head and seals his mouth over yours. You accept his kiss without complaint this time, slowly giving yourself over to the steady pull of his lips. Rather than aggressive nipping and biting, it’s something much more tender and soft, and you moan faintly when he continues to flick over your nipples until they feel oversensitized and raw. It takes you a long beat to realize he’s stilled his hips, just resting on top of you now, but you don’t miss why. Even with a few layers of clothes between you and Tighnari, you can faintly make out the intense pulse of him where he’s pressed tight against your cunt.
It doesn’t last long though, and you take a gasping breath of fresh air when he finally pulls back some moments later. His hands reluctantly drag down off your chest to find the hem of your pants, which he quickly fumbles with to get them pulled down. A fresh sense of urgency rushes in to replace the temporary calm that had fallen over the small clearing he’d pinned you in, and you quickly start to breathe harder as he works your last remaining clothes down your legs. You never thought you’d find yourself spread out on the forest floor like this … but there is no denying the way the vibrating tension in your body doubles, and then triples when you feel air hit your exposed backside. No denying how you shudder so intensely you feel sick with it, and arch your back to present yourself to him like — like a bitch in heat.
“Tighnari, please!”
Abruptly, he seems to give up and he leaves your slacks bunched around your thighs in favor of impatiently grabbing hold of your hips so he can yank you back against him. A startled yelp bursts out of you as you’re forced onto your hands and knees, trembling at the heavy press of his cock from behind. Tighnari grinds against you for a brief moment, emphasizing how very wet you are for him when his own slacks brush over your cunt to smear sticky slick, and then he’s quickly fumbling to get them shoved out of the way.
Breasts swaying, you twist around to look back at him but you don’t get the chance to really see anything. One second he’s reaching between your bodies and the next he’s leaning into you, your mouth dropping open on a silent scream when the blunt head of him starts to sink into your entrance. You’d known you were heady with arousal but it still comes as something of a shock when he simply slides against your guts, gliding easily into your cunt until the sudden stretch becomes too much and you cry out.
Softly shushing you, he readjusts his weight and brings both hands up to clutch at your hips again so he can hold you in place while he leans over you. You moan, haggard and strained, as he settles along your back not unlike before; but this time when he shoves his face into the crook of your neck he suddenly bites down. Hard.
“Wait - -!”
There’s nothing you can do to stop it. At first it’s just a sharp, debilitating pressure and then the next second you feel his teeth break the skin, tiny little canines sinking deep into flesh. The puncture wound burns on the tender side of your neck and you choke on some kind of hurt little animal sound, stiffly jerking against him. But you were effectively trapped with the risk of tearing open your own pulse hanging over your head like this, and all you can do is loose a frantic, pained groan when he starts to nudge his hips forward again, gradually sinking the rest of the way inside you.
You understood now, why he’d delayed this long enough to let you relax into it and come to terms with the fact you even wanted it at all. He’d lulled you into a false sense of security just so you wouldn’t be fighting him tooth and nail when the time came for him to finally leave his mark on you … it was insidious and cruel, and you wince when each pulsing throb in your cunt seems to reflect in your neck. It’s not lost on you that this is a twofold attack meant to dominate and disable in the same breath, so stricken by the pain and the searing stretch that you just kneel there in the dirt without even making an attempt to struggle against it.
Finally, he settles into your upturned ass and issues a huffy, muffled groan against your neck to send fresh jolts of hurt shooting through your nerves. His grip on your waist is bruising, but barely noticeable when compared to everything else you were feeling. For a drawn out beat, the two of you just stay like that, perfectly still and panting hard against each other until, at last Tighnari angles his cock back. It’s a stilted, painfully slow drag against your guts but he quickly pushes back in without pulling out all the way, jostling you slightly to make your tits sway. Hissing through clenched teeth, you dig your nails into the ground underneath you while he steadily works himself up to a quick, snappy pace that soon has you rocking against him to the loud plap, plap, plap of skin hitting skin.
Without warning, he suddenly loosens his jaw and you outright wail at the sensation of his teeth receding from your skin. It’s immediately replaced by the soft, wet warmth of his tongue lapping at the wound as if to clean it, a soft whimper coming from him in apology. Still, though, he doesn’t stop fucking you, his rigid cock spearing up into your cunt so forcefully you sway unsteadily on your hands and knees. It was too much. He was jackhammering you way too hard, too fast, and you couldn’t brace against it.
“Tighnari — wha - wait a second!”
That faint, vaguely cat-like pur rises in him again and you shudder uncontrollably when it seems to vibrate straight through you. He turns his head to bury his face in your shoulder, panting and gasping while his hands abandon your aching hips in favor of groping at your front. Your tits were still tender after the first time though, and you can’t quite stop yourself from crying out when he pinches your nipples again. He grunts when your cunt clamps down around him in response then does it again, tugging at your sore little teats until you wildly buck underneath him.
“Oh! Archons!”
That’s the last thing you manage to get out before the coil snaps. His cock is so hard and demanding that it seems to hit that spot deep inside you every time he plunges inside, and even devolving into a shuddering, writhing mess against him isn’t enough to make him slow down. He fucks you right through it even when you whine in overstimulated agony, pussy flexing around that stiff intrusion so hard it makes you feel faint. Dizzy. You felt like you were going to pass out, and you scrabble at the ground for something to hold on to. You were sure your body couldn’t take much more of this brutal pace but he showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.
“Please —!”
“I told you, didn’t I?” Tighnari hisses against your skin, shuddering against your back. “I’m not going to let you up until - ngh! Until you’ve been properly bred! I’m sorry but I - I promised!”
Bleating like a wounded animal, you futilely try to angle away from him — just for a moment's reprieve, even a short one — but he just follows you, pressing himself flush to your shuddering frame. The added weight of him settling on top of you like that is too much for your shaking arms and you collapse into the grass, moaning raggedly when he simply follows you down.
His hands move to squeeze around your rib cage, making your already labored breath hitch, but he just drags his palms down to take hold of your hips again. Rather forcefully, he pulls you back against him until you were balanced on your knees, the upper half of your body stretched out along the ground. You choke on a flustered sound when you feel your tits drag across the dirt, swaying heavily in this position, but that hardly seemed to be the most pressing matter at the moment.
Somehow Tighnari manages to piston into you even faster like this and each plunging thrust of his hips seems to steal the air from your lungs. The deafeningly loud sound of your sticky cunt sucking him in deep, readily welcoming him and trying to pull him in even deeper, rushes in to join the sharp slap of his pelvis meeting your ass. Your body responds eagerly though, even at the cost of your own dignity, and your eyes start to roll back when you feel a second orgasm fast approaching, much sooner than you could have ever anticipated.
This was insane. No one single cock should have been perfectly tailor made to slot inside your body like a missing puzzle piece and yet, that’s exactly how it felt. The shape of him was contoured just right to hit every pleasure inducing bump and ridge along the way, the length perfect to stroke you right where you needed it most. Even the stiffness of his cock was exactly what your pulsing guts craved, unrelenting and hard but still pliant enough to adjust to your internal pressure. It was like …
It was like you really had been made for this.
That chilling thought is what sends you over the edge, and you shriek so wildly through the convulsions he has to slip his arm forward and cover your mouth. Squealing behind his palm, you jerk and ride out the waves of mind numbing pleasure, jerking uncontrollably on his cock, but even then he doesn’t relent for even a second. He’s got you so thoroughly pinned under the driving weight of his pelvis that you’re forced to keep your back arched even through your shuddering climax, and the sloppy wet sounds of penetration only seem to grow even louder. You felt like you were dripping all over yourself and leaving damp little patches in the dirt under your spread legs, and a hot jab of embarrassment spears through you at the thought.
No one had ever made you feel like this before, so overwhelmed and helpless to do anything but shake and drool obscene amounts of slick out of your cunt. It was quite easily the hottest experience of your life.
You’re so aroused, so very turned on by the total domination of your body that even your mind starts to slip, and by the time his breathing becomes sharply uneven you don’t even have the wherewithal to beg him to pull out. You just lay there, spread out underneath him, eyes rolling in doped out bliss while you heatedly groan behind his hand, and convulse on his stuttering cock. He was close and that was obvious even when you were lolling in and out of full consciousness from getting fucked within an inch of your life, but you still lift a shuddering hand to weakly grasp at his arm where it’s lock around your front. Something told you you’d want to hold on for this.
“Oh! M’gonna’ cum! I’m cumming, sweetheart, I’m cumming! Are you ready? Ready for me to fill you up?” He wheezes against the side of your head, entire body juddering with the intensity of his impending release as much as the exertion. “I’m going to breed you, I’m — ahhn — I’m breeding you, sweetheart, I’m cumming!”
Whining low in your throat, aching and sore, and well past the point of overstimulation, you writhe under him and instinctively tip your pelvis up to better accept his seed. He doesn’t miss it and a full bodied tremor overtakes him, making him shake so hard it’s a struggle to keep pounding into you. But he manages, somehow, his hips snapping at an uneven, frantic pace now until finally — finally, Tighnari lets out a deep, half strangled groan that rises in pitch, becoming gaspy and needy at the tail end as his cock jumps and sputters inside you.
You’re distinctly aware of the moment his semen hits your clenching guts in a hot, stifling pulse and your mouth drops open but nothing comes out. Spurt after heavy spurt, it just keeps coming to settle deep within you until it feels like you’re drowning in it. The sensation alone is almost enough to send you quaking right over the edge into another orgasm, the weakly contracting muscles in your cunt locked up in dizzying tension, but you manage to stave it off as your head starts to clear. Barely, though. Just barely.
Even in this fucked out state you still realized that the very last thing you needed was for another orgasm to pull his load even further into your body and run the risk of encouraging fertilization. There was still a chance you could reverse this, if you made it back to Gandharva Ville in time …
Pulled from your muddled, hazy thoughts, you let out a quiet whimper when he slowly eases back and slips out with an embarrassingly loud wet pop. The motion seems to pull with it a quickly cooling dribble of cum that oozes down your cunt, running over sticky creases and folds. You shudder at the sensation even as you gingerly push up to your elbows and glance down at yourself only for your eyes to nearly pop right out of your skull when you see how much semen is actually coming out of you. It hadn’t felt like that much to your abused innards but the proof of it is right in front of you. It’s a thick, creamy thread that stretches from your cunt, dangling tauntingly between your legs, rather than the clear little droplet you'd expected, and you feel immediate panic rise in your chest.
That couldn’t be right … if he’d ejaculated that much then — how much was actually inside of you?
You just couldn’t wrap your head around it.
Shifting on his knees behind you and evidently oblivious to the internal crises you were currently facing, Tighnari reaches down and catches that sticky thread on his gloved finger so he can push it back inside you. Grimacing at the sight as much as the sensation, you screw your eyes shut and try counting to ten. This was fine. As long as you made it back before fertilization took place, you could still take a contraceptive herb. Maybe two, just to be sure.
But, to your surprise, when you move to get up, still trembling and panting, he just grabs ahold of your hips to halt you in place and you prickle defensively. Twisting around to look back at him, you choke on whatever you’d wanted to say when you realize how he’s looking at you. Still hungry, still hazy. Oh, this was most assuredly not good.
“Tighnari - -“
“Not yet.” He murmurs, dragging you closer to press his pelvis flush against yours, and you practically jump out of your skin when you realize his cock is already half hard, quickly filling out again. You stammer in protest, heart thudding a frightened little pitter patter against your chest, but he just leans across your back to put his face close to yours, focus attentively locked on your expression. “We need to make sure it took, sweetheart. I promised to breed you, didn’t I?”
Ignoring your soft whimpers, he closes the distance and seals his mouth over yours, kissing you so slowly it makes your head spin. You couldn’t believe he still had the stamina or the desire to keep going after that … but more than anything you couldn’t believe yourself.
Cunt eagerly throbbing in response, you rear back on him with a low, stilted moan, even when every fiber of your being was screaming at you to run. It was like you were intoxicated. Drunk on all the pheromones he was putting out and consumed with a need so great even your higher functioning mind couldn’t fight it.
And so distantly you almost don’t even notice it, the bite on your neck pulses.
⭐
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his jurisdiction - rafe cameron
summary: situations with rafe having to be in control || warnings: references to drug dealing, rafe grabs reader's face, drinking, reader gets drunk || genre: established relationship, angst, fluff || word count: approximately 1100
Sometimes, Rafe just had to scold you. He had to tell you what to do. To speak some sense into you. It was just apart of him being your boyfriend. He acted like it annoyed him to have to do that- which, in the moment, it did- but he also kind of liked it. No, he really liked it. He liked having to tell you what to do, to be in control, to have you do as he said- even if it was temporary.
Most of the time, you'd behave and stay away, in another room or part of the house while Rafe was conducting business at Tannyhill, something he didn't like to do, but had to at times. Some times, though, you just couldn't help but go to him. You missed him and just wanted to be with him. So, you said "fuck it" and headed towards the room Rafe was in with his clients.
Rafe immediately looked over at you with a scolding look on his face, trying to signal for you to get out without saying anything. You chose to ignore this though as you came over sheepishly and with a soft smile. You sat down on his lap and he moved his arms away, not supporting you and making you wrap your arms around his neck.
"What are you doin'?" He'd lowly asked in your ear.
"I missed you." You softly whined in response.
"Well, now's not the time. I got clients, doll." Rafe lowly said, a little harshly.
You furrowed your eyebrows a little in hurt as you snuggled further into him. Rafe's hand came up to your back, holding onto the back of your torso as he said; "Get out. I'm almost done." Rafe lowly instructed you.
You pouted and huffed before getting up and leaving the room, closing the door on your way out. Rafe just let out a groan as he looked at his clients.
"Well, d'you want it or not?" He asked in an annoyed tone, just wanting to get this over with and for them to leave so he could be with his naughty girl.
Not only did stuff like that happen, but he had to remind you to watch your mouth sometimes, in more than one way, actually.
Rafe didn't like you cursing. He didn't think such words should come out of your pretty mouth, only allowing it in... certain situations. He especially didn't like you cursing when it was at him.
You'd only done it one time, you were mad at him and he seemed so nonchalant about the whole situation which only made you more annoyed.
Without thinking, in the heat of the moment, you cursed at him, saying a "Fuck you." at him in almost a whisper. Rafe heard it though, of course he did, and he was not about to let that slide.
"What the fuck did you just say?" Rafe asked, coming closer to you. "Huh, doll?" He then said in response to you not answering him. Again, you don't say anything.
Rafe harshly- but not too harshly- grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him before he moved his hands up a little, squeezing your cheeks and forcing a pout on your lips.
"I don' like you speaking like that, 'kay?" Rafe then lowly told you. "Filthy words like that shouldn't come out of your pretty mouth." He told you.
Tears brimmed up and you couldn't help but to start crying. He kept his hold on your face as you started to cry for a few moments, only loosening his grip at first, before he let go and pulled you against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your back, just how you liked.
Sometimes, you'd go out with some of your girl friends. You guys would go out to the country club most of the time, just spending time together at the bar, casually drinking and eating dinner together.
One time, though, you and your friends had gotten a bit too drunk to the point that you guys could definitely not drive yourself's home. You didn't have to really worry about that anyways though since Rafe was always your ride. You guys all drunkenly stood by the parking lot, drunkenly stumbling around, dancing, and fooling around in the yard by the parking lot.
Eventually, all of your friends had gotten picked up and it was just you waiting. A few minutes after waiting alone, you could see Rafe's car driving towards you. He got out of the car, seeing the state that you were in.
"What the fuck, Y/n." He huffed as he walked over to you. You smiled at the sight of him and went over to him, engulfing him in a hug. Rafe pulled you away and kept ahold of your arms. "What are you doing this drunk, right now? Huh? Where 're you're friends?" Your boyfriend asked.
"They all got picked up already." You slurred.
"How long 've you been alone out here?" He then asked, obviously bothered about you being alone in this state.
"Just a few minutes. Promise, Rafey." You told him as you looked up at him.
Rafe sighed as he looked down at you, "Come on, get in the car. We're going home."
He held your arm and brought you to the car, helping you inside the passenger seat and buckling the seatbelt for you before shutting the door and heading over to the driver's side of the car.
When he got inside and started driving for a little, he decided to speak again. "I don' want you getting drunk like that if I'm not there." Rafe instructed you.
"But, Rafe.." You whined.
"I'm not changin' my mind." Rafe told you, not wanting you to even bothering whining and pouting about this, even though he knew you would. Truth be told, he made that rule because he cared about you and didn't want anyone taking advantage of you and he hated the idea of you being in that state and not being able to protect you.
So, yeah, sometimes Rafe had to scold you, to tell you what to do, to speak some sense into you. Sometimes he acted cold about it and sometimes he just was cold about it but in the end, he liked it. He liked being the one in control over you, no one else. He liked that you listened to him. He did this because he wanted what was best for you and in his mind, he thought he knew all that was best for you.
-- link to my masterlist
#manheeiim#outer banks#outerbanks#obx#obx fanfiction#obx fic#outer banks fanfiction#outerbanks fanfiction#rafe cameron#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron angst#angst#fluff#established relationship#toxic relationship#dark rafe cameron#rafe outer banks
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(The final part of November Paramedic; part 6 is here and the AO3 version is here. If you want to avoid the smut, you should read on AO3.)
Eddie's apartment is full of song, but for probably the first time since he moved in it's not metal.
Max sings This Old Heart of Mine with gusto, her attention glued to her fingers as they move on the fretboard. She's in an awkward position, sitting slumped and with her leg propped onto five pillows on the coffee table. An elastic bandage is wrapped around her knee. Steve was right – she did exacerbate the injury by walking on it, and had to spend the next three days on bed rest. The knee already looks a lot better, less swollen but likely still tender, not that she's uttered a peep about it. Today is the first day she's been up and running, though not without support. Since crutches is the uncoolest kind of mobility aid Eddie took it upon himself to dig out a cane from his closet for her to use. When he asked if she liked it, she said it was great for thwacking people; he assumes that means 'yes'.
On the other end of the couch, Gareth taps along on a handheld drum. Max felt like she kept losing the rhythm and wanted extra help. Eddie is certain she was doing fine, but hey, if it calms her last-minute nerves, so be it.
The song ends, the last note lingering in the otherwise silent room. Max heaves a sigh, guitar slipping from her grip as she relaxes into her seat.
Gareth is beaming with pride; Eddie feels it too. Approximately two months of practice led to this. Just two months! He knows that she's been diligent, but still – it's impressive. Damn, he has the raddest little neighbor.
He rests his elbows on the couch's backrest and pokes Max's shoulder.
"It sounds great. You'll do amazing tomorrow."
She nods, lips tugging into a sweetly pleased smile.
"I'm ready," she says. Craning her neck, she locks their gazes. "Are you performing too?"
"No. The stage will be only yours. Although," he pats the acoustic in her lap, "I will of course be there and make sure you treat DragonSlayer with the respect she deserves."
Max's eyes crinkle with mischief.
"She won't react to you ever again after I show her what real talented fingers can do," she says, wiggling said fingers at him, and giggles when he gasps like a Victorian lady at the implied vulgarity. Turning to Gareth, she asks, "Are you gonna be there?"
Gareth's expression crumbles.
"I can't. Something is going around at work and we're short-staffed, so I'm no longer free," he says miserably. "I'll come next time. You'll do it again, right?"
She smiles wryly. "Unless I crash and burn."
Eddie pushes off the backrest and rounds the couch. He hates to spoil the mood any more, but…
"Before I forget," he says, piercing them with an unamused look. He also tries standing with his hands on his hips, but there's no way he can convey the same bitchy determination Steve can with the stance, so it feels hollow. He crosses his arms instead. "You two need to stop conspiring against me."
They blink at him, baffled.
"What?" Gareth says.
"You've been trying to set me up with Steve!"
"Well, yeah," Max says. "But not with him."
"Yeah, not with her."
It's Eddie's turn to blink. Releasing a breath that shudders with emotion, he closes his eyes and rubs circles on his temples.
"You're telling me you've worked independently of each other this entire time?"
"Seems like it!" Gareth laughs, though the mirth dims quickly. "But… who's done the best job?"
They whip toward each other. Their postures are tense, bow strings drawn and ready to shoot. Flames of competitiveness engulf them. Weirdos.
Gareth points at Max. "I made them go on a date!"
"I made them go on two dates!"
"I'm the reason they got to know each other!"
Max scoffs. "Oh, please. As if I wouldn't have eventually introduced them."
"Would you?"
"Sure. They're both older brother figures I can't get rid of who're hopelessly single and into men." She shrugs. "Why not?"
Eddie gasps again, this time more like a grandmother who's been presented with an incomprehensibly scribbled drawing from her toddler grandchild.
"I'm an older brother figure to you?" he asks, bending down to Max's level, his tone patronizingly light.
She sends him a withering look and reaches for her cane.
"Well, they almost kissed on my date!" Gareth shouts.
Max’s jaw drops. She loses her grip on the cane but gains a terrifying intensity in her eyes. A chill runs through Eddie, the tips of his appendages tingling. This is the closest he's ever gotten to catching frostbite.
"What," she says flatly.
Eddie scrambles away, metaphorically and physically, in case she decides to smack him anyway.
"N-no, we- It wasn't- Our faces just- But we didn't!"
"But it was so close," Gareth says, fingers pinched and with maybe the fraction of a fraction of an inch of air between his thumb and forefinger.
"Huh." Max continues staring Eddie down like she's plotting his murder for keeping secrets. He's about to point out that he can't be set up with Steve if he's dead when she swivels back to Gareth. "I'm making them go on a third date."
"Wait, what? When?"
"Open mic tomorrow night," she says, like he's an idiot. The scrunch of Gareth's mouth indicates that he agrees with her.
"Shit." He pats himself down, in search of something. "What time is it? Where's my phone? If I text him now I can schedule a spontaneous hang-out for tonight!"
Eddie's eyes double in size.
"Woah, woah, woah!" he exclaims, hands raised and palms facing out, as if he's warding off wild animals. "You have Steve's number?"
Gareth pauses his search to tilt his head at Eddie, like he's a puzzle he can't figure out how to solve. Or maybe just like he's a huge fucking moron. "You're telling me you don't?"
Eddie clamps his lips together; fights the urge to fidget beneath their judgmental stares. Max slowly shakes her head.
"Dumbass. You need us."
Eddie makes an ugly face at her. "Shut up."
She tuts. "So aggressive. That's a symptom of sexual frustration."
"I'm not-"
"Remember: thin walls."
"They're not that thin! I never hear you!"
"Because I know how to keep my business to myself. And you've heard me practicing the guitar, haven't you?"
He has. Shit. He buries his face in his hands.
"Shit."
"That's right," Max says snippily. "I hear everything. Every. Thing."
"Oh," Gareth says. He squeezes her good knee, oozing empathy from every pore. "Oh, you poor, innocent girl."
She soaks it up, lamenting, "It's been awful."
"Yeah… But, um. You realize that if they get together, then… "
Gareth trails off as Max nods miserably.
"Yeah, I know. I'm resigned to my fate."
Eddie pushes the heels of his hands into his eye sockets until he sees stars. He needs friends who are less invested in his sex life.
Max leaves soon after, cane clacking louder than necessary against the floor. (Eddie suspects he might not get it back once she's healed.) She stops in the doorway on her way out. While smiling in a manner that makes him break out in a cold sweat, she tells him not to take his car to the open mic and to dress nicely.
And then she's gone.
Gareth harrumphs.
"She's planning something for tomorrow. Damnit. This is unfair, you know. She's known him longer; she can talk to and influence both of you in ways I can't. I'm at a disadvantage here."
Eddie, without replying, twirls on the spot and faceplants on the couch.
Gareth groans above him. "Oh, what is it now?"
'Same as always' is what he'd like to say. Instead, he saves his breath by rolling onto his side, curling up his legs, and giving Gareth a look. It must convey how he feels, because Gareth's irritation melts off, replaced with something gentle. He squats by the couch and brushes a stray lock from Eddie's forehead. A bit like how Uncle Wayne would when he still lived at home.
"Eddie, man, you don't have to be nervous. He likes you."
"That makes it worse," Eddie says, voice raspy and thick, and fuck, he's not going to cry over this, is he? Bawl when a boy doesn't like him is normal, not when they do. "He likes me now, but if he finds out I'm his obsessive quasi-stalker? Then what?"
"I think you're blowing this out of proportion," Gareth says. He starts scratching at Eddie's scalp; it's good enough to dry his tears and slow his pulse. "Max knows about the calendar and she doesn't mind!"
Eddie snorts derisively. "Because she's nineteen and doesn't yet understand how some actions can have terrible consequences."
Gareth frowns at that with obvious disapproval. "She's still an adult. For that matter, so are you and Steve? Just talk to him about it." He sighs. "Look, I don't think he'll mind so much that he'll never get over it. And if he does… it sucks. But you'll live. There are dozens of hot guys out there, waiting to be swept off their hot… feet." He pauses to snicker.
"You're so bad at this," Eddie whispers; Gareth snickers even more.
"You know why I've stuck by you all these years?" he asks once done laughing. "Why I even started hanging with you in the first place?"
"You had stoner aspirations and I zero qualms selling weed to fourteen-year-olds?"
Gareth flicks his forehead. "Because you're cool. And likable. And you make people happy when you're around. So go out there tomorrow night and sweep those hot feet!"
Eddie snorts. Then again. His diaphragm tightens, air forces past his pursed lips, and then his body shakes with laughter. Gareth is grinning proudly, of himself and possibly Eddie as well. He snakes his arms around Eddie's waist and pulls him so close the mirth rattles through them both. It takes an eon, but at last, the laughter abates. Eddie’s lungs are sore and his eyes are wet with happiness, and he's still got an armful of best friend clinging to him.
"I'll call you the day after tomorrow." Gareth punctuates the promise with a squeeze, before pulling back. "Lunchtime. And I'll expect progress. Okay?"
Eddie nods. "Okay."
Gareth beams, ruffles Eddie's hair, and then he too leaves the apartment.
Eddie turns onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t sigh as much as make noise while gravity pushes the air from his lungs. He could fall asleep here, on this uncomfortable couch. Turns out guitar lessons, worrying, and funny friends deplete your energy.
Before his eyelids slide shut for good he drags himself up to brush his teeth and go lie in his real bed. He needs a proper night's sleep if he'll survive tomorrow.
He wakes up on Saturday having dreamt of Steve. He eats his breakfast while thinking of Steve. He replaces brake pads, rotates tires, and talks to clients while thinking of Steve. He returns home and showers off the sweat and oil while really thinking of Steve.
He also spends a lot longer than usual contemplating how thoroughly he ought to wash himself. Fate dictates that if he cleans as if he might get laid, he won't be. However, if he's perfunctory about it, he's more likely to score. Ultimately, he does an extensive scrub. Rather be presumptuous and get nothing than be unhygienic and get lucky.
Then comes the worst part: picking an outfit.
Max told him to wear something 'nice'. Jesus. 'Wear something nice', what did that even mean? Dress less like himself? Dress more like himself? Something skimpy? Or snug? He has those leather pants that make his legs look divine, but they might be too much. He doesn't want to look like he's trying as hard as he is. Also, he's going to an open mic in a coffee shop at seven in the evening. There will be high schoolers, retirees, families with children, and others present who do not need to see his dick imprint. 'No' to the leather pants.
But maybe…
The hangers clatter and screech as he pushes them aside. Sticking his arm far into his wardrobe, he then pulls it out grasping his other battle vest.
The one in leather.
He hasn't worn it out yet. It's only recently finished, and almost ended up looking too nice, too pristine. It's not really him, not the way his frayed and trusty denim vest is. But it's still a thing of beauty: band logos immaculately painted onto the leather and spikes adorning the shoulders, collar, and lapels.
It's fucking badass. Him, though a little nicer.
He pairs the vest with his tightest Metallica tee – the one with the sleeves shorn off and the neckline cut into a v deep enough to show both tattoos – and distressed, black jeans, rips over the knees and a big hole along the inside of one thigh. The retirees will just have to fucking deal with some exposed skin.
A crowd is thronging inside Connie's when he arrives ten minutes to seven. They've built a makeshift stage on one short side, crammed between the cream'n'sugar station and a huge monstera. Microphones, stools, and a keyboard stand upon it. All the café's tables are pushed to one half of the floor, letting people mill between them and the stage. None of them seem to be his people, though.
Eddie weaves through the crowd, scanning it for short redheads and tall hunks. Nothing… nothing… not-
"Eddie!"
He turns, coming nose to nose, like tip to tip, with Steve, who's… wow. Call him the moon and Eddie a wolf, because he's about to start howling.
He's wearing pants, not jeans, that hug his hips without being obscenely tight and a fitted, teal dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up and the top two buttons left undone, allowing yet another tantalizing peek of the sculpted pecs beneath. Nice but not too formal, if you ask anyone. Positively edible, if you ask Eddie. His mouth is actually watering a little, which is a sign he's been staring for too long.
Lifting his gaze from Steve's chest to his face, he realizes he could've taken his time because Steve is also staring. At Eddie.
Steve's breaths are slow but deep as he bites his lip hard enough to dent it, tongue flicking out to soothe the mark. Eyes glowing like embers, he trails them over Eddie's body, threatening to set him ablaze.
Eddie's jeans are too fucking tight for this.
"Starting to worry you wouldn't make it," Steve says, low and gravelly.
"No, I just, uh, running a bit late…" Eddie says, faltering as Steve drags a finger along the lapel of his vest.
"Haven't seen you in this before," he murmurs.
"It's new. First time wearing it."
"Where'd you get it?"
"I made it."
Steve's brows jump. "You made it?"
"Make like one-third of my clothes and heavily alter the rest. Metal's all about DIY, baby."
Chuckling, Steve grabs both ends of the attached leather belt and opens the vest for a better look at the Metallica shirt underneath. He doesn't ask any questions about the band, thank God, because Eddie's brain is too liquid to answer. If Steve opened the vest a bit more he'd be undressing him. Or if he tugged at the belt Eddie would stumble into him, he's so off balance.
But Steve does neither; he closes it and lets go.
"I left the others at the table. C'mon."
The rest of them also look nice, Robin in suspenders again, this time paired with shorts, and Lucas in a black sweater-red jacket combo that reminds Eddie of all the cool boys he pined over in high school. Both of them gush compliments at the sight of his vest; their childlike enthusiasm is a pretty effective boner killer, phew. The only one not mentioning his outfit is Max – she's silently staring at the tablecloth, hands in her lap and head bowed.
"Hey, Red," he says.
She looks at him, eyes like clear ponds and her freckles stark against her white skin. It might be his personal bias, but she's the prettiest of them all tonight. Canary yellow t-shirt dress and oversized jean jacket, one shoulder artfully slipping down. Loose, wavy locks cascading past her shoulders. Barely chipped nail polish and glossy lips, but no other makeup. She's radiant.
And she's shaking.
He slides into the chair next to her.
"You're still ready?"
Max nods.
"You know, I still feel like puking every time I perform."
"Yeah?" she breathes.
"Yup." His fingers encircle her wrist, squeezing. "You're gonna crush it."
She smiles tightly.
"Do you want us to film it?" Robin asks. "To show your mom?"
Max's first reaction is a frown, which evaporates at the mention of her mom; then she nods so hard she's indistinguishable from a bobblehead.
"Yes!" she says, and that's the last bit of conversation between them, for the next second the lights dim and Connie ascends the stage to announce the start of the open mic.
It's three hours long, with fifteen performers given ten minutes each, plus a few for getting on and off the stage. Max is number eight, which means she'll have about an hour and a half to sweat before it's her turn. And maybe she does manage to sweat it out and dry off, because when her time comes she strides up with the poise of a seasoned veteran.
A café worker helps her up and adjusts the mic for her. She hooks the cane on the stool and situates the guitar across her lap – one of the younger audience members shouts "Dragon!" to everyone's amusement. Once the laughter stops, she puts her mouth to the mic and emits one stuttering breath.
"Hi," she says. "My name is Max, and I'll be playing two covers and one song I wrote." She giggles as some onlookers whoop their approval. "All three are dedicated to one person here tonight. He knows who he is."
Then she plays. It's the best fucking thing Eddie has heard, not just tonight, but ever.
Her voice is strong, her rhythm is perfect. When she pauses for breath her expression defaults into a blinding smile. She breezes through The Isley Brothers and Stevie Wonder as the crowd claps along. Eddie manages to tear his eyes from her only once, to view the others' reactions. Robin tries to hold her phone steady as she sways in her seat, Steve is misty-eyed like a proud dad, and Lucas…
Lucas sits slumped forward, chin pillowed on his hands, pupils huge and dark. Lovestruck.
After You Are the Sunshine of My Life she takes a breather, sipping from her bottle of water. There's a shift in the air; the audience settles, mood sobering. When she resumes playing, the notes are softer, slower. A melancholy made bearable by her warm tones.
Max's song is about a happy then and an uncertain now. It's a song about guilt and regret. About apologizing and vowing to improve. About past loss and about future hope.
Above all, it's a promise.
It strikes like a blade through Eddie's chest. He shouldn't be hearing this. None but three, or maybe just one, of the people in here should. It's not for their ears, because they can't ever truly understand. It's too personal. Yet, she plays it for them. Tearing open her flesh and breaking her bones to show them. Listening to this is a privilege.
Her last note is a tattoo – covering up those before her, impossible to erase by those following her.
Max smiles and bows, again like a pro. As the café erupts into deafening applause, Lucas shoots from his seat. Appearing by the stage, he extends his arms to her. She hooks hers around his neck and lets him lift her down. Smiling at each other, they rest their foreheads together like they're the only ones in the room. Shit, perhaps they are.
They walk back to the table with Max's cane underneath Lucas' arm, she using him as her crutch. Arriving, the first thing she does is ask Eddie:
"How was it?"
He schools his expression.
"Red. I'm ditching my band. From now on, you and me – duo."
She boxes him in the shoulder, the shine of her smile rivaling a star.
The rest of the open mic is nice, even though the highlight is over. Still, live music is live music (and leaving in the middle would've been unacceptably rude), so they stay until Connie closes the night by thanking everyone present and encouraging them to come back next time.
Outside, they stretch their unused limbs until their joints pop, then walk a few blocks to Steve's car. It makes sense for Eddie not to have taken his van, he tells himself. The BMW is big enough for all five to sit comfortably, and he'll save on gas. Still, there's a disappointment pooling in his gut, because this means Steve will drop off Lucas, Max, and Eddie at their places before driving himself and Robin home. It's not a bad thing! He has yet to figure out how to breach the subject of the calendar. But… getting some more time to talk to Steve without amateur musicians drowning out the words would've been nice.
(This is what he gets for being so thorough in the shower.)
"Well," Robin says, hands clasped behind her head, as the BMW beeps unlocked. "I'll see you guys later."
"Where are you going?" Eddie asks.
"Steve and I live just past that building," she says, pointing. "So, I'll walk while he drives you guys."
Oh.
The disappointed pool freezes. Eddie swallows thickly. This is fine. It means nothing. Steve will drop everyone off and then go home, as planned.
He gets shotgun. Really, it's given to him because Max and Lucas commandeer the backseat, snuggling up on one-and-a-half seats while DragonSlayer claims the third. Eddie doesn't mind in the slightest – not when the kids are so close they're basically on top of each other, slotting together like a pair of puzzle pieces. Watching them separate when they arrive at the apartment complex will be devastating.
Except.
They do not go to the apartment complex. They go to a neighborhood Eddie's never been to before, parking outside a two-story house. So, they're dropping off Lucas first, then Eddie and Max, and then Steve will go home. Just as planned.
"I'm staying with Lucas tonight," Max says. "The DragonSlayer is all yours, Eddie."
She slams the door shut, the two of them walking up the shingled pathway hand in hand.
Steve hums pleasantly. "I think that did the trick – they're an item again. About time, don't you think?"
"Uh, yeah, yep, sure took them long enough, yeppers," Eddie's mouth says with negative input or permission from his brain.
Steve grins before pulling out, shirt straining against his arm as he turns the wheel and holy shit, Eddie is alone in a car with Steve!
Is everyone conspiring against him?!
Steve makes small talk during the drive, recounting which songs he recognized, sharing his favorite performances, asking for Eddie's more knowledgeable opinion. Eddie responds to the best of his abilities, which is to say 'poorly'.
When they stop by a red light and Steve absent-mindedly undoes the third button on his shirt, Eddie’s mouth dries up and he stops responding altogether, fearing his tongue will crumble to dust if he tries. If Steve is put out by Eddie's conversational skills reducing to various affirmative noises, he doesn't show it.
Finally reaching the complex, Eddie resolves to at least croak a 'thank you for the ride'. But when he turns to do just that, Steve is already looking earnestly at him with his large, honeyed eyes.
"It's really nice of you, teaching Max to play. Thank you."
"Oh, 'twas nothing." Eddie clears his throat. "She's a good student."
"I'm curious: is there a difference between acoustic and electric?"
"Not really. Electric is a little easier, 'cause they're smaller and the strings are lighter."
"Acoustic sounds better, though," Steve says and laughs at Eddie's answering grimace. "All right, maybe not to the metal master," (Eddie stifles a gigglesnort; what an adorable dork), "but to a common listener, such as myself, acoustic is nicer. You can try to change my mind if you want, though."
"By… playing both for you?"
"Yeah."
Eddie gulps audibly. "N-now?"
Steve's smile is almost too wide for his face. He cocks his head, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, who are gleaming like gold in the light of the nearby street lamp.
"I'm not busy."
Eddie leads them up the stairs to his fourth-floor apartment. Their steps echo in time with the drumming of Eddie's heart. His grip on the DragonSlayer is unyieldingly stiff, lest it slides from his clammy palm.
This is fine. Steve is going to listen to him play and then go home, just as planned.
Like the building, the locks are old; his key jams and needs to be rattled before the door opens. He lets Steve in first, then closes the door behind them. Steve waits patiently, back to the wall and chest inches from Eddie's. Has the hallway always been this cramped?
Eddie turns to fumble around for the light switch, breath hitching when Steve touches his shoulders. Grasping the vest's spiked lapels, he pulls it off Eddie's frame and hangs it on the coat rack. Next, he grabs the guitar – warm, dry skin brushing Eddie's – and props it by the doorpost. Last, he looks at Eddie, his eyes searching, searching, searching…
Disregarding his sensibilities, Eddie nods.
Steve kisses him.
The force of it sends them stumbling, Eddie's back slamming into the wall. Their mouths smush together and their noses bump; for a moment it's too hard, too much. But then Steve angles his head, their lips melding, and it's perfect. Like silk sheets and rose petals, like champagne and chocolate truffles, like summer nights and meteor showers.
Steve mumbles something about waiting, about wishing, about finally. He's touching Eddie everywhere, chest pinning him against the wall, hands running up and down his arms, thigh pushing between his legs. His hard cock pokes against Eddie's groin, and it feels so thick.
All of Eddie's nerve endings are lighting up, sending tingles to converge in his belly before shooting back out to his limbs. He has no regrets. Everything he's done or that's been done to him was worth it, because it led to the best fucking kiss of his life. Steve will have to keep him after this – exposing him to this kind of touch only once would be cruel.
It's gentle, is the thing, but with the passion of a thousand lovers. Steve cups his face, tipping it, thumb caressing his cheek and fingers rubbing circles in his hair. His lips, soft but determined, parts Eddie's for a quick taste that leaves him wanting.
Eddie tries chasing, but Steve withholds – fucking teases – and goes back to nipping and licking. Rolling his hips until Eddie gasps, then slipping in his tongue to stroke the roof of Eddie's mouth. Then he starts over again, repeating the cycle until Eddie is whining, his knees so weak he slumps onto Steve's thigh.
Grabbing hold of his ass, Steve hoists him up. Eddie squawks, legs automatically wrapping around Steve's waist. Steve grins, juuuust on the wrong side of smug, and steps away from the wall, carrying Eddie like it's nothing. It would be infuriating if Eddie wasn't too busy wondering if, and if so for how long, Steve could fuck him like this.
"Bedroom?" Steve asks.
"Yeah, it's, uh, through there," Eddie says, pointing in what might be the right direction.
Then he yanks Steve's head back by his pretty hair and swallows his moan. Because with Steve's hands occupied, it means Eddie can do whatever he wants. And what he wants is shove his tongue as far down Steve's throat as he can.
It takes them a while, but they reach the bedroom. Steve deposits them on the bed, bringing them from vertical to horizontal in a smooth slide without breaking the kiss.
Eddie wraps tighter around him, wanting to feel him everywhere and always. Alas, Steve disentangles them with a chuckle. He sits up so he's kneeling, legs spread, Eddie's thighs resting on top of his. A hungry glint in his eyes, he undoes one more of his buttons, then forgoes the rest by pulling the shirt off like a sweater and flinging it aside.
Eddie wastes no time touching him, groping the firm pecs and caressing the soft belly. The coarse hair tickles his palms.
"Fuck me, you're perfect," he murmurs.
Steve giggles, pink blooming on his face. Coaxing Eddie's hands off him, he arranges his limbs on the bed, and Eddie lets him – he can do anything as long as he does it shirtless. He smooths his hand over the Metallica logo, pretty much petting his chest, before rucking the shirt up to Eddie's chin. Steve's eyes are black, more pupil than iris; he thumbs at the tattoo on Eddie's ribs.
"I was hoping you'd have more," he says. His other hand slides across Eddie's leg, fingers ghosting the edge of the large hole before one slips inside, tucking between the denim and the skin of Eddie's thigh. Eddie gasps; Steve smiles. "How much do I need to take off to see all of them?"
"Why don't you find out, big boy?" Eddie says, breathless but grinning, scooting closer to rub his ass on Steve's dick.
Steve rips off Eddie's shirt, tosses it where he tossed his own, and crashes their lips together as he unbuckles Eddie's belt.
Eddie hums into the kiss. It's perfect. Steve is perfect. The whole thing is as if out of a dream. Jesus Christ, it is straight out of one of his fantasies. The only thing missing is… is…
The uniform.
Fuck. He can't do this. Not like this. Fuck.
Eddie breaks the kiss, gently pushing Steve away.
"Eddie?"
He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. Looking at Steve right now is impossible – the shame will consume him. He shouldn't have let it go this far.
"Eddie? What's wrong?" Steve asks. "Please, I-"
"There's something you gotta know." Eddie forces his eyes open. The least Steve deserves is to be looked at while given the truth. Also, this is the first and possibly last time Eddie will see Steve on top of him. He should savor it. "I haven't been completely honest."
Steve's eyes dim. "You're married."
Eddie goggles. "What? No! Shit, I've never had a relationship go past the three-month mark. No, it's… Um…"
He sighs. Here comes the music; time to face it.
"You know that calendar you did? Gareth told you his mom had it?"
"Yes?"
"He lied. It's mine. I have the calendar." He inhales deeply, then lets it all out in one fast gust. "I recognized you the first time we met and I thought you were so hot and Gareth thought we should try finding you at the university and we did and then we hung out and now, uh, now we're here."
Steve blinks owlishly. "Oh."
"Yeah. I've jerked off to your picture for two and a half years and I thought you should know." Eddie rubs his eyes; they're burning, and his nose is clogging. Shit, not now… "So, um. If you want to stop, if you never want to see me again, I understand. I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"It- Huh?"
Eddie's jaw slackens. He gawks up at Steve, who calmly meets his gaze. But it can't be this easy. It's never this easy, not for Eddie.
"S'fine." Steve shrugs. "Was that all?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"Good."
He dives back to resume the kiss, except this time it's hotter, dirtier, Steve licking behind his teeth and sucking on his tongue so Eddie's toes curl. He yanks Eddie's jeans and boxers down to his thighs, Eddie's cock springing out. Steve grips it, but doesn't stroke or squeeze – just holds. Eddie starts rocking into his fist and oh, oh, it's so good but not enough. He's so hard his head is spinning and he needs Steve's hands and his cock and he needs he needs he needs-
"Eddie," Steve says into Eddie's mouth. "What d'you want me to do? Tell me."
"Mmm, I want… Fuck, I needed you inside me two years ago."
Steve licks a wet stripe along his throat. "Whatever you want."
Then he sits up and flips Eddie over. Eddie grunts at the sudden movement, but his cock between his stomach and the mattress feels heavenly, and Steve parting his ass cheeks is even better, so he's not complaining.
He's especially not complaining when Steve leans down, rubbing his nose against Eddie's tailbone.
"You're okay with any part of me inside you?" he asks, breath warm on Eddie's skin.
Eddie groans. "Yes. Anything! Just touch me!"
Steve does, dragging the flat of his tongue from Eddie's taint up to his hole.
Eddie keens, burying it in the pillow due to those damn thin walls. It probably doesn't help, because he's being loud. He usually is, but not like this. Turns out Steve's tongue is amazing no matter where he puts it. He swirls it around the hole, laps heavily against the rim, slowly loosening Eddie up.
He writhes and moans, cock leaking precum on the sheets. Jerking forward, he humps the mattress for two sweet, relieving seconds before Steve grabs him by the hips and holds him in place. He would've griped about it if Steve hadn't immediately plunged his tongue into Eddie's hole. But Steve does, so Eddie screams instead.
Fuck the walls, he's having the time of his life.
He has been rimmed before, two or three times, but not this intensely. He hasn't been fucked by another man's tongue. Because that's what Steve's doing, lips on Eddie's ass and saliva dripping down his taint. He's as far in as it can go, tongue thrusting and stroking and… oh. Oh! Oh, fuck-
Eddie jolts, despite being held down, because Steve just flicked his tongue tip against someplace sensitive. He whines, begging Steve to do it again. Steve laughs, the sound reverberating through Eddie's ass, and does as told. And again. And again.
He flicks. Eddie screams.
He flicks. Screams.
Flicks. Screams.
And Eddie's on fire. His legs are shaking, his insides are thrumming, the pleasure courses and courses in electric waves and shit, did he just come?
"Holy shit, I think I just came," he says, fingers cramping where they've clutched the covers.
Steve pulls out with a slurp.
"Oh, cool," he pants. He crawls up the bed, his hard cock dragging a wet trail on Eddie's leg. "D'you wanna take a break or keep going?"
Eddie groans. What kind of a fucking question is that? His cock is still hard, and Steve's cock is hard, and Eddie is reeling from the best orgasm he's ever had, and does he want to keep going?
"Steve…" he says. "If you don't fuck me now, then I'll… I'll… " He trails off, slurring.
"Yes," Steve says, catching on anyway. "Okay. Yes."
He sounds wrecked. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie is met by perfect hair in disarray, cheeks flushed and blotchy, a chin glistening with drool, and Steve's wild, ember eyes. Assured he's not the only one losing his mind, Eddie thumps his head back on the pillow. Bending his knees, he pushes his ass into the air and reaches back to spread his cheeks with his own fingers.
"Then hurry up, big boy," he croons, index finger circling the spitslick rim. "Before I do it myself."
Steve laughs, high-pitched like he's drunk. He fumbles for Eddie's lube and a condom he brought, thank fuck, because Eddie only has expired ones.
Lying on top of Eddie, Steve aligns their arms and interlocks their fingers, and pushes in. Eddie whimpers, because as loose and cock-starved as he is, Steve is huge, the tip alone wrecking his already sore ass. Steve shushes him gently, brushing away sweat-damp curls to plant a soft kiss at his nape. He rocks slowly, squeezing Eddie's hand and rubbing his hip, until the stretch gets better and the pain eases.
And then they fuck. Or maybe 'make love' is a more fitting term, because they hold hands during most of it. And sometimes, Steve will ease off, going so slow and sweet it borders on edging, drawing high-pitched noises from far down Eddie's chest. Then, once satisfied, he speeds up again, fucking harder while whispering compliments into Eddie's skin.
He makes Eddie come two more times, by fucking him and by jerking him off. At least, Eddie thinks that's what happened when he wakes up some hours later. He got a little delirious with pleasure at the end, though, so he's not a hundred percent sure.
He yawns and stretches. It's dark out, but the blinds are open and light pours in from the street lamp that for some reason had to be positioned right by his window.
"That light is the worst," Steve mumbles, burrowing into the pillow.
"Hmm, yeah. But I don't have to have my own lamp on. I save on electricity."
"Economical." Steve laughs, peeking up from the bedding. He's beautifully rumpled, bathed in shadows and light. "How d'you feel?"
"Awesome… did you clean me up?"
"Kinda had to – you passed out. I'm not letting you sleep with come crusting all over you," Steve says, nose scrunching.
"Not my fault. Blame your cock!"
They laugh again, together. It's nice. But it would've been nicer if there wasn't still one tiny thing nagging in the back of Eddie's head.
"Hey," he mumbles. "When you said… that the stuff with the calendar was fine, did you mean it? Or was your judgment clouded by horniness?"
Steve snorts. "'Course I meant it. I don't mind."
"Jesus."
"Do you want me to mind?"
"No. It's just that I've been putting off telling you about it because I was afraid you'd be upset. It's pretty creepy."
"Yeah, but…" Steve props his head onto his fist and shrugs one shoulder. "I guess it would be creepier if it were someone else. But it's you, and I like you, so… it's just flattering."
A grin stretches across Eddie's face. "You like me?"
"Uh, yeah." Steve rolls his eyes, but his face is also splitting in half. "Don't you like me?"
"I do."
Eddie winds his arms around Steve's waist, pulling him in for a kiss.
"I thought so," Steve says after their lips part. "I just didn't know how much – if you wanted to just fuck or if you wanted something more. Max was hinting you wanted more. And your friends seemed too invested for you not to want more. Then Robin told me 'he definitely wants more'. So I knew it was safe to go."
"Christ, dude, I like you so much I've given myself ulcers worrying you didn't like me back!"
"Sorry," Steve says unapologetically. "You can stop worrying."
They embrace, trading chaste kisses as they snuggle. Alternating between whispering nonsense and drawing patterns on each other and simply looking, unabashed and unhurried.
Then, Steve pulls away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He asks, "So where do you keep that calendar?"
Eddie's heart and stomach leap, trading places and knocking every other organ off course. He lunges at Steve, coiling around him like an octopus and trapping him to the bed.
"Nooooo!"
Steve guffaws. "I'm not gonna look for it! You'll have to tell me where it is."
He cocks his head at Eddie, sweet, innocent, evil. Eddie groans with the vigor of an annoyed pre-teen. Releasing Steve, he points at his desk.
"Top drawer."
Steve flies up, rummaging through the drawer before Eddie can blink. Whooping in triumph, he holds the calendar in front of himself and begins flipping through it. Eddie pulls the comforter up to his nose to hide his blush.
"April is missing?" Steve asks.
"The model was a cop."
"Ah."
Steve reclaims his spot on the bed. He's reached November and is scanning the photo with an approving smile.
Eddie grunts. "Are you admiring your own photo?"
"So? It's a good picture." Steve smirks at him. "I know you agree."
Grumbling, Eddie hides completely beneath the cover. This is what he gets for being honest. He's never telling the truth again.
"What do you say about me fucking you while wearing the uniform?" Steve asks.
Eddie throws off the comforter and catapults into sitting.
"We can do that?"
"Sure," Steve says easily, like he didn't just turn Eddie's world upside down. "Unless…" He leans in, lips hovering over Eddie's. "Unless you want to fuck me while I wear it?"
They don't fall back asleep until hours later.
(In fact, they sleep in until 11 am, when Eddie's alarm goes off. Gareth calls by lunchtime as promised, but Eddie misses it. He's too busy getting fucked against the shower wall.)
"You're not allowed to break up," Max says later that day, during their guitar lesson. The open mic might've passed, but she needs to learn more if they'll perform together. "It'll be awkward if you're exes. I won't be able to hang out with Steve if you're next door – I'll have to move."
Eddie smiles. He should point out they're not really together yet; that they've only barely started dating. Instead, he says:
"We won't."
And he can't explain how, but it's as if some higher power whispered all the answers to him while he slept in Steve's arms and he knows, he just knows, that he's telling the truth.
------------------------------
Thank you for reading. You're the best.
Oh, and I realize that I introduced things that excited a ton of people (such as Eddie meeting everyone else), so I might have to write a mini-sequel where that actually happens. Not now, though. Later.
Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lenore1232, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @theysherobinbuckley, @freddykicksasses, @winterbuckwild, @sideblogofthcentury, @subparbrainfunction, @pemsha
#eddie: max is only 19 she's too young to know stuff#gareth who is 1 measly year older than max: 👁️👄👁️#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#steddie#steddie fanfic#steddie fic: november paramedic#eddie munson#steve harrington#gareth stranger things#max mayfield#lumax#my writing
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