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hollowed-theory-hall · 4 months

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Harry Potter is Really Magically Powerful

So, in continuation to this post, and my desire to show some love to Harry James Potter, this post is dedicated to showing how magically powerful Harry actually is in the books — which is insanely powerful. Harry doesn't think of himself as a great wizard, but he is — definitely powerful enough to be Voldemort's equal (and Dumbledore's for that matter).

Under the cut are some quotes from the books that prove this.

Accidental Magic

Let's start with Harry's childhood accidental magic. Tom was considered prodigious for being able to steal things with magic and make animals obey him intentionally. Neville, as a late bloomer, bounced when thrown, which is the bare minimum of childhood accidental magic young witches and wizards should be doing.

Now he came to think about it…every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry…chased by Dudley’s gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach…dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he’d managed to make it grow back…and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?

(Philosopher's Stone, page 44)

Harry has:

Apparated out of Dudley's reach when in danger to get away - advanced magic only allowed to practice from the age of 16!

Growing back all his hair from not liking the bad haircut.

Disappearing the glass of the Boa Constrictor case and leashing it

not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teacher’s wig blue.

(Philosopher's Stone, page 84)

4. Turning his teacher's hair blue.

We see Harry is capable of aparation, transfiguration, and various charms at a level that is considered prodigious. Harry was incredibly advanced as a child according to his feats of magic before even knowing magic was real. And while he wasn't as intentional as Tom, he was aware enough to know odd things happened when he was "furious or upset" that the odd things responded to him.

Intuitive Casting

I wrote later in this post about this, but I do want to write a whole essay about how magic works in the Wizarding world, but like, really in short, emotion and intention matter in magic. A lot.

And we see Harry make use of this fact to great effect. Using spells with intention to change the way they behave and they work for him because of how magically prodigious he is.

Harry raised his own wand. “Protego!” Snape staggered; his wand flew upward, away from Harry — and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his — a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner. . . . A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies. . . . A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick — “ENOUGH!” Harry felt as though he had been pushed hard in the chest; he took several staggering steps backward, hit some of the shelves covering Snape’s walls and heard something crack. Snape was shaking slightly, very white in the face.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 591)

This is from the last of Harry's and Snape's Occlumancy lessons. What's interesting here is that from Snape's words, it seems the protego spell isn't supposed to work like that. Harry is magically powerful enough to make protego (shield charm) to defend him from Legilamancy, turn the Legilamancy onto Snape and disarm Snape.

No wonder Snape is shocked, it really isn't supposed to work. Unless you're Harry Potter, that is.

He did say in their first lesson the rules of magic don't seem to apply to Harry.

“Reparo!” hissed Snape, and the jar sealed itself once more. “Well, Potter . . . that was certainly an improvement. . . .” Panting slightly, Snape straightened the Pensieve in which he had again stored some of his thoughts before starting the lesson, almost as though checking that they were still there. “I don’t remember telling you to use a Shield Charm . . . but there is no doubt that it was effective. . . .”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 591)

What I marked here is the fact in all their occlumancy lessons, even the first, Snape always placed a few memories in the pensive. He chose memories he didn't want Harry to see and place them there.

Okay... so why is that a big deal?

Snape repeatedly belittles Harry's magical skills, and yet, he fears Harry would turn the Legilemancy connection back on him. Legilemancy as Snape explained is no easy skill:

“Only Muggles talk of ‘mind reading.’ The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter . . . or at least, most minds are. . . .” He smirked. “It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly...”

(Order of the Phoenix, pages 350-351)

As such, he doesn't expect Harry to be capable of it. But that’s a lie. He clearly thinks Harry is skilled enough to be a threat in this situation. That Harry just might be able to turn this around and glimpse his own memories, which is no easy feat.

And Snape is many things, but stupid isn't one of them. If he thinks Harry is uniquely magically prodigious to be capable of this, then Harry probably is. Especially considering how much Snape hates Harry and how much he'd rather think he's stupid, useless, and unskilled.

“SHE KILLED SIRIUS!” bellowed Harry. “SHE KILLED HIM — I’LL KILL HER!” And he was off, scrambling up the stone benches. People were shouting behind him but he did not care. The hem of Bellatrix’s robes whipped out of sight ahead and they were back in the room where the brains were swimming. . . . She aimed a curse over her shoulder. The tank rose into the air and tipped. Harry was deluged in the foul-smelling potion within. The brains slipped and slid over him and began spinning their long, colored tentacles, but he shouted, “Wingardium Leviosa!” and they flew into the air away from him. Slipping and sliding he ran on toward the door.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 809)

Okay, so can we talk about this Levitation Charm? Please?

Like, get this, he uses Wingardium Leviosa, like a shield charm that sends multiple magical projectiles away from him. This isn't how this charm works, but it is if you're Harry Potter. (again, this is that intention use I mentioned)

The point is, that Harry is magically powerful enough to bend the way spells are meant to work to fit his will and situation.

And when Voldemort possesses him at the end of the fight in Order of the Phoenix:

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature’s began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape — And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move. . . . “Kill me now, Dumbledore. . . .” Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again. . . . “If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy. . . .” Let the pain stop, thought Harry. Let him kill us. . . . End it, Dumbledore. . . . Death is nothing compared to this. . . . And I’ll see Sirius again. . . . And as Harry’s heart filled with emotion, the creature’s coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was lying facedown on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice, not wood. . . .

(Order of the Phoenix, page 816)

Harry kicks Voldemort out.

As I mentioned, I have a a whole theory I'm drafting about magical theory and how magic works in the Wizarding World, but emotion as Harry describes in this scene is part of it. Emotion drives childhood accidental magic. Emotion is required to cast the Patronus charm and any of the unforgivable. Because of how emotion is tied to magic in this world, this instance is Harry's magic kicking Voldemort in his full power out of his mind.

Which is an impressive feat of magic.

Advanced Charmwork

“Oh — yeah —” said Harry, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom ride. “Expecto patrono — no, patronum — sorry — expecto patronum, expecto patronum —” Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas. “Did you see that?” said Harry excitedly. “Something happened!”

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 238)

This is the first time Harry cast a Patronus Charm. On his very first try of this complex charm, most adult wizards fail at — he succeeds. It isn't a perfect casting. His happy memory isn't happy enough, but the problem isn't Harry's skill.

The fact he succeeded in casting it at all with how crap his life has been up to this point is a testament to his magical talent.

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 810)

Harry, at age fifteen, casts the Cruciatus Curse for the first time. An advanced piece of dark magic that is tricky to cast. Sure, it wasn't the best cast Crucio, but it did work.

It did land.

It worked enough for Bellatrix to stop laughing and start taking Harry seriously.

Harry raised the hawthorn wand beneath the cloak, pointed it at the old goblin, and whispered, for the first time in his life, “Imperio!” A curious sensation shot down Harry’s arm, a feeling of tingling, warmth that seemed to flow from his mind, down the sinews and veins connecting him to the wand and the curse it had just cast.

(Deathly Hollows, page 452)

Like with the Cruciatus Curse, Harry succeeds in the Imperius curse on his first try (and the second try that happens immediately after). In general, Harry learns to cast most spells (even the advanced ones) incredibly quickly — like, on his first try. That's insane!

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 502)

And he gets better over time, both with the Cruciatus Curse, as we see here and his fully corporeal Patronus which is considered an unbelievable feat for a fifteen-year-old:

“Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapor or smoke?” “Yes,” said Harry, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate, “it’s a stag, it’s always a stag.” “Always?” boomed Madam Bones. “You have produced a Patronus before now?” “Yes,” said Harry, “I’ve been doing it for over a year —” “And you are fifteen years old?” “Yes, and —” “You learned this at school?” “Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the —” “Impressive,” said Madam Bones, staring down at him, “a true Patronus at that age . . . very impressive indeed.”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 141)

I agree Madam Bones, Harry is impressive and is Voldemort's equal magically. Harry isn't just Expelliarmos. he's clever and talented and very magically capable with every spell he tries his hand in.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #harry potter theory #hollowedtheory #hp theory #wizarding world #overthinking #harry james potter #harry potter analysis #I just really love harry james potter

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mars-f4ndom-sp4c3 · 11 months

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Hugging Headcanons. || Ft: Dark Cacao Kingdom

A/n: Surprise surprise! Guess who's alive? Such absence was caused by me being bad at keeping a solid schedule and then wanting to play Crk more than I wanted to write. Things are now being worked on heavily though!

Maybe a tiny spoiler warning for episode 14 on Affogato's? It's the last two bullets, so you can just scroll right past it if you do not wish to see spoilers. It doesn't spoil too much, I don't think.

Dark Cacao Cookie

You low-key might suffocate a tiny bit depending on the context of your hug.

If he hasn't seen you for a while, (I.e. on an adventure with the other ancient heroes) you can expect to be trapped in his armored arms until he decides to go and rest after a draining trip.

If you happen to spontaneously hug him whilst somewhere public, he'll give you an awkward side hug in response, since he doesn't want to break the stony demeanor he maintains to the other cookies.

If you're having an emotional moment while hugging and someone else walks in, the expression he gives the intruder is enough to send them scrambling away and mumbling apologies.

The cape goes around both of you. And then you're trapped in a cave of warmth.

Affogato Cookie

Smug bastard. If you ask, he'll give you some holier than thou remark before obliging, making a grand gesture with his arms and inviting you to come closer. Don't worry, he won't bite.

He'll wrap both his arms around your shoulders and pull you into his chest.

Probably gives you some stupid (not) reassuring words if you happen to be upset about something.

Bestie is not good at comforting. He's had a hundred and one problems, but a sad cookie has not been one of them.

If his vibe wasn't totally off, he'd probably give pretty comfortable hugs, seeing how his elegant clothing is made with soft silks and lined with fine fur.

If, after the events of episode 14, you do encounter him again (and don't hate him), he will most likely gladly accept a hug. His holier than thou demeanor will not falter, but he was secretly looking for a little comfort after so much work went to waste.

His hugs are probably a little more genuine than they were during his time as Royal Advisor.

Caramel Arrow Cookie

Older sister vibes

She'll hug you pretty tightly more often than not. Usually in the child way where they intentionally squeeze you like a boa constrictor, except she's an adult with wilderness training and she is significantly stronger than a child.

Awkward sibling hug? Awkward sibling hug. *pat pat.* /ref

H o l d. She'll grab you under your arms and lift you up into a hug. She will attempt to do this regardless of if you are taller or heavier than her. Caramel Arrow is strong, do not underestimate her determination.

(Using the bow and arrow gives you good arm strength last I checked)

If she's feeling playful, she'll outright throw you into the snow afterwards. And then she'll sprint off as quickly as possible. Unless you happen to drag her down with you.

Hugs often turn into snowball fights.

Crunchy Chip Cookie

He was embarrassed the first time you hugged him, and probably hid his face against your shoulder.

Really aggressive hugger. He'll probably squeeze you as hard as he can.

H o l d. (pt 2.) Crunchy Chip Cookie is the type to try and pick you up with a hug, do the awkward backward lean so that he can actually get your feet off the ground, and then drop you. Believe it or not, picking someone up via hugs is not the easiest feat.

When he's determined to hug you after being out at his post for an extended period of time, he'll outright charge at you and then knock you into the snow.

Prepare to get mauled by an excited cookie and his equally excited cream wolves.

If Caramel Arrow wasn't there to pry him off, you'd probably freeze before you got the chance to get out of the snow again.

He will pretend to be sparring with you if anyone happens to walk by (ahem, Dark Cacao.) He doesn't want to look soft or anything! (Please imagine the thing cats do where they randomly attack you while petting them.)

End.

This is not beta-read, probably very ooc, and probably a little self indulgent, unapologetically.

#I was half awake while writing most of this lol #dark cacao x reader #dark cacao crk #dark cacao cookie #affogato x reader #affogato crk #affogato cookie #caramel arrow cookie x reader #caramel arrow crk #caramel arrow cookie #crunchy chip cookie x reader #crunchy chip crk #crunchy chip cookie #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk

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hellobabydoll333 · 17 days

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#angeldust.mp3 #pretty princess syndrome #loass post #dream girl #babydoll playlist #it girl #law of assumption #self concept #loass angel #affirmations #loassumption #loa #loass #loa memes #spirituality #hyperfemininity #hyper feminine #hyper femme #SoundCloud

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commander-spaceboy · 27 days

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was thinking about Sanji and Boa at work the other day and part of my brain wanted to say that they would be friends, but then i thought about it for more than two seconds and they absolutely would not like each other (more like Boa does not like Sanji but he would listen to every word the says)

anyways feat. the drawing i did on my phone to remember the idea to redraw later, but ended up being funnier than literally anythign i could have drawn properly

#sanji op #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #boa hancock #boa op #boa one piece #one piece #one piece posting #sb's art #digital art

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yutafrita · 4 months

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AN ANGEL, MY ANGEL, AND ME- PT. 1

*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩♡ ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Fallen Angel!Sungchan x Reader (she/her) Teaser // Preview // 1 // 2 // 3

[Feat.] Soyeon from (G)i-dle, Shotaro from Riize, and BoA

Chp. Word Count 5.7k Synopsis Finding out your best friend is a guardian angel is pretty mind numbing. It only gets worse when you find out a Fallen Angel has been hiding in your apartment for two years. You think your life can’t get any weirder, until you start lying about being married to keep your new job. Genre Low Fantasy, Romantic Comedy, Ridiculously Fluffy, some angst, fake dating Chapter Warnings Swearing, Food/ Eating, cops/ fictional police force, Catholic Religious imagery, HR interview violation

CHAPTER ONE- THE BLACK CAT CONSPIRACY

ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩♡ ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You uncomfortably picked at your cuticles, anxious by the lack of activity in your email. It had only been a week since you started applying for jobs, and yet already you had begun feeling discouraged. The candle you lit in your room a few hours ago filled your lungs with eucalypts, and you still had not been able to calm down. You knew the candle couldn’t exactly work miracles, but still! Your cat sat on your lap, and you quietly dusted off the cuticles that blemished his black fur.

“Sorry, Eerie,” you muttered. You scratched his ear delicately, and he leaned against your hand to show his forgiveness.

“Hey! I’m gonna order a pizza, do you want to split it?” your roommate walked in through your open door, plopping herself on your bed with her eyes on her phone. Your cat turned its head as if to glare at her before placing himself back down.

“Sure,” you responded dryly, still tugging at the loose cuticle. Soyeon looked up from her phone to see your bright computer screen.

“Not this again,” she grumbled. She stood up from your bed and kicked your chair away. Your cat leapt out from your lap and scampered to the corner of your room, hissing at your roommate.

“Hey! You scared Eerie!” you sat up to move her away but she was quick to close all of your computer tabs.

“You need to chill the fuck out. We still have a month left before graduation,” Soyeon reminded before snatching your hand to hold in front of your face, “you are out of cuticles,” she then tossed your hand down and turned her gaze to the cat that hissed at her, “and that cat is always scared.”

You sighed in defeat, “my brain knows objectively that you’re right, but can’t help it. I have to start paying back these student loans soon..”

“I’m ordering the pizza, and we’re watching something.”

You and Soyeon sat on the couch eating your pizza as Ouran High School Host Club played on your living room screen. Eerie sat next to you on the couch, cuddled up against your side as he seemingly watched the screen.

“How many times have we seen this show?” Soyeon asked. The pizza had long been finished, and the empty box sat in front of you on the coffee table, covering the extensive bridal and wedding magazines you had been taking notes on.

“I lost count after the seventh rewatch,” you shrugged, “I think Eerie’s seen it like four times at this point.”

“That cat is fucking weird,” she muttered this sentiment for the one millionth time since you brought the cat home.

“He’s just a little eccentric,” you defended. You scratched the cat behind the ears, and you felt him lean closely into your hand.

“He’s like… I swear he’s like a person,” Soyeon hissed.

“If he was, then he would have to pay his own pet rent.”

_____

“Remember your final exam will be cumulative,” your professor reminded your class the following morning. You rubbed your temples, hoping the motion would stifle the headache you were nursing to no avail.

You were stuffing your backpack as the rest of the lecture hall emptied. You had another lecture in about two hours, so you weren’t in much of a rush all things considered. Running up through your mental to-do list, you figured you’d get some extra studying done before lecture, and afterwards you’d grab some more kitty litter. Leaving the hall, your pace was followed by someone you had only seen in class and never spoke to outside of that.

“Hey, do you get anything the professor has been going on about?”

“Oh… yeah it’s a bit complicated.”

“My name’s Shotaro,” he smiled brightly despite his seeming distress. “I noticed you’re the only one the prof doesn’t call on, and I figure it’s because they know you know your stuff.”

He did have a point. In your undergrad years, you were a pretty intense student and always visited all of your professors' office hours. While you weren’t as obsessive as a graduate student, you still submitted all of your coursework on time with excellent grades.

“I’m y/n,” you nodded. There was an awkward pause before Shotaro asked the question you were dreading- if he could pick your brain before the next lecture.

Sitting next to him in the library, you sat for about an hour, the young man scooched a little closer to you than you would have liked.

“So, these two would be contrasting then, yeah?” he asked, pointing between two choices.

“Yep!” you nodded before glancing back at the time. “Ah, I’ve gotta go.”

You turned towards your backpack that sat between the two of you before glancing back up. In an attempt to help, Shotaro had shut your notebook and held it in his hand, extending it towards you. Maybe he was a bit strange, but he didn’t seem harmful, at least.

You returned home later that day, exhausted, the kitty litter bag heavy on your arm as you entered.

You shut the door behind you, Eerie immediately wrapping himself around your ankles. You smiled, crouching down to pet the cat behind his ears. He seemed unbothered, continuing to rub his scent between your now outstretched hand and ankles.

“I didn’t see any animals today, buddy,” you chuckled. Eerie scrunched up his face as if to respond to you. You stood up, and made your way to your room with Eerie following closely behind you. You began the process of taking your laptop out so you could start up on more job applications when something slipped out of your backpack onto the floor of your room.

“Huh?” you frowned, bending down to pick it up only to hear Eerie hiss and scramble out of your room. “What the fuck?” you shook your head, picking up the small black string bag that you had no recollection of ever owning. Carefully undoing the string, you dropped its contents into your hand- a small, smooth, green and silver gemstone. You heard the front door open, but instead of greeting Soyeon you stayed in your room, holding the gemstone high above your head and towards the light to try and see if you could figure out what it was.

“Hey, why is that stupid cat cowering behind the couch?” Soyeon asked.

“I have no idea, this rock fell out of my bag and he-,” you looked over at Soyeon and froze. Your eyes widened, and your grip on the rock tightened in fear as you tried to make sense of the image of your best friend of several years before you.

“Hey, is everything okay?” she took a step towards you, and you hesitantly took a step back. Her white wings were protruding from her back and were massive- how could you have never seen something like this? No- was this even real?

You squeezed your eyes tightly shut before opening them. Nothing changed besides the worry on Soyeon’s face.

“Soyeon, what the fuck is that on your back?” you cried. You watched the wings expand slightly as if you had ruffled them with your words.

She glanced back, ignoring the wings before looking back at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dude, you have fucking wings!” you yelled, waving the stone in your hand as if to gesture to the giant wings she had. Her eyes widened before she stepped forward as if to speak to you in a more hushed tone. You panicked, and rushed past her and out of your room and into the living room, hoping to put some distance between the two of you.

“How long have you had those things!? What the fuck is going on? Oh god I’m losing it,” you shut your eyes again, massaging your temples with an aggressive pressure as you tried to sift through your memories. You met Soyeon over ten years ago, and while she was more outgoing than you, and was always there for you, she had never had wings or seemed abnormal in any way. You had met her family for heaven’s sake!

You opened your eyes again, now with your back to your couch as you sood your ground. Soyeon entered the space slowly, hands extended to show that she was no danger to you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” her voice was soft, her head hanging low.

“I know that! I know you won’t hurt me, Soyeon! But what the fuck is going on?” you were a little insulted that she thought you were scared of her. You weren’t! You were more shocked than anything else!

“Can… can I see that rock?” she squinted, and extended an open palm. Nervously, you took a small step forward. You heard Eerie hiss angrily behind the couch, so once you placed the gemstone in your roommates hand, you moved to dig the cat out from his hiding spot, the area between the wall and the couch.

“Seraphinite…” Soyeon muttered as you looked over the back of the couch. Eerie was shaking, his brown eyes staring up in fear as you went to reach out towards him before Soyeon sprung out next to you, grabbing the cat by his scruff and yanking him out of his crevice.

“Soyeon!” you shouted, going to take the cat out of her grasp before you watched in horror as she solved the gemstone between the cat's bared teeth.

That was when, the cat you adopted over two years ago, transformed from a black cat into a man that was a foot taller than Soyeon and with dark, black wings.

“I knew it! I knew you weren’t a normal fucking cat!” Soyeon cheered, yanking the stone out of the mouth of the man that suddenly stood in your living room.

“I… I’m gonna be sick,” you muttered, leaning on the couch for support.

“See? Now you spooked her,” the man spoke. You heard a thud before a set of small arms wrapped around you to help you sit down on the couch. Your stomach turned as you looked before the two beings now standing before you- Soyeon’s bright white wings absorbing most of the light in the room, and the being formerly known as Eerie the cat’s wings were pure black.

“Fuck off! I should have the troops called on your ass so I can collect the bounty,” she hissed.

“Who the fuck are you?” you asked, trying to rack your brain for anytime Eerie seemed to, y’know, not be a cat.

“Well,” he sat down on the floor in front of you, as if he had been waiting to be asked, “I have a lot of names-.”

“Asshole,” Soyeon cut him off, earning a glare before he continued.

“But, you can call me Sungchan. I’m a fallen angel.”

“An-angel,” you repeated this word to test it out, still reeling. He nodded, reaching back to scratch a spot on his wings.

“He’s had a bounty on his head for three years… I never imagined you would have accidentally adopted a fallen angel disguising himself as a shelter cat.”

“She didn’t exactly adopt me from a shelter,” Sungchan spoke, and your eyes widened.

“Shut up! Don’t change the subject!” you jumped in. You had sort of found the black cat wandering on your college campus, and the cat had taken to following you around so much- and you were so lonely at the time. You told Soyeon you adopted Eerie from the shelter, but it was more like you adopted him directly off the streets. “Soyeon, are you an angel too?”

She nodded, “yes- but I’m not a fallen angel, I’m actually a guardian.”

“Oh, so original. Posing as a normal best friend,” Sungchan teased, earning a punch in the arm from Soyeon.

You blinked, “you're my guardian angel?”

“Duh,” she chuckled.

You were reeling, placing a hand on your forehead as you tried to understand the goddamn nightmare occuring before your eyes.

“Oh my god, you’ve seen me change! And- and get out of the shower!” you shouted, leaping up from the couch.

“Hey! Hey! I always looked away!” he defended, raising his hands in defense.

“Why would you pretend to be my cat for so long? You ate cat food and pissed in a litter box,” you argued, now just irritated by the amount you’ve spent on cat litter for seemingly no reason.

“Listen, I don’t know why, but being around you has prevented people from catching me! Plus, I got free room and board,” he shrugged.

“Soyeon, you can’t sense other angels?” you asked, waving your hands wildly. For her being your guardian angel, you couldn’t fathom her not knowing about the fallen angel living as a cat with you this whole time.

“I normally can, I also can typically sense charms… I don’t know why I couldn’t sense him,” she seemed upset before adding, “I’m sorry I let you down.”

“Typical guardian,” Sungchan scoffed. You sent him a glare before softening your gaze to Soyeon.

“You didn’t let me down… maybe that charm was just stronger than usual.”

“It’s not, but like I said, being around you has made it so I don’t get noticed,” Sungchan jumped in. “You’re a bit of a freak for a human.”

“I am not a freak. I’m a grad student in a large amount of debt with apparently two angels for roommates.”

“That is pretty abnormal, though,” Soyeon frowned, “I’m gonna need to do some research.”

“At the library of Alexandria, right?” Sungchan stood up, and maneuvered to the kitchen as if he owned the space. “It was always too packed for my taste.”

“We’re kicking him out, right?” Soyeon asked the obvious question as Sungchan rifled through your pantry and took out your chips.

“Oh my god I thought Soyeon was the one eating all of my chips,” you groaned. While, on the one hand, it would make sense to kick the mooch to the curb, you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the guy. “Who are you running from?”

“The troops are the cops for angels basically. I may have… tried to sell some ancient artifacts to humans,” Sungchan scratched the back of his neck before adding, “but I wouldn’t steal from you! I swear!” He continued munching on your chips then with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, I’m highly considering it,” you looked back at your roommate with a frown. The former cat jumped, leaving the chips in the kitchen before rushing back in front of you.

“Please let me stay! I can transform back into a cat and we can pretend like nothing ever happened!”

You and Soyeon both scoffed, crossing your arms.

“Please! I’ll… I’ll do the dishes! Neither of you two like doing those.”

“Hey, we’re both busy,” you defended.

“Plus, I don’t even need a new bed or anything! I can stay where I always sleep!”

“Which is on my bed, you perv!” You snapped, throwing the couch pillow at his head.

He caught it easily before continuing, “then I’ll sleep on the floor. Please! I’ve taken care of all the rodents and bugs that keep trying to come into this apartment!”

“I can’t knowingly harbor a fugitive,” Soyeon insisted, running her fingers through her hair.

Sungchan looked at you with big, pleading eyes, his hands folded together in a prayer pose. You shut your eyes tightly, frustrated beyond belief. These past two years though, having a cat around really has made things less painful. Those late study nights where he would sit on your lap, the multiple failed first dates where he tried to never leave you alone.

You already had to deal with the change of realizing Soyeon was not organically your best friend, you weren’t sure if you could handle job hunting on top of not having a third being around.

“Oh my god you’re gonna keep him.”

“What- does being my guardian angel mean you can read my mind?”

“No dumb ass it means I can read your face like a book,” she stood up and shoved a finger against Sungchan’s chest, “if you hurt her, I will call the troops on you so fast-.”

“Why would I want to hurt the only reason I’m not currently locked up?” he countered, furrowing his brows.

Soyeon loudly groaned before turning back to face you, “I… I’m sure you have a lot of other questions.”

“How come I can… see you both now?”

Soyeon extended her hand and placed the rock on your lap. “Seraphinite. It’s a rock that’s used to identify Angels… how did you even get this?”

“I bet it was that dude you were with earlier,” Sungchan muttered, his face downturned.

“Dude… oh my god is that why you were trying to scent my legs when I got home?”

Soyeon slapped her forehead, muttering her frustrations before taking a deep breath. “Now, you’re going to see… all of the angels that co-exist on this plane of existence… unless…”

“Unless?”

“I… could wipe this from your brain,” she offered. You were frozen for a moment before you stood up, your eyes never wavering from Soyeon’s.

“You’ve done that before?”

“No! Oh my god, no never!” she stood up, grabbing your shoulders, “I swear, I never have. I just-.”

“I’m going to bed,” you broke from her grip, your feet padding on the floor quietly as Sungchan began laughing loudly at Soyeon.

You didn’t sleep much. Between the realization that Angels were real, that your best friend was not really the person you thought she was, and the fact that your cat was actually also an angel, you weren’t wired to sleep well if at all.

In the morning, you were greeted by a snoring Sungchan on the couch, and a note from Soyeon on the dining room counter.

“Giving you space. Love you bestie, and I am always there for you. Getting info, will be back asap,” you read aloud as your coffee heated up. You sighed, leaving the note on your counter as you continued mixing your coffee before starting your day.

“What are you doing today?” Sungchan’s voice made you jump, nearly dropping your mug.

“Ah! Fuck, I’m used to your bell so you don’t sneak up on me,” you defended, placing a hand on your chest to calm yourself down. “I’m going to class.”

“Take me with you!”

“Are you crazy?” you responded, taking a sip of your coffee in hopes that you’d regain some energy to deal with this.

“Please? The only time I’ve left this apartment is whenever you would take me to the vet! I promise I won’t draw any attention! Plus… your actual guardian angel isn’t here!” “I don’t need a guardian angel,” you spat.

“Fine, your best friend isn’t here. I’ll be the person you can talk to after class during lunch!” his eyes were wide and his wings were tucked closely to his body, as if he was trying to keep his energy and nerves bottled up. You didn’t understand the logistics, but it seemed that staying at your apartment was just as safe as being out and about with you. He was likely desperate to move around somehow.

“Fine… but I have a job interview after class, so I’m gonna have to bring you back here before that.”

He nodded excitedly, the restrictions seeming to have no weight on him at all. So, now you sat in the back of the full lecture hall with Sungchan, who wore a smile the whole time despite not knowing a single thing the professor said. You, however, were glaring at the several apparent guardian angels in the class.

You learned that most Angels were blocked from human observation due to a charm that settled onto the world. Whenever anything atypical occurred (like, an angel knocking something over with their wings), the charm would make it so it appeared it was something normal. So, to the humans, the Angels appeared like any other average person. Sungchan explained that despite him being hunted down by several Angels, that being near you strengthened the charm enough that other Angels saw him as a normal human if they didn’t look too hard.

Convenient for him. Weird for you.

You were surprised to see that Shotaro was not one of the guardian angels in your class. Considering he was the only person physically close enough to you to drop the seraphinite in your bag, you expected him to also have those large, white, Angel wings. Instead, he seemed perfectly normal.

Lecture ended, and you sat still as everyone piled out of the class, all except for Shotaro who stared back at you two expectantly.

“So, you can see him now,” he had a bright grin, and you frowned.

“What the hell are you?” You asked, standing tall from your seat.

“Same thing as you,” was his reply before bounding out of the classroom.

“God dammit,” you muttered. You didn’t have time to chase after the weirdo- you needed to go back to your place to drop off Sungchan and change for your interview.

On your walk back, you decided to air some more of your questions.

“So, how come fallen angels are also just allowed to wander around?” you had noticed that while there were definitely a few more guardian angels around, there was still a substantial amount of fallen angels with their darkened wings wandering around without a second thought.

“Fallen Angels are all former Guardian Angels. They could at some point be forgiven and become Guardians again, but the only difference is that they don’t have a task directly from the man upstairs. Troops are technically Fallen Angels too, since they aren’t directly God’s task force, but rather are led by Saint George.”

“So, do most guardians assume Fallen Angels they see are Troops?”

“Yeah. Most Fallen Angels that choose to wander the surface are Troops, anyways,” he nodded. You were approaching your apartment complex now, mulling over this new found information.

“What kind of charm lets you turn into a cat, anyways?”

“What? You can believe in angels but not in witches and warlocks?”

You forced a groan, “of course.”

“Thanks again for taking me with you!” Sungchan chirped once you returned to your apartment. “And y’know… thanks for letting me stay with you.”

You stopped your path to your bedroom to glance back to Sungchan who was now perched on your couch.

“Don’t mention it.”

-----

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The slacks you wore had a wrinkle that you missed when ironing, and there was a small chip on your nails. You cleared your throat awkwardly, looking over your clean resume to hand to the interviewer. Your rings sat on your right hand, glistening in the overly bright office lights. The secretary was tapping away at his keyboard, and had hardly paid you any mind when you checked in fifteen minutes early for your interview.

The secretary’s office line rang and he swiftly picked it up. You straightened your back when he glanced your way before he hung up the phone.

“Director Kwon will see you now,” he gestured to the large oak door behind him before returning to his work.

“Thanks,” your voice was soft as you passed his desk before entering the Editor-in-Chief of the largest bridal magazines office. The office walls were a soft pastel pink, all lined with different covers the magazine had printed during its one hundred years in existence. The fresh peonies scent was attributed to the several vases of the flowers in different colors and arrangements all organized throughout the space. Director Kwon’s desk, though, was a mess. It was filled with papers, magazines, and framed photos of what looked like her family.

“Welcome! Please, sit,” Director Kwon gestured to the emerald chairs directly in front of her glass desk. She turned her swivel chair to face you, and smiled.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” you returned the smile, doing your best to keep calm before you stretched your hand, handing over your resume.

The interview went surprisingly well. Director Kwon was energetic, humorous, and was incredibly responsive to your answers and questions. Everything was perfect- until…

“Now, I know HR says I can’t ask this anymore,” her voice lowered, and you felt like you were being let in on a secret, “but, you don’t have the best wedding source from people who aren’t at least engaged,” she rolled her eyes before looking back. “So, honey, are you married?”

You panicked. You really wanted this job. Plus, they always say to fake it ‘til you make it, right? Without missing a beat you seamlessly moved a ring from your right hand onto your left ring finger.

“Is it obvious?” you giggled, lifting your hand to show Director Kwon the ring. She slapped the desk excitedly, writing down a note on your resume. You could pretend to be married- easy enough.

“What’s their name? Pretty gal like you needs to be with someone just as beautiful- I bet the wedding was gorgeous.”

Their name? You panicked. Fuck. You were backed into a corner of HR violations already- you couldn’t not reply.

“S-Sungchan. My husband’s name is Sungchan,” you forced your smile, and in the silence you could not stop talking, “we met on a blind date two years ago and just decided on a whim to get married a few months back!”

The train ride back home after the interview was full of shame and regret. Why did you even respond? Director Kwon should not have ask you that, but fuck, you really wanted this job. Your feelings only festered when you got back home and smelled something burning in the kitchen. You threw your bag down, walking in to see Sungchan spraying the fire extinguisher at the inflamed pan on the stovetop. You stood in shock as he ran through the living room to open the windows to the night sky in an attempt to help the smoke dissipate after the flame died, then proceeded to rush in front you to explain everything.

“I left the tortillas on the stovetop just for a second… I was going to make you dinner… I’m so sorry!” he seemed like he was crying, and he was wailing in sorrow about his slight error.

You sighed, “it’s okay, Sungchan.”

He wrapped you in a giant hug, his wings enveloping you too in the process. How was someone so soft and excitable a fallen Angel? Especially one that was on the run from people that wanted him locked up.

The following week was when you got the call that you got the job. You were so excited, and Sungchan seemed to be in incredibly high spirits for you. Sure, in the office you would have to pretend that a Fallen Angel/ your Former Cat/ your Current Roommate was your husband, but a little lie can't hurt, right?

______

You were finishing your breakfast as you texted Soyeon. Your messages weren’t going through as normal, and you were unsure at this point if she was even getting them. Defeated, you set your phone down and stared aimlessly ahead at the kitchen before a thud called your attention.

“Damn,” Sungchan muttered, now on the floor. He didn’t fit well on the couch, something you had been noticing as of late. He was tall already, and his large wings weren’t helping. While he could transform into a cat, you had learned that it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. Begrudgingly, you got up from the counter and slightly nudged the angel with your foot.

“Go sleep on my bed. I’m about to leave for work,” you offered. It wasn’t like Sungchan had never slept on your bed before. In fact, when he was just Eerie to you, he usually slept either on the foot of your bed or under the sheets with you.

“Are you sure?” his voice was groggy, and he sat up with his eyes still shut.

“Of course,” you affirmed before checking the time on your phone. “I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you later. Are you gonna come with me to do groceries?”

“Of course,” he nodded before standing up and hobbling into your bedroom.

Sungchan and you had formed a healthy routine. In the mornings, when you were still in school, you would quietly step out for class having already grabbed the lunch the man had put together for you. When you got back, you would either fully engage in questions with Sungchan, or run errands with him. He enjoyed sitting quietly in the same room as you, but since he hadn’t been able to speak to anyone for quite a while, he was elated to have your ear when you gave him the time.

Your job, however, was more convoluted than you had initially planned. As it turned out, your boss had disseminated the information that you were married to everyone- and the concept of marriage was the only thing your coworkers would speak about beyond actual job duties.

“Do you and Sungchan want to renew your vows?”

“Does Sungchan snore? My wife snores.”

“Do you and Sungchan want kids? Or lots of pets?”

Fuck! Doing your job would be a cinch if not for the constant lies and avoiding you had to do to get by.

Sure- Sungchan was otherworldly attractive, but he was also an angel. Sungchan was also very sweet- but he was also likely terrified of being kicked to the curb and fed to the troops.

You groaned to yourself, burying your face in your hands as you took the short train ride back home.You had been in this spiral since Soyeon left and since you started this job. You could really use your best friend- even if she was only your friend because she was your guardian angel.

“Do you think the character someone plays as in super smash brothers indicates what kind of person they are?” Sungchan asked as you both made your way through the grocery store isles together. He had taken to playing on your nintendo switch as well as leafing through your old psychology textbooks in his downtime and it was really showing.

“Um… I guess it depends on the smash game,” you mulled over, grabbing the bag of chips off the shelf. Sungchan was wrapped in an obnoxiously large coat despite the gross summer heat. It helps keep his wings more tightly pressed to his body and less likely to accidentally bump into something.

“They’re not all the same?” he was leaning against the cart, his head tilting as if this information never occurred to him.

“Yeah. Meta Knight was almost banned from competitive play for Super Smash Bros Brawl because he was way too overpowered.”

“... interesting,” he muttered, his gaze focused now on the ground beneath him as if he was mapping out a plan of action. You chuckled to yourself, moving ahead with the cart as Sungchan began asking you several questions about the differences in the smash franchise.

“... honey?” this voice made you freeze, although Sungchan continued speaking until he saw the fear in your eyes.

“Gr-Grandma,” you tried to keep your voice still, but your stutter gave you away.

“Honey, you look lovely,” she stated as if she did not just see you last week at your Mother’s place. Much to your dismay, she made eye contact with Sungchan and smiled sweetly, “and who is this… very tall young man?”

“Oh, it is you!” This new voice nearly brought you to your knees. No way. This had to be a sick joke- you were sure of it. There was no way this was both your grandma’s and boss’s grocery store of choice. This had to be an act of God themselves you felt- how else could this even happen?

“Boa, what are you doing here?” your grandmother spoke to your boss as if… as if they knew each other.

“Are you okay?” Sungchan’s whisper unfroze you, and you met his gaze in terror, sending a look of puzzlement across his own face.

“D-Director Kwon,” you spat out, forcing a smile, “how do you know my grandmother?”

Director Kwon looked between you and your grandmother, and then chuckled to herself. “You two do look alike! Although, I don’t know why, but I thought you changed your last name.”

“Why would she do that? And how do you know my very sweet neighbor?” your grandma asked.

Neighbor. Fuck. Your Director was neighbors with your grandmother- good ones at that, it seemed. You were going to be sick at this revelation.

“I’m Sungchan!” his voice cutting through the wild tension made you nearly faint on the spot.

“Because of her husband here, of course!” Director Kwon stated. She said it. She said it. She said it to your grandma and now it was gonna get back to your Mom unless you denied and potentially risked your work. God- the labor violations kept adding up and there was nothing you could do about it.

“My sweet granddaughter isn’t married,” your grandma was raising her eyebrow at you, waiting for an answer. Director Kwon crossed her arms, staring at you for a response of any kind.

“Ah… did she not mention that there was no ceremony?” Sungchan scratched the back of his neck, feigning sheepishness.

“Sweetheart… you weren’t even planning on telling your family?” your grandma interjected, and you immediately wanted to throw up.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I wanted to be able to sing it from the rooftops, but we didn’t think it would be wise to announce such a thing so close to her cousin’s engagement. We wouldn’t want to steal the spotlight from her since she’s been trying to get married for sooo long,” Sungchan spoke so smoothly, that for a second even you believed it. You would talk on the phone pretty often with your mother, and oftentimes you did so with Eerie nearby- so of course he heard you gossiping about your cousin and her absolute hunt to be married.

“Y-yeah. You know how they can be,” you joked, hoping your grandma would buy it.

“Oh my… I can’t wait until you do have your ceremony, I’ll get you in contact with my wedding planner,” Director Kwon interjected, leafing through her handbag before handing you a business card. “I’ll get going- I’ll see you Friday for the Barbeque!” she waved at your grandma before disappearing down the aisle.

“I hope you plan to tell your mother soon,” your grandma sighed before reaching forward and dusting off Sungchan’s shoulders, “I can’t wait to have you over young man. Welcome to the family.”

Continue? —> WHY DID I GET (fake) MARRIED?

Tag list!

@nini0620 @enhazen @cherriruto @deonuism @90s-belladonna @lesserahyuck

#sungchan x y/n #sungchan x you #sungchan fic #sungchan fluff #sungchan scenarios #sungchan imagines #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize fluff #nct fics #nct fanfic #nct imagine #nct scenarios #mine #text #fan fic #kpop fic

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moonlezn · 7 months

Text

Ela quer, Ela adora

capítulo III nenhum dinheiro, juro, pode nos comprar a felicidade que eu quero conquistar

notas: ai, junin... sabe? só pras solteiras que vão sofrer comigo nessa, minhas dms tão abertas. até o próx cap, beijo! masterlist

Até que Junin acreditasse mesmo que era o Malak de verdade, custou você abrir o perfil várias vezes e gastar muita lábia. O próprio produtor teve de ligar de vídeo para convencê-lo de que aquela oportunidade era séria. O garoto levou bem a conversa, e então logo marcaram a primeira reunião online, onde negociaram boas condições na presença do Xamã e dos advogados. O feat realmente aconteceria, e muito bem breve. Porém, a vida não é um conto de fadas.

Adiou muito o dia em que falaria para sua mãe sobre como chegaram até ali. A música nova já estava até em produção quando decidiu abrir o jogo sobre a gravação do estúdio. Obviamente ela não gostou nada.

— Olha, minha filha, você sabe que eu adoro o Juninho. Mas você precisa tomar cuidado com isso de ajudar homem. — ela repreende firme, segura a vassoura até com mais força. — Quero só ver ele fica rico e te troca, te deixa sem nada.

— Ele não faria isso, mãe. — respondeu sem pensar duas vezes, mas a possibilidade causou uma pontada no peito. Esconde a desconfiança bem, esfregando o bombril na panela de feijão queimado com tudo de si.

— Eu também acho que não, mas na vida a gente nunca pode achar nada de ninguém.

Pronto, novo medo desbloqueado. O dinheiro é o de menos, acabaria recuperando depois. No entanto, o que ronda seus pensamentos o tempo inteiro é: será que Junin terminaria contigo quando ficasse bem de vida? Apesar de soar completamente errado, botar a mão no fogo seria arriscado. Ao mesmo tempo, é difícil acreditar que uma história e uma química assim pode ser jogada fora a custo de holofotes.

Justamente quando as vozes ficaram altas demais, Junin mandou mensagem avisando que estava chegando na sua casa. Sabia que, pelo horário, você já estaria preparada para dormir, toda quietinha no quarto assistindo qualquer coisa na Netflix. O dia dele havia sido longo e cansativo, passou o dia compondo, gravando, editando, refazendo, e tudo de novo — ele precisava te ver, nem que fosse só por dez minutinhos.

Combinaram de não fazer muito barulho, então em vez de bater no portão (a campainha pifou recentemente), ele mandou a localização em tempo real no whatsapp para que você pudesse esperá-lo.

Bangu é das duas uma: calor para um cacete, ou frio de congelar os pés. Hoje à noite, a temperatura baixa não te pegou desprevenida, a coberta quentinha e Para Todos Os Garotos Que Já Amei passando pela enésima vez na TV do seu quarto te abrigam muito bem, obrigada. Um olho no filme, outro no mapa, você dá um pulo quando vê que a fotinho flutua pela esquina da sua rua, nem dá tempo de pegar um casaco. Chegando no quintal, a pele arrepia em segundos.

Abrindo o portão, procura pelo namorado com o olhar, mas ainda nada. Checa novamente o celular e sorri quando vê que se aproxima mais, só que ainda não consegue vê-lo na rua. Até que um carrão preto para bem na sua frente. Como carioca, o primeiro instinto sempre é pensar no pior, por isso já tinha metido a mão na chave de novo, porém o corpo esguio saindo da porta de trás te interrompe.

Ele ajeita a mochila na costas, te lançando aquele sorriso que te faz paralisar. Não bate a porta antes de dar um último valeu ao motorista Robson, pelo que ouviu, e só então caminha até você. Claramente está cansado, o dengo transborda em cada passo e no abraço que te envolve com firmeza, te fazendo dar alguns passos para trás. Ele mesmo fecha a entrada com uma das mãos, sem te soltar um segundo sequer. Basicamente se esparrama por você, esconde o rosto na curva do seu pescoço e passeia as mãos quentinhas pelos seus braços e costas gelados.

— Tava com tanta saudade. — murmura devagar, relaxando nos seus braços.

Você encosta a pontinha fria do nariz na mandíbula dele, e também deixa muitos beijinhos onde consegue.

— Eu também, meu amor. — sussurra de volta ao pé do ouvido, apertando o abraço e se aconchegando mais.

— Tá com frio, metidinha? — ele levanta o rosto após notar a textura da sua pele, o olhar preocupado e o apelido desfazem qualquer nó na mente, você se entrega inteira.

— Tô, mô. Vamo entrar?

Ele ri da sua manha dramática, pegando em cada lado do seu rosto para dar um selinho nos seus lábios. Guia-o pela mão até seu quarto, tirando a mochila pesada das costas dele ao entrarem, para que ele pudesse descansar um pouco.

— Me conta como foi no trabalho? — você pergunta, deitando-se novamente e o convidando para te acompanhar.

— Mô, não vou deitar contigo com roupa da rua. Vou tomar banho rapidinho e já volto, tá bem?

Você revira os olhos, mas concorda. Observa enquanto Junin futuca suas gavetas à procura das próprias mudas de roupa, encontrando umas extras que nem se lembrava de estarem ali (porque você surrupiou). Ele joga um beijo no ar antes de partir para o banheiro e tomar um banho bem quente para relaxar. Repassando o dia inacreditável que ele teve, permite que a água escorra pelo corpo tenso e exausto, sem se demorar muito porque precisa voltar para sua companhia.

O bico quase birrento nos seus lábios que ele vê ao chegar de volta no cômodo é tão irresistível que ele não se aguenta, pula na cama e te beija.

— Já voltei, princesa, para com isso. — ele diz entre risadinhas, beijando seu ombro e pescoço, sabendo que não aguentaria a pose por muito tempo. — Não quer saber como foi hoje não?

Gatilho.

Na mesma hora você vira o rosto para Junin, permitindo também que te puxasse para deitar abraçadinha nele. As pernas se entrelaçam naturalmente, os olhos se encaram e as digitais do namorado afagam a bochecha com muito cuidado.

— Cê conheceu eles hoje? — indaga com curiosidade quase infantil, fazendo o namorado assentir com um sorriso grande no rosto. — E esse carro? Você chegou lá e eles te receberam como? Cê almoçou?

— Ó, vou te contar do início. — ajeita a coberta sobre vocês um instante e volta à posição anterior. — Eu cheguei lá cedo né, e aí o Xamã chegou um pouco atrasado só. Enquanto isso o Malak e eu ficamos vendo umas batidas e falando sobre o conceito da música, eles querem até clipe.

Você faz um O com a boca, chocada, porém muito animada com a ideia.

— Meu Deus?!

— Pois é, mô, tive que me controlar pra não fazer essa mesma cara.

— E aí?

— Aí quando ele chegou, a gente começou a compor junto. — ele fecha os olhos por um instante. — Eu, cara. Eu compondo com o Xamã. Ele disse que me viu num story e achou muito pica. Enfim, acabou que a gente pegou no tranco e foi escrevendo em cima de uma demo do Malak, ficou foda demais. Aos poucos a gente foi encaixando e mudando umas paradas.

— Cê ficou satisfeito com a sua parte?

Conhece bem o seu povo, quando ele entorta o nariz e suspira, já sabe a resposta.

— Não muito, mas os caras disseram que tá do caralho, então eu parei de mexer toda hora e comecei a gravar. Tipo a gente fez vários takes, vários contracantos e aí de vocal já foi. O que pega agora é a parte de produção né, e o Malak quer que a gente participe do processo, então eu devo ir lá mais duas vezes, pra correr com isso. Aí quando acabou, eles mandaram o Robin me trazer, é um dos motoristas conhecidos deles lá.

— E por que tem que correr? — esquentadinha como é, já tinha interpretado errado. Achava que eles não queriam perder mais tempo com seu namorado, alguém não tão famoso.

— Então… — ele se senta, e você o segue. — o Xamã vai fazer um show no Flu Fest mês que vem, e eles querem lançar a música nesse dia.

— Amor? — você começa, entendendo o que aquilo quer dizer. — Você vai… apresentar… a música… com ele… no show? — profere cada palavra com bastante cautela para que não tenha erros.

Jun mal aguenta responder, apenas balança a cabeça. Sem pensar você dá um gritinho de felicidade e sobe no colo dele, sendo abraçada na mesma hora.

— MEUDEUSMEUDEUSMEUDEUS! — exclama baixinho, com medo de acordar alguém depois do berro que deu. — Jun, isso é… perfeito, maravilhoso. Caralho!

Outra vez deixa muitos e muitos beijinhos pelo rosto emocionado do namorado, que não sabe se ri ou se chora. O dia inteiro tinha retido as emoções, principalmente quando o cantor mencionou o festival, agora, no lugar seguro dele, por fim pode mostrar tudo.

— Queria que tu lembrasse que se não fosse você, isso não estaria acontecendo. — Junin fala bem sério, procurando seus olhos. — Papo reto, vida. — ele põe uma mecha teimosa atrás da sua orelha. — Eu nunca vou conseguir te agradecer o suficiente por isso, cê parou de fazer o cabelo no salão, aumentou o tempo de manutenção de unha… cara, você é foda.

— Eu fiz o que qualquer uma faria, Jun.

— Só se for na tua cabeça. — de forma doce ele aproxima os lábios dos seus. — Você não é qualquer uma, — dá um selinho demorado e amoroso na sua boca. — só você faria isso, eu tenho uma sorte da porra que cê é minha.

Aquilo te atinge como uma flecha, seus olhos marejados se fecham e uma lágrima escorre bem nos dedos de Junin. Ele percebe que tem algo errado na mesma hora.

— Que foi, hein? Olha pra mim.

Abrindo os olhos, deixa que Renjun veja através dos seus muros.

— Não aconteceu nada, é só que… — você respira fundo, contendo um soluço. — eu fiquei um pouco insegura de te perder nessa história.

— Nunca! — ele exclama, te puxando ainda mais para si. — Nunca, nunca, nunca. Isso não é nem… Porra, não dá, esquece. Nem pensa nisso, tá?

Você murmura um tá bem muito fraquinho, então ele beija os seus lábios como um príncipe. MC Junin, o ex-cachorrão de Bangu, vira realeza nos braços da princesa metida que, naquela noite, ele prometeu que honraria em qualquer circunstância.

Melhor do que dormir agarradinha com Jun, é acordar com ele. Ruim mesmo é ter que levantar para enfrentar a rotina e se despedir um do outro, pelo menos ainda tinham parte do caminho juntos por causa da van.

Foi a primeira passageira a chegar por causa do horário do namorado, mas não reclamou de levantar um pouco mais cedo, teria mais tempo para ir para o escritório.

— Opa, bom dia, casal metido! — Nando cumprimenta, bocejando atrás do volante. — Junin, depois quero levar um papo contigo, valeu? Nada demais.

Vocês se entreolham, desconfiando do que seria. Nando é pá-pum, então qual foi do mistério agora? Renjun até tenta insistir, mas sem sucesso. Só falaria depois.

Chegou até a cogitar que seria por sua causa, porém, não faria sentido. O motorista sabe que contam tudo um para o outro… só resta, enfim, esperar até o final do dia para que os dois soubessem o assunto secreto.

É muita coisa acontecendo, o garoto jura que vai explodir. Já tem outra sessão com os caras marcada, mas também agora está preocupado contigo, e aí Nando manda uma dessas… parece que o dia tem trinta e duas horas.

Quando finalmente guardam a van na garagem, pela milionésima vez Junin lembra ao chefe sobre a tal conversa que precisam ter.

— Meu filho, então… tu tá demitido.

— Quê? Qual foi, irmão?

— Não aconteceu nada, Junin. Tu sabe que tu é meu de raça, mas tá na hora de focar no teu sonho.

O mais novo tenta rebater algo, mas nada vem. Outro dia mesmo Nando dizia que isso era coisa sem sentido, agora quer dispensá-lo para correr atrás da carreira?

— Olha, eu sei que te desanimei várias vezes. Só que agora tu tem uma chance real, concreta, cara. — Nando suspira triste, óbvio que não queria mandá-lo embora, mas é necessário. — Algo me diz que vai dar certo, e se não der, tu tem um lugar aqui. Mas eu quero que você vá e trabalhe igual um corno pra fazer acontecer. Tá me ouvindo? Acredito no teu potencial, moleque.

— Valeu, Nando. Pô, vou te orgulhar.

Junin, então, abraça a figura paterna em forma de agradecimento, sentindo o misto de emoções fazer a garganta doer. Não é uma despedida definitiva, quer muito que Nando veja seu sucesso se tornar realidade, como retribuição por tudo que fez por ele.

Emocionado, Jun abre o celular para te mandar mensagem e contar a fofoca que foi pauta o dia inteiro. O sorriso se desfaz, no entanto, ao clicar no link que você havia acabado de mandar.

Você: mô, puta que pariu

Você: olha isso Demorou até que entendesse o que estava acontecendo. O link abriu uma live de MC J.S. no TikTok, que também está sendo transmitida no instagram. No título, lê-se: EXPOSED DO MC JUNIN DE BANGU.

#nct pt br #nct br au #renjun br au #nct dream br au #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #renjun fluff #renjun x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #renjun fanfic #renjun angst

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shibuinni3 · 3 months

Text

★ Doação de Capas com GG!

Olá meus queridos! Já faz um tempinho que fiz uma doação, né? Mas, agora estou aqui para fazer com diversos grupos, mais especificamente, com GirlGroups! Recentemente abri asks para sugestões de capas, juntando minhas ideias com as do público, eu montei essa mini-doação. Mais para frente vai ocorrer uma com BoyGroups também, que esse é o motivo de ter algumas capas com homens no post. Mas por hora, estamos com apenas GirlGroups (e feat. Machos) espero que gostem de cada capinha (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠) e adotem caso se interessarem! <3

★ Regras!

1. Me seguir no spirit para conseguir adotar;

2. O prazo de postagem é de 6 meses;

3. Há um mínimo de 500 palavras para a fanfic;

4. Não há qualquer alteração na capa, além de autor.

5. Apenas uma capa por pessoa! Apenas após a postagem, é possível uma segunda adoção;

6. Palavra-Chave: Blood;

7. A capa será entregue na mp do spirit;

8. Não será por ordem de chegada a doação;

9. Adote a capa aqui: ★

10. Boa sorte!

Como Não Demonstrar Seus Sentimentos

Jang Wonyoung e An Yujin, IVE.

Status: Inisponível.

Confeiteiras Góticas

Kim Jiwoo e Jang Kyujin, Nmixx.

Status: Disponível.

Operação Cúpido

Kai Kamal Huening e Bahiyyih Jaleh Huening, TXT e Kep1er.

Status: Indisponível.

Rosas São As Melhores

Lee Chaeyoung e Yoon Yeeun, Stayc.

Status: Indisponível.

You Were Beautiful

Park Jinyoung e Kwon Yuri, GOT7 e SNSD.

Status: Indisponível.

Você Será Minha Mary Jane

Ning Yizhuo, Aespa.

Status: Indisponível.

All Star

Kim Sihyeon e Park Jiwon, Everglow.

Status: Indisponível.

Eres Muy Bella, Mi Bela

Moon Byulyi e Kim Yongsun, Mamamoo.

Status: Indisponível.

Contrato De Guarda Compartilhada Do Simon

Lee Chaeryeong e Choi Jisu, Itzy.

Status: Indisponível.

43 notes · View notes

soleilnomoon · 1 year

Note

i would love to place an order for Meringue Cookies, Dark Chocolate, Jelly Beans, Candy Necklace, & Blan Manje, with Caramel & Honey. Side menu # 1 for Boa or Nami. either is fine! with a g/n reader! These stories are a blast to read!

anon i am so so sry this took forever 😭💕💕💕 but i finally finished and i'm actually happy with it; also ty for requesting, i love boa hancock sfm i wish more ppl wrote for her.

4.3k words, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst angst angst bc that's how i vibe & smut, and if you squint real hard there's some fluff somehow i think. hancock is a brat as usual and reader ain't shit, but they go great together <3 feat. cute things like oral (f receiving), fingering, a lil bondage, hair pulling, some pussy slapping, more stuff that idr anymore ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა (if u see grammar/spelling errors no u didn't ;_;)

tagging lil’ kaia bc she asked so nicely ❤︎ @cvvor

“our love would be death” — anaïs nin

sea salt sifts through the wind, warm and fine enough that most don’t notice its intrusion. it lands on your nose and lips, coats your tongue when you exhale through your mouth; no matter how many times you try to wash away the taste, it still lingers. a persistent annoyance that refuses to leave you alone. it’s a bitter, yet familiar taste — one that fills your heart with memories you’ve long wanted to keep buried. you’re no stranger to heartache, but this is different.

you find that you can never sleep through the entire night without dreaming of your ex — of how you begged them to stay, of how you told them you couldn’t live without them. pathetic, you tell yourself one morning after another restless night — you know you need to find a way to move on, but there’s no way you can, not when you carved so many pieces of yourself to give away without much thought.

what you’re left with is a battered heart that can barely function on its own; it flops pitifully in your chest, rattling against your rib cage weakly. every day it gets harder to breathe, harder to face the truth that you’re all alone — again.

boa hancock doesn’t know why she even fucking bothers, but she can’t seem to stay away from you. it’s a privilege, in her opinion, for you to be graced with her presence, let alone be allowed to touch her intimately. so, when she finds you staring wistfully out of the window, sighing to yourself again she snaps.

“y/n, look at me,” she commands loudly, voice piercing through your body like a thick arrow that keeps you frozen in place. you know better than to disobey her, even though you want to; you know you’re being unreasonable, but the heart always wants what it can’t have, right?

not that she cares about any of that. in her mind, your ex is an ex for a reason. she grabs your face with her hand, squeezing tightly, delicate brows furrowed together as irritation drips down her spine. she could easily kill you and you know it. “i’m the most beautiful woman in the world,” she boasts, although there’s something melancholic about the way she says it.

you narrow your eyes at her, mouth moving before you can think better of it. “and what of it?” it’s not often that you challenge her like that, but today you’ve had enough of her games, of constantly catering to her whims and desires, of her veneer that she insists on keeping even when she’s alone with you.

it dawns on her then what the actual problem is. “you’re still in love with them.” anger seeps through her pores, and she knows if she doesn’t walk away soon, she might say or do something she’ll possibly regret.

you flinch, eyes widening — she’s not entirely wrong, but she’s not right either. you’re just stuck in limbo, unable to move on because you refuse to do so; after seeing them so happy with someone else, you can’t fathom finding any sort of happiness yourself. so, you cling onto the past, even when it threatens to destroy your present life.

for some reason, this pisses you off — that hancock is so much more perceptive than people give her credit for; that she’s not afraid to tell you the truth, despite how your friends sugarcoat everything for you. the rage that’s bubbled deep inside of you for months finally pushes out; you can barely think or see properly, and you forget yourself when you practically shout back at her.

“and you’re just jealous because for once, you’re not the focus of my attention.” you’re not sure why you say it, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like shit.

there’s rarely a moment where hancock finds herself in absolute shock, but your venomous words cut into her bruised ego with vigor. it's a harsh reality that she refuses to accept, so she lashes out at you again.

“you’re pathetic.” her tone is cold, and she steels her face enough that she almost looks bored with you. hancock releases her hold on you and swivels on her heels to walk away. you don’t bother calling after her, but she pauses in her gait to look over her shoulder at you. “i’m done playing with you, get out of my sight.”

the dismissal is the first slap of many and her insistence on blatantly keeping her back turned while she ignores you is another. something in you breaks, but you know you’ve angered the pirate empress enough for one day. you don’t hesitate before scrambling to your feet and leaving her alone. after you close the door, you hear a shriek that’s accompanied by what sounds like a large vase shattering. you don’t bother checking on her, because you know you’re not wanted in her presence right now.

you should’ve seen this coming. one doesn’t simply think about another lover while in the presence of boa hancock; it’s absurd and theatrical, but it’s an unspoken rule that you keep breaking over and over. in the back of your mind, you know you should go make things right with her, but you just don’t know how.

hancock’s frustration continues to build throughout the day. she doesn’t know why someone — you, a commoner who should be groveling at her feet daily — can be so insolent without remorse. she’s smashed several expensive sculptures, shredded her mattress and bed sheets with large scissors, and cursed out every staff member in kuja palace. her anger only intensifies when she hears someone whisper your name, so she locks herself in her bedroom, refusing meals or assistance from anyone.

you’ve always thought that the pirate empress was annoying, self-centered, and unnecessarily mean without reason. you’ve told her this on several occasions, stunning her into silence — a feat that most cannot achieve. hancock would normally sentence someone to death for those sorts of callous remarks, but for some reason she spares you. maybe it’s because despite her incomparable, unrivaled beauty, you don’t helplessly pine after her.

and she absolutely hates that about you.

hancock’s not someone who’s used to being treated like a regular person, and yet that’s what you do to her. you barely hold any reverence for her, give her the minimal amount of respect owed as a citizen of amazon lily, and you don’t flinch when she threatens you publicly. most are afraid to be associated with you, out of fear for incurring the snake princess’ wrath — not that you care, you’ve known that your personality can’t be tolerated by most because you tend to happily go against the grain.

you’ve always found her beauty to be intense and intoxicating — imposing like the sun, forcing a heat to surge through you that has yet to dissipate. you hate that your attraction to her impedes your daily life, especially when you’re plagued by dueling thoughts of her and your ex. you’re barred from entering the palace, and you’re thankful for it as you don’t know how you’d be able to face hancock after all that you’ve said. you know that you should apologize profusely, but a woman like hancock requires something extravagant and elaborate — something that’ll prove that your adoration and loyalty is genuine and not forced.

the first few days are relatively easy; you work tirelessly to keep your mind and body busy, and you’re so exhausted by the end of the day that you sleep without dreaming. when a week passes, you start to notice that certain things are off; you didn’t make it a habit of frequenting the palace that often, but you were there enough that the staff didn’t give you a hard time when you showed up unannounced. you tell yourself that distance is good — it means you’ll be able to finally focus on the things that are important to you.

but, when you sit and think about it, you’re not quite sure if that’s entirely true.

after the second week, you start getting antsy. your friends keep pestering you, asking why your mood keeps shifting day to day — you’re intolerable and grouchy, snap at minor things and make mistakes all day. your heart, as tired and as worn out as it is, still skips a beat when you think about hancock despite what you try to tell yourself when you’re alone. somehow, you’ve convinced yourself that the only reason why you’re thinking about her, is because you miss fucking her.

the lie is tough to digest, but you keep repeating it and sooner or later you’ll believe it, right?

soon, everything reminds you of her.

on a warm night, a small festival is held, and you wander around listless and slightly tipsy. memories of the first time you met boa hancock — outside of all the fanfare that her royal title awards her — plague you relentlessly. you remember the warmth from that night, similar to this one; you remember how highly oppressive and unbearable the humidity was; and you also remember that you were on your third drink when you unceremoniously bumped into the pirate empress.

at first, her sisters demanded you apologize, but you were annoyed and had just been dumped so you chose audacity instead.

hancock’s irritation was evident, despite her not saying much — and it wasn’t until your rambling struck a nerve that she fired back. it was the first time he’d let her walls down, and her sisters watched in shock as both of you went back and forth over nothing. hancock called you all sorts of terrible names, and you sneered and laughed in her face. the fact that you weren’t cowering in fear or salivating over her beauty set her skin on fire in a way she didn’t understand.

you remember her dismissing the other gorgon sisters, insisting that she’d be able to handle you on her own. and she did, in a way. if anyone were to ask her about that time, hancock would easily admit that she regrets meeting you that night — but it would be a lie. the only thing she regrets is allowing you to infiltrate her heart, to settle without permission, to make her feel less than when she knew she was anything but.

her brattiness is unappealing on the surface and you normally wouldn’t be attracted to a woman who boldly wears such an ugly personality with pride. somehow, hancock has made the trait endearing to you, in a strange way; she’s so unapologetic with her behavior, that you find it rather comical. why people take her seriously is beyond you.

but, despite all of that, you do miss her.

you miss seeing the way her nose would scrunch and wrinkle when she was disgusted with something insignificant and minute; you miss kissing her in the middle of arguments and watching her easily melt underneath your touch; but you mostly miss hearing her complain about your lack of etiquette, about how odd she finds your views on the world, and about how you see her more clearly than anyone else on the island.

that sort of vulnerability terrifies her, and it’s why she’s been so miserable without you.

her sisters pay you a visit one morning and implore you to talk some sense into hancock. they tell you about how her temper tantrums have gotten uncontrollable (even for them) and how she barely eats or bothers leaving the palace these days. that bit surprises you, as hancock thrives off the validation from the populace. at first you mean to refuse them, but when you take note of how marigold anxiously fidgets with the gold bracelet around her wrist and the way sandersonia has dark circles under her eyes, you give in.

after taking a long, long soak in the bath, hancock pads back to her room naked, deciding to keep the windows open so she can air dry properly. you find her shortly after, out of breath from running over to the palace; she didn’t lock her door — and why should she? she’s the empress, after all — so you enter her room with ease. because she’s been so out of it lately, she’s been sluggish in her reactions to certain things; especially since she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

with the door shut and locked behind you, hancock’s mind clears a bit; she blinks slowly, her dark eyes honed on you, taking in your thick thighs and toned body. as usual, hancock’s face only features an impassive expression, and she keeps her tone flat when she addresses you.

“why the hell are you in my bedroom?” she grabs the silk robe that’s draped over her mattress and puts it on in a rush.

before you can answer her or move closer, she picks up a large pillow and chucks it at you in the hopes that you’ll get the hint and leave her alone. you sidestep the attack, lips pressed together as you hold back a laugh; she can’t honestly think that a pillow will stop you, can she? hancock keeps throwing things, anything within her reach that isn’t nailed down to the floor or wall. you try to reason with her, try to make your way closer, but stop when you see the way her lips quiver.

she keeps fumbling with tying her robe properly, keeps looking down at her trembling fingers — the same ones that have tugged on your hair more times than you can count — but still she won’t say anything else to you.

after a minute, hancock manages to compose herself once again, her lips pressed tightly together as she fights the urge to berate herself for looking weak in front of you — as if you care about any of that. your silence compels her to swiftly make her way towards you, long legs shimmering in the sunlight, captivating you so much that you forget you’re supposed to be angry with her.

“look at you,” she stands tall, her pride giving her the confidence she needs to verbally tear you apart. “you’ve come begging for my forgiveness, right?” she doesn’t wait for you to respond and simply flips her hair over her shoulder before continuing. it’s all she can do to keep her composure around you; she knows if she gives you even a fraction of an inch, you’ll take a whole damn mile. “i should have you gutted for entering the palace without permission. you should know your damn place.” while her words are harsh, her delivery doesn’t quite match the expression on her face. maybe it’s because you haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you entered her room; or, maybe it’s because she’s standing much closer than necessary but can’t physically move herself away.

did you cast a spell on her without her knowledge?

while her eyes do narrow at that possibility, she highly doubts that you could, as there’s no one on amazon lily that doesn’t succumb to her treacherous beauty. but you continue to defy her expectations and you never know when to quit. which is why she just wants to grab you by the neck and toss you out the window; maybe if she actually kills you this time, she’ll be done with you forever.

except, she could never bring herself to harm you — not really. so she continues with her rant, reminding you that you’re beneath her, that you should be happy someone like her gave you any attention at all, but the more she talks, the more you want her to just shut the hell up.

“you’re right,” you say, cutting her off without remorse or any regards for your own safety, “and i deserve all of that,” and possibly more, but you don’t add that bit in. it becomes a little difficult to focus, what with hancock watching you with a different kind of intensity than you’re used to. “i… should’ve just explained myself properly before. but, more importantly,” you decide to take a risk and gently grab her by the hips.

silence wraps around her, blending into her thoughts, warping her perception of everything that’s happening. your hand is warm — much too warm, hot almost; she can feel the heat through the flimsy fabric as she presses her body closer to yours. whatever it is you want to tell her doesn’t matter — maybe she’ll pester you about it all later, but right now all she wants is you.

so, you give in and allow yourself to be more selfish than usual.

when your lips brush against hers, she completely comes alive — the longing you both felt for weeks, the irritation and unsaid words, they all prompt her to wrap her arms around your neck. it’s something short of a loving embrace, but you know better. your kiss goes from slow and tender to something much more fevered and enthusiastic; her lips are soft and supple, wholly inviting and terribly mesmerizing. you back her against the wall as she threads her fingers through your hair, tugging on it roughly, her patience practically nonexistent from all her wanting. you laugh at her in between kisses, breath warm against her skin — a feat that simultaneously annoys and arouses her — and remind her to play nice.

when she tugs on your hair again, you bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but run your tongue along the miniature wound to soothe the sting. she inhales sharply, the pain not noticeable, but the way you suck on her lip makes her head spin while also leaving her breathless.

a woman like hancock doesn’t beg, but when you grab her ass roughly — aggressive, yet completely undoing — she lets out a whimper so pathetic she’s almost ashamed of herself.

she should slap you, but all she does is roll her hips forward once you spread her legs and run your fingers against her folds. in a fit of desperation, to excuse her reactions, she tells herself that it’s because she hasn’t been touched in so long — but deep down she knows the truth; she knows it’s because there’s no one else she’d rather have here with her, and that is a terrifying revelation. still, she’s very receptive to your touch, her back arching as soon as you spread her with your fingers.

her arousal drips down slowly, and while you’d love to take your time with her, you also know that if you don’t hurry up you might actually lose your mind. you trail kisses down the length of her neck, and hancock presses her lips together to keep from making any more embarrassing noises. it’s ridiculous the way her body can easily be commanded by you without much effort; she wants to hate you for leading her down this path, but she can’t ever bring herself to do so.

love makes people incredibly foolish and tender indeed.

“that won’t do,” you remark lightly, gliding your fingers back and forth, barely grazing her clit. her breathing stops momentarily when you open her robe completely and drop to your knees in front of her. “why are you holding back?” you don’t ask her because you actually want the answer; you ask because you know it’ll annoy her greatly.

you tease her entrance with your fingers and a shiver fires through her entire body; with her lips parted, you strain your ears a bit, but you hear through her all of her light panting, her softly saying please, please, please. she’s trying so hard to hold it together, and you commend her for her efforts by inching your fingers inside of her slowly. hancock’s façade finally shatters, and you hear her moan audibly as you plunge your fingers in and out of her pussy. you love the way she clenches around your fingers — warm and tight, soft in a way that just doesn’t make sense to you — and the way she moves her hips once your tongue playfully swirls around her clit.

you drape her long, shapely leg over your shoulder and scissor your fingers inside of her pussy; you hum against her skin, thoroughly enjoying the way her chest heaves and how she can’t seem to stop moaning your name.

if only she was always this compliant.

a heat passes through your body as her nails rake against your scalp, and if you weren’t so hellbent keeping her steady, she’d probably fall over by now. you eat her pussy with vigor, swapping your fingers for your tongue; you thrust it inside without remorse, and she quickly becomes a whimpering mess as she chants “yes, yes, yes.” you mean to tell her to keep it down, but a part of you also enjoys it when she lets go and gives into her desires. you don’t want to get caught, but the thrill of it incites you to lap at her pussy — greedy and eager, as if it’s the most savory meal you’ve ever had. her wetness drips down your chin, glistening along your lips but you don’t stop.

she watches you in a trance, unsure if she’ll ever be able to let you go after this. possessive by nature, hancock never thought she’d find herself in this sort of position, but there she is, completely under your spell. every swipe of your tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge — a dangerous dance that she does without thinking. she brings her free hand to cup and knead one of her breasts — hefty and round, moaning repeatedly, voice already straining as she shamelessly rides your face.

you love it, though and when you suck on her clit roughly, lightning wraps around her veins, time slowing down around her, causing her vision to blur. she’s so wound up, that the orgasm takes her completely by surprise — her hips buck wildly and you hold her firmly as you work your fingers back into her pussy. you pull away just to give her a haughty look — one that she catches by accident through her tear-stained lashes — voice low and husky as you continue teasing her. “you’re doing so good,” you lick her clit hard enough to have her eyes roll back, “do you trust me?”

it's not fair of you to ask her genuine questions right now, but you need to know.

hancock swallows hard, unable to think properly, but answers without hesitation: “y-yes.”

her voice is sweet, much more demure than you’re used to; your heart suddenly feels much too big for your chest, the beats growing louder and thunderous; a dangerous combination when coupled with your cowardice. but you know better than to cower away, so you muster the courage to quietly respond with, “good, i’m glad.”

you’re not sure why you ask her that, but you keep thinking about it when you have her naked on her bed with her hands bound above her. thanks to you, her normally blemish-free skin is littered with bite marks and dark red bruises — small and harmless, but you do feel a sliver of remorse when you realize she’ll have to cover herself up for a bit when she’s outside of the palace. you tell her she’s a masterpiece worthy of exhibition, and she tells you that you’re insolent for stating the obvious.

she’s so beautiful and vulnerable in this position — flushed cheeks, tears in her eyes, legs shaking as they’re spread wide for you; her pussy is swollen after you slapped it a few times when she gave you lip a few minutes ago. out of habit, hancock wants to run her mouth again when you hover over her, but her words never come out. she looks up at you, silently wondering why you keep coming back to her. the melancholy that accompanies those thoughts is heavy enough to make her want to cry, so she ignores it. she wraps her legs around you as you rock your hips against hers, cunt still dripping — eager and inviting.

fucking hancock is like being trapped in a feverish dream, one where you fall over and over, unable to predict if you’ll survive in the end. it’s an unending maelstrom — powerful and unpredictable, wild, and all-consuming. sweat pools at your temples, but you don’t slow down until you wrench another orgasm out of her. her voice grows hoarse, and she claws at your chest; you lick the tears off her cheeks and kiss her in a way that deludes her into thinking that she’s your one and only.

when you finally cum, it’s with her name on your lips. your hips stutter and your breath is uneven — for you, your pleasure comes mostly from watching her unravel underneath you. hancock never lets you stay over, but she’s surprisingly soft with you afterwards, even letting you run your fingers through her silky, ink-black hair.

the intimacy scares both of you, but you can’t stop yourself from touching her like that. and even though you’re both sticky and sweaty, skin burning in a way that doesn’t make sense, you still stay close to one another.

she opens her mouth several times, the compulsion to curse you out for driving her mad grows weaker as time passes. she watches you fall asleep and she admires your features without restraint. she refuses to tell you that you’re much more attractive than she’d like you to be; she’d rather you be hideous with a shitty personality, but that’s not the case, is it? she’s hopelessly enamored with you, and you with her.

nothing will ever be perfect between the two of you, but you don’t need perfection or superficiality — not with her; you like dealing with the true, raw version of herself. there will be a moment — not now, but in the near future — where you’ll be brave enough to finish your confession; but for now, you keep it to yourself, tucked safely away in your heart, and enjoy the way your limbs are tangled with hers.

#*cries softly*#i am finished!!! finally #fic request #500+ followers event #milestone event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece smut #one piece angst #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #boa hancock #boa hancock x reader #boa hancock x y/n #boa hancock smut #hancock x reader #hancock x y/n #one piece imagine

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