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chuluoyi · 25 days

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」

divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~

a part of gojo's love entries

you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.

and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—

“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”

“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.

“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”

“district court—?”

“—getting a divorce, yeah.”

your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—

“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”

however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.

“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”

you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.

“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”

“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”

you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”

satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.

he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”

you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”

“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”

what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.

“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”

and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”

his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.

“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”

“whoa, wait—”

“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”

“—?! you can’t do that!”

“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”

“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”

“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”

in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.

. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”

“…”

“if you do, baby will also be—”

“you are making us mad.”

“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”

you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.

and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—

“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”

“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”

“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”

“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.

you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”

seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.

and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.

“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”

and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.

you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”

“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”

and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.

epilogue

“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”

“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”

“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”

“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”

“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”

“uh— you’re the one asking first!”

“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”

“nanami is not—!”

“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”

“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”

“wha?!”

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ruggiezz · 7 months

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— MOST TO LEAST LIKELY TO GO TO MCDONALDS WITH YOU AT 3 AM : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] twisted wonderland characters that would accompany you to mcdonalds at 3 am

[characters] all (romantic) + ortho (platonic)

[disclaimer] this post talks about food a lot and mentions of unhealthy food (in vil's and riddle's part)

[extra] i'm having way too much fun writing character's reactions

── Most likely

★﹕LILIA VANROUGE

Bold of you to assume he was sleeping in the first place. Lilia was playing the equivalent of Overwatch in Twisted Wonderland when you suddenly asked him to go to the nearest McDonald's. He agreed instantly, and now you're both on a date, with you eating fries and Lilia eating a strawberry sundae and a cheeseburger..

★﹕ORTHO SHROUD (platonic)

He agreed instantly. Can robots even feel tired in the first place? Ortho will search on the internet for coupons and promos, but first let him equip his eating gear; he wants to eat too. Everything for his best friend. By the way, he wants to buy something for Idia too.

★﹕ROOK HUNT

Rook got out of bed even before you even mentioned you wanted to go out, he woke up when he felt you were awake. Rook is a light sleeper; he can even feel when you wake up to go to the bathroom. If you really want a meal at McDonald's, who is he to say no? It makes him happy to see you happy, but he will stare while drinking his strawberry shake. Not a "I'm judging you" stare, but a "I like to see you enjoy your meal" stare.

★﹕MALLEUS DRACONIA

He has probably eaten McDonald's at least once because Lilia bought the whole of Diasomnia burgers. Alright, you're both going. Yes, he's still a little confused over why you would crave a really cheap burger at 3 am, but Malleus doesn't even care; the burgers are good and he enjoys indulging in human customs, plus he gets to see you smile. The only bad thing is that the employees got the fright of their lives when they saw the literal prince of Briar Valley enter the restaurant.

★﹕SILVER

Still sleepy, he agreed. There are times when he randomly awakes during the night, so he might as well spend it with you, even if it was at a fast food restaurant at 3 am. He'll order an iced coffee and some fries and listen to you while you speak about whatever comes to mind. You'll both have to make it quick though, he may fall asleep there, and you both need to get back before classes start.

★﹕DEUCE SPADE

He didn't even understand what you were saying; his mind was still foggy from being woken up so late. He said yes, not knowing what he was agreeing with, but a few minutes later he realized what he agreed to. Deuce, not wanting to have gotten your hopes up only for him to say no, got up and accompanied you anyway. He still enjoyed himself though, as long as he is with you, he's happy.

★﹕RUGGIE BUCCHI

He's tired because of how many errands Leona made him do yesterday, but you know what? He will still go. Food is food, and he could never refuse it. Leona lets him grab his credit card anyway, so order whatever you want, Leona will pay, even if he doesn't know that. It's not like he checks his credit card's expenses, so don't worry about it.

★﹕JACK HOWL

When he confessed to you a few months ago, he didn't expect that would mean signing up for you waking him up in the middle of the night, asking him to accompany you to eat fast food outside of campus. Still, he's your boyfriend, and he can't let you go alone, it's dangerous. Even if he doesn't feel like ordering anything, he will sit there with you until you finish your meal, chatting with you in the meantime.

★﹕ACE TRAPPOLA

You're lucky he loves you too much; he would have said no if you were another person. So now Ace is sitting at McDonald's, almost falling asleep while eating some nuggets. That one song they keep replaying will haunt him in his dreams; it got stuck in his head for like, a week. Riddle reprimanded him the next day for falling asleep during history class.

★﹕CATER DIAMOND

Out of everything he could have expected a person to say at 3 am, it certainly wasn't "I want to go to McDonald's". Cater takes a selfie with you inside and uploads it to his Magicam story, the close friends one, so Riddle doesn't realize he wasn't at the dorm. He still has no idea how you came up with this, but ok, it was for the funsies.

★﹕JADE LEECH

You're certainly unpredictable, aren't you? Jade stared at you for a good minute until he just got up, got changed, and went with you. Floyd has done weirder stuff during one of his mood swings; what harm can going to McDonald's do? He doesn't feel like cooking that late anyway. Just don't tell Azul you're both going to the competition, okay?

★﹕EPEL FELMIER

He had you repeat what you said twice to make sure he was hearing you correctly. You want to do what? Let him go back to sleep, please. Okay, whatever, he will accompany you, but make it quick. At least that's what he said before spending the next two hours chatting with you while eating. He sadly got caught by Vil when he came back. Rook snitched.

★﹕SEBEK ZIGVOLT

No, he has to make sure nobody attacks Malleus while he's sleeping. But with some reassurance from Lilia (and him asking Sebek to bring him a burger) and his love for you, he decided to accompany you. He'll ask for the biggest burger since he has a big appetite. He did enjoy it at the end; 10/10 would do it again (but he won't say that out loud).

★﹕KALIM AL-ASIM

He doesn't mind that you woke him up, and he would like to go, but there's a small problem: he isn't allowed to go anywhere without Jamil, which means he would need to wake him up. Jamil wouldn't be happy about that, and Kalim doesn't want to bother him either. So you both just order takeout and give the delivery guy a very generous tip.

★﹕IDIA SHROUD

Idia was awake, but he really doesn't want to go, and he's also farming for an event. Great, now he's craving McDonald's too. If you really want to go, you can have Ortho accompany you, but please bring him a chicken sandwich and some fries. You can use his debit card to pay.

★﹕TREY CLOVER

... What? What did you even dream about to crave McDonalds so late at night? Trey says you both can go on the weekend if you really want to, but go back to sleep, please. There's an important exam tomorrow, and you'll both be in trouble if you suddenly fall asleep in the middle of it.

★﹕FLOYD LEECH

He was not in a good mood after being woken up in the middle of the night. Floyd won't let you go, squeezing you so hard that you can't even move away from the bed. You're not going anywhere the whole night, and if you still want the meal, you can order some in the Mostro Lounge tomorrow.

★﹕LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

It's 3 am, what the heck. Leona says Ruggie can buy you some tomorrow; ask for as much as food as you want, but not at 3 am. He will fall asleep on top of you, so you can't even move, just in case you try to sneak out while he sleeps.

★﹕JAMIL VIPER

No, please, he's tired. He did so much work yesterday: laundry, cooking, folding clothes, tutoring Kalim, paperwork for an upcoming event, and preparing for an exam. He just wants to rest for at least a few hours. Go back to sleep, please. He promises he'll cook you a burger with some fries tomorrow. His cooking is way superior to fast food anyway.

★﹕RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"No, that's unhealthy", he says. Somebody buy him a happy meal or something, Riddle has probably never eaten fast food in his life. Either way, there's class tomorrow, and he would never forgive himself if he arrived late to a lesson. So no, you aren't going anywhere.

★﹕AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Why would you want to eat at McDonalds when he has a literal restaurant? Are you trying to buy from the competition? Now Azul is offended at 3 am, so offended that he dragged you to the kitchen to make you a meal resembling the McDonald's one just to prove Mostro Lounge's food is better.

★﹕VIL SCHOENHEIT

Excuse you? Not only did you interrupt his beauty sleep, but you want to go eat McDonald's'? It's 3 am, please go back to sleep or you'll get dark circles. Lack of sleep is bad for your skin, and he won't take the risk, much less to eat unhealthy food.

── Least likely

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amomentsescape · 4 months

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Hey I love yanderes and slashers and used to have a sleep walking problem where I would try to crawl through windows, can you do a yandere slasher x reader where the reader has developed Stockholm syndrome and been loving to the slasher so they trust them and let them have more freedom. Then they see them try to crawl out a window in their sleep? How would they react? Would they believe the reader? What would make them believe them if they didn't? If they didn't believe them the how would they react to finding out the reader told the truth?

Thank you so much! And merry Christmas! 🎄 🎄🎄🎄🎄🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

Slashers with Reader Who Sleepwalks & Tries to Leave

Yandere! Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, of course. Mentions of abusive behavior

A/N: Merry (late) Christmas! I hope you all had a great holiday! For this request, I decided to leave Eric out. He's just the complete opposite to a Yandere in my opinion, and it was nearly impossible for me to write him as such. I hope that's okay!

Freddy Krueger

He knows you would never purposefully leave him

Like, he actually knows

His (undead) life revolves around sleep

He knows when you're awake and where you're actually sleeping, even if he keeps you stuck in his dream world

So when he finds you trying to escape out of the little window he built for you, he just laughs

He had already known you sleep walked

He'd been haunting your dreams for weeks prior to actually taking you

Freddy just keeps watching you, not really doing anything about it

You're stuck in his world either way

Might as well see how far you'll go

He'll almost use this as a test of sorts

He'll let you wander to wherever you want to go in your sleep, and he may even change the environment to something you don't recognize

When you wake up, his name better be the first thing that falls from your lips

If it's not...

Well, he'll just have to try harder at getting you to need him

Michael Myers

It took a very long time for Michael to get to this point

The fact that he lets you sleep without chains is a huge decision on his part

He doesn't trust easily

And any feelings of trust he did have come crumbling down the moment he wakes up without you beside him

It didn't take long to find you

There you were, pushing and prodding at the boarded up window

He's truly pissed

And a little hurt

He really thought you were growing to actually like your situation

But when he spins you around and sees your eyes staring blankly through him, he tilts his head

You don't seem... right?

He'll shake you harshly until he sees the life come back to your eyes

When you finally look up at him with a similarly confused look on your face, he starts to realize

He understands you well enough to know when you're not acting like yourself

When he finally explains what you were doing after you repeatedly asked him, you sigh

You explain that sometimes at night, you wander around without realizing it

A sleepwalker, huh?

Sadly, the chains will need to come out again

Jason Voorhees

You wouldn't actually leave him, right?

You seemed so caring

He actually believed you when you said you needed him

But here you were, trying to leave your shared home in the middle of the night

He almost breaks down as he picks you up and takes you back to your room

He finds it a bit odd that you don't fight back at all, but he assumes you just don't care to

He locks you up and makes sure that you can't go anywhere

How could you do this to him?

When you wake up the next morning in chains and not in your shared bed, you begin to cry for Jason

He tries to ignore you, but he can't bring himself to hear your sad voice calling out to him

You try your best to tell him that you don't remember what happened, and that you would never leave him

And maybe he's too trusting, but he believes you

You just seem so sad and so genuine that it's impossible for him to think it's anything other than honesty

You couldn't be that stupid anyways

You'd get lost in those woods alone at night, he knows that

So he just has to believe you

He loves you, and love means trust, right?

Thomas Hewitt

But you were being so sweet to him just hours before

How could you lie to his face like that?

He wakes up without you in his arms, and he just about loses it

Frantically searches for you around the house and finally finds you at one of the nailed in windows

He pulls you away quickly, staring at you sadly

He's waiting for an explanation, but you don't say anything

You just stare

You weren't acting like yourself

He pushes you back towards the bedroom and you walk the rest of the way yourself, climbing back into bed with ease

He's confused, but decides to see if it will happen again

You can't leave anyways

The whole house is locked up, and you don't even know where the keys are

You act just like your normal self the next day

And that night, you're back to walking around with a blank stare

He figures this just might be a thing you do

Doesn't really try to stop you, but he does follow you most nights to make sure you don't accidentally hurt yourself

On nights he wants you in bed, he ties some old fabric around your ankle and holds you tight while you sleep

You might not ever know about your late night adventures unless he decides to tell you

Bubba Sawyer

He's quite literally blubbering to you

He's crying, he's frantic, he even shakes you a bit, and you just stand there not responding

He keeps waiting, and when you start to just wander around again, he loses it

What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?

He ties you back into bed and stays up the rest of the night, watching you

The next morning, he confronts you stressfully

You keep telling him over and over that you don't know what he's talking about

But he refuses to believe you

(He wants to believe you, he's just scared)

He only finally realizes you were being honest when in the middle of the day during your nap, he finds you wandering back to the window with his whole family watching you

You weren't stupid

Why would you try to leave when literally everyone could see you in broad daylight?

His family begins laughing and saying things like "looks like you got yourself a sleepwalker"

So you weren't purposefully trying to leave him?

He cries tears of joy and spends the next couple of days pampering you and giving you just about everything you want

He does his best to show you that he's sorry

Brahms Heelshire

It's quite literally known that Brahms has abandonment issues at this point

So when he catches you climbing up onto the window sill

He loses it

Will grab you and roughly pull you off, your body falling to the ground

This immediately wakes you up, your eyes searching around frantically

When you see Brahms standing above you, you try to reach for him, but he only shoves you away

You look so sad and confused at this, but Brahms is too stubborn to give in

He starts tying you up again each night, still very hurt that you would try to leave like that

It takes weeks for you to gain his trust again

And the one night he lets you sleep freely, he catches you by the window again

But instead of grabbing you immediately, he decides to just watch

He wants to see how far you'll go so he knows just how severe your punishment will need to be

But instead, you just give up on unlocking the window (it was jammed), and you just turn around and walk straight back to bed, not even registering Brahms being right there

This is odd

You need to explain the concept of sleepwalking to him the next day

He still remains skeptical for a while, but he'll come around

You just need to be extra attentive for a while...

Norman Bates

Norman already knows a lot about sleepwalking

(It's what he thought was going on for a while when he couldn't remember large chunks of time throughout the week)

When he finds you opening a window in the middle of the night, he bolts at you, ready to lock you back up in one of the motel rooms again

However, when you don't respond or reveal any emotion on your face, he immediately knows what's going on

He's surprised

He didn't know you'd be a sleepwalker

He decides to just lead you back to bed, knowing that waking you isn't the best idea

Sits you down the next morning and talks with you about it

When you seem very apologetic, he uses it to his advantage

Has you cuddle up with him even more than normal and stay by his side at all hours of the day

He still gives you some freedom

But he's always watching

He does take some precautions and ties your wrist up in the middle of the night

He has to, for your safety of course

Billy Loomis

To be honest, you don't make it very far

Billy has an iron grip on you at all times, and he's a light sleeper

The moment you get up, he's awake, observing you carefully

Sometimes you have to pee in the middle of the night, but he still makes sure you aren't lying to him

His ability to trust is practically in the ground

The moment you turn the wrong way, he's up and chasing after you

Were you that dumb? You knew he watched you every time you got up from bed

He grabs your wrist quickly and points a knife at your throat as a threat

He can't bring himself to actually hurt you though, not that you knew that

Or did you?

Because you just stand there not even moving away from the blade

Billy becomes very confused

He takes his hand and begins to wake it in front of your face, looking for some sort of reaction

You don't give him one

Are you still... asleep?

He shakes you a bit until you finally look at him, confusion written all over your face

You're a sleepwalker, aren't you?

He just rolls his eyes annoyed and drags you back to bed, not explaining anything

Just another thing he needs to look out for now

You sometimes wake up to bruises on your hips and waist from how hard Billy holds you in the night, but he's just trying to protect you, right?

He doesn't mean to hurt you, he just refuses to lose another person in his life

Stu Macher

Stu literally sleeps on you, so it's nearly impossible for you to leave the bed most nights

But if you somehow wiggle your way out, you wouldn't make it outside the house

The windows have been nailed so that they only open a small amount

When he finds you the next morning, curled up under a partially opened window, he just smiles

Call it naive, but he just assumes you were getting too warm in the bed

When you wake up in a confused state however, he becomes concerned

What do you mean you don't remember opening that window?

He honestly just becomes more worried that there's something wrong with your memory rather than you trying to leave him

He'll likely talk to Billy about it

He just hears laughter from the other end of the phone

"Sounds like they sleep walk," he'd say

Stu does a bunch of research on it later

He doesn't really mind though

All of the unsafe objects are already hidden away, and every possible exit is locked down

You aren't going anywhere

If anything, he finds it fun to wake up some mornings and look around for you

It's like a game, and Stu loves games

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thesummerestsolstice · 7 days

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One of my favorite Elrond headcanons is the idea that he starts out looking very much human and elvish. He has ears too pointed to be a man's, but not nearly long enough to be an elf's, his father's (grandfather's, really) blue eyes and brown hair that shines like an elf's, but gets tangled far too often.

Sure, some weird things happen around Elrond as a child– the birds that seems to follow him, the way some injuries mysteriously resolve in his prescense, the unusual flowers that bloom outside his windows– but really, it's easy to see those as distant remnants of an ainuric power that Elrond clearly didn't inherit. When he comes to Gil-Galad's camp, it's much easier for them to see Tuor or Beren in him than it is to think he's descended from Melian.

But then time passes. The changes are slow enough– happening over decades or centuries– that no one really notices at first. Elrond's hair darkens until it is as black as the night sky– as black as Luthien's was. His eyes leach color until they are gray– not Noldor gray, mind, but a strange, starry gray that some of the Iathrim whisper about. His voice changes, almost seems to take on an echo of itself, sometimes.

The strange things that happen around him only get stranger– the trees bend to shelter him, during storms, and sometimes when he sings, the birds sing with him. Elrond got a cat, right at the start of the Second Age– a gift from Gil-Galad. Somehow, it never seems to grow old or die. The parts of Lindon Elrond most often visits always seem to be in full bloom, no matter what season it is. His healing abilities surpass what is to be expected of a man– an elf– eventually, of what seems possible at all.

At the end of the First Age, it would've been hard to believe Elrond had more than a trickle of ainur blood in him. By the beginning of the Third Age, many have started to whisper about Rivendell– a new Doriath, ruled by a Maiarin lord with all Melian's grace, and her eccentricities.

Elrond doesn't realize just how much he's changed until the day, late in the Third Age, when he finds Maglor wandering on the shoreline. Nothing he says will convince Maglor that he isn't Luthien's spirit, returned from death to haunt him.

#silmarillion #silm headcanons #elrond #elrond peredhel #eldritch peredhel #maglor #please tell me if you want more posts about this #this headcanon haunts me regularly

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steddiejudas · 5 months

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STWG Daily Drabble 11/29/23

prompt: modern au

Eddie is harshly woken by his phone ringing at— JESUS christ, 4:30 AM.

The number isn’t saved in his contacts, and normally he would just let it ring or hang up the call so he could go back to sleep, but his brain is a little fried so early in the morning so he answers it like a reflex.

“Hello?” he asks. He can hear the sleep in his own voice and hopes to god this call isn’t something important that his slow, rough voice will make him look bad for.

“Robin!!”

A very loud, very drunk voice screams the name Eddie doesn’t recognize into the line. He lacks the wherewithal to really sus out what’s happening, so he summons every ounce of intelligence to the best of his ability to mutter: “huh?”

“Robbie I’m so drunk and my phone died. The bartender let me use his to call you. come pick me up.”

The guy is whining directly into Eddie’s ear. it should be annoying, should be grating to his sleep-addled brain, but he can’t help but think he sounds cute.

“Uh, hey man, this isn’t Robin. I think you got the wrong number,” Eddie says.

The guy on the other end of the line goes silent, and Eddie imagines he’s pouting over there, probably too drunk to remember he needs to speak into the phone.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay? Are you going to be able to call this Robin person?”

“I did,” the guy whines again. “You’re not Robin.”

“No, I definitely am not. I’m Eddie. And who are you?”

“I’m Steve. Will you please come pick me up?”

He considers this, chuckling lightly to himself. This Steve sure is trusting. Eddie could be a murderer just waiting for a cute boy like Steve to call him up, and he says as much, but apparently all Steve hears is:

“You think I'm cute? Wait, how can you tell? Are you in the walls or something?”

Is he in the walls? Jesus this guy really is ass blasted, huh. And Eddie can’t leave a fellow bad late night decision maker to fend for himself, can he?

“You sound cute enough sweetheart. sit tight, I'll be there in 15 minutes.”

“mmkay!” Steve sounds purely elated to have Eddie on the way, and hangs up before he has the chance to confirm where he is. It’s no matter really, there’s only one bar in the area that’s open this late, and it seems the bartender picked up on that lacking piece of information as his phone pings with a location pin a minute later.

It’s one of Eddie’s usual haunts so he gets there in 10, familiar with the route and aided by the complete lack of traffic at this hour.

He wonders if in the last 10 minutes Steve has forgotten all about him. He is just a stranger he drunk dialed after all, and Steve’s so far gone his short term memory must be nothing at this point.

But when he pulls up and enters the building, he sees the most beautiful face he’s ever seen alone at the bar. He hopes to any god that will listen that Steve at least remembers his enthusiasm about getting home so he can see the way that elation shows on his handsome features. The bartender who’s been babysitting, and appears to be forcing him to drink water, points to the door and Steve turns around, his face alighting with all the brilliance of precious gemstones.

“Eddie!” He shouts, throwing himself off the stool to stumble over to him. He nearly falls to the ground, but Eddie is there to hold him up.

Their faces are inches apart, and Eddie can’t help but notice the way his drunkenness flushes his cheeks, giving the scattering of moles across his cheeks a beautiful backdrop.

“Hey pretty boy. Let’s get you home, okay? Where do you live?”

“With Robin,” Steve says, his face betraying the fact that he really thinks that’s the answer Eddie needs.

“Mhm,” Eddie patiently hums. “And where does Robin live?”

“With me, silly.”

“Oh boy, you’re really out of it. Why don’t I take you back to my place, get some food in you, charge up your phone, and we’ll go from there.”

“Is food the only thing I'll get in me?” Steve asks, pressing in closer to Eddie’s grasp.

It startles a laugh out of him. One that starts deep in his chest and rolls through his body, throwing his head back and shaking his shoulders.

“Steve, you barely know me. You’re just lucky I happen to be a very nice, very respectful guy, who is going to

feed you and nothing. else.”

Steve pouts a little as Eddie puts an arm around his waist and pulls him out to the car, loading him in the passenger seat and buckling him in.

It seems Steve has zoned out on the ride, either lulled by the movements or, god forbid, incredibly carsick. Either way he sits in silence with his face pressed against the cool glass while Eddie lets him be alone with his thoughts for the short drive home.

Getting up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment is a challenge. It’s like Steve is doing his absolute best to go ass over tea kettle down them. Eddie braces himself behind him, hands on his waist to keep him steady, trying his absolute darndest to ignore the lines of hard muscle under his sweater.

Now is NOT the time.

They make it inside with little incident, Eddie plopping Steve down on the couch to disappear into the kitchen after fishing Steve’s phone out of his pocket and plugging it in next to him.

“So, I’m not much of a cook,” Eddie hollers. “But how do you feel about grilled cheese?”

No answer comes.

“Steve?”

Nothing.

Eddie peeks out of the kitchen to find a snoring Steve, sprawled out on the couch like a starfish. Somehow he’s even cuter like this. It brings a fond smile to Eddie’s face as he covers him in a blanket, tucks a pillow under his head and leaves a trash can by his side just in case.

It’s almost 5:30 now, and the exhaustion hits him all at once. Eddie gives the man sawing logs on his couch one last once over before going back to his own bed and crashing, hoping for at least another hour or two of sleep.

When he wakes, it’s with an unexpected sense of excitement, expecting Steve to be on his couch ready to have a coherent conversation and a real introduction, but when he makes his way out to the living room, Steve is gone, his pillow stacked on top of the neatly folded blanket.

He shouldn’t be sad about this. Steve is, after all, just a stranger who was drunk and couldn’t even remember his own address. He was probably embarrassed, confused, hell maybe even scared to be waking up in a stranger’s house with vague memories of how he got there. He tries to focus on that aspect of the situation, rather than his own disappointment. He does not succeed.

Eddie sits down on the couch, in the very same spot Steve laid his head the night before and wraps himself up in the blanket. He buries his face in it, inhaling the faint scent Steve left on it and wonders why he even cares. It wasn’t as if they had some big whirlwind romance in the span of the hour they were together; but Steve was so sweet, so cute, so excited to see him after speaking on the phone for just a couple minutes. It wasn’t anything more than a random act of kindness, but maybe Eddie wanted it to be.

It’s as Eddie is thinking it over that his phone pings with a message. Eddie groans, it’s probably just Gareth, or maybe the bartender from last night checking that everyone is safe. Though even that is wishful thinking. He checks anyway, trying his best to tamp down any wishful thinking until he sees the unknown number on his screen with one simple word.

[463-291-8275]: Thanks.

Eddie feels a lump in his throat, his chest filling up like a balloon. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, doesn’t even know if it is Steve, but shit he fucking hopes so.

[Eddie]: Steve? How did you get my number again?

[463-291-8275]: Uhhh… i definitely didn’t try like 10 variations of Robin’s phone number to find the one number i mistyped when i accidentally called you last night

Eddie frantically adds the number to his contacts before texting back, thanking whatever powers that be for giving him another shot.

[Eddie]: Wow I must have left quite the impression on you Stevie 😏

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: you could say that

Eddie smirks to himself, trying to ignore the blush that warms his face at Steve’s words. He tries to come up with what to say next, how to segue into asking him out on a date, but before he can, his phone buzzes with more messages from Steve.

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: so i know this might seem a little strange since we barely talked before i passed out in a drunk heap on your couch

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: thanks for not killing me btw

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: but um would you maybe want to hang out sometime?

Eddie jumps up from the couch, pumping his fist in the air like he just won the lottery. then, like he’s just remembering he lives alone, he yells at no one in particular: “FUCK! YES!” There’s an angry knock on the wall from his neighbor, but he doesn’t care in the slightest.

[Eddie]: idk about that Stevie

He goes to reply in his typical teasing fashion, but Steve’s reply comes in immediately before he can finish the thought.

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: oh

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i totally get it

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: last night was probably weird for you

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: feel free to block my number i’m so sorry

[Eddie]: Woah, slow your roll there big boy!

[Eddie]: I said I'm not so sure about hanging out with you.

[Eddie]: But only because I’d rather take you out on a date

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: oh

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: Oh!

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: date! yes! date is good

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i’d love to go on a date!

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: better even

[Drunk Steve 🥵]: i was fighting demons trying not to kiss you in the car last night

Eddie has to set his phone down so he doesn’t throw it to the ground and shatter it, opting instead to fist his hands in the pillow Steve used last night and shove it in his face to scream. He has to regain his composure before he texts back, doing his best to keep cool.

[Eddie]: A date it is then. Can’t wait sweetheart ❤️

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #modern au #wowza can you believe i haven’t done a daily prompt in over a month #this one just spoke to me idk

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dualitue · 2 months

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𝑹𝑨𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑳, 001.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘐'𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯, 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦."

★: please don't tell me that this would suit zayne more i realized that it was too late and i felt too lazy to change it. besides rafayels growing on me so i had to write him. i also got lazy by the end and didn't proofread this so don't expect much T_T reblogs and any possible thoughts are appreciated!!!! <3

★ oral (f. receiving) + body worshipping + whiny couple + fingering + aftercare mentioned + doing it while being sick may not be the best idea but who cares!

An act of kindness is what has started it all, really. He often times thinks of you as a thick-skulled, naive girl thanks to your thinking mechanism that pushes you to go above and beyond just to lend a helping hand—but how can he blame you, really? It's not some grand gesture for a spotlight; it's just you being yourself. A courageous heart, pulsating with an urgent need to make a difference. Regardless of the timeline, the universe, or the body you inhabit, your soul always manages to peek through the cracks in the shell. Unaware that you leave an imprint with every breath, he worries that your innocence and tender heart may be a permanent fixture.

Rafayel should have realized you were trouble from the start.

Once you catch wind of someone in need, nothing else seems to register in that mind of yours.

He should have steered clear of you, or perhaps he should have wished for selective memory loss, anything to rid himself of the torment that plagued his every moment at the thought of you. Whether it's a curse or a blessing, he can't be certain, and the uncertainty gnaws at him. Memories of his days submerged in the depths of despair, yearning for you like a man starved... Truly, a memory loss would have spared him those endless, restless nights haunted by your memory. He vividly recalls the relentless hunger for the connection between his mind and yours. He used to believe that waiting for the one you love should be painless, like a fairy tale reunion. However, reality was far from enchanting, his days consumed by torment. Your radiant face invaded his thoughts every time he closed his eyes, and sometimes, he didn't even have to delve into the realm of closed eyelids. Whether it was his mind playing tricks or a disconcerting desperation for you, there were moments he found solace in the dreams of you, right before his wide-open eyes.

In those dreams, your hair took on a darker hue underwater, the waves cradling you warmly, dispelling any fear. He was convinced the ocean would hold you dear, intimately familiar with your name. Your every movement, the way your hair framed your face, the melody of your voice—these elements combined, making it impossible not to be captivated. If he had known the outside world held you, he would never have considered leaving the comfort of his home. Yet, that's the hand of fate, a concept you humans often label as destiny.

Rafayel remains baffled by the mysterious workings of this thing called fate. Is it akin to a magnetic force, or does it mirror the intricate patterns of the ocean? The idea of one's entire life being meticulously planned before even opening one's eyes, waiting for the precise moments when everything aligns, isn't a matter of him being unable to grasp the logic. It's more about the undeniable sense that everything in his life, leading up to the moment he encountered you, felt purposefully directed to bring him to you, and you to him. Love, as it turns out, was a weighty burden he had never anticipated carrying around.

That's likely the reason his gaze carries a tinge of sorrow today. Seated on the vacant space of the couch while you rest, your once radiant eyes now only half-open, your lips slightly parted to ease your breathing. He appears and sounds concerned, though he understands that your fever prevents you from recognizing the emotional turmoil he currently grapples with.

"You're already playing the hero as a Hunter," he remarks, his fingertips registering the warmth of your skin—feverish, and he can't help but check it persistently. "What more do you need to offer as a hero? Was it really necessary?"

You remain silent, the weight of your breath filling his expansive studio, visibly swallowing. No regrets about your actions, but a nagging thought that perhaps a bit more contemplation would have been wiser.

"Hey, don't doze off on me now, answer me."

His tone is insistent, almost desperate, a hint of anger present, though directed more at the ceaseless need within you to be helpful all the time.

"What do you want me to say?" you reply, your chapped lips stinging with each uttered word. "I couldn't have said no, not when it was clear they needed help."

"You could!" Rafayel counters like a petulant child, his selfish side revolving entirely around you resurfacing. "You know you could have! Work and favors are different, and you weren't tasked with assisting a nerdy sociopath in retrieving… what was it again?"

"Rafayel," his name escapes your lips softly, a reminder of the unintentional power you hold over him. The mere sound of his name from you stirs something within him, and Rafayel can't help but feel a bit flustered. "I really don't want to talk about this."

"Fine," he snorts, still clearly irritated but acknowledging your lack of stamina for this conversation. "Go to sleep, then. I'll see what I can do for you."

"Not invading my personal space and laying off the nagging would be more than enough, highly appreciated, really."

A soft, breathy laugh accompanies your words. Despite the occasional sharpness of your comments, both of you understand they're lighthearted, devoid of any malicious intent.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just close your eyes. This is my house, and personal space is a non-existing concept here. Take it or leave it."

"I can't leave; I'm sick," you murmur, your voice huskier than ever due to the severe cold. "Looks like I might have to take it."

"Such a smart girl," he teases, a hint of mockery in his voice, his gaze fixed on your slightly red face. "Wish you could use that pretty brain of yours in situations like this. I feel sorry for you sometimes."

"I feel sorry for myself, too. Your sassiness doesn't spare me even when I'm sick. Plus, this is the worst cold I've ever had. Feels like I'm on my death bed with you right next to me, nagging and scolding."

He's well aware it's just a passing moment, that you'll bounce back from this illness soon enough. Yet, even the casual mention of it in a lighthearted and trivial sentence makes Rafayel squirm uncomfortably beside you.

"Shut up, don't exaggerate."

"Guess who I learned that from?"

"You're insufferable," he declares, finally rising to search for his phone, cast somewhere in his room.

"You won't believe what I'm about to say, yet again," he marvels at your knack for matching his energy, finding himself increasingly addicted to this dynamic.

"Let's get you somewhere more comfortable, maybe you'll actually manage to fall asleep and spare me the constant nagging."

"You're the one who brought me to your place when you found out I was sick!"

You stifle a laugh, resisting the urge to appreciate his caregiver side a bit more. However, your expression gives you away; the corners of your mouth twitch, a smile reaching your eyes before gracing your face.

"Ha-ha, very funny. So funny that I can't even bring myself to laugh, fearing I might never find anything else amusing ever again."

The studio carries a subdued ambiance today, courtesy of the gray clouds and dismal weather outside. Despite the apparent disorder, there's an inherent harmony within its chaotic appearance. Unfinished paintings scatter around, some paints meticulously organized by tone and hue, while others haphazardly rest on a small table in the corner. Curtains drawn wide, tall windows invite as much natural light as possible, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of pressing a seashell against your ear—faint waves hitting the shore.

With a single effortless motion, Rafayel lifts your weakened body, his concern palpable as he carries you to his bedroom. Surprisingly, you feel lighter in his arms, despite your condition, as he carefully settles you onto his bed. Profoundly sweating, you've lost count of the shirts Rafayel has helped you change into. He's already arranged for a doctor to examine you, initially fearing the worst, only to discover it's a severe cold exacerbated by exhaustion. With medication in hand, Rafayel diligently ensures you take your doses, managing the situation with utmost care.

Except for his own sanity.

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state for the first time, you appear unlike the confident Hunter he knows—or perhaps it's his own perception, magnified by witnessing your illness firsthand.

Compared to the rest of the house, Rafayel's bedroom feels refreshingly cool, providing a welcome relief to your feverish skin.

"This feels nice," you murmur as he lays you gently on the bed, the softness of the mattress embracing you instantly, coaxing your eyes closed. "Like being hugged by the sea on a hot summer day. Cool and comforting."

Your words, uttered innocently, send a shiver down Rafayel's spine.

Being hugged by the sea… comforting…

Suddenly, he's overwhelmed by an urge to hold you even closer, to let you feel the steady rhythm of his heart, to assure you that the embrace of the water is always within reach.

"That's probably because your fever hasn't gone down; just get some rest."

"Will you stay here?"

You weakly tug on the hem of his shirt, your eyes opening a bit more, almost peering into his soul.

"I will," Rafayel responds, immediately sensing he can't leave you alone even for a second, though he refrains from showing it. "If you ask nicely enough."

"Oh, shut it," you laugh, covering your eyes with the back of your hand. You stay like that for a while, eyes closed and hand resting on your face, when you feel his warm breath gently caressing your skin. A sudden urge to gulp overtakes you, your heart pounding so rapidly it feels as if it's not a heart but a bird begging to be set free.

"Come on," Rafayel murmurs, every puff of breath warming your face and body, as if you haven't fallen victim to a fever. "Just ask, it won't hurt, right?"

"I've changed my mind."

"Don't spoil the fun now."

His slender fingers wrap gently around your wrist, and to your surprise, his skin is cold against yours. Despite the fever that makes you feel like you're boiling from the inside, your body craves that cool touch. Rafayel lifts your hand, slowly and carefully, pinning it against the soft pillow under your head. Now, you have no choice but to look at him, your clouded eyes meeting his shining ones as both of you let the silence linger. It's not awkward, but neither is it fully comforting—there's a subtle tension you can feel, adding to your fever, and tears well up in your eyes as you stare at him.

Rafayel feels like there's a dagger stabbed right into his chest, turning and turning like a fallen leaf on an autumn day—he shivers the more he gazes into your widened eyes and parted lips. He can't be sure if it's just your fever that's bringing a sweet tint of red to your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and even the tips of your ears. All he can do is hope that, regardless of the circumstances, he's able to make you a bit flustered.

Without much thought, Rafayel presses his palm against the burning skin of your red cheek. You feel soft to the touch, and his hand is cold enough to elicit a calm, sharp breath from you. A thick fog envelops your mind and thoughts due to the fever. While it was worse a few hours ago, it still clouds your basic thinking skills. Your body is burning, but you're sure it's not that feverish. Knowing you're sick adds a psychological discomfort—you subconsciously nuzzle against his big, cool palm. A soft whimper escapes your parted lips as you lean into Rafayel's touch, his palm covering your cheek as your eyes flutter closed in a seemingly calm manner. He doesn't dare utter a word, fearing he might disrupt the moment. It feels intimate and vulnerable; he's offering a simple act born from his feelings for you, and you're fitting into his hands like the matching piece of a puzzle.

"If you could touch me all over with these cold hands, I think this fever would just disappear," you murmur against his palm, resembling a cat seeking affection. Ironically, he doesn't even like cats, but it's not about them—it's about the vulnerability of the act. You may not realize what you're saying, but Rafayel's head spins with thoughts he dare not speak. His fingertips ache to reach and tug on the hem of his shirt you're wearing. He could get you out of it in seconds, exploring every inch of you, leaving nothing untouched.

He releases a shaky breath as his other hand lets go of yours, beginning to touch your face and neck. His breath comes out shaky as his fingertips explore the softness of your face before descending to your neck—a sacred area. He senses you gulp as his palm presses against the front of your neck. The pressure is almost nonexistent as he gently caresses your skin. You don't feel brave enough to open your eyes; his touch alone is intense, and you're uncertain of the intensity awaiting you in his gaze.

"What if I accidentally make you feel hotter than before?" Rafayel breathes out the words, his voice low and hesitant as he whispers. You gulp again, making him feel the movement against his palm as he takes another sharp breath. "We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

Summoning courage, you slowly open your eyes to gauge Rafayel's expression. The moment your eyes meet his, Rafayel swallows back a desperate whimper. He wasn't prepared for your heavy gaze, feeling crushed under its weight, as if there's a demand he might not be able to satisfy even with his all.

Both of you remain awfully quiet as Rafayel's fingers slightly wrap around your neck, fitting like a perfect necklace. He gently gives the faintest squeeze, leaving you lightheaded. Your eyes get even glossier—you're like a doll, spread out in his bed, wearing his clothes. It's impossible not to be overwhelmed.

"I don't think your cold hands would betray me like that," you whisper, still feeling a bit dizzy from the gentle squeeze around your neck. Does he even realize the effect he has on you? It seems like he's testing the waters for both of you, exploring your reactions and his own feelings. The sensation is dizzying for him as well.

Remembering that this isn't the right time for something like this, Rafayel reluctantly pulls his hands back, though he yearns to have them pressed against you. It doesn't matter where he touches you; all he needs is to feel you under his touch.

"No," you whine, eyebrows furrowed. Your hand slowly reaches up, grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt to bring his hands back to your face and neck. "Keep them, it feels nice."

"You have no idea what you're asking for," Rafayel murmurs. "Just because the waters are cold doesn't mean they won't swallow you whole, silly girl."

"Don't care," you shrug.

Rafayel hums in response, his fingertips trailing down to the hem of the t-shirt you're wearing before his hands sneak under the thin fabric after you give him an affirming nod. "If only you could be good and listen to me," he gently caresses your torso, your skin feeling soft and warm as he can't stop himself from traveling higher. His fingertips touch the fabric of your bra this time, and both of you feel yourselves shaken to your cores; a soft whimper falls from your lips unlike Rafayel, who's giving his all to keep it quiet for now. "Do I have to tire you out to make you sleep?"

You cannot give an answer, you're already feeling high on the feeling as his cold fingertips slip under your bra too, causing your nipples to get hard and perk up immediately. You slightly arch your back to signal him that you want it off, and Rafayel is quick to pick up on that; with a skilled and swift movement of his fingers, he unclasps your bra.

You should've checked the weather forecast more carefully, really—well, you don't feel as feverish as before, but your body feels heavy. Maybe it's because Rafayel is so adept at kneading you into the state he desires you in, who knows? With your lips slightly parted and heavy eyelids veiling the intensity of your eyes, you accept Rafayel's touch as if it's the only thing that can help you now. He pushes the hem of the t-shirt up, and you feel him tapping the side of your body. You sit up slightly to give him the access he asks for, and Rafayel doesn't waste any time. He quickly gets rid of the t-shirt and bra. Now, even the air feels cold against your skin—his hands are comforting, but the air in his bedroom causes shivers to run down your spine.

All that can be heard from Rafayel is his heavy panting as he changes his position, seating himself between your legs and slowly hovering over you as he leans in. You want to tell him that he's going to get sick after all this, but you don't have the heart to mess this moment up by bringing up such an obvious and silly thing. The sound of Rafayel's first kiss right on between your breasts echoes in the room, or that's how it sounds to you, loud and exciting—the kiss makes you breathlessly moan as you grip the sheets underneath your hands. You know what to expect, you know what's to come, but still you can't help that slight shaking of your body when Rafayel's hot mouth takes in your nipple. You try your best to hold yourself back from tugging on his hair, pressing yourself more to him, or any possible desperate act of this neediness that you have for everything that he can possibly give to you. However, as if you've lost control of your movements, your hands softly find their place in Rafayel's soft hair—experimentally tugging on, just to get a muffled deep groan against your skin.

His head moves slightly, his tongue lazily twirling around your nipple as you're withering underneath him—with one hand, palm pressing against the inner side of your thigh, Rafayel makes you spread your legs further so that he can get into a position that's also comfortable for him. Your fever feels as if it's turned into a bonfire, crackling and ready to swallow both of you whole as soft noises of yours fill Rafayel's ears. He breathlessly gulps before teasingly taking the sensitive nipple between his teeth—the act is enough to send jolts throughout your weak body, you tug on his hair harder than before.

"You enjoy that," he whispers, amused and amazed by your reaction as he tilts his head up slightly to stare into your glossy eyes, only to lean in and repeat the same action. You cry out, feeling like you're melting in his hands as he keeps teasing you. He's not doing much, but you're embarrassingly wet as he continues the act. Your panties immediately get damp, and it feels uncomfortable at some point. "Don't get ideas," you say with a huff of air escaping from your parted lips. They feel dry because of the level of heat embracing your trembling body.

"Don't you think that you're a bit late to say that?" He whispers against your skin, his hands resting on the sides of your body, fingers gently caressing the skin accessible to his touch. His mouth keeps pressing kisses all over your chest between each word. "You've given me quite a lot of ideas. I might push the limits to their fullest if you keep making those pretty noises."

"Rafayel," a gulp, loud enough to shake him to his core. "Don't play, please."

He groans in defeat, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly—how can he say no? How can he possibly say no when your heartbeat is loud and fast enough to be heard? He sits on his knees first, freeing you from your sweatpants and your embarrassingly soaked panties—the sight of your glistening folds immediately gets a reaction from him; a desperate whimper as he throws the pieces of clothing somewhere in his room. His fingers move down as he lays on his torso on the bed, sliding down, supporting your legs by grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing your legs to your chest—the position has you all red, the blush spreading down to your chest as you're now fully exposed to him. To ease off the unnecessary tension you feel, Rafayel presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh. His hot breath hits your sensitive skin, and it feels like this has meant to happen at some point, and this was the perfect time.

"You've got to tell me to stop now if you're not sure," Rafayel's whisper intensifies the sensations, and you feel a hot wave hitting you, making you jolt as your knees almost touch your chest. "Because once I get a taste, I know that I won't be able to stop."

His voice sounds much deeper, and you feel almost threatened by the tone alone—possible thoughts related to what he can do to you run havoc in your mind as you stare at him with empty eyes. All you have in your mind is that you need him; you crave whatever he can give you—of course, you're not going to tell him to stop at any point.

So you stay quiet, your eyes locked with his in an intense gaze as he looks up at you from between your legs. With your fingertips gently playing with his hair, you keep your silence, hoping that it'll be enough of an answer. Yet, it turns out that it's not enough of an answer.

"You need to use your words," Rafayel desperately murmurs this time, pressing wet and open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs as he breaths sharply. "Please, tell me that you want it, I need to hear it from you."

He looks so pretty from this angle—well, it's a well-known fact that he is undoubtedly a pretty boy, but the way he's looking up at you with those expecting eyes and that expression of raw need on his face makes something in you snap suddenly. You part your lips, but it suddenly feels kind of embarrassing to say it out loud. Rafayel moves up and closer to your face, his hand cupping your cheek, and you immediately lean into his touch with your eyes closed. "Look at me, baby, say it."

Your lips part apart slightly as you open your eyes slowly, your dry lips press the lightest kiss to his thumb—and it makes him absentmindedly push his finger into your mouth. Ironically, this act gives you the push that you need. Before wrapping your lips around his thumb, you give him what he wants, you say what he needs to hear.

"I want it," just three words, uttered lowly and slowly, and coming out all muffled because of his finger exploring the warmth of your mouth—and it pushes him over the edge. "Fuck," breathlessly falls from his lips, drawn out in a long way. Rafayel pulls his hand back, his thumb staying close to the side of your mouth as he kisses you—the kiss is sloppy and it shakes you to your core. His thumb lightly gets in the way but none of you seem to care about that, the hunger you both have for each other feels insatiable as Rafayel licks into your mouth. Wet sounds of your lips moving hungrily against each other fill his room as Rafayel takes his time with tasting your lips, savouring the taste of your long gone lip gloss as you moan into his mouth, in turn, he happily drinks in all your pretty noises.

You lazily throw your arms over his shoulders, his messy and soft hair meeting the gentle touch of your hands as you two share a desperate kiss. Suddenly, you can't even remember the reason you're here in the first place—all you can think about is the way Rafayel is so, so into you. The way his one hand stays pressed against your cheek while the other pushes your hair out of the way before traveling down to the side of your waist and caressing the skin feels intimate and arousing at the same time. You try to break the kiss, to take a much-needed breath, but Rafayel doesn't let go of you. His hand holds your head in place, his lips getting more eager and hungrier as his body tenses under your skillful hands softly caressing his hair.

"Can't breathe," you finally manage to get the words out when you push him gently by pressing your hands against his chest. His skin feels as hot as your feverish one, but you can still feel the subtle chill to his hands. "Rafayel, wait—let me, ah, breathe a second."

He is long gone, lost in the whirl of primal emotions that he has fallen victim to. His lips are relentless, his head seeking a feeling that he can only expect from you in the crook of your neck—his kisses trail a wet line along the side of your neck. "Okay, okay," he whispers, visibly trying to calm himself down. "I just—ah, shit, I just need to feel you somehow, taste you."

The way his words come from a feeling that is unfiltered and genuine has you succumbing to his desires. You feel the need to give your all to him, to offer yourself in any way possible, in the way he wants you. As you throw your head back to give him more room, a breathless "yeah," falls from your lips. "Yeah, okay, go on."

Rafayel becomes unstoppable once he gets your consent, once he realizes that you're okay with this. And that's really all he has to get from you to feel something snap in himself—a whiny whimper falling from his lips etches itself into the soft and hot skin of your neck as his kisses follow each other all the way to your shoulder.

"I'll be so good to you," he breathlessly reassures you, even though you don't need any reassurance because you know that he will. You know that he will be such a good boy for you—he will be able to tame that burning desire in you in such a way that you'll get hooked on the feeling. "I know," you, too, reassure him, letting him know what he does to you with little to no effort. Just by following an instinctive feeling, he has the power to rule your body and your mind.

His cold fingertips trail down on your body, finding their place in between your legs. The feeling of his fingertips ghosting over your slick folds make both of you moan, your back arches, your body begging to get the best of this feeling. Even though he's peppering your body with open-mouthed kisses, you still feel embarassingly empty somehow—even this thought alone is enough to get you all flustered and shy.

For some time, it's probably minutes but feels like an eternity, none of you speak; just enjoying the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other. Your hands are as mindless as usual, you don't know what to do with them as Rafayel rubs your aching clit in a teasing way; you feel yourself growing impatient, desperately needing him to make you feel full, it doesn't matter how he does it, but he has to do it.

"Rafayel", you whine, impatiently tugging on his hair as your body feels like shattering into million pieces and being kneaded into this desireful shell from the scratch. He hums in response as his kisses start to trail down further down to your torso, it kind of tickles—your body jolts forward when he playfully bites the side of your waist. Swallowing down all the shyness, you try to push his head down a bit more, leading him to your weeping cunt—the sheets underneath you and your inner thighs are damp with your wetness. The way Rafayel manages to get you this turned on and this wet makes both of you gasp when you feel his fingers gathering the slick and smearing it to your folds as if you're not wet enough. The swift movement of his fingers against your folds make you suck in a sharp breath, your body feels like it's about the explode if he makes you wait for it any more than this moment.

"What is it, Miss Bodyguard?" He taunts you, or you think that he does so, it really doesn't matter at this point. "Running low on patience?" His voice is deep, and you feel him finally adjusting his position as his lips press a kiss right to your cunt. You immediately cry out, the movement feeling as intense as it can be. You tug on his hair again, needing the feeling again, and you hear him chuckle. To your relief, he does it again, again and again—teasingly sucking on your clit between the kisses.

"Maybe you should've listened to me," Rafayels pants between the kisses. "I told you to go to sleep, didn't I? You wouldn't be begging like this if you could've just listened to me in the first place."

You cannot find the right piece of your mind to answer him, he's good at making you unable to think properly. Your only answer to him is another low moan—making him get al the answers he needs. You want to tell him to stop the teasing, but the feeling is so good that you can't even acknowledge his words. Rafayel looks pretty from where you're looking at him, his hair doesn't do any justice since it hides his eyes but you're sure that you won't be able to bear the intensity in them if he ever looks into your eyes. His shoulders look broader when he's buried between your trembling legs, the way his biceps flex while his arms are hooked around your legs to keep you in place makes you suck in a shaky breath.

His head moves up and down, his tongue deliberately exploring and tasting you. You grind against his hot mouth, and he groans in response—loving the way you're demanding more from him. It's almost like he exists to serve you; Rafayel has always been attentive to your wants, and to give you what you want now is nothing but pleasure to him. His tongue moves skillfully and also hungrily, you think that you might cum at any given moment—and the thought is a bit embarassing, really, because you want to enjoy the feeling a bit more.

Just as you part your lips to say something, Rafayel slowly pushes a finger inside your cunt—eliciting the most delicious moan from you. You're burning up now from the inside, feeling your body becaoming helpless and succumbing to his mercy as he starts to finger you slowly at first. When your walls stop clencing around him, Rafayel adds the second finger—this is even more dizzying, and you feel yourself getting suffocated by the feeling alone. It'll never measure up to the way his cock stretches you out, but he manages to satisfy you no matter how.

"Hag—ah, Rafayel," you breathlessly mumble, your heavy eyes falling to his broad shoulders again. He's still fully clothed, so you tug on the sleeve of his shirt, that's when he tilts his head up to look into your eyes directly. The sight of him makes you dumb; his chin is wet, his lips glisten, and his eyes carry such intensity and adoration that you stumble upon your own words. Stuttering, you say, "take it off," but Rafayel chuckles as a whisper before leaning down again to suck on your clit while also moving his fingers faster than before.

"No."

"No?"

"No. This is about you feeling good, not about me. Just enjoy it, don't think of anything else."

You open your mouth to protest, but he doesn't even let you start.

"Well, I might be enjoying this more than you maybe, just to let you know. You sound pretty," he breathlessly murmurs, words coming out slurred as his lips presses kisses to your inner thighs. You feel yourself getting even closer, and your body slightly trembles—you can't help but press your legs to the both sides of his head, keeping him there, where he belongs prettily.

"Because you're a pretty girl, aren't you? Even when you're as stubborn as ever, even when you're crying underneath me, you're always a pretty girl, making pretty sounds," his fingers start to move even faster now, your legs shaking on both sides of his head as your chest heaves up and down with your erratic breaths.

Before you need to say it, Rafayel can feel that you're about to cum—your walls clenching around his wet fingers are enough to let him know. He doesn't stop nor does he slows down, on the contrary, in addition to his fingers he gets back to sucking on your clit. It doesn't take you long to cry out his name, or you think so, complete gibberish falls from your lips as you cum—thrashing around his fingers while your body is shaking. Rafayel keeps fingering you and eating you out through your orgasm, tasting you like a man starved as you hear the slick sounds of his fingers and his tongue. Feeling overly sensitive, you gently push his hand back, and he obliges—slowly pulling back to look at your face. Eyes heavy, cheeks tinted with red, chest heaving up and down... he's glad that he's able to paint you in any way in his memories. What would he do if he couldn't do that? Well, he might've had to make you cum again and again until it became impossible to not see you whenever he closed his eyes.

"Ssh, my pretty girl," he whisper as he gets on the same level as your face, there's the slightest smirk on his face as he carefully pays attention to every detail about your face, and your expression. "You good?" Rafayel asks.

"Yeah, yeah I just—uh, I think I just need to..."

"Sleep, maybe?"

"Yeah, that."

Rafayel laughs, low and genuine, soothing you as you listen to it. You want to kiss him, accepting the fact that you'll taste yourself if you do so, but your eyelids feel so heavy that you cannot resist against the drowsiness taking over you.

"Okay, do that then." Rafayel slowly gets up from the bed, and you can only guess how hard he is after all that—your hands ache to touch him, take his hardened cock out of his pants and help him relax, too.

"But you—"

"I told you that this is about you," Rafayel says, walking to the bathroom, You lay on his bed, feeling cold, immediately missing his warmth. He comes back with a wet towel, sitting next to you before he starts to clean you up.

"But, of course, this doesn't mean that I won't ask for what's rightfully mine," he softly chuckles. "But only when you're feeling all better, now sleep."

And you do as he tells you to do so, a slight smile forming on your lips as you close your eyes—realizing that you've needed this sleep really bad, but still had Rafayel to serve you like a true devotee.

#🩰.ela writes #love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deep space rafayel #rafayel smut #rafayel x reader #rafayel imagine #l&ds x reader #l&ds smut #l&ds rafayel #love and deep space x reader #love and deep space x you

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honeydjarin · 7 months

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(I’LL GIVE YOU THE MOON)

OPLA SANJI X READER

You owe Sanji a dance and he intends to have it Or A flirt is going to flirt (that doesn’t mean he’s not yours)

genre: fluff, mild angst

warnings: smoking, drinking

word count: 1,500

a/n: I wasn’t expecting the first part to receive so much love! Thank you everyone who took the time to leave such kind comments. This fic takes place after Bring Me the Sun, but it was planned as a separate one shot and can be read as such.

PART I: BRING ME THE SUN

You stand on the back deck of the Going Merry, the round faces of Nami’s tangerines staring at you from either side. The moon joins in, its face glowing more gold than silver where it hangs just above the horizon. You think it’s a full moon.

Maybe that’s why you feel like you're losing yourself.

You’re alone on the ship—or you’re supposed to be—while the rest of the Straw Hat Crew are out at a bar, enjoying a little downtime between wild adventures. Yet even here, surrounded by only the sound of water lapping at the stern, the sweet tangerines swaying in the low breeze, and the silent gaze of the moon, you are haunted by the man that consumes your head and your heart.

You can still feel the heat of his hand against your lower back, the curve of his fingers on the nape of your neck, the weight of his arm across your shoulders. You can still feel the brush of his hair against your cheek as he leaned in close for you to hear him over the music. Despite the fresh air, the smoke of his cigarette still fills your nose (or maybe that’s a phantom too). Even now, with so much distance between you, Sanji’s touch still lingers.

It’s so easy to feel like you’re special when he’s near you, like you’re the only one he sees when he turns his soft gaze your way, lips curling in an easy smile. The way he speaks makes you feel like you’re the only one in the world he could ever have eyes for. Like you’re the person he holds closest to his heart—just as haunted as you are.

And then he stands up, offers to get you another drink, saying: “It’s the least I can do for someone so beautiful.”

You’re left watching as he turns that smile towards a stranger getting a drink next to him, eyes gleaming as he laughs, and you wonder if you’re just another one of his friendly flirtations. Maybe that gentle fondness that softens his features when he looks your way isn’t that at all, but merely the familiarity of being with a friend.

You want to be his friend. You also want to be so much more.

You couldn’t stay at the bar tonight, despite leaving Sanji with a full glass and a broken promise that you half hope he remembers. You needed space to think, to breathe. Sanji would have made his way back to you, he always does, but your mood had soured too much to play it off as simply being tired. You walked past a drunkenly dancing Usopp on your way out the door and wished you could be as carefree as him.

The chill of the night air starts to seep into your skin, raising goosebumps on your flesh. Still, you remain. You stay there when you hear the rest of the crew return, voices loud in their drunken haze, carrying across the ship even as they descend to the sleeping quarters. You’re still there when silence settles once again.

Footsteps trail up the stairs, coming to a halt not far behind you. When you turn, you see Sanji standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, eyes taking you in. It’s impossible to tell what he’s feeling in the low light.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask. “It’s late, you should get some rest.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” he says.

“I don’t think I will either,” you admit. You turn your attention back to the moon. It’s higher now, glowing bright enough to drown out the stars around it.

Sanji steps closer, closing the distance between you. He leans against the railing beside you, staring out at the moon. The heat of his arm inches from yours is enough to remind you of how cool the air really is, and you shiver.

“You’re cold,” he says, and you nod, unable to face him. Without a word, he takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders, the fabric helping to chase some of the chill away, but not all. Once again you’re left wondering if this is just a friendly gesture, or if it could ever mean something more.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“Will you look at me?” Sanji asks. You nod again, but turning to face the man who is always in your thoughts is more difficult than you expect. Instead you clutch his jacket closer, seeking comfort for a problem of your own making.

When you still don’t move, Sanji takes your cheeks in his hands, thumbs stroking gently along their curve, guiding you to look at him. His hold prevents you from turning away.

His hair glows silver in the low light, like a halo—beautiful. Your skin warms beneath his touch despite the ache in your heart. The chef’s own cheeks burn red, the wine he drank throughout the night settling just beneath his skin in a rosy flush that you long to press your lips to, if only to feel the heat of him.

It takes all of your willpower to keep from leaning forward and kissing him right then and there. Liquid courage leaves you sticky with affection and with inhibitions dulled just enough to risk acting on your desires. It’s the little voice in the back of your head that reminds you you’re just a friend that keeps you from pulling him closer.

“You promised me a dance tonight,” Sanji says, words laced in disappointment.

“Did I?” you play dumb. You can’t help but hope the wine has stained his memory, not just his cheeks. It’s merely wishful thinking—a couple of glasses isn’t enough for Sanji to get drunk, just enough to go soft around the edges.

He hums. “You did. And then you left before we could.”

“I needed to get some air,” you claim.

“I thought things were going well, that we were having a good time. Together.” All traces of flirtation and charm have vanished from the chef’s features, leaving nothing but unclouded honesty behind. His usually crystalline eyes are dark in the night, their usual light gone and instead filled with confusion as he looks into your own.

Guilt settles in your stomach like a stone. Of course your actions hurt him.

“We were,” you admit. “But I got scared.”

Even in the dark, you can see the moment your words sink in, recognition sparking in Sanji’s eyes, and then something more, something softer. Your favorite smile curls on his lips and you can’t help but stare.

Sanji starts to remove one of his hands from your cheek, but before he can your own hand reaches up, keeping it there. It’s selfish, you hurt him—hurt yourself too, with all of your overthinking.

He looks at you so fondly. He always does.

“You know I mean it, right darling? Every word. You’re beautiful.”

The ache that held itself in your heart since leaving the bar eases, fading into a mere whisper. He isn’t looking at you like a friend, or some stranger in a bar. He’s too honest right now, and it’s all the reassurance you need. At least for a little while.

Once again you’re overcome with the need to kiss him, and this time you do. You lean in, and before you have a chance to doubt your decision, Sanji meets you halfway.

His lips are soft and warm against yours, better than you imagined. He tastes like the smoke of his cigarettes. Not a phantom—this is real. It’s like a balm for your heart that dreamed of this moment for so long.

When you finally pull back, his eyes are shining bright enough that you swear you can see the moon in them. Or maybe it’s you who is moonstruck. Either way, you can’t stop your own lips from curling into a smile, a laugh bubbling up your throat and spilling out into the night.

You want to kiss him again, so you do. When you pull back this time, Sanji’s lips find your cheek, pressing a kiss there too with a murmur of “you really are too sweet to me.”

When Sanji pulls back again, just enough to take in your lovesick state, he adds, “You promised me a dance.”

He sways you slowly, barely rocking more than the boat’s natural rhythm in the tide, his smile never dropping for a minute. There’s no music to guide you, but you’re too caught up in each other to care.

“I’m pretty sure the music at the bar was faster,” you joke.

“Was it? I think I prefer this speed.” As if to emphasize his point, Sanji pulls you even closer, tucking you against his solid form.

When you left the bar, you didn’t expect your night to end so perfectly. Surrounded by only the sound of water lapping at the stern, the sweet tangerines swaying in the low breeze, and the silent gaze of the moon—there is nowhere else you would rather be.

a/n: I think Sanji would still be a charmer even if he was interested in someone/in a relationship. That doesn't mean he wouldn't be loyal to his love.

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla sanji x you #opla x you #opla one piece #one piece

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samiiy20 · 27 days

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⋆˙ 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔 ⋆˙

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Choi San x fem!reader 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your best friend helps you get through a breakup, but your feelings become intertwined as you spend time together. 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐞: Angust, smut and fluff 𝐀𝐔/𝐓𝐨𝐩𝐞: Best friends to lovers 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.2k 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Infidelity (not the reader's), fingering, tasting semen, unprotected sex (don't do it)

N/A: This is my attempt at writing some romance (sort of) so I'm sorry if it's not very good, but I wanted to try.

Masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

When you came home after a long day at work, what you least expected to find was your fiancé with someone else. At first you thought it was your tired eyes, but when you heard the moans echo in your ears you knew it wasn't a dream.

After your heart broke into a thousand pieces, you threw the first thing you could reach, to try to come back from the trance. They realized your presence too late, your fiancé's color drained from her face and the other girl simply covered herself with the first thing she would find.

"Love…"

“Don't call me that” your voice trembled and despite the tears gathering in your eyes you weren't going to hesitate to do what you had to.

"I…"

“I don't care” the other girl had taken the things from her and she left the room in fear when she walked past you. You wedged your nails into your palms and gritted your teeth so as not to run out and stamp her face “go with her.”

"But…"

“I warned you,” your fiance got down on his knees and grabbed you by the waist, hugging you, but even though the tears couldn't stop you remained firm, “the only thing you knew I wouldn't forgive you… And you did it… I… . I…"

“Love, it was a mistake… I didn't want to.”

“The only mistake here is you” the emotions were mixing and anger took control for a moment “I won't tell you again. Go with her or I’ll call someone to get you out of here.”

"But…"

"Get out of my home!!!"

Your fiance started to cry but he knew what you were capable of, so he took his clothes and left, but before closing the door you heard his last words.

"I still love you. “

When you were finally alone you let your emotions out, the tears did not let you see and the pain in your chest made you fall to your knees, but the anger was felt in the blood that fell from your hands through your nails. You stayed on the ground trying to assimilate what just happened.

All the moments you spent with him came back into your head only to haunt you, you felt short of breath when you felt the weight of the ring on your finger. You ripped it off and threw it away from you, remembering the promise that had just been broken. That night you couldn't move from where you were and crying filled the room, leaving you immersed in your pain.

***

San noticed your desk empty again. Your missed calls got on his nerves and his unanswered messages made him nervous. Nobody in the office knew what was wrong with you, the boss said you were sick, but he didn't believe it.

When he left work he ran as fast as his legs could carry him to your house. When he saw your house number he was happy and before knocking he took a breath to recover from the marathon. One, two, three, four times were not enough for you to open.

He didn't want to go in on his own, but he was really worried and knowing where you were hiding the key guided him to open the door. He was surprised to notice the dark interior and with each step he took the fear in his chest only grew more until he heard something in the distance.

San tripped over something in the dark but he didn't want to turn on the lights for fear of being discovered. When he arrived at your room a cry was present and he knew immediately that it was you. Without thinking much he turned on the light and he was scared when he saw the state of the room.

Everything was a mess. Clothes and things on the floor, torn papers and you in a ball between the blankets. You turned around only to see your best friend at the door with a thousand and one questions in his eyes, you turned around again, covering your face with the covers.

"Do not look at me"

“But…” San slowly approached where you were and sat on the edge of the bed, revealing your swollen, red face and dark circles adorning your eyes. “What happened here?”

You opened your mouth to say something but only a whimper came out and again the uncontrollable tears accompanying your pain. San took you in his arms and you let his warmth envelop you, cling to his clean shirt and get dirty with your tears.

San stayed with you until you calmed down, he didn't pressure you to say anything, but he could guess what happened because of the absence of 'someone' Hours passed in your friend's arms, sobbing and trying to calm down while he stroked your hair. With a lot of effort you managed to tell him what happened and when you finished he just hugged you tighter and snuggled up next to you.

“Everything is fine, I'm here”

***

When you opened your eyes, your tired body did not react to the arms that surrounded you, you only clung closer to his chest, inhaling his scent. Infinitely grateful to have someone like San by your side, he had become your friend in a short time but you were very confident, as if you had known each other for longer. When you broke down you thought about calling him, but you were so hurt you couldn't even move.

San stayed by your side all the time and he even missed work just to take care of you, you didn't understand why he worried so much, but he had his reasons. Your whole life was summed up to San cleaning, San cooking, San bathing you, San, San, San. But despite your friend's good actions, your mind did not forget.

"Come on, get up."

“I don't want to” you tried hard to hold on to the bed but obviously you couldn't. San picked you up easily in his arms and dragged you to the living room “I don't want to go out.”

“You have to do it, it's for your own good” you knew you were going to lose against him, but you still held on to the door frame in vain “the sun will be good for you and you have to get another job.”

He had a point. You couldn't stay home forever no matter how much money you had saved up, but the thought of leaving after weeks in the comfort of your home terrified you, especially because you thought that anyone who saw you would realize what happened.

"But…"

“If you don't let go, I swear I will tie your arms and drag you through the city.”

His voice was different from how he spoke to you when he comforted you at night, so sighing and with a lot of effort you tried to accept it.

The streets were wet from the rain, but a few rays of sun fought against the clouds to see the city. You didn't want to admit it but breathing fresh air helped you a little to force your body to do something, you felt a little better, so much so that you invited San to eat.

"You look better"

You looked him in the eyes and reached out your hands to take his. If it weren't for him maybe you would have rotted in your own house, but now you felt that not everything was so bad, especially next to him.

“I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me.”

San raised a hand and caressed your cheek, ignoring how warm his chest felt when you smiled.

“Just keep going.”

A lump formed in your throat, but it was different. It was no longer for a man, but for you. You had neglected yourself so much that you were on the verge of collapse, you no longer wanted to remain stagnant, it was time to move forward, you had to find a way to move on with your life, this was just a bad move.

You nodded, trying not to shed tears and making yourself a promise. You would move on.

***

The months passed and everything seemed to get better, you got rid of all your ex-fiancé's things, you no longer cried every night, you could get out of bed on your own and you even got a job. All with the help of San.

When San felt that he had finished his work he decided that it was time to return to his own apartment, but the idea of leaving you alone terrified him a little, although you didn't want him to leave either, so with fear you proposed that you live together. San was very surprised and thought that he was listening wrong, but when he saw that you weren't smiling he became serious.

"Are you sure?"

"San… You've practically been living here for more than three months, plus we're best friends, it wouldn't be so strange after all" something on his face seemed to change and you worried a little "but of course if you don't want to…"

"Yes, I want"

They both smiled hiding their true thoughts. You would never admit that you got used to seeing him walk barefoot in the mornings or his sweet voice at night or his strong arms when you relapsed. You didn't want to find out why the idea of leaving him weighed so much on you, even though deep in your heart you knew the truth.

***

"Are you ready?" San nodded, leaning his head on the couch. You delicately placed the mask over his face and held back a laugh when you saw how it looked on him.

“Don't laugh, you should try it, it's relaxing”

"Sure, Mr. Ghost."

San opened his eyes when he heard your laughter walk away to the kitchen and held back a sigh. He couldn't take it anymore. He had been in love with you for years and this whole situation since you broke up with your idiot ex didn't help him at all, least of all the fact of living together, but he had to put up with it if he didn't want to lose you. He didn't want to say a word because he didn't think you were ready to love anyone else after what happened to you.

He had been really angry, how could someone do that to you? He never liked the jerk, so he had the perfect opportunity to beat him up when he ran into him outside the office one day and even though you never came in he was content with leaving him on the floor. Furthermore, it was a little calming for him to see how you were getting better, although he felt that his situation was getting worse as the days went by. It was increasingly difficult for him to be close to you without wanting to admire every part of your body, it was difficult for him to fight his impulses to kiss you every time he saw you smile and it was difficult to hide the reactions in his body when his hands touched or you gave him a touch. hug.

He closed his eyes again and focused on something else, but the aroma of your perfume around him intoxicated him so much that he couldn't control his body. As soon as he heard your footsteps he grabbed anything within reach and placed it on his lap to hide the problem that had started to form in his pants.

“You can't take over the popcorn,” you said, grabbing a fist. San tensed for a moment, holding the bowl tightly in his lap and tried to avoid your gaze as you turned on the television. It took a while before he managed to relax a little but a small discomfort still invaded his crotch.

Everything happened normally, small jokes between the actors' decisions, laughter involved, complaints on your part about something, but neither of you expected the phone to ring.

“I'll answer,” San said, getting up before you. When he got to the phone on the wall he noticed an unregistered number “Hello?”

"Who are you? Where is she?" San froze when he recognized that voice, he looked at where you were and it seemed like you didn't care, but he knew you could hear clearly, so he lowered his voice.

“She is not there”

“Don't lie, I know she's there” with every word your ex said her blood grew hotter, but she had to maintain her composure, she didn't want to alarm you “pass it to me or…”

"What will you do?"

“I will go to where you are and break your face.”

“Try it, last time you were the one who ended up on the ground.” San felt how all his accumulated anger was coming out little by little.

“You, why are you with her? Are you trying to take it away from me? She is mine” San gritted his teeth without taking his eyes off you, he felt her blood boiling but when he was about to hang up he heard something else “she will always be mine. Do you think that a few months by your side can erase what we had? Hahaha don't make me laugh, did you think she would fall in love with you if you were there for her? Hahaha you are an idiot”

“You don't deserve it”

“It maybe, but she will always choose me and I will prove it to you…” San stopped halfway when you snatched the phone from him.

“Stop it,” you put the phone in its place and sighed, “it's not worth it.”

“Did you know it was him?” you didn't look at it and pressed the appropriate buttons to lock it.

“I don't know how he got the number again.”

"Again?" San was angry and you could tell without seeing him, but you didn't dare find out. “Since when has this been happening?” Your silence only showed what I already assumed and I raised my voice without wanting to “tell me.”

“All the time,” you responded, raising your voice back, taking out your frustration, “he always finds a way to get the number and calls, but I never answer.”

"But…"

“Stop worrying, I'm fine” your tone came out a little harsher than you thought, but you let out everything you were thinking “I don't need you to take care of me so much” San was about to speak but you continued “yes, I know what he did, and that is why I will never forgive him, no matter what he does, I will never doubt my decisions San, I am an adult.”

San let out a exhausted sigh and took you in his arms without saying anything. You tried to walk away but in the end you gave up when one of his hands began to caress your head.

“Sorry for doubting you” you raised your head to meet his eyes and noticed that there was something behind them. The words pooled in her throat, but you bit your lip. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

You wrapped your hands around her waist and hid your head in her chest. That comforting feeling in your chest made you shiver and you hugged him tighter without thinking.

“Nothing can happen to me if you are with me”

San felt as if the barrier he had put up had just broken, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He took your face in his hands and opened his mouth to say what was tormenting him, but he couldn't, his lips trembled. He was so afraid that he couldn't move.

Your feelings ran through your entire body and you felt your heart hammering in your chest, but you still held his face and pressed your forehead to his without stopping to look at him. There were so many things to say, but neither of them knew how to do it, not after the pain, the secrets, and the moments they had shared over the past few months.

His lips met without much resistance and at first you thought it was a mistake when you didn't get a response. San was just trying to process it, he had dreamed about this moment so much that he thought maybe it was another one of his fantasies, but when your hands grabbed his hair he reacted and he started to move his lips slowly.

It was a kiss loaded with all his feelings kept from him, it was slow like the love that consumed him, soft and delicate like his trembling hands on your back.

He let out a sigh that released all the burden from his shoulders, everything he had hidden finally came to light. You clung to his mouth until you lost your breath. You pulled away from him to look into his eyes and discover all the secrets he couldn't tell while you waited for him to see yours.

They stayed for a long moment looking through his soul, they didn't need to say anything, they both knew it, they felt it deep in his heart. His bodies were getting closer again and they didn't stop when his lips collided again, releasing all the desire contained in the back of your mind.

You couldn't think of anything but San's tongue playing with yours, his soft moans muffled in his throat. San separated for a moment to admire your face, without saying a word you understood what his dark eyes wanted. To you.

You pulled him towards you again but this time his mouth was more desperate, his hands squeezed the skin on your waist and you held back a moan. You walked backwards, taking him with you until you collided with the edge of the table. San took advantage and grabbed your legs, pulling you up onto the wood. His kisses moved down your chin to your neck and he lightly sucked on your skin making you let out a moan.

Your hands ran down his chest until they reached one of the buttons on his shirt and you began to unbutton them, leaving him bare to appreciate his chest. You held back a sigh and saw him smile as he grabbed your legs, caressing your thighs, you moaned a little when his hips collided and you noticed a bulge.

You both looked into each other's eyes as you moved your hips a few times, you breathed the same breath and you threw your head back as you felt the arousal building in your belly.

“San…” you grabbed his face and approached his lips slowly. The words tickled your tongue, but you still weren't sure you wanted to hear them.

“I think I love you” San answered for you and you opened your eyes suddenly.

You noticed the tears in your eyes and kissed him before he saw that you had shed a tear. He knew it, he felt it in his veins, he knew that you also felt the same, he didn't need words.

You moaned a little when his mouth left a path of soft kisses to the neckline of your shirt and a shiver ran through your body when his hands slid under the fabric to knead your breasts.

He took off the shirt you were wearing and held back a sigh to see your breasts in the air. He covered your nipple with his mouth, feeling your fingers in his hair. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his tongue making circles and his teeth sinking into your delicate skin.

His hands were not far behind and slowly moved down your legs where he gently squeezed your thighs and approached your core. You arched your back as you felt his fingers play with the thin fabric of your shorts. You stretched the strands of his hair without realizing it when he ran his fingers over your clothed clit, you moaned his name, closing your eyes at the sensation.

“Say it again,” he asked, raising his blushing face and half-closed eyes. You bit your lips and recorded his face in your memory. San moved his fingers through your pussy and you moaned involuntarily.

“Sa… San”

You held on to his shoulders as he moved your clothes and touched your core directly, massaging your clit in circles as he kissed your neck. Her fingers moved all over your pussy until they reached your entrance and you sighed again as you felt one of her fingers enter your tight hole.

San moves his hand to take out and sink his finger in again, he doesn't take his eyes off your pretty face even for a moment and begins to move faster as he sees how your mouth opens to blurt out his name.

You rest your elbows on the table and throw your head back as you feel a second finger enter, your body is eager and trembling, San's fingers make you feel so full and they hit a sweet spot when he curves them that makes you see stars.

“Don't stop…” you manage to say between moans and you close your eyes tightly when he follows your instructions, your legs tremble and you fight to keep them open, but you release the knot in your belly without being able to stop it.

San's hands grip your waist and he pulls you into his mouth. You still feel his fingers inside you and you moan when he takes them out. You watch as he opens his mouth and licks his fingers, testing himself on them and you can't help but blush when you see that image of him.

“You taste exquisite, princess.”

Before you can say anything, take your legs, wrap your legs around his body and hold on to his shoulders while he takes you to the room, you leave small kisses along his neck and you hear him sigh.

He gently laid you on the bed and you watched him take off his clothes, trying to control the urge to run your hands all over his body. He leaned towards you and joined your lips in a delicate kiss. There was no rush, San wanted to admire every part of you, he wanted to keep this moment in his memory forever.

He shifted a little and you sighed as you felt his cock pass through your wet pussy. You both looked into each other's eyes, there was a question in them and you just nodded knowing what was to come. Your body tensed as you felt his cock enter you and he kissed your cheeks.

“Relax” you inhaled air and relaxed your body feeling how little by little it filled you “you did well princess.”

He dried your tears and kissed your forehead, containing the urge to start moving. He looked into your eyes and sighed. The love he felt for you had consumed him completely for a long time, but now that you were with him he couldn't believe it. He caressed your face and kissed your lips to realize that it was not a dream.

“I love you so much,” he gave a little push and you sighed without taking your eyes off his. He moved his hips again, starting to set a slow but deep rhythm.

You wrapped your hands around his body behind his back and wrapped your legs around his waist. There was no distance between his bodies and yet you clung to him without wanting to let go. You marked his back with your nails when he touched a sensitive spot inside you and San kissed your shoulders, leaving small marks of his teeth on your skin.

Everything felt so different from what you were used to, everything around you stopped mattering and you could only focus on the man looking into your soul. They were connected beyond the union of his bodies, you could see all his secrets in his eyes and you felt his love in his gaze.

“I love you,” you said for the first time in a long time without fear. San stopped for a moment and took your hand, intertwining his fingers.

"Say it again"

“I love you” you repeated.

San's body shook, he was close to him, but he didn't stop moving his hips to the rhythm that you said over and over again: "I love you."

You both moaned as you felt San's release. His body collapsed on top of yours and you sighed, caressing his head. They stayed together for a long time until he moved away from you.

They settled between the sheets and hugged each other for a long time without saying anything. Your whole head was spinning, you were tangled in his arms and you could hear his heartbeat.

“Promise me you won't leave” San moved a little to see you and became serious.

“I promise you I won't leave.”

"Never?"

“Never” You didn't know why his words comforted you and you smiled, hugging him again "I love you."

-> @cultofdionysusnet

#cultofdionysusnet #choi san #san ateez #ateez #san hard hours #san x reader #san x you #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #kpop imagines #ateez hard hours #ateez fic #ateez x reader

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wilteddreamsofbaldursgate · 2 months

Text

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold.

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much.

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no…

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands.

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough!

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways.

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten.

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters.

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns.

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time.

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal.

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable.

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort.

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav.

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late.

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier.

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?”

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress.

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls.

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day.

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it.

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her.

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed.

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore.

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe.

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever.

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet.

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family.

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him.

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it.

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head.

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

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avatarkv · 8 months

Text

EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (4)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. Mentions of violence and death. (wc: 4955 )

Neytiri was up early– too early.

She ran her hands tiredly over her face, her fingernails barely grazing the creases of her skin. Her eyes felt heavy, but it wasn’t tiredness that forced itself to weigh on her lids– it was the dread that continued to settle in; she could hardly make out the sound of the pot blowing out steam, rising in pitch with the soup threatening to boil over. The lid covering the kitchen pan was shaking fiercely, trying desperately to contain itself.

No, who was she kidding? She had lain awake all night, tossing and turning in her hammock. Not a single wink of sleep had been granted to her.

Neytiri swore her heart cried every time she took a deep breath, gravelly gasping along her. She couldn’t sleep even if she wanted to– not when tuk-tuk quivered in her embrace the whole night; the slightest movement made her flinch and the softest touch made her cry. It was gut-wrenching, the thought that her own child felt no safety in the arms of their mother.

Not my children, eywa. Not them too.

War had started long before her mate had come, Neytiri couldn’t blame him– but sometimes, late at night when the only sounds that grace her ears are the thoughts running through her head, she dreams of a life away from the wildfire and bullets; a life where she had fulfilled her mother's desires and took Tsu'tey’s hand instead. Every once in a while, the idea pierces her heart as she finds herself tucked in between Jake’s embrace. It felt wrong to think so, like being unfaithful, but not quite.

Tsu’tey was never someone who crossed her thoughts as a person that had gotten away from her, nor had she ever been attracted to him in a romantic way. It would’ve been an union of convenience; for the clan and the people itself. They would be unhappy– unhappy and awfully miserable. With Jake, it was something else entirely; like marriage had more meaning to it rather than a simple alliance. Sure, it was miserable, but they were happy– she was happy. Neytiri could never resent her mate, not when they’ve come so far already.

However, in terms of her children’s well-being, she couldn’t help but think if Jake was the bane of it all– the root of every bad thing that has happened to them. There were no softer words to lay it out, but they deserved better. Her children deserved none of this war.

She was crying again– crying for them. She let the beads of tears roll down her cheek as she stared afar with not a single coherent thought behind her eyes.

It was no surprise that Neteyam was already up with the sun rising. He moved quickly, quietly lowering the fire and lifting the lid of the pot with caution— hissing when its hot liquid splashed onto his skin. With a concerned look on his face, he glanced over at his mother who sat an arm’s length away from the very stove; how could she not have heard the loud cackle of her own cooking? He was sure it would’ve caused a wildfire if not for him.

He slowly moved closer to Neytiri, gingerly reaching out and nudging her with his fingertips. He was mindful not to startle her already tired state. “Sa’nok– sa’nok?” Neteyam called out to her, “Sa’nok, are you okay?”

Neytiri stirred just slightly, turning her head to view the worried face of her eldest. Her lips thinned involuntarily, a feeling of relief washing over her; her children were here, safe and sound. Nothing will happen to them– not ever. As long as she lived, they will never be harmed ever again. No demon would take this away from her.

A wave of panic swept over her as she finally realized that she had been cooking before. She quickly turned back to see a billowing cloud of smoke rising from its surface. Neytiri cursed under her breath as her small attempts at fanning away the fog that had settled upon the area were to no avail, finding herself in a fit of coughing. “Why don’t you get y/n?” She requested, voice strained. “She can help with breakfast.”

With a heavy sigh, Neteyam could only nod, quickly leaving.

Right, y/n– you. When was it never about you?

Neteyam grumbled as he dragged his feet towards their thatched hut, kicking at every pebble that came across his path with a grunt. It wasn’t you who had woken up early to assist Neytiri nor was the one who had stopped fire from possibly spreading and yet, your name just had to be the first he’d heard today.

It was you. Always you.

Neteyam would be a big fat liar if he said it didn’t affect him. He saw you as a parasite – a damn leech that was draining the life out of everyone around him. He couldn't understand why you had to be so selfish and callous; why you were unable to look past Jake’s reprimands when all he desired was your well-being or how you had driven his own mother to such anguish that it became her own undoing.

You weren’t a kid anymore. On top of that, you weren’t theirs– so why had you always been on top of their priority? Why had you become a chore?

But never his, oddly enough. You were too good for him and he hated that.

(Heavy steps thudded behind Jake as Neteyam trailed, his disappointment palpable. He had been unsuccessful in his mission to persuade his father to let him come along on today’s expedition, always quick to dismiss him. He had gone through all the training, but what was the point if he still wouldn't be able to put it into practice?

Being olo’eyktan one day will never feel rewarding.

“It’s too dangerous, Neteyam.” Jake grumbled under his breath, eyes never meeting his as he gathered his arrows. “I need you here. Make sure Lo’ak doesn’t follow– do you copy?”

Neteyam couldn't help but wince when he remembered the time they had failed to be spotters, but it was just that one time– why couldn’t he let it go? It weighed down heavily on his conscience; the mistake that even still, months later, sent shame prickling on every fiber of his being.

Jake expected a copy in return– a curt yes-sir but Neteyam was silent. He finally urged himself to look up, only to see both his eldest locked in an intense stare, eyes never wavering nor breaking away from one another.

It clicked almost instantly the moment you walked through the flap of the hunt, clutching on the strap of your woven bag that held your own weapons. The war-paint drawn across your face had been the salt on the already deep cut of his– you were coming. Jake had asked you to come and he wasn’t.

You were looking down at him, Neteyam was sure of it; judging him, and no doubt thinking of how much he had failed himself. His sense of shame deepened as he saw the derision in your expression, feeling more exposed than ever before. He wanted to disappear right then and there, anything to escape this moment that felt like an eternity.

But you were there. You always were– and you could see straight through him.

If only he knew how different your mind worked– how you desperately ached for the same concern Jake had for his son. You wanted him to understand the immense longing to be seen in the same light that he was in, to receive even a fraction of his unwavering affection; wanted Jake to care enough that this could be the last hunt he would have with you, that you could get hurt or worse.

Jake was worried enough to sit his golden-child down; the one with capabilities greater than those warriors years older than him– the one he would make olo’eyktan someday.

Not you. Never you.

Neteyam was the first to turn away, a deep rugged grunt leaving his lips as he nodded once.

“Lima charlie.” )

What really messed with his head was that, despite his obvious resentment, he couldn’t actually bring himself to truly despise you the way he felt he should. Every time Neteyam looks at you, he swears he only sees himself– the same child that only yearns for the recognition of a father. There is a reflection of each other in the two of you that binds you nonetheless.

He wanted to truly look up to you; he wanted what Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk felt when they were with you– to have someone older, to feel as if the weight on his shoulders wasn’t his alone. Neteyam tried, he really did, but as much as you were there, you also weren’t.

It wasn’t always like this. Your relationship with him wasn’t built entirely on rivalry– he knows he had something more familial with you before, but whatever it was had blurred along age. As much as he wanted to come closer, you were always two steps ahead of him. To you, he will always be olo’eyktan– but never a brother.

It was a harsh reality– the same hands that cradled him when he was small couldn’t even look at him the same; like he had grown so ugly that you couldn’t recognize him at all. You didn’t even want to fly your ikran with him, nor did you want to train the same time he did.

He hated you, but not quite– he could never hate his sister. You were more of a stranger now that lived under the same roof as him and it was better than to perceive you as someone rather horrible– but that was what you were. A horrible, horrible stranger. Someone who saved him once from trouble and handed him years of headache in return.

You were a horrible sister. That’s what you are.

(“Tsmuke, what do I do?”

You couldn't believe your eyes as you gazed down at the mess on the floor of the hut. Beads were all over, and what used to be a clay tray laid shattered into several pieces. Neteyam stood still in midst of it all— the culprit of such doing evident. Your brain wracked itself to move, to do something.

“This is sa’nok’s favorite necklace. She told me to come get it for her, but the shelf was too high–” Neteyam spoke in a rush, hands gesturing wildly as he talked. His face crumpled in worry and his brow furrowed with frustration.

"’Teyam, don't move!" you said in a hurry, alarmed at the thought of him taking a step forward. Moving quickly to his side, you gently stopped him from doing so and scooped him up under his armpits. He was heavy in your arms as you stood there with him, but the shards beneath were sharp enough to cut skin. You grunted as you moved him aside.

"Tsmuke, what are we going to do?" He asked again, his voice running high with worry.

You tried to think of another solution, assessing the situation once more. You glanced at him and said, "I'm going to tell ma I broke it so she won't be mad at you." You quickly search for something sturdy enough to scoop the pieces off the floor. Maybe you can redo the necklace, but there was no salvaging the tray.

“But I broke it– she’ll know.” He visibly deflates, not exactly thrilled about not being truthful to Neytiri.

“Only if you tell her.” You said, looking up at him with a slight smile, though your heart was racing. You felt terrible knowing that you were going to disappoint Neytiri, especially since her beloved necklace had snapped– but something about your little brother's worry-stricken expression tugged on your heartstrings. You understood why her scolding was necessary, but it felt wrong to leave him alone to bear the brunt of it. “This will be our little lie, okay?”

“Lie?”

You immediately dismiss him, gesturing impatiently for him to exit the hut as quickly as possible. “I’ll tell you about it later, but you have to promise now that whatever mom says, just know that I broke it.”

He only offered a subtle nod in response, his eyes glossed over as he nervously played with his hands.

“Say it, ‘teyam. She’ll be back any minute now!”

"You broke it!" Neteyam had shouted and almost as if in response, Neytiri had walked in through the hut's entrance, all but gasping as she took in the sight before her– shards of what once held her jewelry now on the floor. She stumbled slightly as she carried the basket of fruits, before dropping it to the ground and quickly scurrying over towards you.

The scolding you got was harsh, but Neytiri couldn't do much other than wrap her arms around you and sigh. You were just a kid, after all. Mistakes like these are inevitable and all she could do was understand.

Neteyam was patiently waiting just outside the doorway, swinging his legs back and forth as he listened with a heavy heart. He awfully felt guilty. You sat with him moments later.

“Why did you do that?” He quietly asked.

You looked at him with a confused face, “Do what?”

"Lie." He says, his accent making the word feel awkward in his mouth. It was unfamiliar to him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You only say, casually shrugging as you swung your legs along his. Little Neteyam looked at you with the most confused face; eyebrows furrowing and the creases in between deepening as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened.

But then you glanced at him again– winked and gave a small giggle.

And only there did he understand. He leaned his head on your shoulder.

“Thank you, y/n.” )

Neteyam didn’t even realize he had finally reached home. He stared at the flap of the hut, unable to let himself in, despite living here ever since. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having a moment alone with you– not when the thoughts that ran through his head had been unpretty.

He knows damn well Eywa could strike him down if she heard herself.

He sighed, “Y/n? Sa’nok asks for you.” He softly said, waiting for a reply. You had never been a deep sleeper; any little noise would bring you right back to consciousness. Every creak from the floor, every whisper and murmur from outside, even the lightest rustling of leaves would startle you wide awake in an instant. Neteyam knew of that, knew of the many sleepless nights you had. You had the habit of scratching the walls of the hut, carving who-knows-what on its surface. It kept him from being able to get any rest himself.

When only silence greeted him, he finally urged himself to go inside only to be met with an empty space.

Your absence now felt different to the other times when you had gone for a stroll through the forest or set out to train before dawn. It was not like that this time, and Neteyam felt it deeply. He frantically rummaged through the hut, searching every nook and cranny for anything that you possessed. Nothing. Neteyam stood at the center of the room, taking in the now cluttered room.

His fingers nervously reached up to the intercom on his ears. A voice crackled over the device, "Sir, is y/n with you? Over." He took a deep breath as he glanced around once more.

Almost quickly, Jake answered. “No, she should be back at the hut.”

Neteyam gulped, “She isn’t– nor any of her things are. What do I do?”

“You– you! You let this happen, Jake!”

After spending hours on scouring the forest for any trace of you, they had finally concluded that you had chosen to leave of your own accord. This was not something that anyone wanted to believe and yet it seemed like the only option left; none of your things were to be seen back at home, or at least those that were valuable to you— your worn-out saddlebag, the wooden bowl that you had carved yourself, weapons. All of it. Soon, eclipse neared and everyone was tired.

Neytiri was quick on her feet. As soon as Jake had returned from the south, she lunged at him – pushing him forcefully with a look he didn’t want to come home to. He attempted to grasp onto both her forearms, wanting desperately to soothe– but, try as he might, she continually knocked away his hands with increasingly greater force. It was like his very touch had burnt her skin; the same hands that held her children.

“What did you do? What did you say?” Her panicked voice quivered as she asked in desperation. She felt her breath quicken, body absolutely worn out from everything that had happened. Neytiri’s tear-stained face was like a punch to his already battered heart. He had caused this. Jake had finally pushed you away.

“One thing I asked of you– and this one thing you couldn’t do!” Each word that left her mouth was accompanied by a strike to his chest, not enough to cause any physical pain but enough to emphasize the anger he knew he had been keeping to herself for years. Neytiri was patient with him– understanding. Jake had pushed the limits of what she was capable of doing for him and this was the very consequence.

Shame. Nothing but shame.

People were watching– warriors that had accompanied him on the search and lingering eyes of the clan, but he couldn’t care less. Jake allowed her to hit him, he let her push him around; it was better for him if she inflicted the pain instead of harboring it. He’d let the people talk for all he cared. He failed as an olo’eyktan and as a father.

Let everyone know he failed his eldest.

“I did talk to her, please listen to me.” He begged, his pleadings faint. He desperately tried to reach out and grasp Neytiri's arm, yet his hands seemed unable to find the strength to hold her. His voice quivered as he spoke, fragile and hesitant in its delivery.

“Tell me how exactly!”

And he couldn’t answer that. Not when he made the crucial mistake of not checking the hut beforehand. Maybe if he did, he would’ve known you had run away– maybe he could’ve gotten to you. The fact that you weren’t able to hear his vulnerability was a different heartbreak he refused to acknowledge. You were never there to begin with.

When Neytiri saw that Jake had nothing to say in response, she was rendered speechless. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she tried to muffle the cry that threatened to escape her throat. She frantically paced around, harshly tugging on her braids. Jake could only close his eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat. He stood there, stunned in silence.

“My daughter, Jake! My daughter is out there with those– those demons scattered! She could be lost– dead! Do you not understand?”

Dead. You could be dead. Jake refused to close his eyes, hoping he could keep the thought at bay. But it came back again and again, wriggling its way into his mind like a snake. He let his heavy eyelids shut and instantly, he was presented with a vision of you in the dark - his sweet babygirl, lying there lifeless. It would be his fault. The blood would be on his hands.

"Ma, please," Neteyam had spoken, his voice gentle in a bid to soothe his mother. He tried desperately to soften the blows, carefully pulling her away from Jake. It was Neteyam that calmed Neytiri and all he could do was stand and let it happen– what the hell was he doing? How could he fail so miserably? His eldest had to step in and do his job, his pride and joy.

His gaze drifted across to where his other children were, huddled together on the corner. They looked bewildered at what they were hearing, unsure of what to make of it all. It seized him, squeezing what’s left of its already limp heart. Tuk was nestled in Kiri’s protective embrace, asking her– trying to understand. She asks of you, where have you gone?

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning and Jake Sully has done the opposite– ushering you to danger.

“Have we failed them, Jake? Have I been a horrible mother?” Neytiri asked, her voice now barely above a whisper. She tried to be gentle with pushing Neteyam away, attempting to continue nonetheless. Jake placed a firm hand on his son's tense shoulders, and he gave him a subtle tilt of the head. He could see the battle that was raging inside of his young boy's head, between wanting to do what he felt was right and obeying his father's instructions. “Jake what have we done?”

Your mother needs this, his eyes try to tell him, go. Neteyam reluctantly steps back, deciding it was better to return to the others.

“Look for her again. Send out everyone this instant!” She sobs, pounding her fists against Jake’s chest in a desperate attempt to get her point across. Her neck is strained with veins popping out and bulging eyes filled with desperation, pleading him to understand. Each beat of her fists matched the intensity of her wails, no amount of tears ever seeming to be enough.

Neytiri takes a heavy inhale once more, “I beg of you, Jake Sully. Find our daughter, bring her back home.”

His gaze finally met hers and the feeling it brought was more than he could bear. He had to make a decision, another choice that would have to let her down again. “We can’t go looking for her now, Neytiri. We are already short on warriors, you know this.” He gently says, as if it was enough to soften the blow– but his eyes saw how her face slowly fell. He could clearly hear the telltale sound of her broken heart, shattering once more.

“I have to ensure everyone’s safety. Warriors are out scouring perimeters and we can’t risk one hold-up. Our family, Neytiri, I cannot risk our family,”

“She is our daughter!”

“And I am still olo’eyktan.” He was heartless. He was sure everyone thought so, but he had to be the one to make decisions. His composure was a mask that hid the fact that inside he was breaking apart; that he was failing– that he already had failed. If he let himself break down now, he might as well gamble everyone he loved.

Jake’s responsibilities weighed down heavily on his shoulders. Everyone was at stake– Quaritch was on the loose.

Neytiri told him he had a strong heart the moment they had met, but right now, it was stone-cold– shut off and mean. Not the compassionate man she had once saved. “I’m trying, Neytiri. I’ll get her home.” He tries to assure her, but the breathy shudder that left her lips only made him wince.

He was finally able to wrap his arms around her mate and when he did, it was tight– as if he was trying desperately to piece her back together. He closed his eyes once more, kissing the top of her head. “I promise. She’ll be back, I promise.”

You were out there. Alive. He had a chance.

Your mama’s crying for you, sweet child, come home.

“Mawey, Mawey!”

You found yourself in an unknown area. How you had gotten there, you could not explain. Your ikran, exhausted from the raging storm, needed some respite and so did you for that matter. After all, it would be cruel to deny her this much needed break even if it were just for a night. You only prayed that it’d be peaceful.

You searched the space for materials needed for fire, but the rain was ruthless and provided no light. You felt a chill as you curled up beneath the shade of the tree. Hugging your knees to your chest you tried to conserve warmth, shivering slightly as a gust of wind blew past. Nothing around you but darkness - no stars, no moonlight, and not even the bioluminescence around provided much warmth. This was it, you thought.

Should I go home instead? Have they even noticed that I’ve gone?

Why couldn't you just stay? Why couldn't you have simply kept it all down inside rather than running away? You had been content enough to stay silent before, content enough to ignore everything; what had been different now? It was home still— who were you kidding?

Thoughts ran unmercifully inside your head as you sat motionless.

You are never satisfied.

I miss my mom.

They deserve the heartache.

You should’ve listened instead– now look at where you are.

Why couldn’t they love me?

Maybe I should head back.

Father will be mad.

You wanted this– needed this. You had to prove yourself. There was no use crying over something small, a night had only passed.

The snapping of leaves and rustling of bushes pulled you abruptly back to reality, your head quickly turning in its direction. You had been lost in thought before the sound startled you; the somber pool of thoughts still eddying in your mind. But there was something else nestled in that pool now, taking up the space– fear. Genuine and terrible, terrible fear. You might never come home ever again. You will never see them again.

This was it, you thought, something that had been swirling around in the back of your mind since you’ve left now finally felt certain. You gripped your spear tightly in both hands.

The cry that ripped through the air was deafening, shaking every part of your being. It felt like each syllable ricocheted around your entire body; coursing through your veins and settling in the cavity of your chest. Even the ground seemed to tremble in response, shaking beneath your feet as you tried to keep composure. There was no mistaking it; it was an 'angtsìk— a particularly angry one, at that.

The loreyu that once surrounded you shriveled in response; coiling up and retracting to the ground, and then was gone completely, leaving you exposed to the hammerhead.

You were in a desperate situation. It didn't help either that you were unable to make out your surroundings– you were one on one with an 'angtsìk with nothing but a spear and a lousy handgun (that you don’t even know why you brought in the first place. It was small on the palm of your hand, but it was valuable to Jake– this couldn’t damage any animal even if you tried.)

Lifting your bow and arrow and preparing to shoot would be pointless. The threat could be just a moment away; it could pounce on you in the blink of an eye, leaving you as food for its prey before you even have time to process the danger.

You stood your ground, constantly shifting on your feet as you carefully backed away. You kept your gaze steadily ahead, refusing to break eye contact with the 'angtsìk– but when it roared again in response to your steps, you couldn't help but express your annoyance with a loud kiss of your teeth and an exasperated groan.

You did something that no one in a million years would ever consider or do– you ran straight towards it.

You stepped forward with your spear raised, shaking it threateningly in front of the strange creature that had been creeping closer. Your movements were frenzied, a frenetic attempt to scare it off and make it retreat back to where it had come from. You could feel your heart pounding against your rib cage as you readied yourself for whatever would come next. All around you, an eerie silence had descended upon the dank forest that seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation– watching both of you.

As it was poised to launch a counterattack, the creature suddenly halted; its gaze directed toward something past you with an expression of sheer terror, but your mind was too clouded for you to take any hint of the bigger threat skulking just behind you. You could feel the nervousness bubbling up from your chest, but before you knew it, a confident chuckle had escaped your lips that soon turned into fits of laughter, not believing how that foolish move of yours had made the 'angtsìk retreat.

“Yeah? Yeah! That’s right– you better run!” You yelled, brandishing the spear in your hands and waving it around in triumph. “Get your punk-ass back to mommy, penis-face!”

As the 'angtsìk disappeared into the distance, you allowed a sigh of relief to escape your lips. "You're not getting any of this, keep running!" You called out after it mockingly, putting your hands on your hips. In spite of this bravado, your heart was pounding and your knees were weak with fear– you were this close to give Eywa an early visit.

You slowly turned back, that’s when you finally saw it; the force with which the thicket of bushes violently parted around it, the palulukan emerging from behind. It was like all the air had been sucked from your lungs, and a chill ran through your body as a wave of fear engulfed you. Every part of you tensed up, and you could feel your soul being wrenched from within.

You looked at it like a poor deer in headlights, grip momentarily loosening around your spear.

If death knocked tonight, let it be instant.

NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT ?? ???? finally, after a month! (i am gonna be honest, i am this close to loosing interest in avatar.. jesus. i am holding onto crumbs people) this is so long overdue, but i hope it's good enough!

put so many references here, hope ppl can tell! teehee

not thoroughly edited so please feel free to point of any mistakes! thank you so much for being patient with me, until the next chapter loves! smooch <;3

(i removed tags that didn't work anymore :/ again, i am not taking anymore tags! please leave your notif on instead) tags: @reyalvr @sparklyphantom @iwanttohitmyself @planetslove @teyamsjustsleeping @grandgreengrapes @erensbbg @queen-dk @loaklvr @theyoungeagle @ducks118 @teyyyteyyy @yeosxxx @simply-lovely78 @ellabellabus07 @thehoneymushroomhealer @saturdayrj @kingjulian0o9 @hippiezworldz @joemamalackin @random-3455 @zoetrope1997 @cl0esblogg @anxietydrogz @lokisfirstandlastwife @lunyyx @blkmystery @marsbars09 @gcldtom @luna-salem @wolflover384 @mushy-mushroom04 @whatthemonsterfuckisthis @eternalidentity @celi-xxmoon @dumb-fawkin-bitch @pinkeroppi @mellowdiy @jimfiqs @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ayra2452008 @vodoo-heart @rose-brulante @starxao @bluevenus19 @entertain-my-lvst @wwwellacom @starjane312 @mona-aiko @audigay

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islandofsages · 2 months

Note

HEYY!! I love your writing from what i've read and i was wondering if i could ask for a gn reader (yuu) teaching the housewardens about like classic fandom lore- like imagine them turning into matpat to explain fnaf and undertale!! 😭😭 feel free to not do this and have a good day!! Thanks :D

characters: housewardens x gn!yuu

tags: platonic, fluff, crack kinda, imagines format

warnings: swearing

author's notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG also all the fandoms mentioned here are all fandoms ive been in at some point :D fun times mhm

Riddle Rosehearts

He knows you’re very passionate about fandom culture but you never really had the chance to infodump about it to him

Until one day, you drop by Heartslabyul for a leisurely visit, when you see a not-so-clearly distressed Riddle sitting in the lounge

Not-so-clearly meaning he’s holding a teacup in his hand yet not drinking it, eyes closed as if he’s holding in all his emotions

You grow worried at this sight and slide next to him on the couch where he is seated, hoping you can help alleviate some of that stress

He sees you and he allows himself a sigh, then musters up a smile for you. He greets you and you cut straight to the point - can you help him with anything?

He releases a second sigh and shakes his head, telling you he only needs some sort of distraction. He just had a long day and needs to take his mind off things

You take a second to think of things that you can distract him with – that’s when a lightbulb goes off in your head. This is a prime opportunity for you

“Okay, I’m guessing you haven’t heard of Five Nights at Freddy’s since it’s a franchise from my world and all but the lore is crazy. So it starts like this…”

He wasn’t expecting to be paying much attention to the contents of what you’re saying but sooner or later, he ends up leaning towards you with his hand cupping his chin, mouth slightly agape at the story you’re telling

This inspires you to dump even more information about the media somehow at the rate that you’re going

By the end of it, he’s completely forgotten what he was so worried about. His head is full of creepy pizzerias for kids and haunted animatronics

He ends up having some trouble sleeping that night though. He’ll get you for that later.

Leona Kingscholar

He won’t lie, your interest in fandoms is too reminiscent of Idia for him – he doesn’t admit this to you obviously, since he hasn’t had the chance to

But on one particularly boring day, you decide to skip class with him and he lets you tag along for the hell of it

In the span of three seconds, he’s already off in dreamland. Sometimes you wish you had such a skill

Since you have nothing better to do and he’s way too deep in his sleep to even care anyway, you start rambling to yourself and a slumbering Leona

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about Undertale lately so I need to dump it all somewhere. So basically you play as this kid…”

Little do you know halfway through his nap, he wakes up from how much you’re talking. At first, he’s annoyed by your yapping but then he grows interest in what you’re saying

He’s almost tempted to try that game for himself and almost disappointed that it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland. Emphasis on almost.

When you’re done rambling, that’s when he stretches his arms over his head and yawn, commenting how noisy you were

You shrug it off. You're used to him complaining about you yapping instead of napping alongside him

…But then he asks you to tell him more about Undertale, if there's any more information you’re keeping from him out of the kindness of your heart

You smile smugly at this and his expression seems to say “don't make me regret asking” but oh, you definitely will make him regret even being friends with you in the first place

Needless to say, regrets were not the only thing he held at the end of that day.

Azul Ashengrotto

Similar to Leona, your fixation on fandom culture reminds him too much of Idia. not that that’s necessarily a bad thing - it’s more of an observation

And he gets more than an observation when you get the chance to show him what you’re made of: useless fandom culture and gaming knowledge

Speaking of Idia, he goes to you as a last resort to ask you to help him understand whatever the hell Idia’s talking about

You don’t know too much about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture just yet but when Azul explains the premise of a certain game and its fandom, it gives you an idea

“Sounds pretty similar to Yandere Simulator. Ooh, that one has a lot of history. Let me tell you about it…”

Unfortunately for him, he ended up unlocking your geekiness instead of having you address the things he was confused with

But at least your story makes it a bit easier to understand? He’s yet to decide that really but at least it sounds like you’re taking his lack of slang knowledge into consideration

Your infodump really gripped his attention though - it’s interesting to know another side of human culture, even if it’s not the humans of Twisted Wonderland

He would nod understandingly (or at least, politely) and thank you and your geekiness

He relays your story to Idia and finds it intriguing how similar fandom culture is in both Twisted Wonderland and your world

He would invite you to Board Game Club meetings so that you can rave and find out more about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture with Idia

He’d realize that was a big mistake and he may or may not have created the nerdiest pair in the world - but you guys are his nerdiest pair in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s very curious about fandom culture - he doesn’t know too much about it nor anyone who knows a lot about it so almost all the fandom information in his head are from you

He really wants to know more!!! So of course that warrants a hangout session fabricated as a study session to get Jamil’s stamp of approval

So there you are in his room, books laid out in front of the two of you but most importantly, a laptop

You two watch about a dozen videos on Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture and as you absorb all the very-much-useful information, you sneak in tidbits from the culture of your world

“This one in particular is reminiscent of Danganronpa. Man, that one was a wild ride…”

It’s exciting to be able to talk about it with someone you trust wholeheartedly, especially Kalim, whom you know wouldn’t be so judging

He only nods in understanding at every point you made, his eyes sparkling with all the curiosity in his body

You were on your thirteenth video when you two are interrupted by a rap on the door and an unfortunately-familiar voice

So obviously you and your bestie hurriedly rush to close all the tabs on your laptop and open up something more academically-inclined

Which is obviously a…dictionary site

Jamil blinks twice at this, says nothing (but probably noting how it makes sense for you guys since you two are bumbling idiots) and walks away

If there’s any dictionary being read that day, it’d be a dictionary of fandom terminology, that’s for sure.

Vil Schoenheit

He doesn’t know too much about it - and doesn’t bother to learn much about it since he has better things to do - but since it’s you, he tries his best to be a good listener

The two of you sit down in the courtyard one day, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves music to your ears; beauty truly is everywhere around you when you’re next to him

He’s talking about something. You’re not sure what because you’re entranced by the way his hair hangs above his eyes so elegantly. He notices this and calls you out for it

You shrug and excuse how you can’t help it - he’s like a dating simulator love interest in the real. He asks you what you mean by this. Now’s your chance to shine!

“Hmm, you know, something like Mystic Messenger? Hehe, let me tell you a bit about it…”

Unluckily for him, your “a bit” turns out to be a four-hour long ramble about the aforementioned dating simulator a little too reminiscent of Rook for his liking too

Despite his reservations, he really did enjoy hearing you talk so passionately about your interest; it’s a bonus that the topic itself is interesting

He tells you he wouldn’t mind trying out the game or at least finding out more about it though unfortunately it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland

You share his shame - until he says he’ll pitch the concept of the game to some authorities he know and perhaps make it a reality

Sorry, he’s going to what now?

You’re a little shaken. Sometimes you forget he’s a world-class model, despite his looks and mannerisms. You save your nerves for if a Twisted Wonderland version of Mystic Messenger actually ends up happening

He thanks you for enlightening him about fandom and video gaming culture. You use this as a cue to add another four hours of ranting about V’s route in the game.

Idia Shroud

You’re another victim for him to taint… or so he thought. You’re more of an ally than a victim at this point, considering how nerdy you are

He’d dump fandom lore on you and you’d reciprocate it right back. He’s genuinely so impressed with your knowledge, even if they differ by some degree due to being from different worlds

He gets more impressed when you pull up with knowledge about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture like damn, you really brushed up on your talking points already

Friendly rivalry aside, he really does enjoy talking about fandom culture with you and hearing about the things from your world - every story you tell adds a little color into his world

One day, the two of you are leaning on each other, on your phones because of course you are, even if you two are friends, talking still isn’t Idia’s strong suit

That’s when you blurt it out–

“Hey, wanna hear about this game called Persona? It’s a turn-based RPG and…”

Regardless of his response to your question, you ended up babbling away either way. It’s how conversations start between the two of you

You’re speaking so fast, he would have mistaken you for a rapper - or a doppelganger of himself even

Consider him entertained - he finds himself smiling by the end of your yapping and intrigued by your story

He then obviously starts to relate it to something from Twisted Wonderland, passing the listener baton to you

You don’t mind – you can stay there for hours and hours, just going back and forth with your fellow nerdy-ass friend.

Malleus Draconia

This man barely knows how to use a smartphone so you had to be a little patient with him when guiding him through the fandom culture trenches

He’s happy that you trust and cherish him enough to talk about your interests with no reservations or shame – and the feeling is mutual

On a certain weekend, the two of you are hanging out as usual. Chatting as friends would do

You don’t know why but the conversation reminded you of a certain fandom

“It’s kinda like Genshin’s community, I guess. They’re a riot, let me tell you that.”

Oh? What’s a Genshin and why is its community a riot?

You’re glad he asked – because you’ve prepared a 100-slide presentation on the history of the game and its fans

He asks you why and how did you find the time to make that. You tell him to shut up and that it doesn’t matter, he just needs to listen to you

You start and it feels like you’ll never stop – there’s just so much to say and Malleus has so much time in the world

Seeing his reactions to certain events makes you crack up and at times, you’d laugh at his shocked expressions (or sigh exhaustively, depending on the event you’re explaining)

When you finally stop, he gives you a one-man standing ovation. You blush a little at the attention and unexpected reaction but you appreciate his sentiment nonetheless. He tells you that your presentation has been very informative for him

You’re relieved to have been able to get that off your chest… and Malleus is more than ecstatic to relay the information to everyone he’s ever known. You obviously pretend that you had no involvement in his sudden investment of a game from another world.

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extraordinari1y-ordinary-writer · 2 months

Text

Wedding Night (Bucky's Version)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your wedding night with Bucky.

Content Warning: NSFW; p in v sex; language; a bit of body worship; gentle Bucky; Bucky has some insecurities; some masturbation; unprotected sex; orgasms; whatever else I failed to mention

Word Count: 1,952

Note: Was this requested? No! It was suggested by @im0aleh during the wedding night smut voting. I hope you like it! I'll come back here and there to make some edits where it's necessary. Any gifs or pictures I use are not mine.

Gentle reminder that I am always open for feedback! 💕

NSFW (18+)

You were taken away by how beautiful the wedding was. And as the festivities ended, you and Bucky found yourselves in the wedding suite for your first night together.

To say things heated up quickly would be an understatement.

Bucky's lips found yours the second the door closed. Hands gripping your waist, he pulled you flush against him. You felt his hands fumble, undoing the back of your dress before the fabric fell to the ground, leaving you in your underwear.

"You have too many clothes on," you mumbled between kisses. As you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off, you pulled from the kiss to admire Bucky. Your fingers danced over his chest and stomach before you gazed at his metal arm. He'd always been self-conscious of it. The scarred skin where the arm connected and the memories of all the people Bucky had been forced to hurt and kill – you saw how it haunted him, even after all these years. You leaned forward and planted gentle kisses along the cool metal. You heard Bucky's breathing hitch, and you peered up at him.

"I love you," you stated. You planted another kiss on his arm. "I love you so much." You felt Bucky's flesh hand gently cup your face, turning your head to look at him. His eyes were misty, a small smile gracing his lips.

"I don't deserve you," Bucky rasped.

"A little late now," you joked. "You're kinda stuck with me."

Bucky chuckled and pulled you in for another kiss. His hands unclasped your bra, tugging the fabric off. You hummed against his lips as you pressed yourself against him. You worked at unbuckling your husband's pants, but he stopped you.

"Let me focus on you," he mumbled.

"Only if you let me return the favor."

Bucky pulled back, a thoughtfully hesitant look on his face. After a moment, he nodded. His hands glided down your sides until they reached your underwear. His fingers hooked into your panties and tugged them down. You watched as he took in your naked form—a look of love and appreciation on his face. Your cheeks warmed, your heart stuttering. His hands squeezed your hips, moving up your waist until they reached your breasts. He squeezed and massaged the soft flesh; fingers pinched your hardening nipples as you let out a breathy moan. Bucky's eyes scanned your face. His hands moved to cup your face; his lips met yours for a kiss, deep and passionate.

Bucky started walking, guiding you toward the bed without breaking the kiss. Your hands gripped onto him desperately. Your mind was fogging from the kiss, from the attention he gave your breasts. You wanted to feel him all around you. You wanted to smell him, to feel him deep inside you.

When the backs of your legs met the bed, you gasped. You clumsily sat on the edge, Bucky still at his full height. You both were breathing heavily, lips swollen and wet. You watched in lustful delight as Bucky undid the buckle of his pants and pulled them down. You pouted when he left his boxers on. However, you did appreciate seeing the outline of his erection through his boxers.

"Lay down," he ordered. His voice was thick, eyes dark as he looked at you. "On your back."

You bit back a moan and did as he asked, resting your head against the soft pillows. Bucky climbed on the bed, hands sliding up your legs as he gently kissed the skin. You sighed in contentment. When Bucky spread your legs, you whimpered.

Bucky felt his erection twitch at the sight of your dripping core. You were so beautiful; he couldn't believe you agreed to marry him. He kissed along the inside of your thigh, the smell of your arousal making his mouth water. When he reached your core, he gave a lick along your slit, his tongue flattening. Your arousal tasted heavenly, his eyes fluttering shut and his erection seemingly getting harder. Bucky heard you moan; you probably arched your back. When he gave another lick, your moan sounded more desperate. You called his name, a hand tangling in his hair. Bucky's mouth connected with your heat, tongue thrusting into you at a steady pace. You moaned with each thrust, fingers tugging at his hair deliciously. Bucky gripped both your thighs, drowning in the taste of your arousal and grinding his hips against the bed.

Bucky removed his mouth, lips glistening as he moved to start suckling on your clit. You nearly cried. You were chanting his name, desperate, with your voice getting higher with each suckle. Bucky felt his erection begin to swell with each grind against the bed. Warmth was pooling in his stomach, his mind clouding with lust. He moved one hand to your core, pushing two fingers into the wet heat. You were a babbling, moaning mess. Bucky thrust and curled his fingers within you. He felt your walls fluttering around him; he felt his orgasm fast approach.

When you came, you were moaning and crying. Your arousal coated Bucky's hand and face as he kept working you. He wanted to make it last as long as he could. And in the wake of your release, Bucky felt himself come. There was no doubt a stain on his boxers as his erection twitched and pumped out thick release.

You felt Bucky remove his face from your core. You whined. You were breathing heavily, small aftershocks coursing through you. Bucky was breathing heavily, too. Cheeks rosy and eyes glazed over.

"Did you…?" you asked. He looked at you unashamed. His lips and chin were glistening, lust still etched on his face. You bit your bottom lip and sat up. Your husband moved to sit up, and you saw the stain on his boxers. You clenched at the sight. You gave him a sloppy kiss, the taste of you on his lips making you moan. "Take it off," you mumbled into the kiss. Bucky maneuvered the ruined boxers off and threw them aside. You looked down and moaned. He was still hard.

You gently took him in one hand. Bucky gave a soft grunt. He was thick and heavy, sticky from his release. His tip was red, precum already leaking from his slit. You gathered the precum as lubrication and started pumping. Bucky began to grunt and curse. Your hand was so soft, so gentle around him. You worked him so nicely. Your pace was steady, but he wanted more. Bucky felt you kiss alongside his neck, and his breathing stuttered.

"I love you," you whispered against his skin. "God, I love you. You're so fucking beautiful." Bucky sighed your name. You moved your head to the other side of his neck, kissing and nipping his skin and, all the while, maintaining the same pace with your hand. Bucky was losing himself; the feeling of you jerking him off, mingling with the kisses and nips on his neck, was intoxicating. It took the former assassin a moment to realize you'd kissed down to where scarred skin and metal met. He froze when your lips ghosted over the metal arm. You paused your ministrations, looking up at him.

You pulled back, worry etched on your face. Bucky took a moment to gather himself before cradling your face in his hands. "Don't stop," he said softly.

"Are you sure?" you pressed. "I just…I love all of you; I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…"

As you kept rambling, Bucky felt his heart swell. He always knew you loved him for him, metal arm and all. He saw the arm as a reminder of his time under Hydra. You saw it as just him. You never associated any part of him with Hydra or the Winter Soldier. You accepted all of him. You loved all of him.

He said your name, stopping your ramblings. You had since removed your hand from his erection. Bucky gave you a soft kiss, his nose nudging against yours. You melted. "I love you," he whispered. He pressed his lips harder against yours. "I love you so much." He took your hand and guided it back to his erection. Your face was burning at that point. You curled your fingers around him and began to pump. Bucky closed his eyes, his breathing struggling to stay even.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his shoulder. The contrast between metal and flesh was evident, and your eyes fluttered shut. You kept a steady pace with your hand; you heard Bucky's grunts and gasps. He buried his face in your hair. He twitched in your hand every now and again. You jumped when you felt Bucky's metal hand curl around yours.

"Baby…" you started. He started moving your hand faster.

"So good," he grunted. His voice was thick, his grip on your hand gentle. You felt a wave of arousal wash over you. "Oh, baby…" His breathing was uneven.

"You're so beautiful," you hummed. Bucky moaned. You pressed a kiss to his arm. "I love you so much, baby."

"I'm gonna—fuck—please…"

"That's it," you pressed another kiss to the cool metal. "Come for me, baby. I'm right here."

Bucky let out a string of curses as he came. You felt him pulse in your hand, and your strokes became slower. You felt Bucky's mess, and it only turned you on more. You gently let go of him, your fingers dancing over his thigh as he caught his breath. He'd still been hard.

Perks of being a super soldier, you thought.

Bucky lifted his head, and you peered up at him. You were blushing, looking at him with the utmost adoration. He rested his forehead against yours, noses nudging as he reveled in your presence. After a moment, Bucky moved forward until you were on your back. He hovered over you. The two of you took a moment to admire each other. And when you felt him brush his erection against you, you nodded.

Bucky moved a hand between the two of you, guiding his cock to your entrance. You whined. When he pushed in, you gasped; Bucky buried his head in your shoulder. You could feel him panting the further in he went. You were so wet and tight, clinging around him. You felt every ridge, his thickness stretching you in a pleasurable way. Once Bucky was entirely within you, he gave you a moment to adjust.

The suite echoed with moans and skin slapping against skin. Your body moved with each of Bucky's thrusts, his head buried in your neck, groans and sighs escaping his lips with each movement. Your hands gripped his back, nails digging into his skin. Your mind was so hazy, lost in the pleasure your husband was giving you. Bucky's hands moved to your hips, angling them to hit that sweet spot inside you: the one that left your toes curling and your back arching. Your highs were fast approaching; bodies still sensitive from earlier.

"Please," you moaned. Bucky grunted, his pace faltering. You felt him huff against your neck.

"That's it," he groaned. His grip on your hips tightened. "That's—fuck!—it!"

Your highs came crashing down, leaving you and Bucky whimpering and gasping messes. You felt his release deep within you, coating your walls and filling you up. Bucky felt you fluttering against him, taking everything he gave you. His hips rutted against yours, pushing his release further into you. He continued with the motions for as long as he could. Until he all but collapsed on top of you. Your fingers tangled in Bucky's hair, his head nuzzled against your collarbone, just above the swell of your breasts.

(Stay tuned for Loki's version)

(Wanda's version)

Masterlist

Taglist: @staria9100 @radcollectivesoul @cuddlefishextrodinaire @ramielll @lelialynn @identity2212 @whiminiferous @gracescor3 @winterslove1917 @hailycheyenne @dp-marvel94 @queerponcho @mysterystrawberrynigt

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #marvel x reader #marvel #avengers x reader #avengers #marvel cinematic universe x reader #marvel cinematic universe #winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #wanda maximoff

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cordeliawhohung · 1 month

Text

anyway, say thanks to the brain worms in the discord server for this one

dark!gaz/soap x fem!reader

Kyle and Johnny catch sight of you in a bar, and decide that you're much better off with them.

cw: non-con, dark content, alcohol, roofies, kidnapping, the boys are not very nice

Bars weren’t your usual haunt, yet your date for that night managed to make you comfortable despite the crowded and stuffy building. Tucked in a booth in some out-of-the-way corner, the two of you nursed your drinks as you got to know one another, slowly testing the waters to see if it was worth seeing one another again. Though he had been a stranger at the beginning of the night, you found yourself sincerely enjoying his company. He was a bit of a nerd, whose eyes lit up when talking about the storyline to his favorite games, and you found it cute the way he had to keep adjusting his thick-lensed glasses while they slid down his nose.

It wasn’t until he got up to use the bathroom that your eyes started to wander. Not on purpose, of course, as you would never be rude enough to abandon a date for someone else while the two of you were actively out. No, your eyes only wandered because someone else approached you, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t the most goddamn beautiful human you had ever laid eyes on. His complexion was impeccable with smooth skin save for a small scar on his cheek, and the slight stubble made his polite smile more alluring. What really got you were his eyes. They were an enchanting dark brown that glistened in the dull yellow lights that lit the area, and you found your throat growing tight at the sight of him.

“Evening,” he greeted. Fuck, even his voice was nice, and his tone was smoky and suave. All you could do was sit in your seat and stare up at him as he leaned a hand on the table, almost as if silently begging you to allow him in. “You look a little lonely. You haven’t been left high and dry, I hope?”

Chuckling, you shook your head as you adjusted your attire, a little self conscious about having a specimen such as that stranger look at you. “No, no my date’s just in the bathroom.”

Though there was a flicker of disappointment in his gaze, he did a good job at obscuring it for the most part. Instead, his smile widened, and he nodded his head in understanding.

“Ah, so you’re tellin’ me I’m too late, then,” he chuckled. “Everythin’ going good, then? He’s not a nutter?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his concern, his sincere concern. Not only was he perhaps the most beautiful man you had ever seen, but he was a gentleman as well? Didn’t take rejection poorly at all and confirmed that you were safe? You wished your date had chosen some other pub to go to that night, because you were certain this man was attempting to put a spell on you.

“Everything’s all good, thank you,” you confirmed with a smile.

“Great. Well, if things start going south…” The man paused to look over his shoulder and gesture towards the bar. Among the other patrons, you quickly caught sight of the man he pointed out, as his mohawk stood out like a sore thumb. Then again, he was probably one of the largest — dare you say, beefiest? — people there, and it would have been impossible not to tell him apart in a crowd. “My friend and I will be here for a few hours still, in case you need us.”

Once again you gave him a polite smile as you thanked him for his offer, and he sauntered back over to his friend with a courteous farewell. It was perhaps the kindest interaction you had ever experienced with a stranger in a pub before, yet it left you flustered all the same, so much so that you hardly realized that your date had returned until he sat across from you in the booth once more. Praying he didn’t notice your state of mind, you quickly raised your drink to your lips where you downed a few big gulps with the silent hope that you would forget all about that handsome stranger lest you looked like a whore to your date.

Luckily the two of you picked up where you had left off, and for a while you had forgotten all about that man. You listened to your date talk about his studies in computer science, and an indie game he helped design, and you watched as everything began to tilt. Lights flashed in your face and when you tried to blink them away they wouldn’t leave, and you found your chest needing to heave in order to get a good breath in. Something felt wrong, yet you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of your date, so you tried to hide it by taking another gulp of your drink.

Nothing soothed your dizzy vision or your fuzzy mind, and it got so bad you couldn’t even understand what your date said anymore. All your energy focused on trying to keep yourself upright in that booth, but you wanted nothing more than to lay down. You were certain the cool wood of the table would feel intoxicating against your feverish skin, maybe you could do it, just for a moment…

“What’s going on here?”

That voice was one you didn’t recognize, and when you looked up to see who spoke, you could vaguely make out the fuzzy features of a large man with his hands leaned on the table. He was angry, with a sharp voice and a thick Scottish accent, but you didn’t know who he was. You felt like you should know, but you couldn’t place a name to his face.

“Did you drug her?” the man questioned further.

“No! I didn’t do anything!” your date attempted to defend.

“Bull-fucking-shit, look at her!”

Something grazed your arm, and usually you would jump at sudden sensations like that, but it felt so disconnected from your body that you didn’t even realize something had touched you until a voice prompted your attention.

“You alright, doll?”

It was that kind man from earlier, and his voice was just as calm and polite as it was when he spoke to you before. You felt a response flit across your tongue, but you couldn’t make any sense of the words you said. A fit of shouting erupted from somewhere in the bar, and you felt the table shake, but you couldn’t find the emotions within you to care.

Suddenly, things felt too heavy, as if the gravity of the earth increased tenfold. You realized you were standing, though you didn’t remember getting up from the booth, and the only reason why you hadn’t collapsed was because of the firm arm around your waist. Eventually cold air hit your face, and you felt your feet stumble along the pavement before you were gently placed into the back seat of someone’s car. You didn’t even bother trying to keep sitting upright, and instead laid yourself across the seats as you curled in on yourself.

“Don’t worry, doll,” you were assured, “Soap and I will take good care of you.”

A strange sort of darkness enveloped you after that, and it was the closest thing to death you had ever experienced. There were no dreams, or images that attempted to comfort you as your mind rotted away; there was nothing. Just an emptiness where you didn’t exist for a while.

When your mind slowly started to drift into consciousness again, the first thing you noticed was the sound of smacking. It was as if someone consumed a meal without worrying about slurping too much, and the noises were loud and obscene. Your vision flickered back to life, and you were met with an unfamiliar scene. The ceiling above your head was not the ceiling to your bedroom, nor did it look like any ceiling you’d find in a hospital. Your head rested against something too firm to be a pillow, yet too soft to be the floor, and you did your best to get a better glance at your surroundings.

You looked down at yourself only to realize you were completely naked. No underwear, no bra, not even your socks; every single article of clothing had been removed, and you were given nothing to cover yourself with. Two firm arms wrapped around your midsection from behind, and you realized that semi-soft surface you leaned against was a person who had you held in their embrace. All of that was bad enough, but you felt your stomach lurch and your still fuzzy mind scream when you saw what happened between your legs.

That mohawked man you had seen at the bar earlier that night laid sprawled out on the bed in front of you with his mouth greedily devouring your cunt. You watched in pure horror as his tongue lapped at you, dancing along your clit and down to your tense hole, yet the sensation didn’t feel pleasant. It all felt muted, like you weren’t really there. He grunted into your heat as his hands gripped your hips like he was afraid his meal would run off without him, and he continued to devour you like it was the only thing that brought him pleasure.

As if suddenly regaining control of your body, your hips bucked forward with a whine in some sort of odd attempt at escape, only to be held down by the man shamelessly eating you out. A dark chuckle reverberated in the body behind you, rattling your spine with the sensation, and you felt a pair of lips press against your bare shoulder. The man between your legs paused his assault on your cunt in order to look up at you with a wet-faced grin.

“Have a good nap, bonnie?” he teased.

Panic attempted to rise into your chest, but there was some sort of emptiness that prevented it from fully manifesting. This was wrong, really wrong, you knew because of the tight feeling in your core and your breath hitching in your throat. You couldn’t fully recall how you got there, stuck between two men, but you knew that the haziness of your mind must have had something to do with it.

“What…?” Once more your mouth tried to form words but they would leave your lips half finished. The hands wrapped around your center slowly wandered up to your tits where you felt yourself being squeezed at, which prompted you to further stutter. “I… don’t…”

“Remember what I said?” the man behind you spoke up. That beautiful, dastardly man. “Soap and I are taking care of you, so just relax, yeah?”

The man between your legs, Soap, pulled away from you and sat back on his haunches as he assessed you. His eyes were a pretty shade of blue, and had he not just violated your unconscious body, you might have considered him handsome. Instead, the sight of him made you close your eyes and twist your face away as if you couldn't stand the sight of him. You wanted to vanish, to turn into mist and drift away into the stale, sweaty air that threatened to suffocate you, and right when you thought you almost managed that feat, you were painfully brought back to reality when you felt two thick fingers force their way into your cunt.

The stretch burned, your body not yet fully prepared for it, yet you had already gotten so slick with Soap’s spit that it didn’t matter, he was able to do it with ease anyway. Your legs strived to flail and squirm, yet you hardly had the energy or ability to do so, and failed miserably. Soap’s fingers danced around inside of you accompanied by a symphony of lewd squelches and a throaty laugh.

“Nice and wet, she is,” Soap crooned. “What’dya say, Garrick? Wanna have a go at her?”

Whatever his response was, you were unable to make it out, but you did feel him wiggle out from behind you. Every muscle in your body spasmed as you were lowered onto the mattress, and your eyes flickered open just in time to watch Soap slip off of the bed and for the other man — Garrick? — take his place. Warm hands gripped the exposed flesh of your thighs, and you felt yourself get yanked closer to him, and the sudden movement nearly made you puke.

“Please- I-” you gasped, still incapable of expressing yourself.

“What a sweet girl,” Garrick cooed while one of his hands reached up to undo the button and zipper on his pants. “Hear that, MacTavish? Hear her begging?”

Dull pain blossomed at the base of your skull as you felt your head lift off the bed. Soap held you by your hair, insisting that you look down at yourself as Garrick’s cock sprung free from the confines of his jeans. It was impossible for your eyes to fully focus on anything, to make sense of it, but you were able to comprehend the sheer size of him, his length much too long to fit into you unprepared. You tried to turn away, to ignore it and pray it would all stop, but you couldn’t with Soap’s firm grip.

“‘Course she is,” he chuckled, lips brushing against your ear. “Sweet and naughty always go hand in hand.”

A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt the tip of Garrick’s cock press against your cunt, and you had no choice but to stare down at the vulgar scene between your legs. His hands slid along your hips until they were under your thighs, and he gently lifted your legs up, adjusting the angle of your hips.

“Please, I don’t… think I want this,” you said with a cry. They were the first coherent words you were able to speak, and they were met with a laugh.

“You don’t think so?” Soap teased. “A bit too late for that now, bonnie. GOt the man all worked up, and I don’t think he wants’ta stop.”

When Garrick sunk himself into you, your cunt nearly choked him from how tight and unprepared you were, yet his brute force was enough to overcome your body’s resistance. Your mouth fell open in a silent sob, and your back arched off the bed as if that movement alone would save you. Instead of beginning his thrusts, Garrick stayed still, completely buried inside of you as he let out a hiss.

“Christ, you’re so damn tight,” he cursed.

Soap’s fingers suddenly slipped out of your hair, and without his strength supporting your head, it crashed back onto the mattress. A throb reverberated throughout your body, and the blood gushed in your ears so loudly you almost didn’t notice the sound of him undoing his belt next to your face. While Soap fished his own cock from his pants, Garrick gently rocked his hips forwards as if to test the waters and grind his fat tip against the rubbery surface of your cervix.

“Open,” Soap urged.

Your brain didn’t comprehend his command, and so you continued to lay there as you attempted to hold back your groans. Deciding to assist you, Soap reached a hand for your jaw, turning your head towards him, and giving it a good squeeze until your mouth fell open.

“There we are,” he chuckled as he tapped your lower lip with his tip. “Now, no biting, else I’ll bite back.”

When Soap pushed his cock into your mouth, there was an emptiness that enveloped your mind. There was no more fuzz, no haze or confusion, just nothing, but it only lasted for a short moment before reality barreled back at you. Garrick thrust into you with what started as a lazy pace, but then quickly turned into something more demanding, more snapping. All the while, Soap’s cock pressed so far into your mouth and down your throat you coughed to keep yourself from choking. When you reached up to try and push him away, the man took it as a compliment instead, and rested his hand over yours where it laid against his hip.

Their groans were undignifying. You wanted to wail, wanted to thrash around and get them to stop using you for their pleasure, but whatever drugs that had been slipped into your drink rendered your body completely useless except for fulfilling their desires. So you laid there, stoic and limp with your eyes closed as you took it. If you could just get through it, it would be over eventually. It had to be.

A sharp pinch to your nipple had you nearly yelping, and you were certain you would have burst their eardrums with your sob had your mouth not been occupied. Garrick’s pace slowed only slightly as he adjusted your legs a little with a huff.

“Well don’t go breaking her,” he grumbled.

“Just tryna keep her awake,” Soap defended. “Besides…”

Once again his fingers came up to pinch your nipple, and it was impossible to hold back the tears welling in your eyes as you cried out once more. He grinned down at you as he used his thumb to wipe at the tears, almost as if he refused to acknowledge their existence.

“She sounds so perfect squealing, especially with my cock in her mouth.”

The pace at which Soap then abused your mouth was so brutal you completely lost the ability to breathe. Ignoring the tension in your throat, he pressed himself as far as he could go with so much force you were certain you would bruise. More tears continued to stream down your face as you held back the urge to puke, but eventually you were offered solace as he suddenly yanked himself out of your mouth.

You coughed and sputtered on the build up of spit in your throat, and you powerlessly laid there with a burning neck and throat. Judging by his guttural groaning and the heavy throbbing of his cock, Soap had edged himself pretty bad, and you tried not to grimace at the sight of his reddened tip. Your mouth wasn’t able to rest for long, though, as you quickly found a few fingers pressed against your tongue, just as brutal and unforgiving as everything else he did to you.

“Steamin’ jesus,” he groaned. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth where they dripped your spit along your bare chest. It left you feeling sticky and gross, and you whined as you felt those wet fingers begin to toy with your clit. “Good at everything, arent’cha bonnie?”

Panting like a bitch in heat, you felt a terrible pressure build up in your stomach. Between Garrick’s thrusts, which had only started to grow more ruthless, and Soap’s fingers rubbing annoyingly pleasurable circles against your abused cunt, you knew you were going to come undone. It was terribly unfortunate to know that you were going to give them that satisfaction, that your fucked out and drugged up brain would give into them so easily, and you found your face wrenching with a sob.

“Oh fuck,” Garrick huffed as his hips stuttered. “K-Keep that up. Bloody hell, she’s so fuckin’ close I can feel it.”

Soap didn’t let up at all, nor did he speed up either. It was like he knew how to push your buttons all too well, knew exactly what he needed to do in order to coax your orgasm out of you. You felt it build and build until it crashed so hard it stole your breath, searing you from the inside out. Garrick let out a wanton groan as your cunt fluttered around him, and he pounded into you more roughly than he had been until he suddenly held himself inside of you.

He leaned his head back as he came and gave a few more lazy thrusts into your cunt. Your mind reeled at the realization that he came inside of you, and your thoughts buzzed as you knew there was no protection involved, that these sick fucks might get you pregnant. When he pulled out of you, your hands instinctively reached down between your legs as if scooping his cum out of you would save you from whatever fate they had written for you.

“What’s wrong, not enough for you, doll?” Garrick chuckled as he slid off the bed.

Your legs limply fell onto the bed without his hands there to hold them up, and your eyes fluttered shut as you bit into your bottom lip. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you broken, and you certainly wouldn’t give into their jests, either. Yet, as the mattress sunk in once more, you came to the painful realization that things were not over.

A new pair of hands slipped underneath your knees, and your legs were pushed so close to your chest, you could nearly kiss them. Soap got a bit more intimate with you than Garrick had, and before his cock even brushed against your cum-soaked hole his lips were on yours, smothering out any protest. You could taste the pint he had at the bar earlier that night, along with the vague taste of your heat, and it only grew stronger when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, wet and nasty.

When he finally pushed into you, he ate up your gasp as you quickly realized he was much girthier than Garrick was. The stretch was unfamiliar, and burned, yet there was virtually no friction; nothing to hold him back from bottoming out. He hummed into your mouth before pulling away and allowing you to take a proper breath, but even then you could still feel his grin against your lips.

“I know you’re tired, so I’ll make it quick, bonnie. Promise,” he claimed.

He said those words as if you should have thanked him for being so considerate, and yet it ignited a sort of anger inside of you that you were unable to feel before. The drugs they had given you must have started to wear off, because every emotion and sensation suddenly increased tenfold as he began to snap his hips against yours. Every ache burned like you were on fire, which only raged more as you reached up and pressed your hands against his chest as if you actually had a chance of pushing that broad monster off of you.

“Now, now,” Garrick tsked, “be nice.”

Kneeling next to the bed, the man grabbed your wrists and pulled them above your head, and you hated just how vulnerable it left you. As if you hadn’t been vulnerable that entire night. Those sick freaks certainly had planned it all out. Slipping a roofie into your drink during your conversation while your date was away, blaming it on your date, and taking you back to their place to have their way with you. You didn’t even want to think about how many other girls they had in that bed before you.

“No, just- just stop,” you squirmed.

“Soon, love,” Garrick cooed. “Soap’s getting close, I can tell. You know, he’s always been one for praise. I’m sure he’ll show you a little mercy if you say thank you.”

As Soap’s face buried into your neck, you could feel his breath hit your skin, and you couldn’t help but grimace at the feeling. What the hell was he trying to recommend you do? Thank him?

“No,” you replied, your tone biting.

It wasn’t long after you defied him that a squeaky gasp left you as Garrick grabbed a hold of your jaw. His grip was not kind, nor was it relenting, and he turned your head to face him with a slight jerk.

“I’m not asking, doll. You’re gonna say thank you. Thank you Johnny. Don’t make me tell you again,” he said with a tone you had yet to hear from him. Between the biting grip on your face and his threat, you couldn’t help but sob and give in, lest they do something worse.

“T-Thank you, Johnny,” you mumbled.

“Can’t hear you,” Garrick warned.

“Thank you, Johnny!” you cried.

Your second attempt was what finally did the man in. Though his thrusts continued at their same, brutish pace, he came long and loud with pathetic grunts in your ear. Garrick finally relinquished your face and hands, and you automatically held onto the man filling you with his cum as if you’d fall through the bed without him. Once Soap — or were you really supposed to call him Johnny? — gave you the last of his spend, he planted a quick kiss against your cheek before rolling off of you, pulling himself out of you in the process.

“Christ, Kyle. Wasn’t sure you knew how to pick ‘em but goddamn… should keep her around, aye?” Johnny chuckled as he fastened his pants.

Aching, sore, and exhausted, you rolled onto your side as you watched the two men straighten out their clothes. A quick glance at the floor around you revealed yours weren’t to be found, and you couldn’t remember just when they had ripped them off of you. A terrible pounding ravaged your head, and all you wanted to do was sleep.

“I wanna go home,” you spoke up, voice small.

Kyle, grinned as he ran a hand over your hair. “This is home, doll. Rest up, yeah? Gotta save up your energy for tomorrow.”

His words had wiped all sense from your mind, and you weren’t able to come up with a response as he rose from the floor and turned his back towards you. Tomorrow? No, no they couldn’t keep you here, locked up like some animal, some fucking toy to play with whenever they wanted. And yet still, all you could do was lay there as you watched them saunter out of the room, completely fulfilled as you laid empty and broken in that bed.

The door closed and locked behind them with a simple click, and that’s when you finally allowed your tears to flow freely. Keeping quiet, you slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the pathetic sounds as best as you could, refusing to let them hear just the effect they had on you. That night, you had nothing to lull you to sleep except for the sounds of whatever video game they had started up in the living room, and their joyous laughter as they continued on with their lives with no concern for their new toy.

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