#BUT the only expression he's allowed to have is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizziesfirstwife · 1 day ago

Text

Inevitable

pt.2 to Guardian Angel

jinu x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death and blood, depressive themes, possessive jinu, thirsty reader, suggestive language, use of Y/N, banter, slow burn, not proof-read

word count: 4807 (sorry not sorry)

authors note: listened to Ms.Whitman by Bhad Bhabie & watched the Korean Pop the Balloon or find Love halfway writing this. Fought writers block like crazy to bring this out, so enjoy! 🤍

Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.

It was quick. In most cases.

The air smelled of rain and cherry blossom. The hem of her dress was soaked, her shoes wet from running through the soaked grounds of the forest she had been hiding in for the past few hours.

Sunshine crawled its way through the canopy that the trees created. A desperate consolation, sympathy for her impending doom.

Tears streamed down her face, blisters adorning her feet like a plague, blood and mud sticking to them. She wanted to scream. So many things left for her to do, things she had carelessly written in her diary before going to bed.

I don’t know how to fix this.

The ground gave way beneath her, mud crept further and further up her legs, the lower part of her dress now completely wet.

Silence.

She stood still.

The air smelled of cherry blossoms and death. Her hands, which had once been white with cinnamon and flour, were now stained red.

Was it blood?

I fear that I will love you more than I will ever be allowed to.

Her hair had long since come loosw from her bun, the strands knotted and frizzy from running through the rain. Her barrette was lost too far away to retrieve, buried under mud and tears.

Birds were chirping. It was supposed to be a gift. She cried when she found out the price of the hanbok, made of lace and pure silk. Pink silk, hand-dyed with chrysanthemums and madder root. Lace, which was reserved for noble brides only.

She wanted to be a bride so badly.

Out of love for you, I have forgiven the world for what it has done to me.

A tear rolled down her face. She would have made a beautiful bride. An extraordinary one.

Now the dress that was supposed to be her wedding dress, was stained full of blood.

Her feet gave way and her body met the mossy forest floor. The sun shone golden down on her, as if to…comfort her.

Horse galloping. Screams.

Her hand closed around the diamond on her necklace, the only thing not stained by her blood.

She had always known that she would die first. It was inevitable.

˙⋆✮

Her cat jumped off the bed when she woke up screaming.

A week had passed since the strange encounter in the bakery.

She hadn't thought about what the encounter might have meant or why the strange man looked so familiar to her. Thinking about it would bring no clarity, only confusion.

Taking a deep breath, she threw back her blanket and took a sip out of the water bottle she had put on her bedside table. It was rare that she woke up before her alarm, but this dream had shaken something inside her that she didn't know was dormant.

After the meeting a week ago, she went to the post office to send her boss a letter demanding her contractual 14 days of paid leave.

Sonder.

The realization that every soul on this planet has their own story, their own pains to carry silently, ambitions that might never come true, dreams that were shattered, love that was forbidden to be expressed.

She wondered what he was doing with his life. Was he a shop assistant like her? No, he hadn't shown enough feigned niceness for that. When you had to deal with people every day and your survival depended on how convinced they were of you, you quickly learned how to manipulate people.

He didn't come across to her as the kind of person who needed to lie to people in order to survive. Maybe health care? Y/N imagined him in a white coat with a stethoscope slung around his neck.

Doctors didn't really lie, they didn't need to. They earned their living without lying to their patients, mostly. There would always be senior citizens with blood pressure problems, young women with iron deficiency, couples with fertility problems, and more than enough accidents.

She bit her lip before spitting her toothpaste into the sink. He would look good in uniform.

The smell of sandalwood and rain caught her nose, a crow cawed outside.

The sun was almost completely up, the dew still fresh, the sound of rain hitting the streets. The truth was, she didn't know why she had taken vacation. She took her necklace from her jewelry box on the dresser and clasped it carefully around her neck. It was an heirloom, at least that's what her great-grandmother told her before she died. It certainly looked old enough. The silver had a few scratches, the diamond hanging from it a bit dull.

Maybe she wanted to sleep in for once, or stop baking any more cinnamon rolls.

She took her perfume bottle, and wrapped herself in a cloud of sakura and dreamy vanilla. Her hair looked dull. The circles under her eyes were darker than usual, her skin dry from the lack of moisturizer.

When she was little, her mother used to say that her beauty was her greatest weapon. Not her knowledge, or her kindness.

Beauty was like a bullet that you could shape until it fitted into a weapon. You could polish it, improve it, maintain it.

Aim.

And fire if necessary.

In a selfish world, only the selfish could succeed. Y/N was never selfish. She didn't have it in her. She wanted to be. Too many cruel people were wronging humanity, too many evil people became successful. It seemed as if people had to hate each other in order to survive day after day, as if there was nothing left for the good souls in this world, nothing for those who recognized the strength in being kind and did not give up being so.

Sometimes she felt like she could snap, shout at everyone who treated her like shit. But did she want to be admitted to a ward? Hell no.

So she didn’t.

Rain beat against the glass of her windows. A sigh escaped her lips, applying the last bit of blush before going to her coat rack. How could it be that it was raining for the seventh day in a row? Y/N looked down and grimaced. She didn't like her rain boots. Not one bit. They weren't ugly, a simple shade of black, but whenever she had to put them on it felt like she was waddling. Just because it was raining didn't mean she wanted to feel like a duckling.

She loved the rain. The sound made her think a little less about just everything, her personal white noise. It was already warm outside, the early morning hours heating up the air. At work, she had no choice but to wear long clothes. It wasn't a company rule, but she had made the mistake of putting on an expensive dress on her first day at work and had to take it straight to the cleaner afterwards.

There was an indescribable emptiness inside her that she didn't know when or how it had taken root, like a virus trying to claim the happiness inside her for itself. She turned away from her coat stand.

She didn't bother to lock her apartment as she walked out the door.

˙⋆✮

It was Sunday again. But the emptiness, the feeling of not having earned waking up, did not rise with Jinu.

His throat felt dry. He hummed a song as he fished a shirt out of his closet, a black one made of silk, and sprayed a little perfume on his neck and in his hair.

He was leaving the bathroom when he paused.

Two steps back, one reach up. He put the bottle of perfume back in the cupboard, now that his wrists also smelled of sandalwood. Jinu didn't know why he even owned perfume. It wasn't as if demons stank, or needed anything other but their sheer will to bring people to their doom.

He frowned as he looked in the mirror. In the past, before his time as a soul hunter, he used to steal pastries from the palace kitchen, breaking them in two and using the contents as a perfume. He knew that no one would understand why he would have done such a thing, when he was in a good position as a musician at court. He didn't have to steal food from the kitchen to smell good. The most extravagant, expensive and unique perfumes in the whole of Joseon were at his disposal.

Jinu shut the bathroom door harder than necessary behind him. There were things in his past that not even he knew why he had done them.

The sun shone bright when he left his apartment. It had stopped raining half an hour ago, birds were flying around, more pedestrians roaming around and prattling than usual.

Even if he couldn't feel hunger himself, human food still tasted good to him. Paying for something in order to devour it made him feel less guilty than actually devouring lost souls.

Cinnamon, cherry blossoms.

He shook his head.

Since their encounter a week ago, he couldn't stop thinking about the woman in the bakery. How she smelled, how she talked, how she looked at him. She didn’t spare him a second glance. She didn’t scream when she saw him, he wasn’t sure if she even recognized him. And strangely enough, Jinu liked that. It was a change from the fans who usually fawned over him and acted like he was their promised husband and father of their future children.

He didn't want to, he didn’t plan to. He just wanted to stop by the next day, seeing if everything was going fine. The smile on her face when he chose the cinnamon rolls were still etched in the back of his mind. But when he peered through the shop window the day after their encounter, she was nowhere to be seen. So he walked around the block. Maybe she was in the back, in the kitchen, or the storeroom. But when he finished his walk and looked through the window again, the only woman in the shop was an employee over 40.

The wind blew through his hair, begging him to return to reality. There was no reason to think about a bakery employee who had simply sold him a cinnamon roll. He didn't want to be a stalker, like those in the movies he had seen becoming popular over the decades.

Jinu bit his lip. If that were the case, he would also have to think about the saleswoman in the clothing store and the manager for their concerts.

But it couldn’t be described as mere thinking anymore. He was almost embarrassed to have so many thoughts about someone who’s job was to offer him a service.

Get a grip.

What Jinu had learned in his more than 400 years of existence, was that peace, reliability, and good company were characteristics he utterly valued in his life. The second and third were areas for improvement, but he implemented the first into his life as best he could. As peaceful as a demon could exist.

He had been on Earth for several weeks now, their mission to destroy the Honmoon as close to being completed as possible. He was here to steal souls, to destroy them, not to care about their well-being. And he was exceptionally good at stealing souls. Demons could see the worth of a soul just by glancing at a person. There were souls that carried no light within them, souls that were not worth saving. Souls with no value.

These souls were easy targets.

There were hardly any souls left with light within them, souls that tried to live, that protected the flame of purpose within them despite the horrors this world carried.

He had never seen a soul like hers before. Pain, hopelessness, buried under an even greater longing to live, to survive.

A soul written in textbooks. Exactly what they needed.

He tilted his head back.

What was wrong with him? She didn't deserve to be seen as an ingredient. She wasn't a puzzle piece he could grab and adjust until the whole picture was right.

He took a deep breath. She wasn't important. There were plenty of other souls. Weaker souls, souls he didn't have to search for. More work for him.

He didn't care.

The wind blew cold as he turned into a quiet street. He wandered aimlessly, no purpose to his walk.

He stopped. Wind blew in his direction, caressing his face with utter care. Was that... no. He shook his head and walked on. Another gust of wind. A familiar scent, surrounding him, enveloping him, caressing him.

˙⋆✮

"And what did you answer to that?"

Y/N took a sip of her hot chocolate and sighed. She hated coffee; the taste was too bitter to drink every day. But she had a penchant for anything sweet. Her parents used to make snaky jokes about the tooth fairy loving her, because she was going to be her most loyal customer with how much sugar she consumed.

"That I didn't see why I should work another 12-hour shift on a Saturday for the third time in a row, alone with the intern, just because he wanted to go to a resort in Incheon with his mistress."

The man across from her laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"How did you know that the woman next to him was his affair?"

Y/N raised her eyebrow. "Women have a much better sense for these things than you think Joon. I have a sixth sense for shady entities. First of all, I knew he was married, because every year since I started working for him, he took a weekend off in June for his wedding anniversary. Second, his real wife was here last year for the reopening after the big renovation.”

Y/N hummed. Her boss’s wife was a real nice lady, small with a kind smile. What a shame to be tied to an ungrateful cheater who you had children with.

“And third... no man who has been married for 30 years would still deal with the trouble of taking his wife away every week and spending an entire spa weekend on her, three times…back to back.”

She raised her eyebrows and poked her apple pie with her fork.

"I hate men. They will say all women are the same, yet they get upset when you point out their oddly similar and reoccurring behavior."

The man shook his head and took a sip of his cappuccino.

“So you’ve given up on them?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "Difficult to give up something you haven’t even started." Shaking her head, she put her face in her hands.

"I don't know what to do with myself either. On one hand, I don't want to be taken advantage of. I don't want to become one of those crying women who eat tons of ice cream whining about some douchebag. Just thinking about it disgusts me. Being with someone, only for him to break up with me a few weeks later. Or better, a year later! More wasted time."

She sighed.

"But God... I don't want to be lonely. I don't mind being alone, but I don't want to give up the dream of finding someone for myself." Her eyes twinkled as she leaned back in her chair.

"Kind of funny, isn't it?"

Joon just shook his head and sighed. "I'm afraid I can't help you there sweetheart."

Y/N took a sip of her hot chocolate and looked out the window.

"Kind of weird to be the only one not being in a relationship." She shrugged her shoulders and watched people wandering around outside the café.

Her companion eyed her and leaned back in his chair. "You do realize that you're amazing even without someone by your side?"

She laughed, laughed deeply, and put her cup down. "I guess I do. I guess."

Outside, a few teenagers sat drinking juice and eating scrambled eggs with bacon. A mother and her baby sat at a table shaded by a tree, stroller pushed to the side, a cup of steaming something in front of her.

Babies. Y/N hummed and drank the last sip of her chocolate. She always knew she never wanted to have children. The idea of being responsible for another living being, for more than 18 years, was cruel to her. Children were great. She herself had become an aunt two years ago, her older sister now living in Busan with her husband. A niece. Y/N smiled at the thought of her and looked into her empty cup. She loved her, a little angel. But she never wanted children herself. She saw how little time her sister had left for her real family. A repeating pattern.

Y/N shook her head as she looked out of the window again. She would rather put up with 12-hour shifts every Saturday of the week for the rest of her life, than have children of her own.

Her friend sighed and put on his jacket.

"I really hate to leave you alone already, but I still have to pick up the cake for Eric or I won't be able to get everything ready in time."

Eric was Joon's boyfriend from Australia. His family didn't know he was gay, the stigma in South Korea still far too great. You weren't persecuted or arrested for loving the same gender, but it wasn't welcomed. So Joon told his family that Eric was an Erica, and that she was studying in Goyang and therefore couldn't visit him often. His family bought it. He was their only son and they didn't want to scare him away.

Y/N sighed and placed her saucer on his, their cups next to it. "I need to go for a walk anyway. My head's buzzing around like there's no stopping anytime soon." She looked outside and smiled faintly. "Enjoying the five seconds without rain before the flood attacks me again."

Joon laughed and stood up. She looked up at him, stretching as she did the same.

"Is he still calling me halmeoni?"

Joon raised an eyebrow and reached his hand out for their tableware, only to have it slapped away by her hand.

"I could lie."

Y/N rolled her eyes at his answer, somehow managing to put the 2 plates and cups on her left arm.

"Tell the kangaroo I said hi."

Joon laughed and gave her an obscene gesture as he left the café, leaving her behind with the dishes in her arms.

"Idiot."

She shook her head as she placed the dishes on the dish rack. Joon really was a complete idiot, but a nice one. She grabbed her purse and left the café.

The sun was now shining so brightly that she felt ridiculous for taking an umbrella with her when leaving her apartment. Luckily, it was one of those small foldable ones, so she could stow it in her purse.

The teenagers had long since taken off, the weather too nice to stay sitting somewhere the whole time. Y/N frowned. The stroller was still in the same spot under the shaded tree she spotted it in as she looked out the window earlier, but the mother was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't seen her go into the café either.

Y/N sighed and looked to the right and left before approaching the stroller. Her suspicion was confirmed when she spotted a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket inside, brown button eyes and tiny hands greeting her. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and looked around again.

"Strange."

She looked down at the baby again and turned back to go into the café. One hand wandered to her necklace as she asked the waitress that has been taking her order earlier, if she had seen a young woman enter the café in the last 10 minutes. However, the waitress just shook her head, saying there had been no new guests for 30 minutes.

Y/N frowned as she thanked her and bowed shortly, then went back outside to the stroller. The baby was still lying there, making little whining noises.

She almost wanted to slap her forehead. Of course the baby hadn't suddenly grown wings so it could fly away. But Y/N was glad that no one had taken it.

"I didn't know you had a daughter."

Her body whipped around, bumping into something big and solid.

A chuckle.

“Easy there darling. No need to rush.”

She looked up, an insult already on her tongue, when she faltered. Dark brown eyes. Sandalwood.

"You?"

Jinu laughed as she looked up at him with confused eyes and glanced to the stroller.

"You remember me? Didn’t think I made such a lasting impression on you."

She pursed her lips and looked away.

"I have many customers. Of course I remember those who buy my pastries."

He tilted his head and hummed.

"You look tired."

Her head snapped up, and he quickly raised his hands in appeasement.

"You still look pretty."

His cheeks were now a light pink color, and Y/N had to fight to hide the small smile that threatened to escape her.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "Are you planning to cuddle up to me all day? Not that I'm complaining."

Y/N's eyes widened when she realized that her upper body was still pressed against his, and she quickly took a step back. Or two.

Jinu looked her up and down, and this time it was he who had to smile. "Nice rainy weather outfit."

Y/N narrowed her eyes and looked down at herself. She had put on her black rain boots, which were now making her feet sweat rather than protecting them from the wetness.

And...the dress.

Black with spaghetti straps, barely covering half of her thighs.

Y/N cleared her throat. Suddenly even the little fabric she had on, felt too hot.

"You look good for being an eomma already."

Her eyebrows furrowed before she widened her eyes.

"That's not mine. I think her mother left her here."

Now it was Jinu's turn to look confused.

"She was sitting here the whole time while I was inside with my friend, and suddenly she was gone when I came out. She didn't come back to the café either," she explained.

Jinu frowned.

"Have you called the police yet?"

Y/N sighed. Why hadn't she thought of that?

She just shook her head and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

But the police officer on the phone told her they couldn't send a patrol at the moment. An armed robbery in the city center had required all their officers. If the mother had been gone for more than 30 minutes, they should take the child to the nearest police station and call child protective services, CPS, from there.

Y/N huffed when she ended the call.

Jinu looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He had excellent hearing and could hear everything the man told her on the phone, but of course he wouldn't tell her that.

What harm was there in listening to her voice a little longer?

Y/N threw her cell phone into her purse and sighed as she looked at the now whining baby.

"Police is busy with a robbery right now. Armed and stuff. We're supposed to take her to the nearest station and then call child protective services."

Jinu hummed and nodded.

"But we have to wait another 10 minutes until half an hour is up. He said the mother might come back."

Jinu frowned and shook his head.

"The baby doesn't even look older than 3 months. Who leaves their almost newborn alone in a stroller?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. Her heart almost broke as the little girl's cries grew louder.

She tapped her foot on the sidewalk. She looked up at the sky. Watched how the birds flew around the trees.

"Screw it."

She stretched out her arms and carefully lifted the little creature out of the stroller, taking care to support her head, and laid her against her shoulder.

“You! Take my purse and the stroller. I don’t believe a bit that her mother will turn up even if we wait the whole day.”

Jinu raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

If he was being honest, he liked her bossy tone. But only if he was being honest.

He took her pink purse off her shoulder, careful not to touch her arm, and placed it in the stroller.

There was silence between them as they walked down the street. He was all too aware of the stares from passers-by. He had forgotten to pull his hood back over his head, which he had taken off when he spotted Y/N in front of the café.

He wouldn't have minded if she had a child.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at the path ahead as he pushed the stroller in front of him. He didn't need to care about something like that.

He could already see the headlines in the fan magazines. Tilting his head back, he groaned silently. He didn’t want to listen to his groups lash-out tomorrow.

"So I guess you don't have any children?"

She looked up at him, and God, the way she had to crane her neck up to look at him, did something to him. He quickly looked away, but his gaze found hers again immediately.

"Nope. But I have a niece. She's 2, so not quite a baby anymore."

Jinu nodded and looked back at the road ahead. "I have—had a little sister. She was nine." He smiled painfully at the thought of her. "I was over the moon when I found out I was going to be a big brother. Unfortunately, I could never get her to be interested in my hobbies. She was always a free spirit."

Y/N smiled, and he couldn't look away when he caught it. She didn't dwell on the fact that he had spoken of his sister in the past tense, stroking the baby's back reassuringly.

She had no right to probe further.

Relief washed over her as the police station came into view.

Inside, they already knew about their arrival and immediately notified CPS. When the lady arrived, she smiled politely when she saw her before taking the baby into her arms.

"You could almost think it was yours."

She looked at the two of them and hummed a tune as she carefully placed the baby in the stroller and gave her her handbag back. She was fast asleep, tired from the morning sun and the clouds that were now gathering again.

Y/N blushed and wanted to say something, but Jinu beat her to it.

“It was good practice”, he thanked the woman.

Y/N blushed even more, stepping on his foot to make him finally shut up.

Jinu had to bite his lip.

This woman.

No, he would not steal her soul. And should anyone even try, he would banish them to depths deeper than hell.

Y/N sighed as the woman pushed the stroller out to her work vehicle and strapped the baby into an infant seat in the front passenger seat.

"What will happen to her now?"

The woman turned to her and smiled weakly. "Well, she'll probably be placed with foster parents until we find the mother or father. The mother will likely be charged with child endangerment."

She looked at the two of them one last time before getting into her vehicle.

"It's nice to know that there are still good people out there."

With that, she drove away, the child now being in safe hands.

Jinu shuddered.

Good people.

He didn't know if that applied to him. Either of those words.

"What's your name, anyway?"

The soft voice beside him woke him from his thoughts, making him look down at her standing there all squeaky on her tip toes.

"Jinu."

Y/N raised her eyebrow when he didn't say anything else.

God, he was tall. At least 6 feet, muscular through and through-

She cleared her throat.

"And what can I call you?"

She looked up at him and struggled not to lose herself in the depths of his eyes.

His voice was like a hand between her legs.

"Y/N."

Y/N.

He knew the name. Something buzzed inside him, something that had been asleep for a long time.

She cleared her throat and reached for her necklace.

"I guess it was nice to see you again, Jinu."

With that, she turned and walked down the street. Jinu stood still, the sound of his name on her tongue mesmerizing.

Y/N.

This time, she was the one to leave first.

Leaving the other speechless.

Distraught. With an incredible urge not to let the other go.

Then the headlines came.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Thank you for reading! If you enjoy reading this, I would appreciate a like, reblog, or a comment! I love that there are more stories about the movie out now. I still have to read them all. I’m still hopeful for a second movie <3 Sorry if I forgot to tag anyone, tagging almost took longer than the actual writing ᥫ᭡.

Comment if you would like to be tagged in a potential part 3! Requests for this movie are open ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

What do you think will happen in ch.3? Vote here!

tag list: @lunaria1 @owe-143 @yaezger @iamatinydinosaur @thaliasnicket @omgsuperstarg @chauchirem @lizzymizzy-blogg @aise-30 @rohjaewonlvr @miffysoo @vvhira @gloomuri671 @purplefluffycows @shoyomybeloved @yue-caelum @yourjustassaneasiamx @mafiulaputaama @ri-eveowe @sheicadaartista @justanindiangirl12 @mimiu3usoft @sparky2020sworld @mayuri-san @mcueveryday @ilovebtsstuff @l4nordina19 @obsessed-tyrant @kangsae-byeokfan @stupendousprincessengineer @thesimppotato11 @kelsxxyawn @zhentheraven @fava-boi @enerofairy @maximillienne @yoongi-tunes @crescent-z @loidswife27 @vieniee @jeewhat @miffysoo @calmmell @hihowareyou456 @koobiiiistar @asgwendollie @vivid11y @gina239 @imloveswans

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

320 notes · View notes

sharieb · 2 days ago

Note

Can I request headcanons where Lads men reacting to shy Non MC Reader giving him a love letter before dashing off like the wind please? - 🌕 anon

Signed, Shyly Yours

Pairing: LADs x shy! Non-MC reader

Genre: Fluff Writer's note: This one was really cute to write🥰🤭

You sneak the letter onto his clipboard just before his break, practically bouncing on your toes.

“I-uh-thank you-no wait- just- read it later! Bye!” you say, almost tripping as you dash away.

He’s left blinking. Holding the letter like it might detonate.

Did she just…?

He excuses himself to his office. Alone, silent, still.

He reads every word. Slowly. Twice.

You wrote about how safe he makes you feel. How you didn’t think someone as calm and brilliant as him would ever look your way.

Zayne stares at the letter, cheeks flushed, fingers trembling slightly as he reads every word slowly.

His throat tightens.

She sees me like that? But… I see her like that too. Every time she helps. Every time she smiles.

He presses the letter against his chest, eyes closed, as if trying to hold your feelings close.

Then he folds it neatly and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat.

When he sees you later, he tries to keep his cool but his voice wavers.“Thank you… for the words.”

He clears his throat, cheeks tinged pink, and softly adds, “They… made my day better. You always do.”

Later, he leaves a mug with your name, a little snow bunny figure made from his evol and a tiny note: “If you want to talk more… I’m here.”

You catch him watching you shyly from across the room, hands fiddling nervously with his coat.

You give it to him after his workshop ends, cheeks red as fire. “This is so dumb- no, just… just read it, please!”

And then you're sprinting off before he can say anything, nearly tripping on your way out, escaping his stunned gaze..

He stares after you, then down at the letter, his mouth slightly open, with his hand still outstretched holding the sealed envelope which he's now clutching as if it’s the most precious thing in the world... “...What just happened?”

Opens it right there, dead centre in the studio.

As he reads your words, your breathless, vulnerable admissions about how much colour he’s brought to your world, how dazzling he seems, he goes still. She... she wrote this for me? Me?

For once, he’s speechless. No witty remark. No dramatic flourish.

Just soft, stunned silence and a quiet, amazed smile that slowly lights up his entire face. “You beautiful, brave little thing,” he murmurs.

He’ll paint something that night. Inspired by your letter. By the way, your voice cracked when you fled.

A flower you love, every brushstroke infused with the warmth of your confession.

He also added little constellations in the background to reflect your presence in his world.

He keeps glancing at the letter between brushstrokes, rereading it with the sort of expression people wear when holding onto something too fragile to let go.

He’ll wait a day. Maybe two. Then corner you with the painting and say, grinning. “If I write one back, do I have to run too? Or are you the only one allowed to make dramatic exits now?”

When you blush fiercely, he laughs softly, the sound more tender than teasing, and gently squeezes your hand. “Next time,” he murmurs, voice low and warm, “stay a little longer. I want to hear you say it with that lovely voice of yours.”

During a lively friend group outing, you manage to slip Caleb the letter when no one is paying close attention.

His fingers brush yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“Just-um. Read it later, please,” you mumble, cheeks flushed, before darting away into the crowd.

Caleb blinks, momentarily frozen amidst the laughter and chatter, then stares at the letter like it’s glowing. She… wrote this? For me?

He tucks it into his jacket pocket, fingers lingering there, unable to stop smiling like an idiot.

He excused himself from the group just to open it in private, naturally.

Inside, your writing is slightly crooked, shaky, filled with nervous confessions about how long you’ve admired him, and how you never felt brave enough to say it.

His thumb lingers over his name written in your handwriting.

He reads the letter twice.

And then again. She likes me. She’s been watching me this whole time. And she ran

Later, as the group pauses near a café, he casually appears beside you with your favourite drink, softly saying, “I got your message.”

When you look up, he just shrugs, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “You run fast… but I’m faster.”

The way he keeps stealing glances at you throughout the outing makes your heart do little flips.

One evening, you find your gear prepped perfectly, your notes reviewed, and a silent note scrawled across the top sheet: "Thanks for seeing me. I've been looking too."

It’s the kind of quiet promise that makes your heart race.

Over the next few days, Caleb finds little moments to be near you, offering a hand when you least expect it, lingering a little longer in your presence, his steady flame growing warmer in your orbit.

You leave the letter on his desk at the Hunters Association heart hammering, “For you. Just… when you have time.”

And then you practically all but teleport out of the U.N.I.C.O.N office area.

He blinks, surprised, then carefully opens it, cheeks tinting pink as he reads your trembling words. “She… wrote this for me?”

He thinks to himself, a shy smile spreading, his fingertips brushing the page like it might vanish if he isn’t gentle.

He reads it again, and again, expression softening with each pass. There's a rare sparkle in his eyes, like a new constellation has just appeared.

That night, he reprograms the starscape above his bed to match the night you met.

As soft light pools across the ceiling, he whispers your name to the stars like a promise, feeling a quiet joy bloom in his chest.

The next morning, a thermos of tea appears on your desk, warm and labelled in his neat handwriting: “For steady hands and shy hearts.”

When you visit him later at his apartment, you find your favourite blanket folded on his couch and a cup of tea waiting, with a sticky note reading: “I read it. I liked it. I like you.”

Xavier watches you from the kitchen, ears red to the tips, trying not to fidget with the sleeve of his jumper. “Would you stay a little longer today?” he asks, voice gentle, almost unsure.

When you sit beside him, he offers you a cushion and tucks the blanket around your legs, his fingers brushing yours.

“You don’t have to run anymore,” he murmurs, almost inaudibly. “Unless… you want me to chase you.”

And when you glance over, you find him smiling shyly into his tea, like he can’t quite believe you’re really there, but he hopes you’ll never leave.

You slide the letter into his hand while he’s distracted, and he nearly drops it in surprise. “Don’t open it until I’m gone.”

You whispered, voice trembling slightly, before disappearing like a ghost into the shadows of the base.

Sylus raises a brow, then cracks the seal with a teasing smirk that fades into wide-eyed shock.

He rereads your words three times, cheeks pink, caught off-guard by your honesty, a rare softness blooming behind his teasing eyes. “A secret admirer, huh?”

He murmurs, voice low and amused, but his ears betray him, tinged pink as he looks away briefly with a sparkle in his eye.

Later, when he finds you lounging around, he leans casually against a wall just to catch your attention, teasing, “Next time, give me a warning. I nearly died waiting.”

As you try to run when he moves closer, Sylus quickly uses his evol to catch you effortlessly, keeping you in place. "Ah, ah, ah. And where do you think you're going, Angel?"

He soon sat down on the couch you were lounging on just a moment ago, and then used his evol again to make you sit on his lap this time. “Tsk. What, you thought you could outrun me, doll? After dropping something that bold?”

He smirks, clearly enjoying how flustered you are in his arms.

When you blush and stumble over your words once again, he just grins wider and adds, “Don’t worry, I liked it. All of it. Especially how you ran.”

Then, quieter, as his gaze lingers on your lips. “If you wanted my attention… You already had it.”

That night, he finds himself rereading the letter under the dim light, fingers tracing your handwriting, smirking to himself as his heart flutters a little lighter and a little more tangled than before, in a way he never admits out loud.

The next day, a single black feather-shaped pin shows up clipped discreetly to your bag, a subtle mark that you’ve caught the attention of someone dangerous… and someone who’s always watching.

Over the following days, Sylus's usual cocky attitude softens around you; he finds himself more protective, more attentive, more... fond. Almost domestic, in his own mischievous way, as if your confession unlocked something unexpected in him.

You catch him waiting outside the rooms you’re in, intercepting anyone who seems to be bothering you, and occasionally offering you his coat with a smug. “You looked cold. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse.”

LADS dividers made by: @uzmacchiato

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #zayne x non mc! reader #rafayel x non! mc reader #caleb x non mc! reader #xavier x non mc! reader #sylus x non! mc reader #lad x non mc #lads x non mc #non mc reader

173 notes · View notes

barleyo · 2 days ago

Text

Taste.

Hector Condicionado X F! Reader

A/N: quick quick quick little thirst for my sexy vent dwelling husband... ugh i need him bad

Tags: finger sucking, spit play, indirect kiss, oral fixation

Wordcount: ~0.4k

There wasn't much Hector liked about himself. Self-consciousness had always leeched into every facet of his life, more now that you had started being able to see him. It was easier when only he could see you, eyes following your daily life around the house.

What he did tolerate about himself were his hands and his voice. His ability to explain his yearning and desire for you in each word, his voice carrying it. The expressive nature of his hands, nimble and calloused as he reached out towards you.

He spoke to you through the vents, only his eyes, hands, and arms visible. He felt it was best this way—for you to only see what he let you. Otherwise, well, he feared the worst case scenario.

He feared laughter. Worse, perhaps disappointment. One wrong look and stifled chuckle would shatter him. He wouldn't take the chance. He knew you were curious, it was one thing he loved about you, but he couldn't yet allow you to see all of him.

For now, you would have to be satisfied with the bits and pieces he gave you.

Hector held your gaze and your hands, running the rough pad of his thumb over your cheek. He would adjust your necklace here, fix your hair there, massage your shoulders. All simple ways to show his love for you.

But when you weren't satisfied with that, he had other solutions.

Like now, as he shoved his fingers down your throat, letting his free hand cup your jaw and chiding you to relax your throat for him.

"Oh, my love," Hector cooed, his voice as silky and sweet as honey, "if you cannot handle my fingers in your mouth, how will you handle something more?"

Spit soaked your chin when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Wiry strings of saliva connected the both of you. The two, thick digits were coated.

He hummed at the sight. This was so close to what he actually wanted to do to you. He spread his hand apart, watching as the wetness dribbled down his palm and stretched between each finger. He wondered that if the vent weren't so high, perhaps the wetness on his hand would be from your cunt rather than your mouth.

In a better world, maybe. In this one, he relished in the feeling regardless.

"It's so unfair, isn't it?" he asked, tracing a finger over your bottom lip. "Truly, we're star-crossed. So close, yet so, so far, hm?"

He drew hand hands away from you, back into the comfort of his vent. With a deeply satisfied moan, he sucked your spit off of his hand, ridding his palm of any trail you left behind.

"At least from here, I can still taste you. I can still feel you."

#date everything hector #date everything #date everything x reader #hector valentino airnesto condicionado #Hector date everything x reader #Hector x reader #hector date everything

294 notes · View notes

flvvffy · 3 days ago

Text

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . ❝ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄... ❞

summary: suguru geto comforts chubby!reader, letting her know that she is loved and appreciated despite her insecurities

suguru adored you ever since the day he laid eyes on you. how could he not? you were breathtakingly beautiful, easy on the eyes and the your amazing personality was just another wonderful bonus.

suguru expressed his love for you in the ways he knew how. rushing to the store when you urgently needed something. offering his honest opinion when you asked. having an extra hair tie in case you needed one. he did everything he could to make you know that you are loved and appreciated.

you loved him too...deeply. he made you feel comfortable in your own skin than anyone else ever did. but sometimes...you felt that maybe changing yourself for him was for the better.

pretty girls with slim bodies were plastered everywhere you went. bill boards and social media more specifically. dressed in hot bikinis that you always hesitated to wear infront of suguru.

you were sure they never struggled to find the right bra that neither dug painfully into thier shoulders nor have cups too big. the right jeans that fit both their tummies and thick thighs, that actually allowed the possibility to breathe and not feel so self-conscious in public. shirts that looked stylish and trendy but comfortable.

you started to hate the way the seams dug into your skin, the way your reflection felt like a stranger's. you started to hate how you needed to plan your outfits like puzzles. never too tight, never too baggy. just enough to hide the parts you didn't like.

obsessively staring at yourself in the mirror. making a note of all the imperfections on your body. the stretch marks on your stomach, hips and swell of your breasts. the ways your thighs always touched. often thinking 'i know he loves me...i know that...but maybe he'd love me more if i wasn't... fat...'.

you wanted to let suguru know how you felt. but how? this wasn't a topic you were comfortable with. as much as you liked being around him, you couldn't help but feel too big, too noticable. especially when there were so many other girls out there, that were prettier, more skinnier and...perfect for him. your insecurities slapping you in the face whenever it crossed your mind

"I wanna start going to the gym...with you". you stated randomly as you were in his apartment, just casually, silently hoping that he wouldn't ask further questions. but you underestimated how much he pays attention to you.

"why the sudden interest?", his brow raised. shifting his attention for a short while from his phone to you

"i just wanted to try something new. you make it look so fun and easy", you reason but he still didn't seem to understand.

"it's not as fun as you think, pretty...you have to stay consistent"

"i can do that", he gave you a wary look and set his phone aside, attention fully on you.

"where is this coming from?", you shrunk back into the cushions, controlling your expression, hoping that he wouldn't catch up on your true intentions.

"just curious to know how it is...", he squinted his eyes at you and shook his head just a little. a sign that he wasn't, at all, convinced.

"you never want to try something new. you're the only person I know who despises change. you also told me that the gym seems like too much"

"people change", you shrugged.

"not you...you can tell me anything, you know that...". suguru's eyes showed concern. he placed his hand on yours the other tilted your chin to look at him. your throat felt dry. getting harder to swallow as he stared at you with such loving soft eyes.

"do you...", pause. "do you think i'm...beautiful?". silence follows. he looked deeper into your eyes, searching for sincerity in then. and you let him.

"you're the most beautiful girl in the world. of course i think you are", a small smile is plastered on his lips but you don't believe him...not yet...

"you don't have to lie to me...", his brows creased. his hand slid down to your shoulder and squeezed a bit.

"is it really so hard to believe. you are beautiful. has anyone made you feel like you're not?"

you shake your head, no. "i just feel like things would be better for me...for us if i was...skinnier"

"oh, baby...", he pulled you against his chest, his large hands cradled your head. you wanted to push him away. away from yourself...but you didn't...didn't have the heart to. so you wrapped your arms around his waist. your cheek pressed against his chest, the smell of his cologne invaded your nostrils, wrapping around you like a memory--sharp, warm...familiar

"there is nothing wrong with you, honey. everything about you is so elegant and astounding sometimes i think...that you're way out of my league.", you slapped his chest playfully and he kisses the top of your head.

"i go crazy whenever i see you. they way you carry yourself is just so...magical. i wanna nuzzle into you every time we cuddle. you're warm and you always make me feel so much better after such a long day. that beautiful smile of yours, your comfortable weight on top of me makes me wanna show you off to the entire world", he pulled back to look at you. your eyes a little watery.

he cupped your cheeks and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. "there is nothing that you need to fix for the world, but the world needs to fix itself for you". a tear slid down your cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb. you were smiling now, your cheeks heated and heart full from his words alone.

suguru leaned in, sealing his lips with yours in a passionate kiss. eyes closed. heart thumping loudly in your ears as your tongues danced together. hands roamed around the other's bodies until he pulled away. catching your breathes as he pressed his forehead to yours and whispered:

"you're beautiful in ways you can't always see...and don't you forget that"

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐅𝐋𝐕𝐕𝐅𝐅𝐘

152 notes · View notes

nightscythe · 2 days ago

Text

primarchs and their unbalanced love

adapted this request slightly so it wasn't just a sentence and focused more on them. if this didn't meet what you wanted anon, please let me know!

pre-heresy, tw on curze/alpharius for yandere like behaviour // your relationship with the primarch would always be unbalanced because you're just a human. you reach your breaking point and end things.

lion: you’d noticed the looks, sat quietly as another questioned why you were there and the lion chose to glare rather than defend you, seeing it pointless to explain – it had been luther who told you to run far away and never look back, promising that staying within reach of the primarch would never end well for you. he’s stood upon the allure of the fortress, staring down at the people who praised him. loved him, even, seeing the primarch as a saviour to all they knew. though he was never blind to the criticism of the people when it came to him, especially when it’s voiced so clearly to him. he scans the crowd, slowly, taking every face in until he finds you; watching him already, expression numbed, eyes dull, the hint of your soul already faded. he recalls the last words you said to him as your hands clasped gently over his, the universe was not made for our two souls to be together. he’d grabbed your wrist, tried to stop you from walking away from him, but he never got the chance to tell you. then i will strip the universe bare until it allows us to be. instead you saw anger, rage, a vengeance you knew he was capable of, but he never allowed you to see before. his final words were a promise, leave now, before i remind you why the universe wouldn’t allow us to be together. this was his punishment, your eyes finding his whenever he left the four walls he knew you could never enter, a constant reminder of what he never had.

fulgrim: you’d ignored it at first, what some people were willing to do for the primarch, how they’d have killed for him, to be with him, or even just to hear his voice in person – and one person can only overhear so many discussions on how people plan to kill them before they decide a change is needed, even if it hurts more than anything. the seat at the head of his table felt shameful. all eyes on him, wanting, requiring more from him than he was willing to give. he hadn’t looked up from the embroidered and lace-trimmed placemat that his fingers played with in minutes, avoiding the conversation around him. there weren’t many things that could bring him to silence, let alone people. yet you had managed that. likewise, you’d managed to do the impossible and capture the heart of a man made to never have feelings. when he finally looks up from the placemat, eyes darker than before, the room falls to a sharp silence. the only person he can find the strength to look at is you. across the room from him, dressed in the colours he told you looked perfect, though every other part of you was concealed from him. your eyes never leave the floor, even as the silence continues. of course i’m afraid, you had told him when he approached you, cowering from his larger frame. the image was burned into his mind, torturing him each hour. i would protect you from everything, he reassured you, there is not a thing on this earth that could harm you whilst i still live. he can still feel the way your hand slipped out of his as you turned your back to him. from your father? you had asked, voice hollow, from yourself? fulgrim never answered. the room eventually starts to speak again as fulgrim looks back down to the placemat. only then do you dare to look back at him.

perty: it was never that you didn’t trust him, but you knew he would never believe that – you’d learnt of what he had done to those who failed him, asked him one too many questions and seen the side of him that everyone had feared but you hadn’t yet seen. he believed he’d ensured that you were erased from every record related to him. believed he’d never see your face again, never hear your voice, embrace your smile, or enjoy your laughter filling the halls. weeks had passed without any part of your presence, and he believed he needed it, yet every step he took his soul felt lonelier than before. he’d thought he’d heard your voice a few times, chased the sound down empty hallways to find nothing but the ghosts of his memories. he believed today was no different when he heard your call from one of the rooms; one which sounded so real it stopped him in his tracks. he waited, listened, wanted to hear more – a wish which was fulfilled within seconds and has him tracking down the source. he almost stumbles through the doorway where the sound is loudest, catching himself on the stone frame but still garnering your attention. you don’t speak, not even as the woman opposite to you bows and offers her apologies. but the longer your gaze is locked, the more his nostrils flare, the tighter his jaw tenses. leave, he tells you, coldly, lest i remind you how quickly i can have you removed for good. you only nod, slowly, stepping back from him quietly and dragging your eyes down to the ground. he waits, watches, hears your voice tell him how you felt unsure of your place within these walls. when you look up to him one last time, he feels the snarl at the back of his throat. if you did not feel safe then, why would you feel safe now? he questions. why would you trust me now?

khan: you’d watched men die, seen how expendable life was with your own eyes, and seen how quickly he had moved past it, leaving only one thought on your mind – that you must have been just as expendable as everyone else he stood over. the hardest part of all was accepting it. he sat with a handful of his sons around, none daring to look at their primarch who had scarcely looked beyond the spot right in front of him for the past two days. all he did was think. about this, about him, about you. it could never go beyond that though, he never was able to find peace in his own thoughts nor in the conversation with others. but you had come on your own volition, hearing of the primarch’s unusual silence amongst other gossip from the crowds, and when he saw you in front of him, slowly coming to rest on your knees, it was the first time he found the right words to say out loud. you’re wrong about everything, he says, not giving you a moment to speak. you nod, once, though you do not speak. he fills the space between you with more necessary words. i would not make a promise so lightly if i did not know it could be fulfilled. but i assure you, with everything i could offer, that your life will never be in danger so long as i live. your silence is excruciating, the throbbing in his body getting quicker and quicker as he waits for your answer. but it never seems to come. but if you cannot trust me that i will make true on my promise, then i shall not ask anymore of you, but to remember how deeply i cared for you.

leman: he had tried his best to keep you separate, despite the loyalty his sons offered and how deep their bond went – but when you’d started to understand why he was called the executioner, why his legion was known to be so deadly, and when you discovered everything he had been responsible in the name of his father, you realised that you would never have been spared. his body ached. he’d thrown himself into any situation he could, begged that the all father would bless him with something that could knock him out cold and give him some breathing room for just a few moments. every single one of his thoughts was about the same thing. doubt. of himself, of his capabilities, of anything he had ever considered a strength. each time raised his weapon and bared his teeth, your words took over his mind. you will never be enough. his mind falls silent to what you had actually told him. you do not have it in you to stand up to your loyalties over a mere human. you could not betray everything you know, everything you stand for, just because they disagree with me, or do not want me, or think i am unworthy. he didn’t want you to be right about it. and as he stood there, broke another man’s bones without even thinking, he realised he still couldn’t argue against you. the thump of a body hitting the ground forces him to tear his sight back to reality, focus shifting from the cheers around him, to the man laying before him, to your eyes at the back of the room, never looking away. you would never be unworthy, he’d told you before, a sentiment still felt, i wouldn’t care what anyone said about you, it is only me who gets to decide if you are worthy to be at my side. you’d smiled softly then, just as you are now. only until someone tells you i can’t be.

dorn: you had gotten used to all his quirks, you’d grown to love it over time, and it was nothing in particular that had pushed you to your limit other than time – when you looked at him one day, you allowed yourself to wonder for too long what it might look like if he stopped loving you, and there was no space at his side for you. it took him longer than usual to process your words. far too long, in fact, because by the time he’d looked up to you, you were already walking away, your bow in his direction and a mumbled apology lost within his conscious thoughts. he watches you walk away from him, only taking a few steps towards you when you near the end of the long room, but freezing immediately when you turn back to him, only looking over your shoulder. you should know that i will always love you, you tell him, sigh leaving your lips as you turn to face the exiting doors once more. you take a step, slower than before, and that’s when he decides to finally speak. i will try harder, he promises, moving towards you again, whatever you need from me, say the word, i will do it. because i… he stops, both his words and his movements. you turn back to him again, this time fully, lips gapped and eyes clouded. his jaw tenses for just a moment as he finds the words, knowing already that they weren’t enough. i would do anything for you, to consolidate the love i have for you. won’t you let me have that chance? you shake your head slowly; you’ve already told him it was out of his control. won’t you at least let me try? he asks again. it wouldn’t have mattered, even if you did. not many things in the world made him feel powerless, other than you.

curze: there was always whispers of what he was capable of, always a forgotten story of what he had done before, and you’d still fallen into his charm with open arms – realising soon that the real enemy within was the legion he had also grown to hate, but that didn’t mean you were able to leave . the room was cold, dark. everything he loved to have, especially seeing as you’re sat on the floor in the corner, wide eyes watching him with your knees pulled into your chest. he can’t help the way a grin creeps back onto his face as he approaches. did you miss me? he asks, gently, stopping only a foot or so away from you. he crouches down to your level, reaching out a hand to trace over your own. he sighs, content as you don’t pull away from him this time. i thought of you every moment. i wondered if you were thinking of me too. he leans forward, face closer to yours, hand reaching for your chin when you try to look away. i made a promise to you, my little dove. do you recall? he waits, though never expects an answer. not when your lips are quivering, body shaking. he only smiles, reaching around to drape his cloak over you as if it was the cold causing your reaction. i promised you that i would make this work. that you would never need to leave me, that you did not need to fear for anyone near me any longer. and where are we now? another silence falls between you. one enjoyed, revered. you’re with me, and you’re safe from any harm. he’d chosen to ignore himself in that equation, though.

sanguinius: despite his sweetness, how he touched you as though you were the softest feather, you knew what followed behind him – when you became a target as well and realised that your life was in danger unless you were always at his side, you knew it had reached its limit. it never mattered that he’d commanded armies, that he’d survived impossible feats, that he was beloved by the imperium and treasured by all as the great angel that was impossibly perfect in all ways. something inside of him had broken, snapped clean in two as the weight of every emotion fell to him at once, overwhelming him beyond anything else he had felt. don’t walk away, he called, halting your steps with the tone of his voice alone. you turned, slowly, faced by his figure that approached you far quicker that you could ever run. is my love not enough for you? do you desire more? every part of me is yours already, yet you still choose to leave me? his voice shakes, words falling rather than being spoken. he drops to his knees before you, never reaching for you, yet begging with eyes that were bloodshot and shattered. i could protect you from anything this universe has to offer, he affirms to you, hands clasped together, i would stand before anything in existence that posed you harm, but that is not enough. he feels the corners of his eyes prick with a feeling unknown, and only then does he reach for your hand and bring it to his cheek, his own hand placed over your own. tell me what more i must do to prove to you that this isn’t a mistake.

ferrus: his obsession with perfection had sat with you for far too long – you were human, weak, easily killed and willed away, so you knew that one day he’d turn you into something he considered stronger, better, even if he didn’t realise what he was doing. he’d found himself alone far more often since you’d gone. sometimes when he reached for tools on his bench, he expected to feel you instead, sometimes he’d hear the door open and look expectedly as if you were the one walking through the door. though it never was you; not your hand reaching for his when he was trying to do something else, not your cheerful greeting as you approached him. your missed presence was something he understood, but with each day that passed he only wanted to isolate himself more from others too. it all reminded him of you. especially those words that tormented him the most. i am just another weakness that will need correcting. he slams down his hammer harder than before, the sound running your voice straight out of his head. he could have told you that you weren’t a weakness. he could have denied it entirely, but he knew it would be a lie. others could perceive you as such, others would look upon the human at their primarch’s side and wonder why. instead, all he told you was that he wouldn’t correct you, not when he saw nothing for him to change. he let you go, let you walk out of the last space where you felt any safety around him, without telling you what he truly felt. you were already perfect, he speaks to no one, unable to find the strength to continue his work, i never wanted to change a thing about you. though he knew at the bottom of his heart that he may have needed to.

angron: his mind fracturing wasn’t something you had no awareness of, and you believed that somewhere along the way you had been able to help – but the time he had killed another in front of you was the turning point, even if you claimed it was the whole legion. he had seen the way you always approached corners with caution, how you kept your voice quiet, how seeing you when doors were locked from the outside world was entirely different to having you stand amongst a crowd of people who claimed their support for him. it was his naivety or arrogance that led to ignorance each time, opting to let it pass without issue or never ask what caused it. not until you’d told him, quiet with him for the first time since he knew you, avoiding eye contact and hiding yourself when he drew near, that it was all too much for you. it could never happen, he tells you, pleading as he approaches you, i would never allow a soul here to touch you, to even look at you without welcome. he didn’t understand it fully still, how you believed such harm could come from those around him. or perhaps he did now, and again it was ignorance in the way. what is worse is that you did not come to me about this before, that you waited until the very end to speak a word of your worries and gave me no time to fix them. he sighs, still intent on changing your mind, ready to wage a war in your name if he had to. as he approaches you, reaches his hand towards your shoulder, he notices the way you flinch away. his brows furrow, eyes drifting to his hand before falling on you again. he didn’t understand, because he never realised the extent of it all. it is not just them, he speaks quieter than before, realisation a slow but heavy hit, you find reason to fear me, too.

rob: it wasn’t a quick realisation, but something that built with time; he was never committed, despite what he claimed to feel, and he never reciprocated past your hidden meetings away from the world he lived the rest of the day. he wasn’t mindful of how long had passed since he’d made his way outside to feel… something. he wasn’t sure what he needed, but staring at screens and seeing your reflection, sitting in thrones and wondering if you would approach him, it wasn’t helping. he remembered the last time you stood beside him, watching the stars quietly, you both enjoying company more than anything. but in a moment he wished to declare something forbidden in the eyes of many, you’d looked up to him with the most delicate of smiles and carried their views. this cannot continue, you’d whispered, softly, echoing the thoughts that had first crossed his mind, if i could make a wish for anything, it would be for this, for us, but… he’d reached for your hand before you could continue, noticed the way your eyes became glassy. let me make that wish come true, he’d offered, as sincere as he could be, it will not be easy, but i will make things as they need to be to ensure that this does not need to end. your privacy, your safety, it will be kept through every moment, i can ensure you as much. your smile began to fade as you answered, i don’t wish to be hidden, not at your detriment. he wishes he’d have tried harder, stopped you from walking away, or just confessed to you that this was more than just affection. it was never a detriment, not for someone i love. perhaps you’d hear his unspoken words when you looked at the stars, too.

morty: he’d never changed, and you had loved it for him once, until you understood that mercy had never been something he wanted to offer, nor would learn to – and it reminded you that he was someone to be feared. he’s stood in a doorway watching you. hasn’t moved in minutes, maybe longer, never letting his eyes go further than just past where you’re sitting. if he moved, if he spoke, if he dared to even breathe every part of him would shatter in the reality that you had brought to him. no asking, no talking, just the simple words that he trusted you to never say to him, because you’d always promised him that he was enough. please try to understand, you say gently, eliciting nothing more than a scowl in response, i’m worried, i feel fear just treading the ground around you, afraid someone may take it the wrong way or see me in a different way to how you see me. he looks down from your eyes for merely a second, just long enough for everything inside to crumble. do you not think that’s selfish? he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t try to approach you. do you not think that you could have tried harder, just for me? his chest burns as you look away from him sorrowfully, but unlike him, you never look back. it never ceases to amaze me how similar all you humans are. he still doesn’t turn, even as his words turn sour. do you not think i worry too? i see your vulnerability, i consider it with every decision i make, every step i take, and you still wouldn’t believe that was enough. his laugh is bitter, a frail cover for the emptiness within, something only you had been able to fill, and seal away by a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. go, but know that if i ever see you again, you will be treated no differently than everyone else, then you will truly know fear.

magnus: you knew of his power, understood what he was capable of, never once feared for your life around him – but the whispers in your dreams telling you to move on only became louder, and so did the vision of your death at his hands. the only room he can sit in without memories beginning to haunt him is one you never touched. a small room that had been filled with old books and relics, now cleared so he could sit inside and feel freedom for five minutes of the day. your absence caused him more pain that he could admit to, let alone handle, but he had forced himself to leave you to the peace you wanted in the hopes that maybe you’d understand what it was like without him. his allocated five minutes of freedom are over before he hopes and he’s forced back into the emptiness that the rest of tizca brought him. as he walks the halls, he replays fragments of your words to him. i do trust you, beyond anything, but this is far bigger than just you or i. he’d contemplated the consequences of giving everything up. you could not prevent fate, even if you wished to. but he would always try. love was never meant to exist between us. those words stop him completely. his hands are curled into fists at his side, breathing deepening to the point where he can barely feel reality around him. he doesn’t have time to realise what’s changed, not until he can feel you with him, presence alluring as he feels your discontent, your sadness, filling every crack of time and space between you both. he’s not there, not physically, but he sees you turn to him as though you know he’s there. let me try to make it work between us, he asks, quietly, never expecting a return. it never could work, you answer, we were not made for each other.

horus: of course there was talks about it, you’d heard of the intention to make him warmaster the second it had reached prying ears – and it was in that moment, you realised you could never stay with him. the feeling didn’t sit right with him, not when he knew you were right there yet entirely untouchable to him. he could bring planets to heel, he could crusade in the name of his father, but he couldn’t convince you that love was enough. it had sat on his mind for days as he tried to come up with a speech to change your mind, have you fall to your knees and accept him like he always wanted. the speech never came, the opportunity to approach you never manifested, not until he saw you speaking with a face he didn’t recognise within the grand hall one evening. weeks of stewed emotions and feelings seem to hit him at once as he approached you, ending your conversation as another person bowed to him. i don’t know how to change things, he tells you, honestly, eyes never leaving your own despite how they dart around the room. if i couldn’t convince you then, i won’t be able to convince you now. but that doesn’t change how deeply my love burns for you. he doesn’t care if others heard, but he knows you do. so tell me how i can make this work. what do you need from me? you can’t answer him immediately, swallowing hard and breaths quick. you open your lips just a little, then shut them once more, looking down to the ground. he knows your answer; you’ve told him before. i need you to not be you.

lorgar: you had been warned by many, knowing the threat you posed to their regime, knowing that you had taken the primarch’s attention away from what should truly matter – and revenge was promised. he believed this was his punishment. he had let his devotion slip and focused his attentions elsewhere, and his reward was replaced with a love that could never be returned. he kneels at an altar as his eyes fall shut. immediately he’s tormented by the ghost of your hands on his skin, pressing over his shoulder, skimming his chest; or your lips pressed softly against his neck. then he hears the echoes of a whisper, what was left of your presence in his world. i could never love another as much as i love you. his lips curl at each word. he’d replay it a thousand times over and over, never to be sick of the sound. but then it falls eerily silent, his mind pushed to another time he had tried so hard to hide. you cannot love me, you’d told him, words cutting through any remainer of the faith he held, not in the way that i love you, not in the way that anyone could love you. he opens his eyes, darkness of the room around him a greeting he wished never came. but your words don’t stop. your life has never been decided by you. he can feel how you sat in his lap and whispered it to him. i was never to be part of your life. i’ve become a variable that they cannot control. if i stay… you had never finished, but he knew. he’d watched you walk away, he’d reached out his hand to stop you but never called. was it better this way? he asks, call to the void ignored by all around him. do you truly believe love is only dictated to me? his world may have been controlled by others, but what he felt for you.

vulkan: an offhanded comment was made, not by the astartes, not even by anyone close to the primarch, but a serf who was yet to know their place – and though it should mean nothing, the mention of your humanity is a harsh reminder of how separate your worlds were. the silence looming through the room was unnatural. if anyone had entered his private chamber, they’d have known he was mourning; not someone lost, but something gone. quietude was a welcomed guest around him for some time, the only break offered being a forced schedule or something he wished to not attend. but he knew his duties were not to be missed. do not think for a second i doubted you, he recalled you telling him, stood no more than a few feet from where he now sat. your love is true and i know that, but i also know that you are more than i could ever be. he hated how all he did was listen. how he agreed; how he let you walk away from him with little more than a kiss to the back of his hand and a request of a promise for him to try to understand. he did, somewhere beyond the depths of his emotions, but he also knew that to him, you were everything. you would never see that though. you would never have believed him when he told you that he would make sure your authority matched his, that no one would ever stand up to you or question your place. in every other lifetime we’d have found each other, he’d spoken quietly the last time he felt your warmth, i’d have given all of those away to have a chance to be with you in this one.

corvus: you’d first noticed the way his attention seemed to always divert to you, but the moment you watched him make a mistake because of you, it was obvious your time at his side was limited. at first he was worried you’d be able to feel his presence. he wondered whether you’d see him in the corner of your eyes, hear his footsteps you knew so well, understand that your shadow wasn’t the only thing that had been following you this whole time. he shouldn’t be here, he should have given you the space you wanted and left you to what you had chosen, but the temptation was far too high for him to ignore it. whether you were doing the simplest tasks or something he chose to pay no attention to, he wanted to see it. he wanted you. and he truly thought he had gotten away with it, that his cover in the darkness of night and shadows was enough to keep him hidden away, prevent you from noticing the fear that lurked beyond. but as he turned into the alley where you had walked only moments ago, it was your smaller frame that stopped him with a hand held up to his chest. this only proves my point, you say to him, glare harsher than he expected, this is what i was afraid of. he only reaches for your hand to take it off him, chest already filled with anticipation and regret. i promised you your safety, he tries to tell you, his excuse meaningless. it was never that which you cared about. you were caught off-guard by a mere human in pursuit of me. the longer i’m around, the more of a danger you are to yourself. he never said you were wrong. he just didn’t want to admit you were right.

alpharius: you’d found the collection of information that the alpha legion had on you, and believed there was no way you could ever live your normal life again – but you hadn’t stopped to consider if it really was the legion you were at risk of. watches you closely, head tilted slightly to the side. your happiness has faded, he can see it in the way you carry yourself so rigidly, tensing whenever anyone comes near. he sees the way your eyes scan the room like you’re waiting for something to surprise you; someone to be there that you were trying to desperately to avoid. he feels the smile falling onto his lips as he begins to approach, cautiously, truly believing that his surprise would be welcomed. as the room fell silent, you froze, and the grin that manifested on his lips only grew. are you okay, my love? he asks, hand on your back, tensed under his touch. you didn’t look to him, but he could feel all your attention on him already. i must applaud you on how convincing this all was. i did truly think that you had left. no one would dare question him, no matter how much fear was in your eyes. when you told me you were leaving, i’ll admit i was worried. but that i remembered that everything you said to me, how you were worried of what my father would do, or what my legion may say, or what my brothers might have done to you… it was all wrong. he reaches for your cheek, turning you to face him. his thumb ghosts your skin. he hums gently as he breathes in. it was an interesting way to test me, i will give you that much. perhaps not even a test of my loyalty, but this connection between us. i just wonder, my love, when did you realise that the only person you needed to fear was me?

i am getting on top of requests i promise, i've been very distracted with both catching pokemon and the nameless king, whose love i have rediscovered through nightreign, but the corvus fic is almost done ^^

102 notes · View notes

l4lenthusiast · 2 days ago

Text

Buttons -Spencer Reid

GirlDad!Spencer Reid x mom!reader

Warnings: Forehead kiss (I think that's it?) No use of y/n

Word count: 662

A/n This was supposed to be a short blurb but I got carried away so first real short fic!!

"No, Lottie, not in your mouth!" You took the pink crayon from your daughter and sat her on your lap. Today you and Spencer decided that crafts could be a fun idea for your freshly two year old, clearly not thinking through all the things she would try to put in her mouth.

Spencer chuckled, putting a small basket on the living room floor with an assortment of buttons, glue sticks, and colorful paper.

"C'mere Lottie." He reached out for the pant leg of her snoopy overalls courtesy of Aunt Penelope on Lottie's second birthday last month. She was spoiled severely between gifts from the team, your family, not to forget you and Spencer, who definitely went a bit over board. Charlotte gurgled something between a "no" and a giggle when Spencer pulled her over.

"Crafts are beneficial for toddlers," Spencer started, laying out the items, giving Lottie her stuffed lamb. "they foster the development of fine motor skills, hand-eye coordination, and creativity." He continued, passing you a handful of buttons.

"Activities like painting, drawing, and using handheld supplies like buttons help refine dexterity and precision." He handed Lottie two buttons, one for her and one for her lamb.

"Crafts also encourage self-expression, allowing toddlers to communicate their emotions and ideas non-verbally." He finished laying out all of the craft supplies and adjusted the white bows in Lottie's pigtails you put in this morning without much of a struggle.

"Do you know what lambs say?" He asked her with interest. Lottie smiled at him before making a "baa" sound, which Spencer greatly praised.

"Okay Lottie," Spencer spoke softly, turning her around to face him. "Why don't you go sit with Mama, and then we can start. Okay?" She nodded her head, shaking her pigtails in the process, and reached out for you.

"Hi sweet girl!" You sat her on your lap and gave her her pink sippy cup half filled with apple juice from snack time earlier.

Spencer held out his hand with a selection of colored paper. "What color do you want?" He asked her, showing off the papers.

Charlotte thought and pointed at a few looking up at you for confirmation.

"There's pink Lottie!" You told her, pointing at the pink colored paper.

"Yes!" She cheered, clapping her hands together and looking at Spencer with a pleading face.

"May me?" She asked him, Spencer had been trying to teach her proper vocabulary by using "may" instead of "can."

He smiled at her, and without putting up a fight, he handed it to her, although it did take a lot to not correct her from "me" to "I."

Lottie sat on the floor next to you, starting to color and place buttons on her page, blabbering only a few words you or Spencer could understand.

"Lottie," Spencer tapped her knee lightly. "Are you done your picture?" He asked her, looking up at you with a smile.

"Need glue." She mumbled. You could tell she was getting tired. You checked your phone to read 12:54. You and Spencer usually try to get her in bed for her nap by 12:30. He gave you a knowing look and started to negotiate with your toddler.

"Okay angel, how about we glue your buttons down, then you go have a nap so your picture will be dry by the time you wake up?" He pulls her into his arms, and she rests her head on his shoulder in exhaustion.

Lottie nods against his shoulder, already half asleep. Spencer smiles at the sight and starts to rock her while picking up some of the leftover supplies.

"Here." You grabbed the crayons out of his hand. "Why don't you go put her up for a nap? I'll clean up." You told him, looking over his shoulder to see your daughter fast asleep.

He nodded back hesitantly and stood up to bring her to bed. He turned around and pressed a kiss on the top of your head, then continued walking towards the stairs to put sleepy Lottie to bed with her lamb still in her grasp.

#spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dad spencer reid #reid criminal minds #reid #reid x reader

89 notes · View notes

nataliaphantomhivesblog · 22 hours ago

Text

I can't help but think about little o!Ciel, who didn't have any friends besides his brother, and how much he's been able to grow since then.

People in his life have learned to love him for who he is, instead of for the title he holds.

For starters, the phantomhive servants absolutely adore him, their gratitude running so deep they would willingly put their lives on the line for the earl.

Each of them proves their unwavering loyalty through their own arcs, showing a love so fierce they’d go through hell and back if it meant restoring their young master’s dignity and rightful title.

Unlike Sebastian, whose loyalty is bound by contract, the servants offer something far rarer: sincere care for o!Ciel’s emotional state, watching over him with loud, human devotion.

Every servant developed a unique and meaningful bond with our earl because he saw them as individuals: not just staff.

He valued their strengths, understood their roles, and treated each connection with respect, making their loyalty personal rather than just professional.

They are o!Ciel’s chosen family, the ones who see him not just as the Earl, but as a boy carrying more than he should. They offer a kind of love he’s rarely allowed himself to hope for.

And on a small side note: Tanaka, having known o!Ciel since before the tragedy of December 14th, he maintained deep affection for the young earl.

Their bond is so special to our earl if we consider he's the only person that o!Ciel genueinly ran to hug him after a month in captivity. He didn't hug madame red back, nor Elizabeth (considering that as a kid, he was sort of...pushed aside in comparison to r!Ciel.)

But he did hug Tanaka and that single, wordless embrace speaks volumes about the unique safety and unconditional acceptance the butler represented, perhaps the last remnant of true warmth from the world he'd lost.

I would contend that Tanaka harbored a particularly tender soft spot for the boy, his service always carrying undercurrents of paternal warmth and profound respect for him.

Even now, as Tanaka stands dutifully by r!Ciel’s side, his anguish is palpable; a silent testament to the boy he still honors in his heart.

He clearly contineus to hold so much regard and respect for o!Ciel. (look at the way he proudly talks about o!Ciel's toy company im gonna cryyyy, it's literally the only time he's smiling as he works under r!Ciel)

Then of course, there’s my girl Elizabeth. Yeah, she stuck around because she thought o!Ciel was r!Ciel—but somewhere along the way, she connected with him. And that bond? It became something honest and deeply hers.

o!Ciel saw Elizabeth for who she truly was: fierce, dedicated, and far more than the delicate lady she pretended to be for his sake. He saw her strength, her loyalty, and the way she loved with her whole heart.

and he embraced all of who she is, there never was a single ounce of disgust in him as he did so. Only quiet admiration, maybe even awe, for the girl who never stopped fighting for him, even when he couldn’t do it for himself.

While Elizabeth was basically groomed into the title of fianceé and loving her betrothed blindly ,she genuinely grew to feel comfortable and connected with o!Ciel, despite his deception.

o!Ciel, who, albeit unintentionally, gave her the space to express herself and her feelings, even though he wasn’t who he claimed to be.

And even after discovering his lies, she understood why he’d kept them. Their connection was genuine even as their foundation was false

Then of course, I have to add Elizabeth's brother, Edward, into the mix, who learned to truly see o!Ciel's hardwork and respect him for it

Though his approach is steeped in tough love, the blonde's deep regard for our earl shines through whenever he speaks of him. There's an unmistakable pride in his voice as he recounts his cousin's merits.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Edward entrusts o!Ciel with his deepest fears about his own morality, and in turn, the young earl offers him something precious: reassurance.

With words that carry both wisdom and compassion, o!Ciel reminds Edward that he is, at his core, a good and respectable man.

Edward holds so much respect for o!Ciel and trusts him enough to ask for help as well.

And I want to make it clear, Edward didn't do this because of o!Ciel's name and who he believed he was, but because he’s witnessed firsthand what o!Ciel is capable of. This is trust forged in action, not obligation.

let's not forget Prince Soma!! he really is the first real friend in our earls life. He just waltzed in and molded himself into our earls heart so flawlessly lmao.

Prince Soma appreciates o!Ciel deeply and continously does everything in his power to make this boy feel safe and cared for, he's always offering and encouraging stability, care, and above all, a sense of security the young earl so desperately needs.

Soma’s loyalty to o!Ciel is simple, there’s no grand justification, no hidden agenda, not even the pretense of obligation.

He simply looked at this guarded, grieving boy and thought: You’re my friend now. No lies, no calculations. Just stubborn, sunlit devotion, offered freely because Soma decided it should be.

And though our earl would sooner swallow his own tongue than admit it aloud, he lets Soma care for him, grumbling all the while, but never with real venom.

For all his bristling, he permits the prince’s relentless sunshine to shine quietly through the earl, and that silent permission speaks louder than gratitude ever could.

And even Soma's butler, Agni, deeply cares for and respects o!Ciel.

Agni is completely loyal to Soma first and foremost, but he also genuinely respects o!Ciel. Even though o!Ciel's dark nature troubles him, Agni still looks out for the earl's wellbeing.

His care for o!Ciel is real - he checks on him, protects him, and treats him with honor, not just because of his title, but because he sees value in him as a person.

The butler is always excited about the concept of Prince Soma and o!Ciel together as genuine friends. While part of this is because it's what Soma wants, Agni also recognizes that o!Ciel needs this friendship too. He understands that despite o!Ciel's tough exterior, having someone like Soma by his side is good for him.

We can't forget that one of Agni's final acts - just minutes before his death - was carefully intending to piece together a burnt photo of o!Ciel's childhood. He did this even after the earl had been harsh and confrontational with him.

This gesture proves Agni never truly held anger toward o!Ciel. Despite everything, he still cared deeply for the boy.

And last but not least I want to mention Sieglinde Sullivan, who is also another person that came to quickly harvest affection for o!Ciel.

The earl was her first ever friend, and while his intentions were always manipulative, you can't deny he really did inspire and motivate her in ways no one ever did.

He’s also brutally honest with her—warning her to watch out for people who might use her, even telling her to be cautious about trusting him.

It’s not cynicism, but a genuine attempt to shield her from the same manipulation she’s endured back in her village.

She saw him and tended him at his most vulnerable state, so he will always hold greatfulness for her even if he never admits it.

He formed that bond with Sieglinde simply by being who he is. The fact that he both encourages her and looks out for her in his own way—without pretense—naturally deepened their connection. It wasn’t forced; his genuine support created the perfect conditions for trust to grow.

IN CONCLUSION....

and there's many other characters whom adore o!Ciel who i wanted to add but...I think the tangent is long enough to get my point across :)

Our earl is genuienly so loved and cared for, and if it weren't for Sebastian and the contract hes bound to, he might have found real healing in this carefully woven safety net of devoted allies - a chance to recover from his pain rather than be consumed by it.

I think that's one of the biggest tragedies of our earl's character, he has so much capacity for love and warmth, yet the very darkness that forged him prevents him from accepting it.

This is his cruel paradox: A boy who kindles fire in others' hearts

while his own soul burns for the demon's feast.

He was made to be loved, but his fate averts him from keeping it.

#black butler #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #kuroshitsuji manga #black butler manga #yana toboso #prince soma #elizabeth midford #agni #sieglinde sullivan #edward midford #phantomhive servants #mey rin #bard #snake #finnian #anime #analysis #manga

76 notes · View notes

toxycodone · 23 hours ago

Text

desire v. devotion

ship. hector x reader

content. nsfw, dom!reader, chastity cage, reader is gender neutral but w afab genital references

author’s note. she heating on my ventilation until I air condition…..or whatever. anyways <3 yearners are earners yipppee. Hector can I please fuck your greate please please pleaaaase

song.

Since becoming human, Hector has experienced much outside his self imposed confinement in the attic. And yet despite it all its wonders, you are still the greatest thing he’s bear witness too. Once reduced to admiring you from the shadows, now able to see you in person. Touch you. Feel you. It’s awe inspiring, truly. In every which way you allow him to have you, the man will most gladly accept.

In the current moment, Hector finds himself in his newfound most natural position—bare and kneeling between your legs. He’ll sit until his knees ache, until the muscles in his back contort in agony. As long as you are happy, he’s on top of the world.

“What do you want, my love?” His lips tremble with anticipation. “Anything. Just ask for it.”

The way his dark eyes peer up at you are akin to a loyal dog. Watching and waiting for your next command.

You know what you want, and you know he does too. His mouth is merely inches from your own heat. He’s not asking out of confusion, he’s well aware of his next step, yet he’s doing this to tease you.

You pause only for a moment, before moving your foot towards his crotch.

“Hector.”

He almost yelps when you skin grazes his caged cock. He hasn’t touched himself in over a week, as per your request. As difficult it has been to comply (and who can blame him, having full access to you at all times), Hector has been sure not to give into his desires. Unfortunately, this has made him exponentially more sensitive than before. The friction of you barely ghosting over the covering has him wanting to keel over and beg for more.

“You must be pent up. You want me to help you out a little? I can let you out if you want to cum.”

A whimper escapes his lips as you continue to touch him. Such small motions and he’s already cracking. You’re sure to give him another stroke, before pressing your foot against the cage. You can tell that does something for the man below you, as he audibly moans. His brows scrunch, sweat beads on his forehead, but Hector doesn’t give in. He takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“No. No…don’t, please.”

He speaks as if he’s nearly out of breath, shaky hands moving to part your thighs.

“You first…” His tongue traces over his lips. The expression he makes is almost pained as your foot drags across the metal cage, he’s so close to breaking but stays committed through sheer willpower. “You come first, always.”

Ever so devoted, bending to your command—your partner leans forward. His hands move to caress your thighs and perch them on his shoulders. The familiar feeling of his warm skin and rough callouses on you sends a tingle down your body.

Knowing you have so much control over him does wonders for your self-confidence as well as your libido. Hector will forgo his own satisfaction in order to see you delighted. You’re sure he’d keep that on for the rest of his life as long as you promised to let him service you.

Hector always starts by pressing gentle kisses up the slope of your thighs, before lowering his head to where you want it most. His thumbs part your lips to allow his tongue to splay across your folds. Slow and methodical, takes note of which areas are most sensitive. The way you squirm in his grasp and buck against his face have Hector humming in contentment. He loves having this effect on you—giving you the upmost pleasure in ways others could only dream of. It’s truly and honor he gets to witness you like this.

But what interests him most are the areas that have you whimpering and whining for more. The ones that cause you to grip his dark curls in desperation, urging him to service your further. Here he is, on his knees and seemingly at your command, yet you’re the one vying for his touch. You need it, need him, to get you off. He knows just how tease and toy with you without you realizing.

You. And only you. That’s what consumes his mind. You swallow him wide and whole, clutching his thoughts in your jaws and binding him to your ver existence. Between your legs is his solace. The feeling of your skin, the warmth of your body, the heady smell so uniquely your own. It overtakes him. Here he knows his purpose. Knows his place. And it’s to be of your eternal service.

Hector’s stirred from his thoughts as your toes graze the skin of his pelvis and find their way back to his cock. Even though the cage prevents him from truly getting any relief, the ghosting of your skin against his over the slits has the man reeling. God, it’s amazing—yet so, so frustrating. He’s missed your touch dearly and longs for it again. To feel you against him once more would be a dream come true. He lets his desire take control and allows himself to hump pathetically against your foot, chasing a release not yet to come, before finally steeling himself to move you away.

This isn’t about him. This is for you. Everything he does is for you. And this is a commitment Hector takes seriously. He’s only allowed to cum if you feel he’s deserved the opportunity.

Getting you close was a simple task. He can tell your own orgasm is coming by the way you flutter against his lips and grind against his face. He loves it when you’re on the brink of orgasm. You no longer hesitate to use him for your own pleasure, riding the slope of his nose and smearing yourself down his face. Hector feels less like a person and more like a sex toy—much to his own pleasure.

He pulls you flush against his mouth and buries his face fully into you now. There’s no more need for discretion anymore, as you’re clearly on the cliff of your own pleasure, and he’s eager to ease you off. You finally cum as he curls his fingers into you, gently sucking on your unsheathed clit. These ministrations continue as you spasm on his face, ebbing into gentler kitten licks as you start to pull away. Hector’s not fully keen to move until you push him away. He’s only disappointed for a moment, until he gets to revere your beautifully flushed demeanor. Regarding you is like witnessing an angel. Hector starts to feel himself crumble under your gaze.

“Was that okay….?” Attempting to swallow his nerves did him no good, as it persists in his tone. He starts to massage your thighs as a way to busy his hands. “Are you satisfied?”

It’s a question almost not worth answering. You’re honestly spent and need more than a few moments to recover. He’s an expert at his craft, yet always feels the need to ask for feedback.

“God, yes.” You answer him, to which he lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re amazing, Hector, like always.”

You wonder when he’ll ever come to terms with the fact he’s more than enough for you. But until then, you’re happy to keep reminding him. For now, taking care of his flushed cock swelling against its confinement seems a lot more urgent.

“Now how about we get you outta that cage?”

#hector valentino airnesto condicionado #hector date everything #date everything x reader #date everything #hector x reader

107 notes · View notes

nqrancia · 3 days ago

Text

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : bucci-gang including trish

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : sweet moments with your s/o & their stand!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : alcohol mentioned & slight suggestiveness in abbacchio’s (i got a lil bit carried away lmao)

𝐚/𝐧 : first time writing for jojo’s so i hope y’all like it! my friend proof read all of these and requests are also open! :)

𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝐁.

✦ | The capo truly believes that if his stand wasn’t so well behaved, that it would’ve dragged you into the zipper dimension and kept you there so you could shower it with praise forever. He won’t allow that to happen though, so don’t worry. Bruno still finds it adorable when you praise his stand for good work, it almost feels like he’s receiving the praise himself.

───

Tonight was a rare occasion, your beloved Bruno was able to be home for once. The past weeks had been full of countless missions that needed to be taken care of, and only he was trustworthy enough to be in charge of them. As frustrating as it was being away from home, he enjoyed the time he was able to spend with his little group. But, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. He was eager to see you and hold you in his arms again, to give you all the love you had been yearning for during those few weeks. Letters were simply not enough to express it.

As soon as he entered the front door to your home, he was met with a warm embrace; an embrace reminded him of the days when you were both young and newly in love. Childish, passionate, and so utterly infatuated. With a light chuckle, his arms snaked around your waist, whispering, “I’m home, bella.”

It didn’t take him long to acclimate back into the calm atmosphere your home exhibited, he was finally able to delve into the book he had been itching to read. As he did so, you decided to take on the duty of preparing dinner. He, of course, had offered to do it himself, but you insisted he needed to rest and relax. He couldn’t deny his fatigue, but he still felt guilty for having you do all the work yourself.

He wasn’t too far in his book before he heard soft humming coming from the kitchen followed by the occasionally clanging of pans. A soft smile spread across his face; these were the sounds of home he had been missing. He couldn’t help but look up from his book and into the archway that invited guests into your kitchen, catching a glimpse of the little dances or actions you would take to entertain yourself as items cooked on the burners. You were so sweet and he adored that about you, even simple, domestic moments like this one.

Without even realizing it, his stand had somehow been released during his lovesick staring. It had opened a portal to the zipper dimension and entered through the wall into your kitchen, right next to you as you stirred the pot of pasta. Its sudden appearance startled you, but only for a moment as it merely stood there and admired the cooking process. Sticky Fingers could be an odd one, but it was a useful and dependable stand and friend to have.

Soon, it was time to make the sauce for your pasta. After some rummaging through your fridge, there was no garlic to be found. You swore you purchased some at the store earlier that day, but you supposed you simply overlooked it. “Damnit, I forgot to grab garlic at the store.” You sighed.

Next to you, your husband’s stand immediately perked up; almost like this was the moment it had been waiting for. Quickly, it created an opening in the wall with one of its zippers and swiftly entered and closed the zipper. A few minutes went by, and then came back the stand. It seemed it had nothing, like it had just disappeared for no apparent reason, but then you noticed it was holding an item in its hand. Upon closer inspection, it was exactly what you had needed. A clove of garlic.

Your mouth shaped into an o, then slowly formed into a thankful grin. “Oh, thank you, Sticky Fingers.”

Before it returned to its user, you gave the stand a quick peck on the cheek. A simple way of giving it your thanks, “I swear, as kind as Bruno is, he doesn't give you enough praise.”

If stands could blush, Sticky Fingers was doing exactly that.

Having been listening to your conversations from his comfortable seat, Bruno released a quiet sigh, “Please tell me you paid for the clove.”

───

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀.

✦ | For a while, he thinks you're genuinely insane. You’re fawning over his stand, an extension of himself that can’t even properly communicate with you or talk to you. It can only rebroadcast the past events that Abbacchio asks it to, yet you still consistently shower it with praise when it replays the information he needs. He would never admit it, but he does find it endearing when you do so.

───

Once again, Abbacchio was drowning his sorrows in liquor. This habit had begun to dissipate when his relationship with you began, but old habits do die hard. He found that it would happen more when you weren’t around; around to see how fucked up of a man he really was. He was never what you thought of him to be, at least, he didn’t see himself that way.

In your eyes, Leone Abbacchio was a stern, but caring man. He hid his true feelings with anger, hoping to avoid attachment and sentiment, but the people around him couldn’t help but get closer to him. Without even trying, he was a magnet to the teens in Bucciarati’s group; them seeing him as a figure to look up to. At times, he would even crack small smiles at them simply acting like normal teens. If brought up, he would only deny he ever did. But, you knew the truth.

Even with your constant worrying and check ups on him, his depression would never disappear. It wasn’t something that could be fixed, it simply was; and he knew that all too well. On nights when he did get rest, it would be interrupted by nightmares. Scenes of his days as a cop, money being shoved into his hand, the gunshots, and the blood of his partner on his hands would play over and over. Sometimes, it felt like Moody Blues was tormenting him in his dreams. He knew that wasn’t true, but that was what he wanted to believe.

That feeling was familiar as he sipped on his booze, sitting in loneliness at your dining table. He would drink and drink, believing it would make the pain go away, but it never did. He recalled a saying he was told as a child, “If you believe hard enough, your wish will come true.” Abbacchio never wished, but if he were ever able to muster one up, it would be to wish that you were home right now. Not to see him in the sad state he was in, but to deliver the affection you decided he was worthy of. Your kisses were like blessings and your words were like sugar, it almost felt he was being healed from just your presence alone. Maybe that was why he would replay your mornings with him, when he was his loneliest.

As he rewinded Moody Blues once again, the sound of keys entering the keyhole could be heard. Soon after, you gently opened the door with hands filled with bags of groceries. Your eyes traveled up to meet his gaze, then turned to catch the bottle in his hands. “I’m home, Leone.”

“Welcome back.” He muttered, his grip tightening on the bottle. A tell tale sign of his nervousness.

As you sat your bags of groceries on the table, you took notice of the double of yourself that stood behind you. The stand quickly turned back into its true form, giving you a welcoming nod. You gave it a peck on the cheek as it made staticky noises spout from its audio player. “Were you using Moody Blues to replay this morning, again?” You questioned as you took away the bottle of liquor.

This time, he didn’t utter a word. He only looked off into the distance, a part of him shameful of his actions. You never liked that he coped this way, but it was about the only way he knew how. But, instead of berating him, you gave him a sweet smile, cupping his cheek with the same gentleness you gave his stand. “You can just say you missed me, y’know?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you right now.

“We can work more on helping you find a better coping outlet. I won’t have you do it alone, Leone.”

Before you could say anymore, Abbacchio took a loose hold on your wrist, pulling you down closer to his face. He stared into your widened eyes for a moment, then roughly pressed his lips onto yours. His hands soon wove their way into your hair, keeping you steady for an onslaught of kisses; each more passion filled than the last. His light purple lipstick had smeared, part of it now smudged on your face. He didn’t care.

You were in his embrace, you were home. The drunken wish he had made came true.

As he finally pulled away from you, he stared at the purple now present on your lips and the light red hue that rose to your cheeks. It almost made him fall in love with you again, almost. “Leone-”

He had shut you up with another kiss, with a quiet murmur, “I don’t deserve you…”

───

𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎 𝐆.

✦ | Golden Experience shares the same adoration for you as its user does, often it grows flowers or plants for you as a thank you. However, it can be overwhelming at times. Sometimes, Giorno’s heart rate spikes when you do nice things for him, such as when you give him kisses or pick up his favorite snack from the store. Those simple actions mean much more to him than you think and make his heart beat quicken, resulting in a sudden patch of flowers growing beneath him. Trust him, that was all Golden Experiences doing.

───

Being a mafia don was terribly exhausting, each day was filled with more tasks that needed to be completed and assigned. Giorno knew that from the beginning when he first took on the journey to achieve his dream, but there was a piece of the puzzle that he had acquired during that time; you. You were one of the members of Bucciarati’s group, and the first to treat him with an ounce of respect. The bond the two of you formed during your mission to protect Trish became unbreakable. That bond eventually formed into something more than just friendship, you became his first love. Now, the love of his life.

He loved coming home, to see your beautiful face greet him with the same adoration he had for you. Even though he would come home exhausted, more often than not, he would always stay up into the late hours of the night just to spend as much time as possible with you before he had to return to his duties in the morning. Just like today.

The moment he walked in the door, you greeted him with that kind smile of yours. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tightly, trying to pour all your love into a single embrace. “Welcome back home, Gio.”

Giorno soon returned the embrace, his arms snaking around your waist as he rested his head against your shoulder. “Thank you, love.” He murmured.

After a moment of sweet silence, you released yourself from his hold. You could barely contain yourself, judging by the fiddling of your hands. You slowly inched yourself towards the dining table, quickly hiding an item behind your back. “Guess what I got you while I was out today?”

A chuckle left his lips, “That’s quite a hard question to answer.”

“Then I’ll spare you, just this once,” you then pulled out the treat behind your back, excitedly presenting it to your beloved. “Two of your favorites combined, chocolate pudding!”

“Why thank you, dear. I take it that this is from the sweet shop you mentioned.”

You smiled cheerfully towards your beloved, “Of course, Gio! You deserve it for working so hard.”

As soon as you uttered those words, the man felt his heart beat become faster than it had been before. Below him, ferns and weeds began sprouting from your floors along with flowers of various species, primarily ones that spoke “I love you�� in the language of flowers. It was like a mini garden had suddenly grown in your own home.

This didn’t go unnoticed by you either, an eyebrow raised in concern. “Um, Giorno, I hate to cut this romantic moment short but there’s a flower patch growing beneath you.” You spoke, pointing to the floors below you.

“I’ll pot them later, love,” he whispered, pulling you ever closer to him. “I want to continue to enjoy this moment with you.”

He was utterly smitten.

───

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐅.

✦ | Fugo is extremely concerned for you, but Purple Haze loves it! Due to the stand's unpredictable nature, and possibility of one of its bulbs breaking, it’s rare that Fugo even lets it out around you. It’s rare that it’s even let out in general, but Fugo takes extra precautions so as to not hurt you. However, on the rare occasion that his stand does make an appearance, you are quick to praise it.

───

Fugo could only stare with concern and distaste as you stood a little too close to his stand, arms crossed as his hands formed into fists of frustration. This was his own way of coping, coping with your optimism and kindness towards him and the stand he had grown to despise. His aversion to his stand in the past could be considered so little compared to the precautions he takes now that you have become his beloved. The others within Bucciarati’s little gang had certainly taken the hint that Purple Haze was an unstable stand, but you just couldn’t stay away from it, now could you?

Battered and bruised from the battle that had occurred just moments ago, you still sought to give your favorite stand its well deserved praise. With both your hands cupped around your mouth, a celebratory shout left you. “Good job, Purple Haze!”

Your excitement caused the stand to look directly at you as it drooled, its eyes mimicking a puppy asking for treats. Then suddenly, it began to clean the drool off itself erratically, almost as if it were trying to look presentable for you. It was adorable.

A grimace spread across Fugo’s face, disgusted by his stands attempt at cleaning itself. It was utterly fruitless and only made him more embarrassed by the situation. Seeing this, he gently took hold of your wrist and pulled you closer to him, farther outside his stands 5 meter range. “[Name], please refrain from getting too close to it,” he sighed.

In response, you wrapped an arm around him as you pointed to his stand. “But, it’s so cute! Just look at it.”

Fugo, however, did not share the same sentiments. “I’m being serious, please avoid getting close to Purple Haze. It’s unstable.”

“It reminds me of you, y’know.”

He huffed, “Of course it would, it’s an extension of me.” Only Fugo could see it that way, but there was much more to Purple Haze than meets the eye. It’s nature was that of its users, yes, but its actions reminded you of how much your Fugo meant to you. His supposed “annoyance” towards your behavior to his stand was never what it appeared to be; his feelings and actions were only a means to protect you. His anger was a mask for the softness of his heart, a side only you were permitted to see.

It hurt your heart to know he found it hard to see himself the way you do, but you could try to. “Sure, but its habits reflect the true nature of your soul. You act all tough, but you can be a really sweet person. I love that about you.”

For a moment, you could feel Fugo freeze in your arms. You didn’t even have to look up to know he was fighting off the blush rising to his cheeks.

───

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐎 𝐌.

✦ | Mista adores you, and so do his Sex Pistols. The countless times the bullets have fought over your attention is enough to prove that fact. You can never truly say who is your favorite because they can and will fight over it, for several hours. Or maybe even days.

───

All you and your boyfriend wanted was some rest, any number of hours would do at this point.

As you laid against Mista’s chest, little voices kept bringing you back to consciousness. Bags were beginning to form under both yours and his eyes. Combined with the excessive work you had both received during the week from Giorno, rest was the best possible date the two of you could have. Unfortunately, the Sex Pistols just weren’t ready to settle down.

Their chittering was adorable, that you could not deny. It was difficult to tell them no, even when they were asking for an item as simple as a piece of your food. However, when their cute conversations developed into arguments, their lovable nature turned into not so lovable behavior. Their attitudes would become worse towards their user, but never towards you. After all, they love you just as much as Mista himself does. Nevertheless, it still got on both yours and Mista’s nerves if it went on for too long.

Finally, Mista had had enough. After a long, drawn out groan, he released an annoyed shout, “Guys, can you stop with the racket? You’ve been at this for 3 days now!”

This got his stand’s attention, and they quickly fired back:

“But, Mista!”

“[Name] has yet to pick one of us!”

A sigh left your lips, a pout of frustration soon following after. “You lot should know I don’t like to pick favorites.”

Your little companions however, did not agree with your words. Like clockwork, you could see the wheels turning in their brains to come to the conclusion that you absolutely had to choose. They then released a shout in unison, “There can only be one!”

Once again, you released a sigh before sitting up straight and wiping your tired eyes. “If I pick, will you please let us rest?”

A nod was given by each bullet.

Mista observed as you sat, thinking carefully upon your answer. Then suddenly, you spoke. “Number Five.”

Immediately, a joyous shout came from the little stand which was then followed by disappointed groans from the others. Before you knew it, Number Five was even doing happy laps along the hallway as the others chased it. The sight could only make you laugh and at least they brought their little fight into the hallway. You quickly rose from the bed and shut the door before they could come back in.

As you laid back down, an arm wrapped around you to bring you back into your boyfriend's arms. You then gave him a poke on the cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”, you whispered.

A haughty scoff left his lips, a smirk following in suit. “Obviously.”

Truthfully, all of them were your favorites.

───

𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 𝐆.

✦ | Sadly, you can’t exactly love on Aerosmith like some of the other stands in the Bucci Gang. It’s quite literally a mini airplane. Instead, you can give your boyfriend double the love to make up for it.

───

“Just one, please?” He begged.

“Nara, I am not giving Aerosmith a kiss.”

Narancia’s begging had been going on for several hours now, and he was not going to let up any time soon. Your relationship with him had always been sweet and loving, it was hard to ever find him without you by his side. Abbacchio and a few others liked to joke that Narancia was like a koala with him always clinging to your side, but you never minded it. You had always found it endearing that he loved you so deeply. But, there were a few times that his acts of affection were a little too… interesting for you.

Your boyfriend’s arms then wrapped around your waist, desperate for a positive answer. “But everyone else’s stands get loved on like crazy, and it’s starting to get jealous!”, he whined as he slid down to the ground.

This was ridiculous, yet adorable all the same. You playfully ruffled his hair, using your other arm to wrap around him and keep him off the floor. “I think you’re speaking for yourself, hon.”, you giggled.

Narancia looked up from your stomach with the saddest, most heart-wrenching puppy dog eyes you had ever seen. No puppy you had ever met had managed to sway your heart like the boy who clung to you did nor made you fold so quickly. He had to have been cursed by some witch.

“…fine, but just one.”

He immediately perked up, eyes filled with pure joy as he nearly jumped from how pumped he was. “Yes!”

Aerosmith soon appeared next to you, awaiting its affection. You didn’t waste any time and gave it a quick peck on its nose before quickly standing back. For a moment, you swear the plane's frown that was usually present on its face turned into a grin as it spun around in the air to make a heart shape with its smoke. For a stand that was meant to scare, that was one of the most adorable things you had ever seen.

Arms then wrapped around you from behind, nearly making you fall as Narancia glomped you. “It loved it!”

You couldn’t help but smile, “Now, it’s your turn!”

Before Narancia could react, you turned around and pressed a kiss on his lips. Then another, and another. As you began pecking his cheeks, he broke out into a fit of giggles as he inched you even closer to him. If he were to ever pass, it would certainly be from your affection.

───

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐔.

✦ | Trish finds it a bit odd at first that you give special attention to her stand, but then she eventually comes to like it. Sometimes she’ll catch you putting make up on Spice Girl, even asking the stand if it likes it or not. Trish thinks it’s cute.

───

Spice Girl was a diva, that much you knew. Much like her user, she was particular about her fashion and her tastes in general. Where others would see only part of the picture, your girls saw the whole masterpiece. It was something you admired about them, their complexities are what made them unique and you loved them for it. Even when they could be difficult at times.

As you sat with your girlfriends stand at her vanity, you carefully dabbed the larger brush into the pink powder. Then, with a gentle hand you patted the brush on the stand's face. It remained quiet and still as you did so, trying not to ruin your hard work. You then repeated the same actions with a darker pink blush, being just as careful.

After you finished, you sat back and admired your work. It was a hard choice, both blushes looked beautiful against its pale pink skin. So, you decided to get up and spin the stand’s chair around so it could look in the mirror. “So, a lighter pink or darker pink for the blush?”

Before the stand could reply, a voice came from behind you. “I think a darker pink, it looks nice against her skin.”

There stood your Trish, who had recently just woken up judging by her sleepy eyes. Her pink hair was still messy from her beauty sleep, but she looked adorable nonetheless. A smile creeped up on your face as she approached your side, and you were quick to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Goodmorning, sweets.”, you whispered.

“Goodmorning to you, too.” She murmured, then she took more notice of what exactly you were doing. You were doing make up on her stand, a past time only you and her participated in. Even with Trish’s particularities when it came to her routine, she eventually let you do it for her at times. Over time, you had memorized her routine and she found it cute that you did so.

Pulling up a chair, Trish sat next you as you continued to do her stands makeup, occasionally giving pointers to you. If this was what she woke up to every morning, she wouldn’t mind waking up early.

@𝐧𝐪𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚 - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

95 notes · View notes

cybermannete · 7 hours ago

Text

𝖡𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖩𝖺𝗑 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾..

I'm going to just let you know now to not expect a lot from him. If you have a crush on him, just be prepared for absolutely nothing. Not a lot of fun extravagant dates, surprises, nothing like that.

Jax isn't the guy to immediately crush on someone at first sight. That's just not who he is. After all, he enjoys getting a rise out of people and poking and prodding at what makes them tick. And that includes you.

The only time he'd show any kind of interest is if you seemed to not allow him to get under your skin. Just kind of ignore him, really, and he'll start to maybe have conversations with you. You know, the ones where he doesn't have that shit eating grin on his face.

If you somehow manage to get him to like you, you will become even more of a target for him to play with. Expect jokes, pranks, anything and everything. It's a test to see how much patience you have with him. But he will also try to make you laugh by messing with others. He considers it a win if he makes you laugh.

Don't expect a huge confession under the stars. Your relationship just kind of.. happens. An unspoken "hey we're together now" between you two. And everyone just understands that you both are off limits, though everyone cannot imagine how the *HONK* this happened. You just tell them "He makes me laugh."

Jax will open up to you eventually, and his attitude will soften. When you're in a bad mood, he'll just say *come on, you're prettier when you're smiling* to get a good laugh, before he sits down and he just.. talks. He'll blab on about an adventure he went on, or he'll sit and he'll shit on the other circus members. That's his way of showing he cares.

I know I said to not expect a lot, but if you look really closely at him from across the room, you'll notice his expression soften, and his smile become just a tad bit more genuine. ♡

#tadc jax #the amazing digital circus #jax #reader insert #jax x reader #headcanon #self insert #writing

53 notes · View notes

codeword-art · 1 day ago

Text

I don't want this to come off as judgemental or like I'm personally attacking anyone that thinks differently about this specific scene, but I'm not going to lie and say I won't be a bit dramatic/harsh in these statements either. Ultimately I can sort of understand why some may think this is funny or humorous given similar jokes and scenes in other media, but to me personally, I don't. When Henry rescues Hans at Maleshov, and they're discussing the secret passageway and how Hans refuses to take it because of his claustrophobia, I don't think its funny to then physically assault Hans and drag him unconscious through the passageway anyway. Is it easier as a game mechanic, sure. If people are having a hard time getting through this quest the other way, I can understand simply making this option to just move on.

However, to me, that option is not acceptable under any other circumstance when RPing a good or neutral Henry. It'd be one thing if this scene was played humorously, like so many questlines in KCD and KCD2 are, but its not. If Henry presses Hans about not going through the passageway, he damn near has a panic attack, it's actually awful to watch. Hans is dead ass serious about his phobia, says the idea makes him nauseous, and he'd rather take his chances at the front gate. He is damn near close to crying here, while trying to make Henry understand. He is not doing well.

I understand this is frustrating, I'm not saying I wasn't frustrated at first either, from both a players and Henry's POV, but phobias are irrational fears that cannot be controlled, especially in 15th century Bohemia where therapy wasn't even a science yet. Hans has a good reason to be scared, he already was uncomfortable in tight spaces, and his fear was exacerbated during the "Finger of God" quest, and he hasn't really had any time to process what happened. He was immediately kidnapped and thrown into a tiny room with Brabant, of all people.

So to have Hans express this fear, lightly or seriously if pressed further by Henry, and then to think I'd immediately turn around and betray his trust and bodily autonomy to just make my quest objective easier, it's just gross to me. Hans is allowed to make that decision, no matter how annoying it is in the moment.

Also Henry is already weirdly written out of character here anyway, in my opinion. The non-romance options are just weird.

If it was the only choice to make, or if the second option had worse negative outcomes that'd be one thing, but it's just a little more sneaking around a subjectively easy area with light patrol.

Now again, I understand this is just my opinion. I don't think people are monsters for taking this option towards a fictional video game character. I know people like to play evil Henry, or depending on the conversation you have with Hans, some players may not even realize how serious Hans in being here, and surface level it's an objectively easier choice to make. If you're just trying to get through the quest, doing a speedrun, mistakenly misinterpret the scene, or whatever that's fine. We all play differently, I just don't think the choice itself overall is a funny, "Ha-ha, jokes on you Hans."

Also, I think this should lock Henry out of his romance. If I relayed a fear to a dear friend or partner and they actively force me through that fear, especially by choking me out? Yeah, were done. Relationship is over. Hans is far better than I am in that circumstance.

#hans capon #kcd2 #kingdom come deliverance 2 #henry of skalitz #hansry

48 notes · View notes

aureatescars · 1 day ago

Text

Sasha huffs out a laugh, emboldened in his decision to hold Leon like this when the other man holds on tightly in turn. He doesn't even flinch when this agitates his back some more, merely turns his head to be able to bury his nose in Leon's hair. A deep sense of contentment overcomes him when Leon relaxes against him and a smile pulls at his lips when he also proclaims that Sasha is not going anywhere if he can help it.Nothing would be further from what Sasha wants anyway.

"Is that a promise?" He teases through the slight strain to his own voice. Having picked up on a few innuendos since Leon and him have become better acquainted, he figures he might take a page out of Leon's book for once to disarm the situation. Usually he just rolls his eyes whenever Leon graces him with one of these, but right now he figures it will soften whatever embarrassment Leon might feel after giving in to this if Sasha catches him off guard with a innuendo of his own for once. It does startle some reaction out of Leon he can't quite quantify, but he's not withdrawing just yet, so he thinks it was well received at least.

They stay as they are for a lot longer than might be appropriate, but with no ine around to judge them for it, Sasha dares to adjust his hold to something more comfortable for both of them, breathing in the surprisingly familiar scent of Leon. It helps to get some warmth back into Leon's form, too and thus he doesn't even think about pulling away first. No matter how much his body begs him to. A hand even finds its way into Leon's hair, carefully combing his fingers through the soft strands. By the time there heartbeats have slowed to a more reasonable pace Sasha can feel fatigue pull at him once more. He fights it, though, Leon still seems alert, if more calm than before.

"Since I'm forbidden to move from this bed now..." He says, a little unsure how to proceed. "Do you... want to try lying back down?" His tone of voice low and gentle. He does pull his hand from Leon's hair, too, although he doesn't quite know where to put it instead, now that the immediate urgency for closeness has passed. "You'll catch your death if you stay like this." Leon's skin feels less cold to the touch, but with the rest of the house still chilled Sasha worries he'll get sick regardless. Besides, Sasha's back is screaming at him to lie down and rest. But he's also determined to stay awake to see to it that Leon is resting, too.

That doesn't make letting go of Leon so they can settle down any easier, there is an almost visceral need to keep touching him, that same irrational protectiveness he's felt before still there in the back of his mind. It's what has him make room for Leon as they shuffle beneath the covers, an arm outstretched beneath the pillow, the other holding up the blanket to allow Leon to scooch a little closer. It's only after he's made his sioent offer that he realizes he's doing it at all, the movements near natural, having once been so used to immediately accommodate for a partner in bed...

...which Leon is not.

Sasha's chest tightens. He should not have to remind himself of that fact, and one look at Leon's slightly befuddled expression has Sasha painfully aware that this may yet be a step too far.

He lets out a pained grunt as Leon hoists him up, his back and legs protesting against the sudden movement, strength completely drained from every part of him. Even his mind feels hazy, still racing with images he isn't entirely sure were conjured up by his own thoughts. He's fighting nausea when he is lowered to the bed, his own face just as pale as Leon's. For a moment, he even fights against Leon pulling away from him, the need to keep as much of his skin against his own outweighing any rational thought. It's fortunate that Leon keeps a hold of his hand after they manage to prop Sasha up on the bed, otherwise he isn't sure what he'd done to rectify it.

His chest heaves with a panic that feels not entirely his own, shallow bursts of air escape him as he tries to calm himself down. He clutches Leon's hand tightly as he grits his teeth through waves of self inflicted pain. It was foolish to drag himself here, he should have known better. But God, if there isn't also a small part of him that's ecstatic about having done so. If only because he proved to himself that he somehow still could. A breathless, pained exhale somewhere between a hysterical laugh and a disbelieving gasp makes it past his lips. He really did it, but shit, does it hurt now.

"I just need— a moment." Another pained rasp and then Sasha can finally feel the muscles in his back unwind, his legs tremble from exertion, but for once he can actually feel them, although he struggles to move them even so much as an inch now. The whole situation is utterly confusing, even unsettling, and it's only made worse by the fact he can't concentrate on anything other than pain for a long moment.

The only thing soothing the throbbing pain is Leon's hand in his own, his eyes finding his, gaze full of concern. Sasha's grip turns to something softer when the worst of the dull ache slowly begins to fade and he feels in control of his own body again. He realizes with mounting concern that Leon is trembling, too, worse than he is even. Sasha searches his face, then notices the goosebumps painting his skin. It is chilly in here, but the fact that Leon is also damningly pale speaks volumes about the true cause of the state he is in.

"I'm going to be fine, Leon." He whispers, addressing his friend's worry first. But he can see the furrow of disbelief between Leon's brows more clearly now, as well as the doubt in his blue eyes. Sasha gently tugs at Leon to hold their joined hands up to his chest, surprised when Leon's hand immediately turns in his grasp to lay flat against his sternum. Sasha's hand remains resting atop of it for a moment, but he can still feel the cold of Leon's fingers beneath his own, swears he can feel it bleed through the fabric covering his chest.

"How about you?" He asks then, voice still a bit strained, but oh so gentle as he props himself up a bit more to really look at Leon. The half shadows cast across his face paired with his bangs falling into it, too make it hard to gauge his expression fully.

Sasha reaches up with his free hand without thinking, brushing the soft strands of hair away to reveal more of Leon's face. "You're cold." He says, his words barely above a whisper as his fingertips brush against Leon's forehead. His hand moves along the side of his face then, cupping his cheek. Sasha's lips part to ask Leon to lay down, or to assure him again that Sasha would be fine, he doesn't need to worry. He looks up from where his eyes followed the motion of his hand, and finds Leon's gaze wavering when their eyes meet. It's then that Sasha really sees the repercussions of whatever dream had Leon in such distress, and frankly, the stunt Sasha pulled and waking him up so harshly must have only added to the shock, despite his best intentions. He hides it well, but Sasha can basically see Leon's pulse jump erratically as his body works to calm itself down, can just about feel the echo of his distress in the back of his own mind.

... However, that's an issue to be addressed when neither of them is on the brink of a panic attack.

"It's okay." He whispers when Leon's fingers curl into his shirt. Sasha feels the tremble more clearly as he holds Leon's hand in his own. He watches as Leon tips his head forward, his bangs falling back into his face and Sasha doesn't fight them back this time, no matter how much he feels he wants to. Instead, he withdraws his hand from Leon's face to shift it down to his shoulder, finding the skin there equally chilled. It's an easy decision then, to let go of Leon's hand and struggle himself back into a sitting position, pain be damned, so he can move his arms around Leon instead.

"I'm here."

#petrokhelidon #post damnation verse

136 notes · View notes

chara-cat5 · 7 hours ago

Text

Lads isekai Au Ch 2

reader is gender neutral, warning: swearing, mdni

chapters 1, 2

you woke to bright sunlight in your eyes. a soft groan escaped your lips as you turned in your bed, tugging your stuffed bear closer to your chest...

wait, bear?

your eyes fluttered open and you were met with the soft faded fur of your lovely snuggle buddy, rupert. but your relief was short lived, your surroundings still very much unfamiliar... looking around the room, it was definitely the guest room mia had sent you to the night before but now it was filled with your stuff. what the hell? a knock at the door startled you from your stupor, mia's voice muffled through the door.

"come onnnnnnn, we're gonna be late for work, sleepyhead!"

you scrambled out of bed, opening the door to find her in her hunter's uniform.

"oh, great, you're up quicker then usual. get dressed and then we can head out, 'kay?"

you blinked at her stupidly as she turned away toward the kitchen. maybe she meant she was gonna check for info on you at work... yeah thats it... you ignored the friendly way she spoke to you compared to last night, stumbling to the bathroom. you ignored the traces of you that had suddenly manifested in the apartment, the way the world had seemed to change over night just so you fit in it's puzzle. it's only after you get to the hunter's hq you finally give into the idea that something was wrong. maybe denial wasn't the best copping mechanism...

you looked at your desk with blank eyes. why did you have a desk? why did you work here? just last night you were a stranger who popped out of a tree and now you were roomies with the mc and also her coworker?? what the fuck?? playing pretend was easy enough for the work. it was just self explanatory paper work. the hard part was keeping up with people who acted like you were long time friends. tara and mia chatted with you like you were an unbeatable trio and you didn't have the will or confidence to argue. something weird was going on and you just rolled with it. don't draw attention to yourself. play the part. at least until you can figure out something to make sense.

you finally got a moment to breath after work. Mia mentioned something about meeting up with someone you couldn't be bothered to listen to. probably one of the men in her harem. you walked yourself back 'home', following the path you took to work. your thoughts were allowed to wander, to take in this crazy scenario. love and deepspace... a game you, for obvious reasons, had considered fiction was now reality. your reality. what did all this even mean? where did you fit in all this? a side character? another tara? you knew waaaaay too much about the love interests for that...

you let out a gasp, nearly dodging a door as it swung open into your path. so much for just mindlessly walking. you scowled as you tilted your head to glare at the person who almost gave you a broken nose, a head full of curly purple hair filling your vision.

"huh?"

he turned his head at the sound, blinking as he met your gaze with those blue-pink eyes of his. shit-

you reacted too slow, forcing your eyes down and moving past him, trying to seem uninterested. you were NOT ready to interact with one of them. you still had thoughts to sort out. feelings to stuff away.

"hey, you're miss bodyguard's roommate."

fuck.

you froze and turned back, meeting his gaze as he stepped closer. it was startling, almost unnerving seeing what had always been on phone right in front of you, his head doing that little tilt down thing. his lips were tilted up in a friendly smile, but it very clearly didn't reach his eyes. eyes that felt like they could see through your skin.

"m-miss bodyguard? am i supposed to know who that is, mister..."

he let out a huff, a pout falling to his lips. ever the expressive one, mr. fishy.

"rafayel. surely she talks about me. amazing, artist friend? she talks about you, roommate."

that gave you pause, a silent debate in your head. maybe talking to him for a little bit wouldn't hurt... it's not like he cared for anyone outside mc. you could understand your position a little better.

"she does? what does she say?"

he smirked at that, a cat like, shit eating grin taking over his lips. crap, that gave away so much!

"well, what does she say about me, Mx roomie?"

you couldn't help the groan that escaped your lips. this man-

"i asked first."

he hummed, stepping up next to you. you fell into step next to him, eyebrows furrowed as you gazed at the side of his stupidly handsome face.

"you asked first but you were also rude first so i think i should get to go first."

"you almost smacked me in the face with a door! how is that not rude?"

he let out a huffed laugh, standing up straight.

"you don't hold back, do you cutie. are you this sassy with everyone?"

"you do NOT get to talk to me about sassiness, mister."

rafayel was actually easy to talk to. you'd think you'd be nervous talking to him. rich artist, human hating lumarian, super handsome guy, but also really funny fishy boy. the two of you fell in to casual banter and before you knew it you reached mia's apartment building... you blinked at it before glancing to him, already spotting the pout on his lips.

"leaving me already? you still haven't shared any secrets about mia."

"guess you'll just have to ask again later."

you spoke before you thought, hands fidgeting with themselves. he raised his eyebrows, tilting his head before nodding. that unreadable look in his eye making your hands sweat.

"sure. i'll get miss bodyguard to bring you to my next art exhibition or something. see ya, cutie."

you watched him go in a daze before making your way inside. welp, guess you're buddies (???) with rafayel now. was that in character for him? he didn't act like you had met before which was a relief. means you don't have to remember an interaction you never participated in. but for someone who is just his precious mc's roommate, he was rather friendly. an act maybe. get on your good side since you're friends with mia. he was after her secrets, he said so himself. thats it.

you sighed as you entered what you were assuming was just now your room, flopping down onto mattress, face down. you rolled over after a moment, the blank ceiling filling your vision.

"okay... what's the plan?"

if you were gonna live here, survive in this world, how were you gonna do it? from mia and tara's conversation earlier, you were up to date on the story, mia having just returned from 'off time'. so you couldn't leverage any of your knowledge of the story to your advantage. but beyond that, what did you want? to survive, yes, but to thrive? and then theres your evol. that was something you would have to figure out too.

you let another sigh, your eyes falling closed as you rolled back over.

your life before too... friends, family. what about them? were they worried? were you dead there? in coma and this is just some crazy dream?

this was giving you a headache. and making you hungry. the kitchen was fancy and high tech. it was rather daunting even thinking about cooking, so you just grabbed a bowl of leftover fried rice from the fridge and hoped mia wouldn't mind. halfway through your meal, mia came home, tossing her bag next to you.

"is that my leftovers?"

you let out a laugh, her silly pout maying you roll your eyes.

"maybe. but i was hungry. you wouldn't want me to starve, would you?"

she sighed dramatically, walking over to you as she shrugged off her belts, tossing them haphazardly on the counter. she hooked her arm over you shoulders, resting her cheek against the side of your head. your shoulders went stiff for a second before you forced them to relax and if she noticed, she didn't say.

"can i at least get a bite? i'm hungry too, ya know..."

you let out a sigh, raising the spoon to her lips. she happily ate it, giving you a squeeze before walking off toward her room.

"i'm gonna go change, then we can watch tv, yeah?"

"sounds good, mia. i'll it set up."

you smiled as she went before moving to the living room. messing around with the remote for the tv, trying to figure out how it worked and then what to watch. once mia came back, in her loungewear, she plopped herself next to you, laying her legs over your lap.

"what is this?"

she gestured to the tv and you just shrugged, looking back to the remote.

"i don't know. i'm trying to figure it-er figure out what to watch still."

she hummed, running her hands through her long, straight hair.

"just go with our usual. they sent out a new episode a few days ago."

you chewed your lip, handing her the remote as you stood up.

"you get it. i'll fix up some popcorn."

you heard her let out a sound of agreement as you walked back to the kitchen, clicking through to what looked like Netflix. making the popcorn was easy enough, a button on a microwave like appliance. you also cut up a pair of apples for the two of you, placing both bowls on the coffee table. mia blinked at the apples, grabbing a slice.

"something healthy too. you can't just eat junk."

he rolled her eyes, putting her legs back in your lap when you sat down.

"okay, caleb."

you snapped your gaze to her at the name, but she didn't notice, busy eating and watching the screen. defiantly up to date. mia wouldn't joke about a dead caleb. but are you supposed to know he's alive?

"i'm just watching out for you. an apple a day keeps the doctor away and all that."

"now you defiantly sound like caleb. trying to keep away dr. zayne? he was always trying to keep him away when we we're kids. speaking of which, let me tell you the shit caleb pulled the other day."

you hummed in response but you were carefully watching her reactions. when she began to openly ramble about him, it became clear you were supposed to know. maybe you two were so close she'd tell you about her boys? it was clear she was comfortable with you, both with her speech and then the skin to skin contact. she also at off your spoon earlier. as you watched her animated expressions and listened to her rant about caleb, it was easy to be drawn in. you knew her story and now, you could know her too. be privy to her kindness, her friendship. being her friend, her supporting character didn't seem so bad. especially if it meant you could help her. lessen her pain for this dark story.

entity [user] encounter entity [rafayel]

affinity level [1]

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

tagliat: @sleepisfortheweakpooh @plzdonutpercieveme @young-adult-summer @mentaltrouble2201

first time doing a taglist (open to any who ask :D) so i do not know if i did it right?? i hope i did

thank you for reading!!

-chara <3

#lads #lads mc #lads x reader #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads caleb #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads xavier #rafayel x reader #lads zayne #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

41 notes · View notes

worldsetfree · 1 day ago

Text

Save Tonight - Aizen Sōsuke x Reader

NSFW. Minors do not interact. Post-TYBW, spoiler ahead.

First time writing smut. Wish me luck. Thanks to @bleachsmutfest (shout-out to @villainsrtasty for organizing this) and @byakuyacoochie for convincing me to post this.

This started as a Day 3 drabble that turned into a nearly 1000-word fic, so I present this now for Day 4 of the smutfest: my morally-contentious selfship.

Prompts: Passage + Towels + “Just because it’s dangerous doesn't mean we don't try it”

Thirty-six hours.

Kurotsuchi said it would take thirty-six hours to craft new restraints for the man before you.

The man whom Kyoraku Shunsui, for reasons he didn't express (though his eyes glimmered quite deviously), chose to charge you with. "You've always been good at keeping him in line, right?” he'd teased, like you'd ever had any control over him at all. Like you hadn't joined the very same man in a rebellion two short years ago.

"...I heard you'd died.”

Swallowed up in a sea of darkness at the end of the world, per the rumours. From the shrinking hole in his chest and the arm that crept disgustingly back into shape, you understood their conclusions.

The comment makes his lips curl with delight that's positively nostalgic to see. "A lesser man surely would have."

You hadn't bothered to censor the scoff that left your lips. Utterly ridiculous man. Still so smug and cheshire, despite imprisonment. Yet there he was, wicked and free and radiant as the sun.

For thirty-six hours.

“I missed you, Sōsuke.”

“I knew you would, my dear.”

Finding a place among the ruins of Seireitei to hold your 'captive' proved easier than you'd anticipated (Aizen himself was strangely compliant with his situation), settling into the remains of a home. Its walls were as broken and dirty as your own body in the aftermath of the war, but it would do. You shutter what remains of the curtains while an ever-watchful eye reacquaints itself with your form.

Being near him again is like rejoining a familiar dance. It wasn't long before honeyed words lured you into his desires, his forked tongue inspiring wicked temptation. You should clean yourselves up, shouldn't you? Mayuri has to replace his seals anyway, and haven't you missed the feeling of his skin against your own?

But when your hand stretches outward to remove those barriers, questions begin to burn in your mind: Can you even touch him now? Should you really unleash a god?

Aizen catches this hesitation, and his encouragement burns with the candlelight in his eyes. “Just because it’s dangerous doesn't mean we don't try it.”

They'll call you a fool for submitting to his will, but you're a moth to his flame, helpless against the want pooling between your legs.

Aizen doesn't move while you release his bindings, allowing you to caress his face and pet his hair once you've removed the seal covering his eye. He remains patient while you reveal your own body to him, and only then does your Lord and lover pounce.

Lost in steam and hot water that envelops the two of you like a dream, Aizen Sōsuke plays a hero and enjoys the spoils of victory without care for time. His mouth renews its claim on your throat, leaving markings that will persist long after dawn breaks. His hands retrace the swell of your breasts to pinch your nipples and pull a reverent breath from your lips.

It's not until your spine begins to arch off the cold tiles and your moans devolve into a siren song that he finally fulfills your request. He greedily takes in every minute detail of your expression as he presses himself into you at last. Oh, how you've needed him.

The slow, methodical journey of his fingertips to the apex of your thighs is deliberately maddening and completely self-indulgent. With your legs wrapped around his hips, Aizen makes you plead and beg for more than tantalizing circles around your clit. "Have you thought of me like this, my love?" he coos in velvet baritones. "Have you needed me?"

His name falls from your lips like a prayer when he begins to move. You're drowning in him, drunk on the feeling of his cock pressing against spots that make you weep. His hands squeeze your plush thighs and hold you to him while he sinks into you again and again. Your own limbs tense to pull him in closer, like you could somehow make him stay if only you held on tight enough, like thirty-six hours won't tick away while you're together.

Your skin burns against his and you begin to feel that coil in your abdomen tightening up, too fast- an ending approaching too soon. Your voice calls out to him a breathless whine. "Sōsuke..." And you feel him exhale against your shoulder. "I know," he rasps. "I know." The way his own breath shakes lets you believe for a moment that maybe he, who needs no one, craved you just as much as you craved him.

Orgasm is nearly blinding and unmakes you before him. Aizen is quick to follow, his hips chasing release before they stutter and press you harder against the shower wall. His lips find your own as he spills into you, hungry and adoring and ignorant of the world beyond you. In the aftermath, you're cradled in his arms like something precious while the water cuts off.

He lifts his head and rests his face against your own once more, obsessed with watching you fall apart for him. Long digits slip between your legs again to rub your needy pearl, and the pleasure nearly ruins you, but you dare not lose yourself without his command. Aizen's gaze captures your own before he speaks against your lips. "Come for me, dear."

The clock ticks forward in a painfully consistent march as he lays you down on the bed. Aizen's head tilts to the side as he looks down at you. Clean, satisfied, and completely his, even now. Your heart swells when he smiles briefly, softness gracing his sharp features. He's beautiful, you think. You want to burn this moment into your eyes forever. But the clock ticks again to shatter your heart once more.

Aizen seems to read your thoughts yet again, his brows furrowing as he watches you. Then he leans in and presses his palms into the mattress around your head.

"Put it out of your mind," he murmurs. "I'll not leave until I've had my fill of you, my darling."

For thirty-six hours, you'll be his, and the way he descends upon you makes you wonder if the shinigami will even be able to pull him off of you when that time is up.

#aizen sosuke x reader #bleachsmutfest2025 #don't look at me

37 notes · View notes