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inky-duchess · 4 months

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Fantasy Guide to Interiors

As a followup to the very popular post on architecture, I decided to add onto it by exploring the interior of each movement and the different design techniques and tastes of each era. This post at be helpful for historical fiction, fantasy or just a long read when you're bored.

Interior Design Terms

Reeding and fluting: Fluting is a technique that consists a continuous pattern of concave grooves in a flat surface across a surface. Reeding is it's opposite.

Embossing: stamping, carving or moulding a symbol to make it stand out on a surface.

Paneling: Panels of carved wood or fabric a fixed to a wall in a continuous pattern.

Gilding: the use of gold to highlight features.

Glazed Tile: Ceramic or porcelain tiles coated with liquid coloured glass or enamel.

Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.

Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.

Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.

Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.

Mouldings: ornate strips of carved wood along the top of a wall.

Wainscoting: paneling along the lower portion of a wall.

Chinoiserie: A European take on East Asian art. Usually seen in wallpaper.

Clerestory: A series of eye-level windows.

Sconces: A light fixture supported on a wall.

Niche: A sunken area within a wall.

Monochromatic: Focusing on a single colour within a scheme.

Ceiling rose: A moulding fashioned on the ceiling in the shape of a rose usually supporting a light fixture.

Baluster: the vertical bars of a railing.

Façade: front portion of a building

Lintel: Top of a door or window.

Portico: a covered structure over a door supported by columns

Eaves: the part of the roof overhanging from the building

Skirting: border around lower length of a wall

Ancient Greece

Houses were made of either sun-dried clay bricks or stone which were painted when they dried. Ground floors were decorated with coloured stones and tiles called Mosaics. Upper level floors were made from wood. Homes were furnished with tapestries and furniture, and in grand homes statues and grand altars would be found. Furniture was very skillfully crafted in Ancient Greece, much attention was paid to the carving and decoration of such things. Of course, Ancient Greece is ancient so I won't be going through all the movements but I will talk a little about columns.

Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.

Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.

Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.

Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.

Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.

Ancient Rome

Rome is well known for its outward architectural styles. However the Romans did know how to add that rizz to the interior. Ceilings were either vaulted or made from exploded beams that could be painted. The Romans were big into design. Moasics were a common interior sight, the use of little pieces of coloured glass or stone to create a larger image. Frescoes were used to add colour to the home, depicting mythical figures and beasts and also different textures such as stonework or brick. The Romans loved their furniture. Dining tables were low and the Romans ate on couches. Weaving was a popular pastime so there would be tapestries and wall hangings in the house. Rich households could even afford to import fine rugs from across the Empire. Glass was also a feature in Roman interior but windows were usually not paned as large panes were hard to make. Doors were usually treated with panels that were carved or in lain with bronze.

Ancient Egypt

Egypt was one of the first great civilisations, known for its immense and grand structures. Wealthy Egyptians had grand homes. The walls were painted or plastered usually with bright colours and hues. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds. Woven mats and tapestries were popular decor. Motifs from the river such as palms, papyrus and reeds were popular symbols used.

Ancient Africa

African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.

Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.

Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.

Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal

Japanese Interiors

Japenese interior design rests upon 7 principles. Kanso (簡素)- Simplicity, Fukinsei (不均整)- Asymmetry, Shizen (自然)- Natural, Shibumi (渋味) – Simple beauty, Yugen (幽玄)- subtle grace, Datsuzoku (脱俗) – freedom from habitual behaviour, Seijaku (静寂)- tranquillity.

Common features of Japanese Interior Design:

Shoji walls: these are the screens you think of when you think of the traditional Japanese homes. They are made of wooden frames, rice paper and used to partition

Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.

Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.

Japanese furniture: often lowest, close to the ground. These include tables and chairs but often tanked are replaced by zabuton, large cushions. Furniture is usually carved of wood in a minimalist design.

Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.

Islamic World Interior

The Islamic world has one of the most beautiful and impressive interior design styles across the world. Colour and detail are absolute staples in the movement. Windows are usually not paned with glass but covered in ornate lattices known as jali. The jali give ventilation, light and privacy to the home. Islamic Interiors are ornate and colourful, using coloured ceramic tiles. The upper parts of walls and ceilings are usually flat decorated with arabesques (foliate ornamentation), while the lower wall areas were usually tiled. Features such as honeycombed ceilings, horseshoe arches, stalactite-fringed arches and stalactite vaults (Muqarnas) are prevalent among many famous Islamic buildings such as the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque.

Byzantine (330/395–1453 A. D)

The Byzantine Empire or Eastern Roman Empire was where eat met west, leading to a melting pot of different interior designs based on early Christian styles and Persian influences. Mosaics are probably what you think of when you think of the Byzantine Empire. Ivory was also a popular feature in the Interiors, with carved ivory or the use of it in inlay. The use of gold as a decorative feature usually by way of repoussé (decorating metals by hammering in the design from the backside of the metal). Fabrics from Persia, heavily embroidered and intricately woven along with silks from afar a field as China, would also be used to upholster furniture or be used as wall hangings. The Byzantines favoured natural light, usually from the use of copolas.

Indian Interiors

India is of course, the font of all intricate designs. India's history is sectioned into many eras but we will focus on a few to give you an idea of prevalent techniques and tastes.

The Gupta Empire (320 – 650 CE): The Gupta era was a time of stone carving. As impressive as the outside of these buildings are, the Interiors are just as amazing. Gupta era buildings featured many details such as ogee (circular or horseshoe arch), gavaksha/chandrashala (the motif centred these arches), ashlar masonry (built of squared stone blocks) with ceilings of plain, flat slabs of stone.

Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526): Another period of beautifully carved stone. The Delhi sultanate had influence from the Islamic world, with heavy uses of mosaics, brackets, intricate mouldings, columns and and hypostyle halls.

Mughal Empire (1526–1857): Stonework was also important on the Mughal Empire. Intricately carved stonework was seen in the pillars, low relief panels depicting nature images and jalis (marble screens). Stonework was also decorated in a stye known as pietra dura/parchin kari with inscriptions and geometric designs using colored stones to create images. Tilework was also popular during this period. Moasic tiles were cut and fitted together to create larger patters while cuerda seca tiles were coloured tiles outlined with black.

Chinese Interiors

Common features of Chinese Interiors

Use of Colours: Colour in Chinese Interior is usually vibrant and bold. Red and Black are are traditional colours, meant to bring luck, happiness, power, knowledge and stability to the household.

Latticework: Lattices are a staple in Chinese interiors most often seen on shutters, screens, doors of cabinets snf even traditional beds.

Lacquer: Multiple coats of lacquer are applied to furniture or cabinets (now walls) and then carved. The skill is called Diaoqi (雕漆).

Decorative Screens: Screens are used to partition off part of a room. They are usually of carved wood, pained with very intricate murals.

Shrines: Spaces were reserved on the home to honour ancestors, usually consisting of an altar where offerings could be made.

Of course, Chinese Interiors are not all the same through the different eras. While some details and techniques were interchangeable through different dynasties, usually a dynasty had a notable style or deviation. These aren't all the dynasties of course but a few interesting examples.

Song Dynasty (960–1279): The Song Dynasty is known for its stonework. Sculpture was an important part of Song Dynasty interior. It was in this period than brick and stone work became the most used material. The Song Dynasty was also known for its very intricate attention to detail, paintings, and used tiles.

Ming Dynasty(1368–1644): Ceilings were adorned with cloisons usually featuring yellow reed work. The floors would be of flagstones usually of deep tones, mostly black. The Ming Dynasty favoured richly coloured silk hangings, tapestries and furnishings. Furniture was usually carved of darker woods, arrayed in a certain way to bring peace to the dwelling.

Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD): Interior walls were plastered and painted to show important figures and scenes. Lacquer, though it was discovered earlier, came into greater prominence with better skill in this era.

Tang Dynasty (618–907) : The colour palette is restrained, reserved. But the Tang dynasty is not without it's beauty. Earthenware reached it's peak in this era, many homes would display fine examples as well. The Tang dynasty is famous for its upturned eaves, the ceilings supported by timber columns mounted with metal or stone bases. Glazed tiles were popular in this era, either a fixed to the roof or decorating a screen wall.

Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)

Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles. The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways. As per the name, Romansque Interiors relied heavily on its love and admiration for Rome. The Romanesque style uses geometric shapes as statements using curves, circles snf arches. The colours would be clean and warm, focusing on minimal ornamentation.

Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)

The Gothic style is what you think of when you think of old European cathedrals and probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe. Decoration in this era became more ornate, stonework began to sport carving and modelling in a way it did not before. The ceilings moved away from barreled vaults to quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. Columns slimmed as other supportive structures were invented. Intricate stained glass windows began their popularity here. In Gothic structures, everything is very symmetrical and even.

Mediaeval (500 AD to 1500)

Interiors of mediaeval homes are not quite as drab as Hollywood likes to make out. Building materials may be hidden by plaster in rich homes, sometimes even painted. Floors were either dirt strewn with rushes or flagstones in larger homes. Stonework was popular, especially around fireplaces. Grand homes would be decorated with intricate woodwork, carved heraldic beasts and wall hangings of fine fabrics.

Renaissance (late 1300s-1600s)

The Renaissance was a period of great artistry and splendor. The revival of old styles injected symmetry and colour into the homes. Frescoes were back. Painted mouldings adorned the ceilings and walls. Furniture became more ornate, fixed with luxurious upholstery and fine carvings. Caryatids (pillars in the shape of women), grotesques, Roman and Greek images were used to spruce up the place. Floors began to become more intricate, with coloured stone and marble. Modelled stucco, sgraffiti arabesques (made by cutting lines through a layer of plaster or stucco to reveal an underlayer), and fine wall painting were used in brilliant combinations in the early part of the 16th century.

Tudor Interior (1485-1603)

The Tudor period is a starkly unique style within England and very recognisable. Windows were fixed with lattice work, usually casement. Stained glass was also in in this period, usually depicting figures and heraldic beasts. Rooms would be panelled with wood or plastered. Walls would be adorned with tapestries or embroidered hangings. Windows and furniture would be furnished with fine fabrics such as brocade. Floors would typically be of wood, sometimes strewn with rush matting mixed with fresh herbs and flowers to freshen the room.

Baroque (1600 to 1750)

The Baroque period was a time for splendor and for splashing the cash. The interior of a baroque room was usually intricate, usually of a light palette, featuring a very high ceiling heavy with detail. Furniture would choke the room, ornately carved and stitched with very high quality fabrics. The rooms would be full of art not limited to just paintings but also sculptures of marble or bronze, large intricate mirrors, moldings along the walls which may be heavily gilded, chandeliers and detailed paneling.

Victorian (1837-1901)

We think of the interiors of Victorian homes as dowdy and dark but that isn't true. The Victorians favoured tapestries, intricate rugs, decorated wallpaper, exquisitely furniture, and surprisingly, bright colour. Dyes were more widely available to people of all stations and the Victorians did not want for colour. Patterns and details were usually nature inspired, usually floral or vines. Walls could also be painted to mimic a building material such as wood or marble and most likely painted in rich tones. The Victorians were suckers for furniture, preferring them grandly carved with fine fabric usually embroidered or buttoned. And they did not believe in minimalism. If you could fit another piece of furniture in a room, it was going in there. Floors were almost eclusively wood laid with the previously mentioned rugs. But the Victorians did enjoy tiled floors but restricted them to entrances. The Victorians were quite in touch with their green thumbs so expect a lot of flowers and greenery inside. with various elaborately decorated patterned rugs. And remember, the Victorians loved to display as much wealth as they could. Every shelf, cabinet, case and ledge would be chocked full of ornaments and antiques.

Edwardian/The Gilded Age/Belle Epoque (1880s-1914)

This period (I've lumped them together for simplicity) began to move away from the deep tones and ornate patterns of the Victorian period. Colour became more neutral. Nature still had a place in design. Stained glass began to become popular, especially on lampshades and light fixtures. Embossing started to gain popularity and tile work began to expand from the entrance halls to other parts of the house. Furniture began to move away from dark wood, some families favouring breathable woods like wicker. The rooms would be less cluttered.

Art Deco (1920s-1930s)

The 1920s was a time of buzz and change. Gone were the refined tastes of the pre-war era and now the wow factor was in. Walls were smoother, buildings were sharper and more jagged, doorways and windows were decorated with reeding and fluting. Pastels were in, as was the heavy use of black and white, along with gold. Mirrors and glass were in, injecting light into rooms. Gold, silver, steel and chrome were used in furnishings and decor. Geometric shapes were a favourite design choice. Again, high quality and bold fabrics were used such as animal skins or colourful velvet. It was all a rejection of the Art Noveau movement, away from nature focusing on the man made.

Modernism (1930 - 1965)

Modernism came after the Art Deco movement. Fuss and feathers were out the door and now, practicality was in. Materials used are shown as they are, wood is not painted, metal is not coated. Bright colours were acceptable but neutral palettes were favoured. Interiors were open and favoured large windows. Furniture was practical, for use rather than the ornamentation, featuring plain details of any and geometric shapes. Away from Art Deco, everything is straight, linear and streamlined.

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izurou · 1 year

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“say ‘i’m the man!’”

eren’s voice carries down the hall, boisterous and loud as it easily reaches every corner of your small one bedroom apartment.

you furrow your brows and glance in the general direction of the sound, but decide to ignore it and continue on with breakfast—gathering a dollop of strawberry jam on your knife before spreading it onto a piece of toast.

you’d rather not know what the two of them are up to, eren and your two year old son that is. he’s supposed to be getting the kid ready for the day, but whether or not that’s actually happening is a different story.

“i’m da man!” his little voice repeats the sentence—not quite as powerful as his dad, but still loud enough to find your ears.

“louder!” eren shouts, and you immediately drop what you’re doing to head towards them.

your slippers scuff against the floor as you shuffle down the hall, following the source of sound until it leads you just outside the bathroom door. you nudge it with your foot, causing it to creep open and reveal the duo—your son, who’s standing on the counter, and eren, who—at the very least, is holding onto him.

“hi,” eren grins, prompting his mini me to do the same. you note the atrocious man bun, well, little man bun your son is sporting—hair haphazardly pulled together at the back of his head.

eren gestures to him, pride flooding his features as he mumbles, “he’s the man.”

“oh yeah?” a smile tugs at your own lips—every ounce of authority you waltzed over here with threatening to vanish into thin air as you look at your little family. nevertheless, someone has to enforce the rules around here. “well, tell the man that if he doesn’t keep it down, he’s not getting any chocolate milk with his breakfast.”

the two of them exchange a glance, an identical look of concern—real and genuine from your son, dramatic and over the top from your fiancé.

“should we go eat?” eren whispers to him, naively expecting him to follow in his footsteps again.

“yeah!” your son yells, excitement filling his eyes at the mention of his all time favourite beverage. he sets a new record every time he chugs a glass, and always gets a kick out of the little moustache he gets afterwards—loving that he looks like dad.

“buddy,” eren laughs as he lightly cups a hand over the toddler’s mouth. “shhh, quiet okay? you heard the boss, no chocolate milk if you yell.”

your son puts his hand over his own mouth and nods his head, prompting eren to lift him onto the floor and send him scurrying off into the kitchen—little feet padding against the hardwood.

“what the hell?” you say, keeping your voice low to ensure your baby doesn’t hear. “it’s 8 o’clock in the morning, why are you shouting?”

“hey, i’m instilling confidence in him,” he pouts, having heard you mention something along those lines once or twice—about how important it is for him to be proud of who he is.

“eren,” you sigh, because you know he means well—he wants nothing but the absolute best for your son too, which is why he more or less lets him do as he pleases.

he encourages him to jump around and dance to his favourite songs, and doesn’t care that he gets marker all over his face when he colours. he’ll give him bear paws before dinner, and hold his hand as the two of them run and giggle down the halls of your apartment building, because they’re just so happy to come home and see you after a trip to the grocery store.

eren lets your kid be a kid, and while that might put a scowl on the face of those around you, all that matters is that your son is always smiling.

“i know, just,” you pause, searching for the right words—the ones that won’t paint you as the bad cop you feel you’re being. though, you look into eren’s eyes, and see nothing but the purest love and adoration overflowing from his pupils, and you know—he thinks you’re doing perfect. “just, wait until after ten at least, okay? that old couple next door already has us on their shit list.”

“course, ‘m sorry baby,” he hums—cupping your cheek with a grin that’s a little too smug and out of place to be there right now. “but you know, you got us on that list, not him.”

“me?” you tilt your head, racking your brain for a time in which you might’ve pissed them off. did you forget to hold the door open? shit.

“mhmm,” he hums, moving his hand to the back of your head to hold you flush against him, and you look adorable—in the reflection of the mirror, with your little thinking face on and your cheek squished against him. he almost feels guilty.

“what did i—”

“nghhh eren, that feels soooo good,” he moans, quiet and sultry—changing the pitch of his voice slightly in an attempt to mimic your own.

“eren!” you gasp, planting your palms flat on his chest to push him away. “shut up, you’re the only reason i sound like that.”

“damn right,” he grins, pulling you right back in for a messy kiss—hands sneaking underneath your shirt and travelling up your—

crash.

“oh no,” you mumble, peeling yourself away from him once more. your son—who’s been alone and suspiciously quiet for the last five minutes, is now doing god knows what in the kitchen. “go check on your satan spawn, would you?”

“hey,” he frowns, swiftly backing out of the room and towards the noise, but not without putting on a quick smile to clarify, “our satan spawn.”

you roll your eyes, but still feel the corners of your lips tug upwards. eren is far from perfect, but he’s pretty good at keeping a smile on your face too.

#izurou #eren x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x reader #eren x you #eren yeager x reader #snk x reader #eren fluff

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milkyhoneybee · 6 months

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Unethical magic friend who uses you to solve their problems without asking you or considering your comfort

They ran out of milk for their morning coffee? They snap their fingers and suddenly your tits are massive and leaking milk. They take what they need and don't bother changing you back until they remember hours or days later, even if you try to remind them they just wave you off saying 'sure, sure, I just need to finish working out this summoning circle' and get distracted again

Sometimes they read something in a book that gets them horny or there's something they couldn't figure out, or they just pass someone in the market who takes their fancy, so guess who's helping them recreate it? You lose track of the amount of times you've been turned into the current object of their desires-- you don't even remember what your original hair colour was at this point, though you think you're mostly the same as you were when they change you back... but, enough subtle differences over time can build up...

Not to mention the times you've ended up with tentacles or horns or fangs or a foot long tongue, genitals of every configuration, or been transformed into slime and used just for their pleasure, or, more humiliatingly, been used in some test or experiment, or used to get spell ingredients

You would leave, you think, even if it didn't usually feel so good you lose control of yourself, but you didn't realise how binding a mage's "friendship bracelets" were when you first accepted it when you became friends, and now even if you do go anywhere, they can summon you back without trouble

They just conjure you some souvenir or some kind of 'treat' if you complain, and you feel your cheeks flush with the patronising nature of it. None of your complaints are ever taken seriously

Sometimes they'll summon a demon or other creature either for information or for some task, and you've ended up being used as payment or to placate them. You start drooling and going weak at the knees whenever you smell succubus milk or incubus cum from the amount of times you've been exposed to it already-- you're honestly worried it'll become an addiction before too long...

The one time you tried to sabotage one of your friends spells, hoping they'd get a taste of their own medicine, and while at first it was satisfying seeing their look of panic when the magic went awry, it didn't last long...

When you looked at their spell book and saw they were trying to create an armour spell as strong as dragon scales, you figured out just what your interference had caused, watching those glistening sapphire scales spread along their growing, shifting limbs, long claws growing in, a tail stretching out behind them, horns and wings starting to form

Unfortunately, your friend was still conscious enough to realise it was you that had caused the issue, and they had no qualms about 'punishing' you for it

Increasingly they grew larger and stronger than you, long maw full of sharp fangs and a wicked tongue grinning as they pinned you down under one paw. The tongue that shoved itself inside you was larger than some of the cocks you'd taken before, making you squeal and writhe, body shaking when the edge of claws sent little trickles of blood down your thighs and sides. They pressed you down harder into the floor, growling like a thunderstorm and started fucking their tongue into you. Suddenly, their haunches were over your face, their serpentine body much more flexible and longer than their human one, and your eyes widened at the sight of the cock hanging heavy and flushed, pushing past the split of scales between their legs

Even trying to keep your mouth closed didn't save you, your draconic friend simply smothering you with their cock until you were forced to take a breath, and after letting you get a little air, they took the opportunity to ram their cock straight down your throat. You can't fight back at all as they fill you from both ends, feeling like a toy being hollowed out

Their cock is covered in ridges and the slick confines of your throat drag against them in a way that, from what you can still manage to piece together due to the lack of consistent air, must feel good. They even get their tail wrapped around your throat, making your watering eyes roll up as they tighten their hold

You pass out, of course

Thankfully, they must have pulled out before the lack of air completely did you in (though you have no way to tell, perhaps they could still cast necromantic magic in dragon form?) but you come to in fits and starts, finally piecing enough of yourself together when you're being held in both of their front paws, your hole stretched and leaking around their cock as they bounce you up and down its length

From the way your belly sloshes, and how sticky your legs are (not to mention the rest of you, you assume), you can guess they've already cum in you a few times while you were out cold

When the draconic mage finally finishes with you, you're left slumped over, face half laying in a puddle of cum and you don't think you'll ever not smell like it or if you'll ever taste anything else again. You don't know if you can even talk any more from having your throat so thoroughly fucked. Not to mention if your holes will recover after being stretched out and absolutely ruined on that massive dragon cock...

Of course, leaving them a dragon doesn't seem like a good idea for anyone. Once you get enough energy and brain cells to rub together, and manage to clean up a bit, you get herded over to their spell book. They eventually nudge you and manage to gesture, growl, and, at times, roughly manipulate you, until you can brew a potion to change them back

Once they're back on two legs? 'Well, that was fun, wasn't it?'

#nsft fantasy #nsft concept #tf kink #unethical mage #monster fucker #objectification kink

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messylustt · 1 year

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pervy ethan smut pleaseeeee

this slowly started to become longer than i planned. i couldn't stop writing

floral panties — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : you leave a trap for your pantie stealing fellow student

contents : perv ethan, pantie stealing, use of conditioner as lube, subby ethan, ethan's obsessed, use of 'dirty boy' as like a pet name ig, overstimulation, no actual p in v. wc 2.4k

Ethan didn’t know when it started but he found himself stealing your clothes. More specifically your panties.

You lived in the same dorm building, so every time you left your clothes by the communal washing machines, ethan couldn’t help but pocket some of your different coloured panties. He now had some lacy, some normal, and some with cute patterns.

It was shameful but Ethan grew addicted to wrapping them around his cock as he jerked himself off, muttering your name under his breath. He couldn’t jerk off normally anymore, he always had to have something of yours touching him.

Then one night, when you left the laundry, ethan spotted a left behind conditioner bottle, the one that made your hair smell like cherries. Without thinking he grabbed it, walked to his dorm, locked the door to his room, and began to use your conditioner as lube.

He stroked himself, the cherry scent making his eyes roll. He could imagine you on your knees in front of him. The cherry coming from your hair as you languidly stroked his cock. He orgasmed embarrassingly quickly at the new found fantasy.

Every time he saw you in the hallways of Blackmore, or in the dorm building, your cherry scent made his cheeks pinken.

The surprising thing was that you’d never actually met. You’d briefly acknowledged each other as a passing person, but no long conversations or a blooming friendship.

Ethan just always watched from afar, growing hotter when he’d catch your skirt hiking up in your seat. He remembers a pathetic moment when you had unintentionally been distracting him all class, and for some relief he palmed himself under the table.

You had reduced him to a horny teenager wanting to bust a nut the moment he sees you show a sliver of skin.

What Ethan didn’t realise was that you had noticed your gradually missing panties, and that one bottle of conditioner. You had always felt someones eyes on you whenever you would bend down to retrieve a pen you dropped.

You soon quickly linked up the eyes and stolen items to Ethan Landry. The boy who lived in your dorm building and took random classes with you. At first glance you’d say he appeared shy, at second you’d think he was kinda cute, and at third you’d finally notice the lust swirling in his eyes.

One night, when you were walking towards a washing machine, prepared with a basket, you heard distant steps far but close. You paused, quickly realising that it would be the brown haired boy.

You decided to leave a trap, just to see if he really was the one who brazenly stole your items. You placed your basket full of a mix of shirts, pants, skirts, and panties. You made sure to leave a pair at the top as you pretended to walk to the other exit of the room.

You hide behind a washing machine, watching as Ethan walked in. He didn’t have a basket full of clothes, so there was no need for him to be there, unless he liked to steal.

Ethan spots the new pair of lacy black panties on your pile of clothes. He edges closer, sparing a fleeting glance around before he grabs them, breathing heavy.

He goes to pocket them when he hears your melodious voice. Whipping his head up, his eyes widen as he watches you walk out from your hiding spot a raise to your brows.

“What are you going to do with those?” You ask, as you step closer.

Ethan is frozen, gulping down his want to hide. You’d caught him. He hadn’t thought this far. He’d thought he could get away with it. “Uh.” He stupidly splutters, not knowing what he can say. It was pretty obvious what he was going to do with them.

You edge closer as Ethan watches your every move. He notices the low cut singlet your wearing, and your sweatpants that hang low on your hips. A huge chunk of your stomach is on full display and Ethan’s eyes begin to feel heavy. Through his distracted state he hadn’t realised that you’d moved much closer.

You're inches from his face. He sucks in a breath when he caught your gaze. “Can I have them back?” You quietly ask. Ethan processes your words for a moment then realises that your talking about your panties. His fist had clenched around them. “Ethan?”

He chokes on air at the fact that you knew his name. You grab his wrist, taking the panties out, and throwing them into your basket. Ethan expected your expression to be mad, but he's confused and slightly intruiged at the fact that your just staring at him, your own intruige displayed across your features.

You were still extremely close and Ethan's mind quickly became a haze, becuase your hair smelt extra strong today. "I'm sorry." He manages to mutter out. He quickly looks away, embarassment filling him to the brim. But then you grab his chin, pulling his head back to face you.

He gulps. Feeling your fingers touching his face has added a new level of need that's making his stomach tighten. He can't look away from you, especially as a little smile forms on your lips. "Do you like me or something?" You ask, tilting your head in inspection of him.

"Uh..."

"You can be honest." Your voice is sickly sweet. It makes Ethan subconsiously step closer to you. Your chests are almost touching. Ethan licks his lips before answering in a small voice. "Yes. Yeah— I...do."

Your smile begins to widen. "Why didn't you talk to me?" Your tone is still soft and light, making a strain form in Ethan's pants.

Ethan refrains from grabbing you, lust weighing him heavy. "I don't know."

You leaned closer to whisper. "Because if you asked me out I probably would have said yes."

Ethan's eyes widen as you lean back. "You would?"

"I would have." You corrected. "But since your the thief, I don't know if I'd want to anymore." You were teasing him, because you quickly grew to like the desperate look he's displaying.

Ethan swiftly steps closer, your chests finally touching. Ethan shakes his head. "I'll give them all back. I won't steal again. I promise. I won't—" Ethan is rambling, as his chest heaves. God, he didn't want his one mistake in not having you to be his dirty actions and fantasies.

You chuckle at his almost pleading tone. You place your hand on his chest. "Stealing my panties?" You pretend to look annoyed. "That's extremely dirty."

Ethan is cursing himself for every time he used your panties to jerk off. "I didn't—“ Ethan is breathing hard. "I didn't mean to."

"Yes you did." You say, keeping him at a slight distance, with your hand on his chest. Even your small touches is making his cock throb.

"It was wrong, I just..."

"Just what?" A small smirk had edged your lips.

Ethan stares at your lips, wishing he could taste them. "I just wanted to feel some part of you." His tone his heavy and breathless.

"And you thought my panties would be the closest you could get?" You guess. "What about the conditioner?"

Ethan gulps. "I like how your hair smells." He whispers shamefully.

"My hair?" You begin to "absentmindedly" drag your finger along his chest. Ethan nearly shudders against your touch. It was only over the shirt, he shouldn't be freaking out so much. You began to egde closer, your breath hitting his face.

Ethan is biting his lip, stopping himself from just grabbing some part of you.

You drag your hand down his stomach until you stopped just above his bulge. "You're extremely dirty." You whispered. And Ethan's mouth had begun to open in a pant.

"Look at you. Turned on by...what?" You ask, running your finger down his thigh. "The smell of my hair?" Your nails sent a shiver down his spine. "Or was it the thrill of stealing another pair of my panties?"

You then lightly ghost the tip of your finger over his hard on. Tantilizingly light. Ethan's hips pathetically jolt, wishing you would touch him. Wishing he could touch you. "Is that what's got you hard?"

You meet his gaze. Ethan is breathing heavy, as a small snarl had egded his lips. He was beyond desperate, teased almost to the limit.

You then suddenly step back, making Ethan quickly whip his head to your leaving form. "Nice to properally meet you, Ethan."

He reached his limit. Ethan didn't have control over his body, as he grabbed you, yanking you back to him. Even though you were expecting this you still gasped at how swift the motion was.

Ethan grabbed your jaw, his breath hitting your lips. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He groaned as his cock pressed against your body. He turned you, so that your hips hit against a low washing machine. And he's smashing his lips against yours. He can't help but begin to grind into you as he laps at your tongue, whining into your mouth. "Holy fuck." He whimpers, finally tasting you.

Your mouth is opening, your own arousel, making your press your thighs together.

"No, no." Ethan hisses, grabbing one of your thighs as he sharply pulls them apart. He pressed his bulge against your pussy, making you gasp a moan. His mouth hangs open. "Oh, fuck—"

Ethan kisses you, hard. You were addicting. Not one of his fantasies could prepare him for this—for you. "Ethan—" You choke out as he continues to grind.

"You can't just tease me like that, and think you can leave." Ethan says, darting his tongue out to lick your jaw. "No..." Ethan breaths over your lips, his eyes hooded with lust. "I've wanted to touch you for so long." He moans.

You had begun to grind your own hips into him, the situation feeling extremely erotic. But you wanted some of that control back. You lead your hand down to pants, unbuttoning him and pulling his throbbing cock out. Ethan's hips stutter, his head hitting your shoulder.

You brought his head away, so that he can see you, as you spit straight onto his cock. Ethan jolts, his mouth opening in a whine at the action and visual.

You begin to stroke him, pulling your hand up and down appropriately. Ethan thrusted into your hand, whimpering into your neck. His tongue had darted out to lick your skin as he would occasionally bite when a shock of pleasure would shoot through him. "Oh, fuck— oh, god, y/n—" He whimpers and moans as he soon draws near.

"Such a dirty boy." You whisper into his ear. His hips shudder as he orgasms, his body jutting into you. The pleasure wrecks him, but as it ebbs away you don't slow your strokes.

Y-y/n." Ethan stutters, gripping the washing machine behind you. "I-it hurts, please."

"But Ethan..." you began as he whined, your strokes languidly going up and down. "You stole from me. Multiple times. I can't just reward you for that."

Ethan's mouth has opened against your skin as his fingers dig into the washing machine. "P-please. Oh, god, please—"

"You really want me to stop?" You ask. He just whimpers in response. "Aright." You bring your hand away, and Ethan is quick to grab your wrist.

"No, no, please don't stop. I'll do anything. Just please don't." Ethan begs as he brings your hand back to his cock. His hips jolt when you wrap your palm around him, and begin to stroke him again.

"Anything?" You tease.

"F-fuck— anything. Anything you want." Ethan hovers over your lips, as he draws close to his second orgasm. He kisses you, eating at your tongue and lips as his hips shudder in pleasure, his release spilling. "Shit." He moans in your mouth.

You slowly bring your hand away as you peck his cheek. He's flushed, hands still caging you in. You felt a rush whenever you would tease him, loving his desperate pleas.

"You said you'd do anything." You say. Ethan nods, meeting your gaze. A small smile had edged his lips. You looked so pretty this close.

"Then can you step away?"

Ethan's brows furrow. "Why?"

"You said anything."

Ethan grinds his teeth, but slowly steps back. You straighten your singlet, as you take a breath. You met Ethan's awaiting gaze. He seemed suspicious, beacuse you'd denied him before—trying to go. He didn't want you to, not now. "Don't you dare try and leave." Ethan says.

"Alright, then you can go." You say, licking your bottom lip.

Ethan begins to step closer. You place your hand out as you step away from the washing machine. "I said to step back." You try to sound firm but your tone is heavy with lust.

Ethan tilts his head as he nears you. You continue to back up, wanting to keep the control. But Ethan wasn't letting you get away when he hadn't even touched you yet.

He corners you into the wall making you curse. Ethan held eye contact, as his hand dragged to your thigh, he pulled you apart as his finger began to rub you through your sweatpants. You gulp, grabbing one of his shoulders. "You don't really deserve to touch me. Not after you—"

"After I used your panties to jerk off?" Ethan asked, quickening his pace. "After I used your cherry conditioner as lube?" He dipped his hand into your pants, bypassing your panties to get to your soaking pussy. You slightly shudder as he began to swirl his fingers around. "After I had to palm myself in class because you looked so pretty with your red lipstick and short skirt?"

A moan escaed you at the mix of his words and the work of his fingers. "Huh?" Ethan asks, kissing you slowly.

He pushes two fingers in straight away, making your mouth fall open. "I don't deserve to touch you. But that certainly doesn't I mean I won't." He begans to thrust in and out of you, hitting your g-spot, once he got a good angle.

You manage to grab his hair, making him look at your face. "You're still a perv." You say breathlessly.

Ethan nods, a grin forming. "I know."

Your head hits back as pleasure wracks your body. Ethan groans at the visual, his hands never wanting to leave you. He pulls your head back as he speaks to the skin of your cheek. "Now instead of your panties I can use this to jerk off to." He thrusts higher into you.

You moan, breathing turning erratic. "Oh, fuck." He kisses you hard, before whispering to your lips, grinning. "You smell lovely."

Then he pushes his head into the crook of your neck by your ear, smelling the lovely cherry.

#. ( archived )#the ethan effect #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #ethan landry oneshot #scream #scream 6 #jack champion x y/n #ethan landry smut #jack champion smut #scream 6 smut #scream smut

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 months

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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying, For someone I could die for, someone I could try for Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."

-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi

II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC

The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear.

The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls.

Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink.

It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings.

Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess.

The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly.

You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired.

Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned.

So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm.

Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was always someone else.

A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run.

Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up.

Him. You loved him.

You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like.

“Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose.

But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights.

You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint.

From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back.

Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath.

“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”

You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”

Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”

You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”

Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”

Bloodshed. Always bloodshed.

A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day.

He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat.

As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion.

The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived.

Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open.

Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting.

You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red.

But this new gladiator, he was fast.

He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already.

Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did.

But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again.

You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed.

“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned.

“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”

“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”

The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before.

“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”

The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder.

But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too.

It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees.

But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it.

Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure.

The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly.

You wanted to vomit. You feared you might.

You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat.

Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?

You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before.

But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to.

Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face.

His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.

The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion.

A man you were sure you already loved.

By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember.

When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet.

Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more.

A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward.

Telling you to go.

So you did.

You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter—

The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”

Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor.

You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”

“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”

The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing.

The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”

The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing.

More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched.

The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals.

A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken.

You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair.

You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder.

“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”

“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”

On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.

The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”

The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him.

The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back.

It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth.

Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag.

You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay.

“Can I?”

The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew.

The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder.

He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”

Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water.

You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed.

Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics.

“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer.

You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above.

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”

The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation.

“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face.

He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer.

“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”

Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods.

Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world.

You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above.

Who was this stranger?

And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you.

Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere.

Thunder rumbled, threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger.

That you knew something bad was coming.

“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”

Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real.

His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was.

Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare.

“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”

“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”

From another life, you wanted to say.

How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together.

Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer.

You didn’t want to let him go.

“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”

It happened too quick. Too fast.

The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic.

“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both.

There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side.

One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor.

“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”

The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists.

“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”

“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.

You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you.

When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps.

You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair.

Steve was gone and the thunder was too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot

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bgomtori · 2 months

Text

☆ lover's rock - c.bg

synopsis - love wasn't something you believed in until you bumped into him while listening to your favourite band.

-> music major! beomgyu x art major! reader

-> love a first sight, college au!, artist x muse

-> warnings! slowburn, yn's dense, makeout session.

-> note! after i heard that beomgyu listens to cas, i screamed, my fav person and one of my fav bands :' also gyu day!! his birthday is literally 4 days before mine, i think it's fate 😂 jokes💀 hope you guys enjoy this :>

art, something that is enjoyed by many in various ways, through music, paintings or even poems. personally, you enjoyed art through your paintings, the ability to express yourself on a canvas with multiple hues of colours was fascinating to you, along with the soothing melody of music playing in the background. your mind wanders off as you immerse yourself in the current art project you had, your wrist moving slowly while you sketch on your prep board.

the library was quiet as usual, all types of students from different majors all gathered in one area to study or rush last minute work. you snapped yourself back into reality, aimlessly staring at the artpiece infront of you, your eyes feeling strained and dry, unable to keep itself open. that was your cue to pack up and leave, you stretched your aching body, slinging your bag over your shoulders as you left the library, placing your headphones over your ears, turning up the volume slowly, paying no attention to the surrounding area around you.

"ow, sorry." a voice sounded louder than what played in your headphones, you removed them, trying to be polite to the person you accidentally bumped into. "it's fine, i should have paid more attention to my surroundings." you bowed, before bending down to pick up your phone that was knocked away from your grasp.

"you listen to cigarettes after sex too?" you could hear the joy behind the male's voice, clearly thrilled to find out that a person listens to the same band as him. you nodded your head, "you like them too?"

"yea of course! i've been listening to them since they released their first album." he smiled, his eyes shimmering despite the dimly lit hallway you were standing in. "that's cool, what's your name? maybe we can talk more."

"beomgyu, choi beomgyu. how about you? i've seen you around the art building before." he replied, shooting the question back at you, "yn, hope to see you around next time." you smiled at him, wanting to leave already.

"wait, what's your number? you seem cool, i mean you are cool especially since you listen to cas. i just want to talk to someone like you." beomgyu stuttered, his face turned away from you as he held his phone towards you, displaying the contact list to you. you laughed softly, typing in your number, along with your name and an emoji.

"text me anytime, i'll try my best to reply." you waved, leaving a stranded beomgyu in the middle of a dark hallway, his eyes never leaving your disappearing figure. without even noticing, his lips tugged up into a smile, finally someone he could relate to, he could already feel the connection between the both of you. call him crazy, but he thinks that you would be best friends by the end of the semester.

and that dream became a reality. all starting from a text message from beomgyu, sending you a playlist he created of his favourite songs from all his favourite bands. something as little as a playlist warmed your heart, who would actually take the time and effort to create a playlist for a stranger they barely knew. and this was the starting point of your everlasting friendship. the way that he would often make his way to the art studio, despite his music studio being a 10 minutes away from it, he is willing to walk that distance for you, with your favourite drink in hand.

"you're class ended 15 minutes ago, how are you here so fast?" you opened the door for beomgyu, letting him into the art studio, locking it in the process. beomgyu stared at the current piece you were working in, completely awed by how pretty the artwork was.

"you're so good at this." ignoring your previous question, placing his bag down on the ground, taking a seat beside your canvas. you sighed, knowing beomgyu would never reveal the reason why he's always so quick to find you.

"have you listened to their latest single?" beomgyu asked, scrolling through his playlist, specifically made for music of his taste. you shook your head, "i didn't even know that they released a new song." beomgyu looked at you as if you grew another head.

"you're missing out, oh my god." beomgyu gasped, immediately playing the song, 'bubblegum.' by cas. a familiar yet different sounding melody filled your eardrums as you listened intently to the song beomgyu was showing you.

"it's nice." you found yourself humming to the lyrics, sketching on the canvas that was infront of you. "right, they never disappoint." beomgyu agreed, trying to find another song to add to the queue.

"gyu–" beomgyu looked up at the sound of his voice, his eyes blinking at you slowly, waiting for you to complete your sentence, "why, don't you talk to your other friends about music?" it has been a question on your mind ever since you've became friends with beomgyu, you've noticed how he doesn't talk much about his interest and taste in music to the guys compared to when he is with you.

"oh." his response was dry, making you think that you've said something hurtful.

"uhm, i didn't mean it, i guess it's slightly insensitive, forget that i asked that." you stammered, your face getting warm due to the embarrassment you were facing.

"you didn't say anything wrong, don't worry." he reassured, giving you a small smile.

"it's just that they don't share the same taste as me, so i can't really talk to them about my passion and interest in music. it's fine though! i've finally met you, so i'm alright with that." beomgyu admitted, his eyes practically glowing under the bright light in the art studio. your heart raced, butterflies filling your stomach, how cute could he be to make you feel like this. you've never believed that love was something for you, every single person you've liked has rejected you, clearly beomgyu wouldn't be any different.

"when is this due?" beomgyu questioned, his finger tapping on your canvas.

"in 2 weeks, why?" your head tilting in confusion as beomgyu's lips tugged into a mischievious smirk, "let's dip, you still have plenty of time to complete that."

"what? no. i need to–"

"no you don't, let's go to a vinyl shop, i know a place." beomgyu grabbed your hand, pulling you up from your seat. you screeched, telling him to wait, since your things were scattered around the studio. beomgyu chuckled, releasing your wrist, watching you frantically pack everything into your bag.

"i hate you." you grumbled, glaring at beomgyu while locking the door to your art studio. beomgyu laughed, his hand landing atop your head, stroking your hair, "quit grumbling, let's go."

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

"what took you so long?" you removed a side of your earbud, looking up at beomgyu who was staring at your with an apologetic look on his face. "i've not been to the campus's library in months, so i kinda got lost.." his eyes averting your gaze, cheeks warming up due to the embarrassment. you laughed at him softly, patting the seat beside you.

"do you always come to the library on your free time?" beomgyu whispered, placing his bag on the ground, grabbing his laptop at the same time. you nod your head, fingers quickly typing out the 5000 word essay that was due the following day. beomgyu frowned, noticing how you have yet to give him any attention from the moment he sat down beside you.

beomgyu sighed into the palm of his hand, pushing his chair closer to yours, your shoulders coming into contact with one another, knees brushing against each other's occassionally. you could feel beomgyu's eyes burning holes into your soul, causing you to turn to face him, unaware of how close you guys were. your eyes widened, along with his, your face about a centimeter away from his. lips barely touching, his hot breath fanning against your face, eyes boring into yours.

"sorry.." beomgyu coughed, turning away from you, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"it's fine." you choked out, still thinking about what just happened, unable to think straight, you hastily finished your essay, not caring on whether it was perfect or not, and switched your laptop off.

"let's go to the vinyl store, i need more vinyls." you packed your bags, trying your best not to look into beomgyu's eyes, knowing that you'll instantly malfunction under his gaze. however, just as you had that thought in mind, beomgyu grabbed onto your wrist, making you pause your actions.

"wait, i have something for you." beomgyu removed his grip from your wrist, pulling a small box from his bag, placing it in your hand.

"open it." he whispered, eyes looking at the box and back at you, excited for you to open up the surprise gift he bought for you. you untied the cute little ribbon on the box before lifting up the lid of the tiny box, only to see a cute bracelet staring back at you, the star-shaped charm gleaming prettily, it's colours so plain yet so charming.

"it's pretty." was all your said, but beomgyu has known you long enough to understand that you don't talk that much when you see something you like so much, but your express it through your body language and facial expression. he could see the way your eyes lit up, ane how your lips tugged up to a slight smile without noticing. beomgyu grinned, watching as you slipped the bracelet on your wrist.

"let's go?" you asked, snapping beomgyu out of his daze.

"yea sure." his hands grabbing onto yours, acting as if he doesnt care, but his mind was a hectic mess. he could see your clueless expression through his peripheral vision, doe eyes staring at his hand on yours. beomgyu swore that his heart was going to jump out any moment, his ears turning to a soft hue of read, you were definitely going to be the death of him.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

time flies whenever you're with beomgyu, without even realising it has already been months since your first interaction. by this time, you've finally grown accustomed to your growing feelings for the male, from his appearance to his passion in music, everything about him was perfect. even your friends caught on to your lovesick ways, also talking to beomgyu from time to time just to see if he was suitable for you, only for them to say that you're dense. you couldn't even believe soobin when he told you that beomgyu hasn't been like this around his past lovers, lies, was what you told soobin, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded, just to see soobin shaking his head, telling you that it's true.

every now and then, beomgyu would invite you over to his dorm if he's too lazy to go over to yours, and behind closed doors, blocking out the noise happening in the living room due to the boys loud yelling, the both of your just listened to your shared playlist in silence. it may not seem like much, but this activity calms you down, resting your head against the bed frame while beomgyu lays on his pillow, scrolling through his phone.

lovers rock, the song you recommended him since the start of your friendship. the sound of the electric guitar slowly fading into the quiet atmosphere, your fingers subconsciously tap against your phone to the beat, humming along with the melody.

"look at this tiktok, it reminds me of us." beomgyu chuckled, his arm extended to show you the cute tiktok on his phone. you took some time to process that he was trying to show you something before turning your head towards his phone, "oh my god, stop shaking." you grumbled, grabbing onto his phone, your hand laying on top of his.

the video contained two cats hugging each other as they had earbuds in their ear, listening to music, perfectly picturing the exact event happening right now. your stomach felt funny, biting your lips as you fought back the largest smile ever. "yea, that's us." you giggled, this feeling was euphoric, the way your smile is immediately reciprocated makes you feel like you've won a marathon, how this man has you completely wrapped around his finger...

beomgyu hummed, a hint of joy hidden behind his voice as he turned to his side to face the wall. your eyes flickered onto beomgyu's figure, your body slowly edging towards him unconsciously.

"hmm?" beomgyu sounded, feeling your head pressing against his back, you forcefully pushed his head away, preventing him to look at you, "i'm tired." you yawned, wrapping your arm around his waist loosely, growing more comfortable against his warmth. beomgyu could hear his own heartbeat, loud and clear, afraid that you could hear it too. your eyes fluttered close, on the verge of falling asleep.

"yn." beomgyu called, his body shifted around to face you, you looked up at him groggily, waiting for him to say something. beomgyu's mouth turned dry, completely forgetting the words that he wanted to tell you.

"ah, forget it, rest well." swallowing the lump in his throat, he watched as you nodded your head, falling back to sleep. he stared at the wall behind you in frustration, his mind only filled with thoughts of you, and how he was going to confess to you.

ever since he told his friends about his undying love for you, all they did was to push him into confessing because he'd be a pussy if he didn't, and to convince his friends that he isn't one, he has to tell you soon. currently, his phone was raided with a bunch of notifications from his group chat, all of them asking when he was going to tell you.

heeseung : stop pussying it, just say it.

beomgyu : it's not that simple 😐 and she's asleep right now

jeongin : you had all the time in the world to say it just now, and you wasted it.

beomgyu : ok shut up, maybe later.

"so fucking annoying.." he groaned softly, turning his phone off, staring off into the distance again.

"what's annoying?" you yawned a question, woken up by beomgyu's rapid typing and groans in annoyance from earlier. beomgyu looked at you in shock, praying that you didn't see any of the messages he exchanged with his friends.

"ah, nothing." beomgyu shrugged it off, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"yn, i have something to tell you." he suddenly sat up, causing you to flinch, "what is it?" following his actions.

"do you believe in love at first sight?" the sudden question about love caught you off guard, you played around with the bracelet beomgyu previoudly gave you, unable to come up with a response. your silence made beomgyu nervous, was it too random? he stared off to the side of his room.

"i didn't believe it at first, but i guess i think it's possible." you replied, the back of your neck feeling warmer by the second, afraid that you'd accidentally slip out a confession. beomgyu looked at you as if you grew two heads, he knew you weren't fond of love, and would much rather focus on your future art career. he was slightly curious, and extremely jealous of this person who managed to steal your heart.

"who?"

"who..?"

"who is this person that changed your mind." his tone sounding harsher than he intended to, maybe becausr he didn't want to lose you to any other guy who didn't deserve you. your throat was dry, it was to either tell him the truth or lie about your feelings for him. however, you didn't want to miss out on this opportunity, i mean what could be worse than getting rejected in his own dorm. you swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, licking your lips,

"you."

"what?"

"it's you, ever since you bumped into me when i was making my way out of the library." you confessed, feeling yourself crumble, knowing that beomgyu is watching you intently. on the other hand, beomgyu didn't believe his ears, his mind going haywire at the thought that you liked him back, not even paying attention to your rambling.

"i don't know if this is the right time to confess, i mean i guess it was just the heat of the moment.. i'm sorry if i made you uncomf–" your eyes widened at the sudden contact on your lips, slowly blinking to register the situation that's happening. what felt like fireworks in your stomach, your eyes naturally closed, reciprocating the kiss, your hand placed on top of beomgyu's, slightly gripping onto it. beomgyu smiled into the kiss, his free hand landing on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

beomgyu pulled away, causing you to whine, wanting more. beomgyu couldn't help but giggle at how desperate you were.

"more.." you sighed out, wrapping your arms around beomgyu's neck, tilting your head as you connected your lips against his. his lips tasted like strawberries, his favourite fruit, and also the chapstick that he steals from your occassionally, he was perfect. you pulled away, catching your breath, placing your forehead against beomgyu's.

"guess we picked the best song to kiss to." beomgyu chuckled, you quirked your eyebrow, not understanding what he meant, until you heard what the lyrics meant. you giggled, nuzzling your head into beomgyu's neck.

"it's perfect."

she might wanna kiss

before the end of this song..

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added) @mrsyawnzzn @tinyelfperson @woncheecks @boba-beom @naveries @be-argyu @defnotleee

#bgomtori ✰#txt scenarios #beomgyu #txt imagines #txt beomgyu #txt fanfic #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu soft thoughts #txt x reader #txt imagine #txt reactions #txt

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 months

Text

Only When It Comes To You ~ LMH

CONTINUATION OF THIS PART

WORD COUNT:3.7K

GENRE: MINORS DNI, smut, couple finally getting together, dates, sweet, valentines day themed, protected sex, oral (Both receiving) swearing

PAIRING: Mafia!Minho x Fem!Reader ( @meloncremesoda )

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

Minho stood outside the out-of-date cat sanctuary that his men had been working on for almost 3 months now, it was taking far too long for them to get the work done and he was on the verge of hiring new people just to get it done faster. But he knew there was no rushing perfection, which was the same excuse he had given his right-hand man, Jisung when he had asked why Minho hadn't asked you out on a date yet.

It had been the topic of discussion that morning in his office with Jisung calling his boss a "pussy" for not just asking you out right away. Which, he had. He'd asked you that night you met and you'd joked about him not giving up which was true but after that, you never went out. Minho wasn't scared of asking you again but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by constantly looming over your shoulder with the prospect of a date.

But now he was standing it with a bouquet of roses in his hand, sweat dripping down his forehead and no doubt drenching his brand new suit that he was wearing. The evening sun cast long shadows on the street as he nervously adjusted his suit, the faint scent of the flowers adding a touch of irony to his appearance. Even though he was known as a tough figure in the city's underworld, Minho was more accustomed to dark alleys than the doorstep of a cat sanctuary. Though he used to volunteer in them before he was who he was today.

Swallowing the lump in his throat he began to hype himself up for going in to talk to you.

Part of him worried he wasn't good enough for you, you were known for your love of felines and your dedication to the well-being of the furry residents, what if he wasn't good enough for you?

Besides, the two of you were so different to one another, one was a killer and the other was a drop of sunshine, who was he kidding? You were the whole fucking sunshine, sighing to himself he turned around to get back into his car when he noticed Jisung smirking at him from across the street.

"What are you doing? I thought you weren't scared?" He called out, teasing his boss just a little as Minho grumbled something under his breath.

"I forgot something in the car," He tried to lie but Jisung just shook his head and started to make chicken noises fueling Minho as he turned around and walked into the car sancurary.

The tinkling bell announced his arrival as he pushed open the door, the soft purring of cats making him smile as he glanced around. All of the cats were free to roam the building since there were now items on the walls for them to climb and play with whenever they saw fit. Minho smiled to himself as he looked around, finding you checking over a cat and his whole heart had stopped in his chest.

You stood there, beautiful as ever, wearing a colourful apron adorned with paw prints, after looking up from tending to a playful tabby you smiled over at him. It wasn't a fake smile either, it was a smile that reached your ears and made Minho's entire heart skip a beat.

"Minho?" You asked, surprise evident in your voice.

"What are you doing here?" Ever since he'd asked you out and disappeared on you, you figured he'd regret asking you and was doing everything within his power to avoid you which had hurt you a lot since you'd been looking forward to seeing him again.

Minho scratched the back of his head, a nervous habit he couldn't quite shake as he tried to find the words to speak but all of them were lost on him as you made your way in his direction.

"Hey, YN. I, uh, brought these for you." He extended the bouquet toward you, a mix of red and white roses contrasting against the dark fabric of his suit and you smiled at him, your eyes widened in astonishment as you accepted the flowers.

"Oh my gosh. These are beautiful. Thank you." You took in a deep sniff of the flowers before making your way to the back, Minho closely following behind as he wanted to ask you again to dinner but this time he was going to stick to it.

As you began to pour some water into a vase you cut off the stems of the flowers in silence, the sound of the scissors suddenly felt like a ticking clock for Minho and he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment.

"Listen, Yn, I was wondering if you'd, you know, want to grab dinner with me sometime. Maybe this weekend?" Your hands froze on what they were doing and you turned around to look at him in surprise,

"Are we going to arrange something this time?" You teased softly, a soft pink blush began to set onto Minho's chest as he stuttered over his words a little. He had no explanation other than that he'd been too nervous to make a move again.

"I thought you'd regret asking me when you never showed up again." You admit shyly, looking back down at the flowers before putting them all into the water and looking back at Minho who was now smiling at you.

"Never. I was unsure how to approach you again, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by asking you again." He admitted, looking at you before chuckling nervously which was a rare sight for someone with his reputation.

"I'd love to have dinner this weekend with you," You smile, writing your number down on a piece of scrap paper and handing it to him.

"Text me the details this time." You winked at him as Minho's face broke out into a genuine grin.

"I will, it's a date." He told you before making his way out of the cat sanctuary. Unbeknownst to you, Minho already had your number - since it hadn't been that hard to find but he'd been too scared to message you on it.

As he left the cat sanctuary, the doorbell echoed his departure and he couldn't help but smile brightly as he stepped out into the streets and he made his way to his car already planning what he was going to do for your date that weekend.

"Whoa," You breathed out as Minho helped you out of the car and smiled warmly at you. He was dressed in an all-black suit and looked drop-dead handsome and now you were worrying that you hadn't dressed fancy enough for tonight.

This wasn't your first date, far from it in fact, this was the sixth date you'd been on with Minho in the past month and a half and the two of you were spending Valentine's Day together, something you'd never done with anyone before.

"You like it?" Minho asked as he shifted on his feet a little. The restaurant was one of his own and he worried it wasn't good enough for you.

"It's incredible but I suddenly feel underdressed." You admitted, looking down at the dress you were wearing. It was a black silk dress that reached your knees but everyone inside looked as though they were dressed to go to a charity gala.

"You look perfect, I promise," Minho whispered in your ear as he took your hand into his and slowly headed inside the restaurant. People turned to gawk at the two of you but you just stared at Minho while you walked.

Soft jazz music played in the background as Minho sat you down before taking the seat across from you. The two of you were seated at a private table that could still be seen by other guests and there were candles laid out all over your table, as well as rose petals.

You took in the elegant surroundings, trying not to feel uncomfortable with the way that everyone was staring in your direction which was something people did a lot when you were together.

A waiter came over instantly and poured you both some water and wine before a man in a chef's outfit stood with a giant smile on his face.

"I have the perfect menu planned for our special guests tonight. You will be wowed!" He called out with a giant smile on his face, you smiled back at him impressed that he was standing with you.

"This place is amazing. Where did you find it?" You questioned once the waiter and chef left you both alone, Minho chuckled as he watched you pick up the glass of water and slowly take a sip.

"I own it." He stated, making you choke on your water a little, carefully you put the glass down and stare at him.

"It's one of my ventures and I thought I'd bring you here tonight." You knew he owned many businesses but you never would have pictured Minho in the restaurant business.

"Ah yes, VIP treatment from the boss," You teased as he chuckled, taking your hand in his on the table, slowly tracing his fingers over your skin

"So do you bring all your girls here?" You teased as he lifted your hand to his lip and kissed it softly,

"Only the special ones." He winks making your whole body heat up at his attention. The two of you had discussed dating history and it seemed Minho hardly ever went out on dates, deciding that the dating game had been over for him for years until he found you.

"The sanctuary is almost done, I can't wait to be able to hire new people though, I'm exhausted." You admitted with a small sigh. You adored all of the cats you had but working almost always alone was tiring, especially when you had no time for yourself.

"I'll make sure I find plenty of people to sign up for the job," Minho told you as he lifted his glass to drink from it. The last thing he wanted was you so rushed off your feet that he could no longer see you.

"You're just saying that so I'll have more free time for you." You giggled a little and Minho cocked his eyebrow up,

"Am I that obvious?"

"Only when it comes to me," You winked at him,

"Only when it comes to you," He whispered back, it was true. There was something about you that made him completely different from who he was supposed to be and he never wanted that to change.

"We should have dessert at mine tonight." You told him suddenly, it was forward of you but you were tired of waiting for him to make the first move and you'd already decided it would be tonight.

You'd worn an underwear set which was red and covered in hearts and kisses that you couldn't wait go him to see.

"Oh? What do you have planned?" He arched a brow at you in confusion until he felt your foot slowly rubbing up and down his leg in a seductive motion.

"You," You whispered before the food arrived at the table and for the first time Minho couldn't wait for the date to be over so he could go home with you.

Getting home had felt like the longest drive in the world to you but that was nothing compared to the awkwardness you were feeling as you stood across from Minho in your living room.

You'd had this all planned out, you were going to kiss him on the sofa until you finally made a move but now you felt so unsure of everything.

"Yn," He whispers when he sees you started to play with the skin around your fingers, your gaze meets him and he gestures for you to come toward him and he smirks pulling you onto his lap.

"You're cute when you're nervous." He tells you, slowly running his fingers over the straps of your dress making your whole body shiver.

"You're cute when you're nervous." You mocked back at him before he kissed you deeply, your fingers tracing the outline of his face as all of your worries melted away around you. Minho's lips moved down your neck as he began to pepper your skin with kisses, your hands slowly moving the straps of your dress down revealing the underwear set you'd worn for him.

"Fitting," He whispered as he let his thumb trace over the fabric, your breath catching in your throat as his thumb ran over your hardened nipple.

"I wanted to be dressed for you," You admitted shyly as Minho blushed bright red, unzipping the back of your dress and letting it fall to your hips.

"You look so beautiful." He breathed out as you got up from his lap and let the dress fall to the floor revealing the matching panties.

"Fuck," He groans out as you pull him up by his tie, slowly leading him up the stairs his eyes were on your ass the whole time, his cock growing so hard it was almost painful.

As you walked into the bedroom you kissed Minho again, pulling off all his clothes until he was naked in front of you.

"Are you sure about this?" He questioned, not wanting to go any further if you weren't ready but you took his hand in yours and slowly rubbed your clit through your panties.

"More than sure...P-Please," You begged a little as Minho smirked, slowly rubbing your clit and biting down on his lip as he thought about wet you were for him.

"Best Valentine's Day ever," He whipped before laying you down gently on the bed, slowly - and carefully - taking off your panties as you let out a strained whine. You didn't want slow right now,

"I need you," You pleaded with him as he smirked at you kissing down your stomach until he reached your cunt and he chuckled to himself.

"You're cute when you beg."

"Minho." You hissed out, too impatient for any games tonight and he chuckled deeply before he pushed two fingers into you making your back arch off the bed

"F-Fuck, yes." You moaned out as Minho watched you, his fingers slowly picking up the pace as he pushed them in and out of you. Moans and curses fell from your lips as you clawed at his hair,

"You want my mouth?" He cooed out in a sarcastic voice, making you glare down at him.

"Please." You didn't care if you sounded desperate, you were, you needed him and you weren't ashamed of him knowing about it as you pulled him closer to your core. Within seconds he took your clit into his mouth and began to suck on you softly, swirling his tongue around the nug making you see stars as you shifted below him.

"Minho," You cried out as your back arched further off the bed, clenching around his fingers as he began to pick up the pace thrusting them in and out of you.

"You like it when I play with your pretty cunt?" He asked before curling his fingers inside of you making you whine.

"M-Minho." You gasped out, feeling the tightness begin to build in your stomach as he curled his finger, adjusting his position and sucking harsher on your clit.

"Cum for me, I want you to cum." He moaned out against your clit, the vibrations making the coil in your stomach tighten until it snapped.

"Oh shit...F-Fuck!" You cried out as you came around his fingers but Minho continued to finger you until you came down from your high and he smirked up at you.

"M-My turn," You whimpered, barely giving him any time to say anything before you took him into your hand and slowly began to pump him. Curses fell from his lips as you lowered your head to his cock, spitting onto him as you rubbed him softly.

"M-More," His voice cracked as he spoke, if any of his men had heard him beg right now he'd never live it down but he didn't care.

"Fuck," He grunts as you placed a teasing lick on the underside of the tip of his cock, his head rolling backwards as a grunt left his throat. The moans left him fueling you more as you took him into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head.

"Your mouth feels so good." He lets out lowly, his groans growing louder as you continue to bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue around him as you reach the top. Drool dripped down his cock as he watched you intently,

"You take it so well," He moans out as you took his balls in your hand, softly playing with them until you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth.

"S-Shit...S-Shit," He jerks away from you, surprising you as you whimper.

"Did I do something wrong?" You questioned as he shook his head at you, kissing you deeply as he laid you below him. Minho had been so close to cuming and he wanted to finish with you. You reached for a condom from your top drawer and rolled it onto him as he let out a whimper

"Yn," He moans as you line him up at your entrance,

"Fuck me already," You giggled as he grunted, slowly racing your slit with the tip of his dick before sinking into you making you throw your head back against the mattress and moan out.

Minho bottomed out inside of you, his hips meeting yours and giving you a chance to adjust to the new feeling.

"You're so big," You whined out, hasp[ing a little as he smirked at you/

"You can take it." He whispered as he slowly began to move.

The sounds inside of the room were filthy, Minho's cursing mixed with your moans and the sound of skin slapping together was music to your ears. Everything you'd been dreaming of since your first interaction finally coming true

"F-Feels so fucking good," You cried out as you rolled your hips up to meet his, feeling the pressure once again building in your stomach.

"S-Shit baby, I can feel you clenching, you close?" He groaned out, thrusting faster as he reached out and rubbed your clit between you, your hips jerking up to match his brutal pace as you cried out his name. Your nails dragged down his back, your eyes rolled back as you arched into him.

"Cum for me, kitten! Just like that," He encouraged as he continued to fuck into you harder.

"Minho!" You cry out coming undone around him, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer to you as he twitches, spilling into the condom with a moan of your name.

The two of you lay there in one another arms, cuddled up together as you catch your breath.

"So, next weekend I have a gala to go to, do you want to be my date?" Minho chuckles softly as you nod, kissing his chest.

~ A year later~

"I'm telling you now, if you rip this bra I'll kill you." You told your boyfriend as you stood in his office dressed in nothing but a new underwear set you'd gotten yourself for Valentine's Day and he growled throwing everything off his desk and placing you on top of it ready to spend another Valentine's Day with the love of his life.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp

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musingmeaninglessly · 1 year

Text

Neteyam w/ a Human Girlfriend

Fem reader insert, not proofread and written on my phone, so excuse any weird formatting issues. Also read; Lo’ak w/ a Human Girlfriend💙

In all honesty, Neteyam couldn’t believe that he’d ever see a human as more than a friendly acquaintance, let alone his mate. But all that was blown out the water when your lil human self tumbled into his life.

He had been wary to pursue you. Not because of you, per se, but he knew that choosing a human would make his future more complicated. But, in a rare display of fatherly kindness, Jake had assured his son that it would all be alright and worth the risk.

So, that leads us to you two as a couple!

I feel like both the Sully brothers would be extremely protective, but Neteyam in a more sensible way. You’d have to beg him to fly his Ikran with him or to accompany him on a hunt. He wasn’t even initially keen on you swimming in the ocean and would insist that you keep your head above the water to protect your mask.

That being said, he loves your enthusiasm and excitement about the things that he does day-to-day. Neteyam’s a busy guy, but you bring a little fun to his daily life with your curiosity and desire to learn the Na’vi way of life.

And the same can be said for him. In fact, he’s rarely happier than when he’s at your side in the lab. You could be amongst the most beautiful nature that Pandora has to offer, but a part of him would rather be all cosied up in your little makeshift bedroom back in the lab. For him it’s an escape from his role within the clan, a place where he can get lost in another world. Your world.

Despite the indifference he felt towards humans before meeting you, he’s fascinated by your culture. It’s not even like there’s one thing he’s particularly enamoured by- he just finds everything so interesting, from cultural norms to your favourite snacks.

He’s also very curious about your physical features (as Lo’ak would be too). And it’s in a completely innocent way. He’d just love to touch your skin and make cute compliments about the softness of your hair and the colours in your eyes. It’s all so new to him and he loves you for your differences.

But what makes it that much more special? The fact that you’re teaching him everything. He loves feeling more connected to you, whether that be brushing up his English skills or listening through your playlists. He could sit for hours hunched up in your non-Na’vi-proof bedroom just listening to you ramble about life on Earth.

All in all, your relationship with Neteyam is one of cosmic chance- a needle in a haystack, if you will. You’ve opened his eyes to a new world, and together you build one upon unending love and kindness.

Bonus: Nicknames for you include but are not limited to; my love, princess, yawntutsyìp, star girl, sweetheart, darling.

#neteyam x human #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x fem human #Neteyam fluff #neteyam headcanons

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teabutmakeitazure · 6 months

Text

Dissimulation Continued

>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (modern au)

>Word count: 4.9k

>a/n: childe "leave your degree and be my wife" tartaglia. i dont think anything in this classifies as yan since its just a continuation of the original story but still tagging that since the original is yan. also, i wrote the beginning during my flight lol

Being housemates with a mafioso isn't a very ideal situation.

First Part

Airports are holes in the fabric of time. Minutes and hours are blurred, the signature beeping sound before the limitless number of announcements causing an odd fogginess in your mind. They're surreal but comforting. You are forever a traveller there, only at the mercy of your own mistakes and mishaps.

A familiar hair colour stands out in the distance, rising above the lake of heads. Your luggage trolley is pushed closer and closer to that lake, but instead of relief, only a subtle feeling of dread settles in. It is true that in airports you are at the mercy of your own mistakes, but it is the same for the outside world. The only difference is that simply existing and being alive is not considered a mistake in the former.

The voice you've been hearing through your phone for the past weeks finally greets you directly from the source. Everything is a blur, your eyes focusing on the person who makes way through the busy crowd to get closer as the sounds become exceedingly loud. Slowly, you stop in your tracks, mind still under the haze of indistinguishable time.

The first to go is your backpack, the item promptly removed from your shoulders. The next is the trolley. Your grip on it is gently loosened, and fingers snap in front of your face to dispel the haze from your mind.

"Earth to [Name]? Hey. You alright? The flight couldn't have been that bad, come on."

Your eyes blink a few times, the background chatter becoming more prominent and the face in front of you being focused on by your vision. Words refuse to form on your tongue, so you have to rely on your actions as a last resort. After closing your mouth with mild embarrassment, your eyes settle on his oversized t-shirt. Bare arms greet you when you look for a sleeve, so you settle with grabbing the side of his shirt instead.

It’s still summer. Of course he’s wearing cap sleeves. The display of what one could easily pass off as clinginess causes him to take a step closer, his arm reaching to wrap around your shoulders. You refuse to directly look him in the eye, but allow the arm to slither around you. ‘I am with this person,’ the arm announces. ‘And we are more than what a first glance can reveal.’

“Are you feeling alright?” The arm pulls you inside a half-hug, the warmth of his body comforting with the smell of familiar cologne. “Did something happen?”

A shake of your head is all you can manage, but it is not accepted.

“Hey,” voice low, the arm around you travels upwards to gently run up and down your head. “Tell me. We’ve talked about this. Don’t hide anything from me. I only want to help.”

To yield and share your feelings with someone such as him is not easy, but you do so anyway, surprised at how easily you were able to speak. “It’s something silly,” you say, eyes glued to the floor. “I just miss home.”

The arm strokes your back comfortingly. There is more than just comfort in his voice. There is sympathy. “I understand.” Commiseration drips from his tone, a hint of melancholy behind the way he holds you closer. “We’ll get through it. Don’t worry.”

The hand grabbing the shirt is now wrapped with another, the warmth from both palms and the touch more noticeable than you would have preferred. Calluses are barely felt, but you know they are there. You saw them in detail right before you left for home. How could you ever forget?

With the other free hand, the trolley is pushed along as both of you walk to the exit. You say goodbye to the building and the odd feeling of time passing inside it. A familiar routine and life is welcomed in its stead, but the welcome is short lived.

You both have stopped walking.

“[Name]?”

You raise your head but do not meet his eyes.

“You haven’t looked at me since you got here.”

Pointing out your actions is cruel, but so is your treatment. Thus, you capitulate like you always do. The sight of the familiar dull blues is something you did not want to welcome but you do.

“Sorry.” You try your best to give a smile even if it’s shaky and uncertain. “I’m just… shaken up. I’ll be alright in a few hours.”

Unfortunately for you, the devil has another demand. “Say my name. You haven’t even said my name yet.”

“Childe?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “My name.”

A light bulb shines above your head, and you immediately respond. “Ajax.”

He smiles. “Again.”

“Ajax.”

You’re near the car before you know it.

The sun is setting which paints the sky in a beautiful gradient of red and yellow, hints of magenta red peeking through the clouds. The car’s trunk opens and your luggage is promptly placed inside. Your company for the evening comes to stand in front of you, and your eyes instead go to the constellations of freckles dusting across his cheeks. Diverting your attention to him seems to please him because he’s smiling at you.

“It’ll be night by the time we’re there.”

Your statement makes Childe turn around and face the sunset as well. Somehow the mahogany coloured t-shirt is a perfect compliment to the sky’s colours, his hair glowing a fiery red with the sunset behind him.

“If it’ll be night,” he says, hand reaching for the phone inside his pocket, “you can go home and sleep. You need the rest.”

“No.” Childe turns to look at you, phone in hand, but you continue speaking. “I need to call my mom. She said to call when I reach the airport.”

The questioning look on his face turns into a smile. “What do you think I’m doing right now?”

You raise a brow. “Taking me home?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “With my phone. What do you think I’m doing with my phone?”

Your eyes widen when he clarifies, mouth agape before you compose yourself. “Oi. I’m supposed to talk to her, not you.”

Childe’s thumb presses something on his phone, cheeky grin infuriating you further. “Too late. I sent her a text. I told her I picked you up and that we’re on our way home.”

Mouth having fallen open again, you stomp towards him. Aiming for his phone doesn’t help, for he simply raises it above his head and takes a step back. Thus, you grab onto his shirt’s neckline and pull. The smile falls from his face only to return when he’s barely an inch away from your face, noses almost brushing.

“[Name],” he breathes, eyes staring into yours, “I’m sure this counts as public indecency. Let’s go home first.”

Unbothered, you simply sigh. “I told you. I’m supposed to talk to her. Not you.”

Childe pulls away, his hand gently undoing your grip on his shirt. “And why’s that? Maintaining a good relationship with your family is important.”

“If my mother finds out I’m with you so often, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He blinks, obviously not having understood. “Isn’t that good?”

“No!”

Childe tilts his head, hair no longer glowing in the sunset. It’s starting to get dark now. “Explain.”

With a groan, you humour him, albeit begrudgingly. “She’ll scold me for being too carefree. I don’t want her on my case all the time.”

“Alright,” he whines. “Come on. Let’s go home. You need some dinner and rest.”

The car park’s street lights illuminate the area, and following Childe you get into the passenger seat. With a huff, you look at his smile - that upturn of his lips seemingly always present in front of you - and plop down onto the seat only to feel… ‘something’ under you. Childe raises a questioning brow as you halfway stand up, trying to grab whatever hard object was under you.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t daunted when a heavy, cold metal object sat in your palm.

Like throwing away a scalding hot piece of iron, you fling the gun to the back seat, eyes boring holes into the item as it lays in the back. Almost as on cue, memories of what had occurred pre-departure flood back in mockingly. It was foolish to be even slightly comfortable around him. Have you forgotten your differences?

“Woah! Careful there!” Childe glances at the firearm sitting on the back seat, but quickly turns back to you. Seeing how your chest is heaving as you look ahead, he breathes a sigh of relief. At least he used the safety lever so that it accidentally doesn’t fire. That would have ended badly.

He watches as you pay him no mind, eyes focused on what you can see through the dashboard’s glass. “Hey,” he whispers gently, “I left it there by mistake. My bad.”

You put a hand over your throat, fingers pressed to your right carotid artery. The continuously pumping blood grounds you. It grounds you, but it provides no comfort. Whatever strength remains in you after a long trip is what helps you compose yourself again.

“Let’s just go home.”

Your words are taken as a command, and Chide nods, immediately reversing the car out of the parking space. It’s completely dark now, the sky only illuminated by the moon and whatever stars are visible with the light pollution. As you exit the airport premises, you allow yourself to immerse in the silence.

Head resting against the window, you close your eyes. It’s a shame your family doesn’t know about your new living arrangements.

The first thing to greet you at your new accommodation is silence. The next is the sound of your phone ringing. The bag on your shoulders is eased off as you press the device to your ear, Childe leaving the thing on the sofa. Silver chalice coloured polished tiles stare back at you as you greet your mother while your new mafioso ‘housemate’ drags your luggage to your room.

After reassuring your mother that you have reached home safely, you excuse yourself with wanting to rest, something she respects and immediately cuts the call for. Now, your greatest conundrum faces you with crossed arms, dull blue eyes observing you instead of simply looking. It’s a test. You know it.

Thus, being the good student that you are, you play along. It is absolutely crucial that you do so because there is only one thing that may land you in hot water: your refusal to cooperate. Despite all that, there are boundaries you will not allow to be crossed, no matter how much he insists.

“Are you sure about the guest room?” Childe patiently eyes you as you mull over an answer. Eyes still taking in every minute detail of your body, he doesn’t miss you biting your lip for a moment.

With a meek voice that you know is his weakness, you mutter a yes. “I’m sorry,” you excuse yourself. “I don’t think I’ll be comfortable sharing a room just yet.”

“Well,” Childe tries again, grabbing the backrest of the sofa behind him for support, “maybe we could live in the same room, but uh, I’ll go to the guest room to sleep. Then we can slowly get comfortable with each other-”

“Childe.”

He blinks. “Yes?”

“Please.” You make it a point to slightly frown, just to garner his sympathy. “I promise I’m not being distant. I’m just… not comfortable yet.”

He sighs, the sound bouncing off the newly painted walls. “Fine. I don’t want to overwhelm you.” His commiseration, although begrudging, is welcomed on your end. Thus, to show your gratitude, you walk up to him and pat his cheek twice. The action makes his eyes widen as he looks at you, and you’re again reminded of how simple-minded he is at times. It’s almost cute… if you ignore the other stuff.

“Do you… want me to be next to you while you sleep?” Childe asks. “It’s a new environment for you. M-maybe my presence will help you fall asleep.”

You smile at him, thankful that he’s caring about your comfort. Nevertheless, you’ll be fine, so you decline. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine. I’m sure I’ll pass out as soon as I hit the pillow.”

He’s still looking at you like a sad puppy in hope you’ll change your mind. You do not. “Fine,” Childe yields. “Just call me if you need anything. I’ll… wake you up for dinner. You can nap until then.”

Just the thought of bed makes you sleepy, so you nod and head for your new living quarters. Unfortunately, you do not turn to look at your new housemate’s empty gaze.

It takes great strength to open your eyes, even if for just a moment, but you do not bother with waking up. Turning to the other side instead, you snuggle deeper into the cover with the contentment that your mother will come and wake you up whenever appropriate. And she does. The warm hand that rests on your cheek caresses the skin gently, a voice hesitantly calling your name.

The realisation that the hand and voice do not belong to your mother is cruel, but it suffices to instantly wake you up with a startle.

Blue. That is what you first see.

The mattress underneath you feels too hard for a moment, and you feel as though you are somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere you mustn't be. The feeling seems to be a mockery created by your mind, but you allow yourself to breathe before listening to the culprit of your disturbed sleep.

“Sorry.” You give no reaction to Childe’s apology. He continues, “It’s starting to get late, and I didn’t want to wake you up for dinner but decided against that because you probably haven’t eaten in a while.”

You continue to stare at him, giving him a look that says, ‘so?’ but he doesn’t seem bothered. Instead, he has the gall to grab your hand from underneath the cover.

“Let’s eat together.”

Childe ends up receiving a very tired raised eyebrow from you before you actually make a move to get up. However, before he could comment on your tired state and ask you to stay in bed, you have thrown the cover off your body and are already on your way to the living room. It makes him sigh, but he doesn’t complain.

Dinner is late and quiet. It’s around half past ten, but Childe doesn’t mind since you don’t have class in the morning. He took a day off as well, just to make up for lost time. The last time he saw you was weeks ago. Of course he wants to spend time with you.

You, on the other hand, down the home cooked meal without any second thought, brain still on autopilot. It makes you feel bad since you don’t have the energy to compliment his cooking, but hey. He woke you up from a deep sleep. He should feel bad. Nevertheless, the cook shamelessly asks about his cooking.

“Did you like it?”

You blink up at him, responding with a sigh. “I’m too tired to taste it.”

Hands folded over his chest, his portion of food is also gone. “I see. Want to go to bed again? I’ll lay down with you till you fall asleep.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Childe gives you a look again, one that reminds you just how easily his dull eyes make you acquiesce. Despite fighting it, you fail and give in like you always do. “Okay okay,” you grumble. His celebratory smile falls when you elaborate. “But no getting into bed with me. You can uh… just sit there.”

“Why not?” The tilt of his head is accentuated by his slightly furrowed brows. It honestly reminds you of a kid trying to negotiate a later bedtime with his mother. “I promised you I won’t try anything you don’t want me to.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is?”

Sensing an argument coming up, you decide to steer the conversation elsewhere. There is too much at stake to anger him just because you’re tired, and you would rather not act like a whining child simply to get what you want. No. You are better than his tactics. Better, but not necessarily perfect.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice low and dejected, “I just want to be alone. I just got back from home and everything feels so weird.” You sigh, simply to make a point. “If I was living in the dorms, I would’ve still been in bed. I really appreciate you, truly, but I just want to be alone. Living alone isn’t easy.”

He counters almost instantly. “You aren’t alone.”

“I meant family,” you clarify. “Being away from family isn’t fun.”

A pensive expression takes over his face. Childe actually looks like he’s thinking, the gears in his head moving as he tries to make sense of your words. Though they were only to get him to back off and subtly establish your boundaries, not everything was a lie. Well, some of it at least.

“Alright,” he surrenders. “I’ll sit next to you.”

Funnily enough, sleep comes easy with his presence. The fact had baffled you when you woke up in the morning, but the plentiful rest ceased any thinking on your part.

Like a sponge slowly soaking up water as it’s left over a water stain, Childe has entered almost every part of your life. He has consumed it entirely, trapping you within his confines as every single activity remains scrutinised. You had first thought you were the sponge, but you were mistaken. Childe is the sponge. You are the water he has soaked up and gotten hold of.

The power is in his hands. Though it’s not unpleasant most of the time, his proprietorial behaviour never fails to remind you of the numerous differences in both your personalities and mentalities. At first, you were able to subtly manipulate him like you did when you first got back. Unfortunately, he has either realised your tactic or grown immune to your tired expressions with displeased frowns and sweet pleadings.

You have no idea what to do.

It absolutely does not help that you are under the added stress of your studies and with no means of clearing your mind because you aren’t sure how to go out with your friends. It also doesn’t help that you simply don’t have the time to go out with your friends.

Rubbing your eyes, you cross out the name of a particular course before clicking on the submit button. The word ‘submitted’ appears in front of ‘assignment 3’, and you instantly put your head down on the table. As usual, your laptop’s screen turns off after its three minute timer is up, prompting your mind to start thinking over your next assignment.

There’s around five days to the deadline and it’s an essay. Perhaps having it drip with affectation might impress the tutor. She is one for grandiose after all. All you’ll need is to find synonyms of every other word and make them sound pretentious. Yes, that’ll do. Just make a rough draft and then edit it with the synonyms so that it’s easier to write and organise your ideas.

Wait… you haven’t even done the reading yet. How are you supposed to write it without doing the required reading?

Taking a peek at the clock on the wall, you make a mental note of reading and writing down main points and ideas before bed. That’s the only thing you have the energy left to do. Maybe you’ll watch a movie tonight, forget any academic obligations and let the mistakes take over.

“Sulking? Or tired?”

Your beloved housemate’s voice calls out from somewhere behind. That gives you a very clear idea that he’s invited himself inside the room. The door was closed. You didn’t hear anything.

Without raising your head, you mumble out your reply. “Both.”

A chuckle, and you hear him sitting down on the bed. “Wow. You sound like you need a twelve hour sleep.”

“Maybe I need twenty.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles again, “you’re going to need drugs for that.”

With a sigh, you raise your head, eyes staring at Childe’s blurry reflection on your laptop’s screen. “Maybe a drug cartel-ish business would’ve been easier. How much do you make again?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I don’t really need to keep track. It’s more than enough.”

“Show-off.”

“To be fair there are no drugs involved.”

You raise a brow at his reflection. “Then what is?”

“Hm.” Childe crosses his arms, faking deep thought. “You would have to be assassinated if I told you. Which is obviously unpreferable.”

“Yeah. I’m good then. Keep your secrets.”

He laughs again, louder this time. “Technically, spouses are immune to that rule. You’re gonna have to marry me if you want to know.”

A click of your tongue and you turn to look at him. Your expression is anything but playful. “Keep your secrets.” Now that you see the burnt maroon shirt and black pants, you figure that he just came back home. He’s even wearing his gloves.

“Oh, come on [Name]. I’m not that bad.”

You don’t reply.

“I am…?”

“No comment,” you deadpan. With that, you turn back to your laptop and turn it back on. Quietly, you close the pdf files of your submitted assignment and open the ones relating to the essay you need to turn in. By your estimate, you need to do lots of brainstorming, so if you start right now, you can get it done in around three days.

A hand flat on the table next to yours and warm breath over your ear startle you as you attempt to start reading. “Week six,” Childe reads, “the emotional mind: emotion, reason, and consciousness. Discuss the argument the author of this document has laid out and present your own views on the topic he is discussing. There is no right or wrong answer. You will be graded over your coherency in your writing and skills in identifying any possible discrepancies or invalidity of arguments. Please feel free to contact me or your tutor if you need help. The format is the same as what we discussed in class. Good luck.”

You open the document that is your required reading for the assignment and hear a grumble from Childe. He moves closer to you and instinctively, you lean forward to maintain what little distance there was. Gently, he coaxes your hand off the touchpad and asks if there’s any unsaved progress in the tabs you’ve opened. Once you say no, he closes everything.

After shutting down the laptop, he picks it up and places it on a side table. “Take a break,” he says. “You don’t need to work so hard.”

Tired, you’re almost tempted into listening to him but snap out of it when you hear what he says next.

“I’m going to take care of you, so even if something happens and you can’t complete the degree, you don’t have to worry.”

The statement makes you frown and you clearly show your displeasure with your expression and words. "That's not very nice."

He simply shrugs. "All I'm saying is that there's no pressure on you. Take it easy."

"The kind of pressure you're talking about is irrelevant."

Childe shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hand on a hip. "Is it? In what way," he challenges. "You left home to come to a different country to study. Of course there's pressure to succeed. I'm just trying to ease that."

"No. You're not." You finally find the courage to look straight into his challenging stare, unyielding despite feeling your heart start to beat faster. "You might be trying on your end, but it just makes me feel worse."

Your chest rises with every beat of your heart, the lub dub clearly audible in your ears. Again, Childe shifts his weight onto the other foot. He’s still looking at you that way, and it’s freaking you out. How can his stare be so… overwhelming?

“If you really think,” he says, “that what I say makes it worse, then I’m sorry.”

Out of surprise, you look over his expression but the furrowed brows fail to show any sign of insincerity despite his flat tone. The discrepancy makes you frown again, but you don’t bother explaining the expression to him. “Alright,” you say. With that, you go back to your table only to stare at the empty space in front of you.

There’s eraser dust around the table, your stationery haphazardly lying around and a single notebook open. There’s also your phone and a little packet of salted peanuts to munch on while studying. You hear a deep inhale from somewhere behind you but don’t bother pausing your aimless staring. It’s the sudden physical presence behind you that demands your attention back.

“[Name].”

Be mature about this, you tell yourself. There’s no need to be petty and say something neither of you will like.

At your silence, he continues. “[Name], are you… mad at me?”

Of course not! I love it when you say that you’ve cemented the idea of the both of us together. You start, “Childe-”

“Ajax.”

“Ajax,” you correct yourself, “gosh I’m still not used to that name. Anyway, I’m not mad at you.”

There’s a sound of disbelief that comes from behind you. “You’re not even looking at me!”

“I’m processing not having to use my brain. Give me a moment.”

He scoffs this time. “I don’t believe you. You’re doing the same thing. You’re being distant again.”

“I’m not,” you defend.

“Yes. Yes, you are. I know how this will inevitably go down. You’re going to grow more distant and talk less until there’s a confrontation that leaves you crying.” Childe continues despite your silence. “I don’t want that.”

It forces you to think he’s selfish, that he only thinks for himself when he says that he doesn’t want that, but despite wanting to think so, you know that he says that for you. His countenance gives away what his words cannot, and you still remember the face he made when it had happened.

That pure horror and regret is one of the reasons why despite his actions you still respect this man. Maybe it’s the only reason you don’t scream at him everyday, be acrimonious and cry yourself to sleep over your predicament. He may have taken over your life, but he also undoubtedly and unequivocally loves and cares for you. Even if he sometimes looks at you like you’re hiding something.

You will ignore the occasional watchful eyes in favour of the care he is capable of. Perhaps, or even most likely, it is the only reason why you think twice before speaking when you’re in a bad mood.

“So,” Childe says, a hand now next to yours on the table as he leans closer behind you, “let’s talk it over, okay?"

A question pops up in your mind, and you voice it after pulling your hand under the table. “Talk over what? I was just about to say that I’ll try my best not to do that again. And as for right now, I’m really just processing things. I’m tired.”

“Hm,” he hums. “The offer is still on the table. I can make your life easy. All you need to do is give me one chance.”

You scoff. “Easy? I think my life is easy enough. I don’t have to work, only study. Heck, you even do the groceries and cook more than half of the time.”

“I suppose you have a point.” In one swift movement, your chair is grabbed by the backrest and dragged to the edge of the bed. There, Childe seats himself, satisfied at the eye contact. “But I could make it easier.”

Arms now crossed, you respond to his offer with a question. “What, so you’re a magician now? I didn’t know you had a side gig.”

He laughs, boyish and charming. “Of course not. I’m just telling you what I can do for you. Nothing more.”

The smile on his face unsettles you. It’s one of the scheming ones. The one he has when he’s cooking up something that definitely is not food. Nevertheless, his little ‘clarification’ is met with nothing more than nonchalance on your end.

“Alright,” you shrug. “Thanks for making me take a break. I really needed it.”

He’s still smiling, albeit differently this time. It’s morphed into something more sincere, something more warm and welcoming. The look in his eyes is no way the same. “Absolutely. There’s no way I wouldn’t help you.”

The conversation seems almost over, and you are about to get up to lie on your bed when a demand pauses your movements. “Say my name,” he says. “I love hearing my name from you.”

You know why he asks that of you sometimes. It grounds him, reminds him of who he is behind the red mask that lays next to the vase on the side table. Gloves are peeled off, and hypnotised by the reveal of the long fingers underneath them, you mindlessly give your reply.

“Ajax.”

“[Name],” he breathes.

You are just as breathless. “Ajax.”

Face now resting in his palm, his smile is small but affectionate. “[Name].” Eyes follow as well, turning into something more soft. You finally see the image of someone adoring and can’t help the almost desperate call that slips from your mouth.

“Ajax.”

You do not know who you were calling to.

#childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #tartaglia x reader

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sweetiecutie · 7 months

Text

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, dark themes, mention of drug use and cheating, stalking, obsession, König’s pov

A/n: it’s a prequel to my Fuck or Die fic, so go check it out<3 Will this be the beginning of psychotic yan! König series?? Maybe🤭

Crouched in uncomfortable position, fabric on his knees was damp from wet soil on which König was kneeling, mosquitos buzzing all over his head, all eager to drink of his warm blood - but he didn’t budge, staying still like a panther observing its next prey. Soft rustling filled König’s ears, warm breeze ruffling up the leaves of dense shrubbery among which man sat, completely concealing his bulky form.

König’s mouth filled with saliva, dilated pupils concealed the icy blue of his eyes, making them look pitch black. He swallowed hard, exhaling as slowly as he could through his nose, a spark of excitement settling somewhere deep within his stomach, watching unblinkingly through thick lenses of his binoculars two bodies swirling together.

In a building about three hundred meters afar all widows were free from curtains, revealing the insides of the house. With thumping heart König watched guy’s hands slip down Y/n’s sides, caressing sweet indent of her waist, down to soft hips and lower, finally resting on two hemispheres of girl’s plump ass. He noted how her back arched ever so slightly, pushing further into her boyfriend’s chest, hot mouthes connecting in a sloppy kiss, bright blush dusting Y/n’s soft cheeks and pointy tips of her ears.

Breaking apart shortly after, König’s sharp eyes watched guy’s lips move. “I love you” he said and König couldn’t help but snort in amusement, memories from only few hours earlier were still fresh in his head - how that motherfucker offered to give that cute cheerleader girl from his class a ride home, pulling up in an empty parking lot, not even ten minutes later his car was shaking from side to side. Still, Y/n smiled softly at his words, making König’s jaw clench. He could do so much better.

König didn’t expect much from you at first. Truth be told - it wasn’t you who caught his attention, but your boyfriend, especially where he lived. A huge house on the outskirts - closest neighbouring cottages were at best one kilometre away, making this place a perfect target for König’s next outing. So he came to studying its inhabitants more closely - a family of three - couple in their fifties and their only son. How better can it possibly get?

So König entered his usual routine - first and most important step was to learn more about his future victims, their routines and people they were close with. It was very easy with parents - an average boring life consisting of work, household and a dinner at local restaurant every Saturday. But slasher couldn’t say the same about their child.

From the very first hours König felt deep disdain for that guy. Everything about him just felt fake. A perfect son and excellent boyfriend, captain of local football team, goody two shoes who has never done anything wrong in his whole life - everyone’s golden boy, all bright smiles and promising future. The exact same one who snorted cocaine in stale bathrooms of gas stations, hands too shaky and mind too numb from withdrawal to actually process his surroundings; the one who, stoned out of his head, gladly threw himself in embrace of other women, hardly remembering sweet face of his girlfriend.

Oh, his girlfriend. Y/n - a sweet and lovely little thing, all butterflies and unicorns, never once failing to hold König’s full attention without slightest intention of doing so.

Watching Y/n has always been way more fun and exciting for him. König guessed it had something to do with her demeanour - so drastically different from his own, that attracted him so much. How bubbly and vibrant you were, making everything around you play with new colours, just like a little ray of sunshine - something König has never been.

Oftentimes slasher caught himself listening intently to you going over newest gossip with your best friend over the phone (wiretapping is way easier than one may think), your sweet voice filling his ears like honey, soothing his raging thoughts buzzing within his skull, clinging to every smallest word you said. It didn’t take much time for König to find your socials as well, spending way much longer than he should studying your pictures, breathing becoming shallow and his dick twitching at the sight of your puffy lips, often imagining how they’d look like wrapper around his shaft.

What König took special liking of was to watch your nightly routine. It was a stable and never changing chain of events - hot shower, skincare, rubbing moisturiser into your feet, shins and hands, and then finally tucking yourself comfortably in soft bed. It was nothing special, yet König craved to be a part of it. Craved to be the one applying whatever shit that was on your pretty face, to massage good-smelling mixtures onto your cheeks

Back to reality, König watched both Y/n and that little boyfriend of hers settling down in the couch, starting some soap opera on big TV screen.

Maybe now? König’s whole body froze at sudden thought. He swallowed hard once again, his mind racing, adrenaline burning through his veins at the intensity of this idea alone. Guy’s parents were out of town, meaning that him and Y/n were all alone in the house. König glanced at the black sport bag lying right next to him on damp ground, electricity tingling his fingertips - he had all necessary stuff packed with him, just go for it.

Slasher gazed through binoculars once again, blue eyes fixating upon you two cuddled up on the couch, man’s mind now filling with all the possible things he could do to the motherfucker, sight of him holding you so gently making König’s blood boil.

Reaching over to his bag murderer opened it, pulling out his mask and checking if voice changer was working still. All of König’s thoughts dissipating into nothingness the moment soft fabric of under mask touched the skin of his cheeks, leaving place for only one thing:

Soon she will be mine

#slasher!konig #cod könig #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x y/n #cod fanfiction #cod mw #cod mwf2 #cod modern warfare #kortac #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x reader #call of duty writing #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare

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bones4thecats · 5 months

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can I have Poseidon, Hades and Qin, separately.

it's about how they saw their lover/wife been killed right in front of them by mad man/god.

but then in Valhalla, they saw you once again. reincarnate, your colouring might be different from before. but a husband/lover, will always can tell their significant other.

once the two of you marry again. the wife reveal she remember her past life with them.

husband vow will always protect you and will always find you.

A/N: This was a ton of fun to write about, honestly, I kinda leaned into something like with the real myth of Shiva's wives, as they were all the same woman just reincarnated. This was a very long request to write, but I hope it was what you wanted. Anyways, enjoy~~

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🔱 You and Poseidon had been together for centuries, as the God and Goddess of the Sea and Sea Life respectively

🔱 You were the only person Poseidon ever truly loved, and he swore on your wedding day to protect you from anything that tried harming you

🔱 But it broke that day

🔱 Poseidon had to attend a meeting with his brothers and he decided to leave you at the palace with guards around every corner of the building, protecting you, though he'd prefer it being himself

🔱 He was listening to Zeus speak about the newest human arrivals that may pose a threat when one of Poseidon's nymphs had broke open the door, tears streaming down her face as blood was coating her hands

" Lord Poseidon, your S/O! They needs help, now! "

🔱 Hades, Adamas, and Zeus stood up in shock and began to run with him back to his home, scared on what had happened to you, their precious S/O-in-law

🔱 Seeing your bloody body scared him more than anything, you had a deep stab wound through your bodies, and by what he and the others knew, you were done for

🔱 Hearing you promise to marry him again in your next life made him start crying, and when he felt your last breath grace his face, all of Valhalla could hear the Tyrant of the Sea crying for the love of his life

🔱 It took a while, but he accepted the fact that you weren't going to return to him, death was irreversible, and no matter your promise, he knew it couldn't come true

🔱 Poseidon was walking through his kingdom underneath the ocean and when he walked to where you both would rest together after a long day, he froze and glared when he saw someone sitting there, in your spot

" Mortal, step aside and flee. " " You really haven't changed, have you 'Seidon?"

🔱 Shock crossed his face when he realized it was you, his S/O, but different... mortal...

🔱 You smiled at him and watched as he sunk to his knees and hugged your legs, laying his head on your lap, tears were swelling up, but he was determined to keep them inside

🔱 Once you both married again, many found it unbelievable that you were back, but they accepted it, it seemed the classic duo of Y/N and Poseidon had returned

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

💀 Hades valued you more than anything in existence, and it showed

💀 He kept you protected from every threat that could possibly harm you, and in return, you gave him all the love and affection he could possibly need

💀 You had wanted to go out and into Valhalla to visit one of your oldest friends, Aphrodite, and he had allowed you, which he declares as his biggest mistake ever made

💀 Hades sat reading papers about the deals being made between both the Greek pantheon and others, for some reason Zeus decided to make a deal with Shiva that put them out of order for a week, when a guard of Aphrodite's ran in and began to yell about you

💀 Hearing your name being brought up made him immediately begin the journey to her home in Valhalla

💀 When he saw the healers sigh and shake his head as he stared at them, his heart felt like it stopped, and it basically did, causing him to pass out cold

💀 You were gone. The only light in his life, taken from him like nothing. But you promised to stay by his side forever... you... you promised... you can't just break a promise...

💀 Unlike Poseidon, Hades never reached the final stage of grief, instead, whenever he was alone and didn't have any work to do, he moped and just looked at your wedding photo on his desk, remembering it like it happened yesterday

💀 Hades had heard of a new Goddess that was added to the Hindu Pantheon and he needed to meet with them at the next Gods' Council meeting, and when he saw you, he knew you

💀 His S/O... but you died... how?

💀 It took a while, but when your relationship became strong enough for a marriage proposal, Hades had shown you the photos from your past life, stating you and him have been together for eons

💀 Maybe you gained them at that moment, maybe it took longer, but when he heard you remembered everything, he sobbed the tears he was holding back all those years, happy you remembered, happy you were back in his arms

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

�� The Emperor of China, your one true love, the man you swore to fight with and for no matter the cost, your Qin Shi Huang

👑 You and him had sworn to be by one another's sides until death, and you had proven that promise to happen, unfortunately, it wasn't a very good way

👑 Qin and you had been dealing with many attempted invasions and assassination attempts on your lives, so when he was busy giving out orders for future attacks, you had been resting in your bedroom

👑 He believed you were napping, so when he head one of your personal guards stammering as blood and sweat spread on his body, Qin stood up and immediately began yelling questions at the man, demanding to know what happened

👑 His guard had only panicked and passed out as Qin began to sprint down the hallways and towards your shared bedroom

👑 Qin only stopped when he had seen a maid rub your head while another covered parts of your body with cloth, most of them stained red with your blood

👑 Your blood... why was your blood showing, it should't be showing!

👑 After hearing you died from an assassination, he had the guards who failed protecting you executed and ordered for the man who killed you to be brought to a slow and painful death as soon as possible

👑 He ruled for many more years until his death in 210 B.C. and he ascended to Valhalla, there, he found his kingdom, just like it always was

👑 Qin never forgot you, no matter what someone said or if something happened, he never let the memory of you go

👑 He had started his battle against Hades and he was about to get slashed to bits when he heard a voice, your voice, ring through his ears

" Kick his ass, Ying Zheng! "

👑 Looking upwards and into the booth where Brunhilde and Göll observed he saw you there, your miraculous hair flowed through the wind as your eyes shimmered with such beauty, like they did in life

👑 Qin smirked and looked at Hades before knocking him back with determination in his eyes, saying;

" Sorry Lord Hades, but I have a S/O waiting for me, and I don't wanna disappoint them. Now, let's finish this. "

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