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ellecdc · 3 months

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Poly!Jegulus x Slytherin reader idea

So reader is one of the Slytherin chasers and she gets hurt on one of the Slytherin vs Gryffindor matches (maybe just a sprained wrist, or a concussion, whatever you prefer is good!) and imagine just the two captains losing their cool, its either funny or very chaotic or both, really just craving hurt and comfort

it's so funny because keke and I were talking about this dynamic not too long ago. I fiddled around with the positions etc, hope you don't mind! so glad to have you back mimi 🫶

poly!jegulus x fem!reader who plays keeper for the Slytherin team

It was very clear that Regulus was stressed. You knew he didn’t like having to call you up to play.

“Quidditch players play dirty, amour. Have you seen Barty out there?” he had urged you, earning him a roll of your eyes.

“Good thing I’m not playing against Barty then, huh?”

“Yeah, but you’re playing against the players that are playing against Barty; they’re going to go for blood.”

But this was your job as a reserve player. The Slytherin keeper had a case of mumblemumps and was currently on bedrest, meaning it was your turn to step onto the field.

Regulus had ‘double checked’ your equipment for the sixth time before you swatted him away.

“I’m okay, Reg. I’ve played before, yeah?”

Regulus sighed and looked into your eyes imploringly. “Do not take any unnecessary risks, okay? Especially against those animals.” He muttered.

You snorted a laugh. “You do realise we’re playing our boyfriend, yeah? The captain of those ‘animals’?”

Regulus levelled you with a glare. “Exactly.”

You opted to ignore Regulus’ worried ramblings in French and hyped yourself up for the game. Regulus had been hoping that the keeper would pull through in time for the game and was only willing to call you up a mere twenty minutes ago, meaning you hadn’t been mentally prepared for this.

Perhaps more importantly, neither had James

“WHAT IN THE BUGGERING FUCK IS SHE DOING OUT HERE!?” You heard James shout as he marched over to the Slytherin’s on the pitch, earning him a warning from Madame Hooch.

“Crawley is still in the infirmary.” You explained simply as James made it to you and began fussing with your equipment and uniform in much the same way Regulus had already.

“So what? He’s got swollen glands and a case of the mumbles, he can play sodding quidditch.” He muttered, tightening your elbow pads to almost painful lengths.

“Okay, James, enough.” You began shoving at him, but Regulus came to your defence.

“I’ve already done all that, James.” He sighed, sounding equally as disturbed about this as James did.

“I don’t like it. Maybe we should forfeit?” James mused aloud, earning him a horrified outcry from Marlene and Sirius.

“Like hell we’re forfeiting just because your girlfriend is playing, Prongs!” Sirius shouted at the same time as Marlene cried “I know she’s got a pretty face, but this is quidditch, Potter!”

“You never get this worked up over playing against Black, Potter.” Barty goaded from behind you, earning him a dark glare from Regulus.

“That’s because he’s busy looking for the snitch and well out of the action, Junior.” James sneered back before returning his eyes back to you. “Oh, my poor girl.”

You groaned and stepped away from the boys at that. “This is ridiculous, let’s sodding play!”

With an unnecessary amount of reluctance on his part, James stalked back off towards his team as everyone got into formation for the whistle.

The game was as fast-paced and intense as any game was against Slytherin and Gryffindor; the intense and deep-rooted rivalry causing the air to crackle with electricity.

As was predicted by anyone and everyone who knew Barty Crouch Junior, he was one lunatic of a beater, lobbing the bludgers at the opposing players with an unnecessary amount of force. The chasers on the other team seemed to be taking that in stride for the most part, save McLaggen who appeared to take each hit personally.

Any anxiety you had prior to the game melted away with the ease and familiarity of your broom beneath you and the rhythm of swatting quaffles away from your goal posts. Though James talked a big game of you being in “the thick of it”, keepers were the only players allowed within the vicinity of the goal posts, contributing to a certain amount of protection for those in your position.

Unfortunately, the seventh time McLaggen was hit by one of Barty’s bludgers seemed to be the undoing of this so-far fair-played game.

In a manner that seemed to be fueled by pure rage, McLaggen managed to bypass Barty and the other Slytherin beater, and beelined it for you. You would have been impressed by his skills and quick manoeuvres on his broom but you realised too late that he had nearly made it all the way over to you.

“Oi! Stay out of my zone!” You called at him, alerting the chaser’s presence to Barty.

With little more than a twist of his broom, Barty was barrelling his way towards you and aiming a bludger for McLaggen. You were slowly backing up towards your posts in an attempt to stay in position to block McLaggen’s quaffle whilst also trying to stay out of the way of his broom when he suddenly dropped altitude as soon as Barty’s bludger left his hand.

You looked down as he smiled up at you, realising too late what that meant for you.

Suddenly, your vision went black as the bludger made impact with the crown of your head, and you tasted iron as the wind ripped violently through your hair.

You could hear shouting and swearing, suddenly aware that you no longer had your broom under you; you were freefalling.

Still without sight, you had only seconds to brace yourself before you made impact with the hard ground below you.

Your lungs were being squeezed by a large fist within your chest and your ears were ringing something fierce.

There was warmth; warmth on your head, by your ear, trailing down your neck. It felt good against the wind that had accosted you moments earlier.

There was pressure at your collar bone, and deep within your chest.

The pressure became too much.

You took a gaping breath and with that, the ringing in your ears made way for the chaos surrounding you to permeate your consciousness.

“Okay, okay. Okay, good; good job amour, keep breathing. You’re okay, okay? Okay, you’re okay.” You heard Regulus chant, his voice taut with emotions. “Breathe amour, breathe.”

You took a few more gasping breaths and tore your eyes open, realising then that the lack of sight wasn’t due to inability, but rather your body’s unwillingness.

“Hi, hi amour. You’re okay.” Regulus said breathlessly, his eyes scanning between the two of yours before flitting up to something above you.

Your hearing was still fuzzy but you could hear something happening out of your line of sight.

“Yelling.” You choked out, coughing through the pain of having had the wind knocked out of your mere moments ago.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING, MCLAGGEN? THE KEEPER ZONES ARE OFF FUCKING LIMITS.”

“It’s okay, amour. Don’t worry about that, just keep breathing for me, okay?” Regulus urged, placing a gentle hand on the juncture of your neck and shoulder causing you to wince in pain.

“Mr. Potter, you need to calm down.” Madame Hooch could be heard from behind you.

“I’ll do no such thing! He fucking orchestrated that! YOU LET YOUR BEATERS TAKE CARE OF OTHER BOTHERSOME BEATERS! YOU’VE BEEN PLAYING QUIDDITCH FOR SODDING YEARS, YOU KNOW WHAT JUNIOR IS LIKE.”

“Oi! Get your fucking hands off of me!”

“You’re off the team. You’re DONE. Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You heard what sounded like McLaggen storm off towards the locker rooms as Madame Hooch let out a sigh.

“The game is a draw, Slytherin is forced to forfeit with no keeper. Everyone off the pitch.” She droned in monotone.

“Jamie.” You whimpered, your sinuses suddenly swelling painfully.

“Hey! Hey babylove, I’m here.” He said quickly, quietly, gently; his voice a dramatic change from the way he’d been speaking to his team moments ago.

“I’m okay.” You stated, though it sounded more like a question with the way your voice tilted upwards at the end.

“Of course you are, you’re such a strong girl.” He agreed readily, offering you a sad smile. You chuckled self-deprecatingly and lifted your hand to wipe your tears as they trailed into your hairline, grimacing when your hand came back bloody.

“Just a bump, yeah?” James said lightly, causing Regulus to sniffle.

“I think she hurt her collarbone too.” He whispered as if speaking any louder would cause his voice to break and the tears to fall.

“Okay, alright.” James said as Madame Pomfrey arrived with a gurney. “Head injury and possibly injured collarbone.” He relayed to the matron.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. Mr. Black, I’ll take over now; please step aside.”

But Regulus didn’t seem able to let go.

“Mr. Black.”

“Come on, Reggie. We’ll follow her up, yeah?” James tried gently, pulling at Regulus’ shoulder so that the matron could levitate you onto the gurney.

“We’re right behind you, okay sweetheart?” James called after you as he held Regulus to his side, and you let unconsciousness pull at you with the knowledge that they were following you back to the castle.

“I’m going to fucking kill him, Pads. I’m going to skin him alive and put his head on a spike on the Gryffindor stadium.”

You heard Sirius chuckle at the sound of James’ dramatics, though he never bothered to argue with his mate.

“How is it that you’re such a lover boy and my brother is such a gremlin; but anything happens to her and the two of you trade personalities?” Sirius taunted. You heard a shuffle, a grunt, and then an ‘oi!’ before the sound of Remus’ voice permeated the infirmary.

“Alright, alright. Pads, get off your brother.”

“And then, and then! I’m going to mail his ear to his mother with a note saying “you raised a fucking wanker”.” James continued as if no one had said a word.

“Y/N?” You heard Remus ask, causing the shuffling of your boyfriend and his brother, and the musings of your other boyfriend to come to a halt as they waited with bated breath for you to open your eyes.

“There she is.” James sighed in relief as his eyes met yours, his smile only at a fraction of its usual wattage, though it was still enough to brighten up the grim infirmary.

“Hi.” You croaked, wincing as your stretch was impeded by a sling on your arm.

“No, don’t.” Regulus whispered, brushing your elbow with a touch that was barely there. “Madame Pomfrey reset your collarbone, you’ll be in the sling for a few weeks.” He explained.

“Gives us all the more of an excuse to fuss over you, yeah?” James offered, clearly trying to keep spirits up.

Though you knew James was likely just as worked up about your injury as Regulus currently was (if not more, if his threats of murder and mutilation were anything to go off of), he was making an effort to be strong for both of your sake’s.

“Reggie, I’m okay.” You pressed, taking Regulus’ hand in yours that wasn’t currently pressed to your side.

“I know.” He whispered back.

“So are you.”

Regulus’ face crumpled at that and he slowly lowered his head to rest on your abdomen.

“Glad to see you up and at’em, Y/N.” Rem smiled at you as Sirius shot you a wink before patting Regulus on the shoulder and leaving the three of you some privacy.

“Reggie, babe.” James murmured, moving to stand behind Regulus and rub at his shoulders soothingly. “You’re going to get tears and snot all over our poor girl’s jumper.”

“Sod off.” Regulus mumbled into your stomach, causing you and James to chuckle.

Regulus’ head popped up at that, and he looked at you shyly from red rimmed eyes behind black curls falling over his forehead.

“You promise me you’re okay?” He whispered, rubbing his thumb back-and-forth over your knuckles.

You nodded and offered him a small smile.

Regulus sighed and sat up, rubbing at his face. “Good.” He said simply as he stood.

“I’ve got a Gryffindor to kill.”

He placed a gentle kiss to your temple and stalked out of the infirmary before your horrified glance moved to James who stood passively at the end of your bed.

“James!?” You asked, gesturing with your good arm towards the entrance.

James shook his head and waved you off. “Don’t worry; Pad’s and Moony are on watch out there. We knew once you woke up he’d be on a warpath.”

You let out a surprised laugh as James casually took Regulus’ vacated seat beside you and picked up your good hand.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Just sore.” You offered with a nod.

“Well, I don’t like that you got hurt, but I do like getting to take care of you.” He said salaciously, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

You shared a soft smile with James before you heard screeching.

“I need a healer!”

James brows furrowed as he turned to see 1) McLaggen holding a jumper to his face leaving a trail of blood droplets behind him and 2) Regulus, Sirius, and Remus walking back towards your bed far too nonchalantly for your liking.

“You were supposed to stop him!” James shouted at Sirius as he gestured to Regulus.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, we did.”

James let out a surprised scoff. “Then how’d he manage to maim McLaggen?”

“I didn’t have to.” Regulus replied simply, sitting on the end of your bed and pulling your feet into his lap as he massaged them through the blankets. “Barty got to him first.”

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charliemwrites · 6 months

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Part 6 of childhood friend Simon

“You missed a spot.”

“Like hell I did.”

Simon’s eye twitches as you snort, turning back to your phone. “Some sniper you are, blind bastard.”

The silence stretches for one, two, three…..

“Where?” he sighs.

“Left side of your jaw.” You gesture at the spot just near where it curves, a few centimeters from the corner. He runs his thumb over the spot and finds a patch of stubble.

“Fuck.”

“‘Like hell I did’,” you mock.

He narrows his eyes, points threateningly. “Watch it or I’ll shave an eyebrow.”

You snort, unconcerned. “Remember that time I did shave my eyebrows?”

He smirks as he runs the razor over the bit he missed, double checks he got it, then rinses in the sink.

“Wasn’t it because of some stupid YouTube video?”

“Yes, and I still have nightmares about having to draw them in.”

He nearly snorts water everywhere trying not to laugh, quickly wiping his face off with the towel you hand him.

“Didn’t your mum start calling you caterpillar girl?”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized.

“Simon Riley you swore you’d never bring that up again!”

He laughs outright as you chase him from the bathroom, whacking him in the arm. When he puts his hands up in mock surrender, you give him one last swat for good measure.

“Assaulting a military officer is illegal.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re legally dead, aren’t you? So wouldn’t that be desecrating a corpse?”

“I’ll have to ask Laswell.”

“Or we could ask Johnny. I bet he’ll know.”

The implication of Johnny knowing versus having an opinion is not something Simon’s equipped to parse before his first cuppa.

“Johnny’s just gonna side with you.”

You shrug - because it’s true. Johnny may be Simon’s (other) best friend, but he’s also a shithead that takes every opportunity to fuck with Ghost. And with you around “protecting” him, he’s been an absolute bastard.

“Then we’ll ask Gaz and John too,” you offer as you step into your shoes.

You’ve been lining them up next to his boots off to the side. The contrast of big, black leather next to your much smaller trainers would be almost comedic if it didn’t make his chest warm.

A reminder that you’re here with him, in a place he usually spends all his time wishing to see you. He’s called you countless times on the same bed you’ve been sharing for the past week. And now you’re wearing his official SAS hoodie (complete with his name on the back) and invading his wardrobe, about to go with him to breakfast in the mess.

Johnny, in a shocking twist, doesn’t think it’s desecrating a corpse to smack Simon.

“Well, he’s Ghost, aye? So it’d be exorcising him, no?”

Your eyes go all big as you turn to Simon with unholy delight. He makes a mental note to throw Johnny onto the mat once more than usual during their next spar.

That’ll have to wait though, because he’s promised you range time and then the obstacle course. Johnny tags along, interested to see your marksmanship when Simon’s talked it up so much.

He watches on, pride bright and hot in his chest, as you walk through all the steps he’s taught you. It’s even his favorite gun in your steady hands, fingers elegant as you load, chamber. Click the safety off and settle into your preferred stance.

The first two shots hit the target, though off to the side, the second closer to center than the first. You pause, take a breath before he even says anything. Then fire again. And again. And again. Until the mag is empty and he brings the paper target back.

A neat cluster of 15 holes, dead center.

“Atta girl,” he rasps, tugging you into his side and pressing a kiss against your hair.

“I did good?” you ask, beaming.

“Lass, even those first two would have been the end of some poor sod,” Johnny chimes in, patting your shoulder. “Guess the LT isn’t such a bad teacher after all.”

Simon narrows his eyes. “Was that even a question?”

Johnny shoves the ammo box at you. “A pint says you can’t do it again.”

“You’re on!”

—

The obstacle course is slightly less of a success.

“Oh, hey, Si,” you giggle, clinging onto the rope for dear life. “Ya come here often.”

He snorts. “Did you get stuck?”

“No!” You huff, scowling. “Im just… hanging around.”

He’s enjoyed watching you navigate the course - more importantly, he likes that you enjoy climbing around. Even if he’s had a small heart attack every time your foot slips or you wobble.

“Oi, you’re holding up traffic,” Gaz huffs, rapping his knuckles against your foot.

“Do you mind?” you call back. “Im telling Simon bad jokes.”

“Oh, by all means then.”

Simon snorts, jerks his head for you to continue. Johnny laughs as you shimmy along, laughs harder when you almost fall flipping him off.

Once you make it to the other side, Gaz climbs up after you and starts demonstrating how to do the next section. Simon and Johnny follow along, the latter cheering you on.

Movement from the corner of his eye draws his attention; Price, determined set to his shoulders. Simon recognizes the glint in his eye.

“Got ‘em?” Simon asks, hopeful.

Having you spend all day with him on base has been a subconscious fantasy come true. You, close by and safe, under 24/7 guard. But the circumstances have made his skin crawl, made it difficult to enjoy the novelty. Woken him up in the small hours of the night and hug you as close as he can without waking you.

“Fuckin’ got ‘em,” Price confirms. “Laswell’s got the docket prepped. All that’s left it briefing and prep. You can be wheels up in a few hours.”

Simon cracks his neck, anticipation sparking in his veins. His gaze slides to you, to his teammates helping you down from the wall. Price follows your gaze.

“You good for this one, Simon? Got your head on straight?”

Simon flicks him a look. “You know I’m good.”

“I know Ghost is good. What about Simon?”

He blinks, gaze going back to you. You can tell already even from a distance, by the set of his shoulders, that something is going on. You’re still relaxed, but there’s a questioning curve to your mouth as you stop at his side, fingers curling in the sleeve of his shirt.

“Something happened?” you ask.

“We found the group targeting you.”

“Oh!” You arch your eyebrows, eyes bouncing between him and Price. “You’ll be taking care of it, then?”

Simon turns back to Price, a silent “well?”.

“We’ll discuss strategies during the brief.”

You perk up. “Do I get to come?”

“Might as well,” Price sighs. “Let’s go.”

—

In the end, of course Simon is going to go. You’re his girl, always have been. He trusts his team, but when it comes to you, he’ll see this done right. And the only way to be sure, the only way to have peace, is for him to eliminate the threat himself.

Johnny’s coming along, of course. The slightest bit of tension in your shoulders eases when Price decides it. Simon presses his thigh into yours.

When the brief is done, strategies and timelines set, you follow him back to his barrack. He gears up while you sit on the bed, idly inspecting his vest while he straps into everything else.

“Nervous?” he asks.

You tilt your head back and forth considering. “Not more than usual before you leave. It seems like this is pretty standard for you, more or less. Why, should I be nervous?“

He snorts. That’s his girl. “No.”

You hum, picking at the Velcro of his SAS patch. He pauses, watches your face. You’re not anxious, but there’s… something.

“What’s up, buttercup?” he asks, chucking you gently under the chin.

“I…” you pause, hum. Try again. “I don’t like that you’re going out just because of me.”

He frowns, settles on the edge of his bed. You lean with the dip in the mattress, pressing warm and solid against his side.

“I feel like… like I messed up somehow, and now you have to fix it for me.”

He blows out a breath, yanking the mask off. You tilt your head to look at him, eyes soft, the tiniest frown on your face. He peels his glove off too, to cup your cheek. Revels in the warmth and smooth skin against his scars and callouses, always a little surprised when you lean into it.

“I’d get you world peace if you asked for it,” he replies.

“You’d be out of a job,” you half-joke.

“You are my job, daft thing.” He shakes his head, leans in until he can thunk his forehead gently against yours. “You’re what brought me back from the grave. Knew I still had work to do, that you still needed taking care of.”

You sniffle a bit. Always do when he digs up the words to remind you how much you mean to him. Not that he thinks you ever doubt it. How could you? But sometimes, he thinks, it bears repeating.

“You haven’t made a mess, luv. But even if you did, I’m always right here with a mop, yeah?”

He’d burn alive just to keep you warm. Drown to fetch you a glass of water. Anything, everything. Just so long as you’re still here, still his.

“I’ll take care of this and then come home to you. Due for a holiday anyway.”

You close your eyes, a faint little smile tilting your lips. He can’t look away. Never can.

“We can go on that camping trip you’ve been talking about,” you say.

“Yeah, luv. Toast marshmallows like the old days.”

You hum, a proper smile finally blooming across your face.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Promise you’ll come back. Both of you.”

“Promise. Be good for Price while I’m gone.”

You open your eyes, a mischievous sparkle in them. “We’ll see.”

—

You see him off on the tarmac, serene and assured. Stripped of faith and belief, there is one certainty in your life, always and forever. And it’s Simon. He’s going to come home to you, because he promised he would.

“Raise hell, Si.”

“Already raised the dead,” he muses, hell shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Aye, I’ve got just the C-for it.”

You groan at the joke, but don’t deny Johnny a parting hug and peck on the cheek. “Look out for each other.”

“Will do, hen.”

You don’t hug or kiss Simon. Don’t need to, you’ve said your goodbyes. You squeeze his hand and then step back as he heads for the plane with Johnny chattering all the way.

“Alright, little miss?” Price asks when it’s just the two of you.

“Always,” you reply, turning to smile at him.

You have to be, for Simon.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #childhood friend simon #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader

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marknee · 1 year

Text

bts fanfics i personally think shakespeare would lose his job over in the 1500’s.

chapter i. ✷ chapter ii.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — poor sod is on the floor. perhaps it’s shock?

( ♬ ) — he’s jealous he didn’t write this himself. well, it sucks to suck, mate.

( ✎ ) — currently handing him a tissue. give him a second.

( ♛ ) — both him and i lost our jobs. her majesty is ruthless.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: without further ado, this are the fanfics that i think would cause shakespeare to lose his job: the first of many essays. let’s bring the guy to his knees. metaphorically.

⠀

( ♛ ) THE BODYGUARD — by @rmnamjoons

!! bodyguard!namjoon x reader | 62.9k !!

bodyguard au, romance, smut, fake dating, slight angst if you squint, lil bit of violence.

firstly, we’re starting off strong. i present to you, the mother of all namjoon fanfics. and she’s a bad bitch. tbh, i feel like this fic needs a moment of silence just to relish in her glory. soak it all up. it’s essential.

this fic genuinely had me gobsmacked at how incredibly written it is. it delves into every detail and no aspect of the story is left dry. you can tell the author put their everything into creating this world you just submerge into. and it shows.

the world building is amazing, the characters are so thought out, and it feels like you’re just on this adventure with them and discovering their story as it plots out.

also, the build up to the smut? out of this world. that’s one thing i love about this fic: it doesn’t feel rushed. everything is very spaced out and takes it’s sweet time, so when you get to the chocolately nut of the ferrero rocher, it’s like gold and well earned. and you can enjoy it.

honestly, it’s been months since i read this and i think about it every day. i did do some research (for my own peace of mind) and this fic is longer than the perks of being a wallflower. and is it better? yes. sorry not sorry.

this work of art deserves to be read and loved. and i rest my case, your honour.

⠀

( ✎ ) UNTIL THE LAST STAR FALLS — by @minniepetals

!! underworld lords!bts x shield!reader | 44.4k !!

reincarnation!au, poly!au, gods!au, unrequited love, minor character death, car accidents.

quick question — for science — how does one happen to lose all their memories without any sustaining any internal or external injuries? because the things i would do to read this again for the first time. and i do not use those words lightly.

this was my first ever ‘longer’ written fic. and if i’m being honest, i never really liked to read them because i have the attention span of a goat. but this fic lures you in from the very start and time slips away like smoke. to say, it definitely left its mark on me.

it’s so brilliantly written and you feel connected to the characters both mind and soul. you want the best for them, you want to save them, you actually want to crawl into the pages (or screen) and fucking help them out. and that sold it to me, i think. just the sheer love for these characters.

i balled when i read the last few sentences. i didn’t want it to end. i think i finished it at three in the morning and sent a voice note of me crying to my friend. tmi? well, now on my christmas list is 7 hot boys in the underworld who would risk their everything for me. and i, them.

worth every single second. trust.

⠀

( ♬ ) WARM THIS WINTER — by @jamaisjoons

!! seokjin x reader ft. ex-boyfriend jungkook | 51.6k !!

christmas!au, vacation!au, angst, fluff, smut (18+).

one thing about solaris, is she never misses. if i could, i think i’d recommend every fanfic she ever put out, but that’s too much effort for me when you could simply click her masterlist. so, i’ll wait here for you to do that. make sure you come back though.

love. sure, there are hundreds- perhaps, thousands of fics on this app about it. so what makes this one different? well, that’s just it. the sorrowful honesty of love. knowing when it’s over, and when it’s blooming in the midst.

i’ve never been in love, but frankly, this fic really spelt it out for me. the pain, the joy, the lingering memories after everything is said and done. it’s all there. and it really settles in your heart as you near the end.

this work pulled on every single heartstring of mine, stamped on them, and then proceeded to sew anew for the future to bring its own miseries. and i enjoyed it more than i can say (or type).

give this a read if you need just that bit of spark in your life. and that bit of sadness, too.

⠀

( ✮ ) STRIKE A CHORD — by @snackhobi

!! yoongi x reader | 15.8k !!

smut (18+), pianist!yoongi.

i don’t know what it is about this fic, but i come back to it whenever it pops up in my mind during my day. i’ll immediately unlock my phone and open this app, knowing i’ll feel better when the last word is read. and i feel content.

the atmosphere in this fic, if i may, feels as though you’re trapped in a warm, safe bubble with hazed music in the distance and soft light spilling through the thin layer of the bubble— not too dark, but enough to make you feel drowsy and peaceful. perhaps that’s why i return to it so often. i like how it makes me feel.

yoongi as an artist is already enough to make a person swoon, but as a pianist? i need a lie down. a cold towel to the head. just the whole characterisation of him in this fic needs a whole separate essay in itself, but you’ll understand my point when you read it.

forever a comfort fic, i think. and forever a comfort person. double whammy. case closed.

⠀

( ✎ ) THE END — by @jimlingss

!! seokjin x reader | 31k !!

fifty percent fluff, fifty percent angst, loosely inspired by to all the boys i’ve loved before.

i say this with my whole chest: i have never underestimated the amount of emotions you can experience during a fanfic, until i read the end— both literally and metaphorically. shock horror.

this fanfic takes you through the adventure of the reader learning of what her future would commence if she were to marry either one of the six members. best part? she’s led through this rollercoaster journey by the ghost of kim seokjin.

first impression to such an offer? sign me the fuck up. i mean, what more could you ask for? however my final impression went a bit more on the lines of what the fuck just happened. very different ends of the spectrum, if you ask me.

i decided to hand both shakespeare and i a tissue after this great piece of art was finished because not only was i sobbing, he was on the floor knowing his romance play of pericles could never live up to such an incredible story.

this fic was a rollercoaster i would be delighted to get onto for another ride.

⠀

( ✎ ) A UNIVERSE TO YOU — by @readyplayerhobi

!! soulmate!hoseok x reader | 41k !!

fluff, angst, smut (18+), soulmates!au.

shakespeare once said (according to google), “it is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves,” and if this fic wasn’t a soulmate!au, i think i would’ve agreed in some sorts. but as it is, in fact, a soulmate!au, i’m obliged to disagree. it was destiny i read this fic, hand on heart.

i was not expecting this fic to hit me in the feels as hard as it did. as you can tell by the other works listed in this essay of recommendations, soulmate!au’s come up a lot. and with a lot of the same plots flying around on this app, it’s hard to make one stand out. but this author definitely has a gift.

everything was so richly created it made you feel full. of wonder, of love, and of want. it made you crave it for yourself. and that’s what i love about this fic. it just makes you feel… good. and with the unfortunates of life currently, it’s one to get your head stuck in for some temporary relief.

dream soulmate? he’s right here, people. just enjoy the story and all the feels that float around your body. go on.

⠀

( ✮ ) BUNNY — by @btssmutgalore

!! jungkook x fem!reader | 46.5k !!

non-idol!au, camboy!jk, friends to lovers, smut, angst.

let’s start here: never judge a book by its cover. a quote by george eliot going all the way back to the 19th century, and one i would use to describe this series as a whole, and my first impressions towards it.

this series, although unfinished (i think), has exceeded my expectations of a good smut outlined by a good plot. the best of both worlds, if you might. i came out of this series deeply in awe of the writing and the clear imagery the author manages to create within your own mind.

additionally, bunny was the beginning for me in learning about the world of camboys and camgirls(?), but i was greatly surprised. often, people are unkind to the new and stick to what they’re accustomed to, afraid of what the unknown might bring — me, included.

but, i’m glad i took the risk because i received three great things in return: a beautiful fanfic, knowledge of something that was foreign to me, and an author whose work i admire and shall be returning to in the future.

perhaps what i’m getting at is this could be a lesson to all. take a risk of something unknown because who knows? maybe something great will come out of it, and you’ll learn something. i did.

⠀

( ♬ ) SEOUL UNDERGROUND — by @hunniejimins (ao3)

!! namjoon x jungkook x f!reader | 300k !!

mafia!au, enemies to lovers, violence, slow burn, love triangles, mob boss!namjoon, smut, heavy angst.

it’s ironic really. i found this work by someone else’s recommendation, and now i’m passing on the favour and recommending it to you, dear reader. it’s funny how the world works.

this work is the perfect balance of fantasy and reality and i love it. you’re hit with the beauty and clouded haze of love before being smacked back into the world at the realisation the very person you’re in love with, is a mafia mob boss and his killer mate. a real fun-sponge, i tell ‘ya.

nevertheless, this book kept me up early morning and late evening reading. it keeps you hooked, wanting, and hungry for more.

it’s nothing less of a masterpiece.

⠀

( ✎ ) CREAM AND SUGA — by @snackhobi

!! yoongi x barista f!reader | 14.8k !!

coffee shop!au, barista!au, fluff, nfsw (18+).

@snackhobi is mentioned twice on this list. though, can you blame me? it’s just a good thing shakespeare and this author don’t exist in the same century. it would be absolute carnage but nobody is ready for that conversation.

this author has a talent of portraying yoongi in the most irresistible way possible. i swear, i fall in love with him all over again reading. i wish you understood.

the whole misunderstanding section made me laugh because haven’t we all been there? the crushing pain and overwhelming guilt of having a crush on someone you can’t have. it’s all too real, seriously. been there, done that (unfortunately).

especially having the holidays just past, this is a perfect fic for a warm evening in, while the coldness of winter storms past outside. such a cute fic. love, love, love!

⠀

( ♛ ) LOST AND FOUND — by @taleasnewastime

!! seokjin x reader | 21.2k !!

strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, sfw.

everyone says they have a fanfic that changed them, whether they’re being hyperbolic or brutally honest. and in my case, it’s a matter of both latter and former.

a couple months ago, i reached what i thought was rock bottom regarding my mental state and i took to my imagination to save me from the daily hell of my own mind. and this book was one i never really forgot about.

everything this author wrote within this fic was honest, heartfelt and very, very real. from the way you don’t just go up after going through something, but fall occasionally and sometimes feel as though you’re back at square one, to the way that there definitely is hope in the dark moments, and a light at the end of the tunnel. albeit a very faint one.

it comforted me in a way and reminded me of what i thought to be lost. fruitless, even. but sometimes, it’s books like these that open our eyes to things we’ve forgotten during times of turmoil: the simple goodness of life. and of people.

“if you’re going through hell, keep going.” winston churchill.

⠀

( ✮ ) CANDYLAND — by @honeymoonjin

!! seokjin x reader ft. elf!jk | 13k !!

thriller, angst, fantasy, husband!jin, some cursing.

my mother is the biggest thriller fan. not that you needed to know that, but she is. and she’s not ashamed of it either. she’ll let you know if she’s reading a really good thriller in the moment. trust me, you’ll know.

me? not so much. i’m more of a sappy, hopeless romance, happy ending kind-of-sod — if you haven’t already guessed from this list. but there’s a reason this fic is on the list, too.

this fic genuinely kept me on the edge of my seat- uh, bed. the secrets of what darkness lingered behind the happy exterior of this adventure trip gripped my eyes to the screen, and lord, was it worth it.

throw a bit of husband!seokjin in there too? what more could you want! and written by @honeymoonjin? what a win.

let’s just say after this fic i added a few other thrillers to my basket. and happily reported to my mum i was a changed woman. okay, i’m exaggerating, but you get my point. it was incredible.

⠀

( ✎ ) LILY LUCK — by @gguksgalaxy

!! yoongi x reader | 10.7k !!

soulmates!au, angst, fluff if u squint, very slight implicit sexual content, anxiety.

although this fic may be the shortest on the list, do not underestimate its power. it is still as mighty as the others— perhaps, even more so.

i think the main emotion i want to hone into concerning this fanfic is compassion. it sinks into your bones and surrounds your entire being like a unwanted hug. and you can’t even stop it.

the author does a good job of making you feel intense compassion for the reader — who so desperately wants to meet her soulmate. which makes the ending that much more satisfying.

this is for those who’re lonely, need a pick up, or those who’re hopeless romantics and believe in love belonging to fate, such as myself.

“expectation is the root of all heartache.” william shakespeare. talking of the devil, he would definitely cry over this fic. either of bubbling emotions, or the fact he didn’t write it himself. sucks really. for him, not for me.

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bowieandqueen11 · 6 months

Text

Preening Peacocks / Sanji Imagine

Request: could you write a sanji x reader fic of zeff sitting the two of them down and basically saying that if they don't stop making heart eyes at each other he's going to have to separate them because it's getting in the way of work. cue them both promising to act more professional only to end up making out after the kitchen is closed. reader tries to protest because they should be going to bed but ends up giving in when sanji kisses her along the neck.

Ooooh this is both sweet and spicy, the perfect combination! ;)

Warning: slightly NSFW so 18+ please, a little strong language!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @leonerdnimoy.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

How Zeff hadn't lost his mind over the last ten years, he would never know.

He knew, of course. That you had a shared history - a shared past, a shared ordeal that he couldn't even begin to understand. Neither of you chose to talk about it much, the shared glances you shot each other as you shrugged off your past and chose, fought, clawed for tooth and nail, to create a new life for yourself out here in the Sambas Region was something he respected. Admired, even. The two of you shared a past, true, but starting over was a commonality the former Cook Pirate could stoutly understand.

He knows that he should go easier on the pair of you, too. He knew what he had signed up for, when he met you both storming onto the Orbit all those years ago; when he had saved your shivering, despondent lives up on that desolate crag. The two of you had always been close: inseparable, even, from huddling together day in and day out on that rock, to sharing a room and cooking side by side on the Baratie. He knew the two of you, in some ways, better than he knew himself: recognised the signs of yearning, of perpetual adoration from day one. And yet he still found himself two teaspoon clatters away from yanking the hair off of his face when yet another customer comes strutting up to him, demanding compensation for an abysmal lack of service.

'Get your arses in here- now!'

It took you a few seconds to register the voice thundering out from the impact door, too busy trying to fan your face with one of the carded menus you were trying to stack away; Sanji, on the other hand, heard Zeff just fine. He was too preoccupied, absentmindedly placing a few empty champagne flutes onto his tray, while stealing glances in your direction. If his eyelids fluttered any harder, the candlesticks on table twelve would go out in a blazing blast.

Zeff jabbed his thumb in Sanji's direction and then back towards the inside of the kitchen, anger creasing the already wrinkled lines of his forehead like mettled waves in a storm. Realising he couldn't ignore the old sod's words any longer, Sanji sauntered up behind you and pressed his chest against your back. 'I think he's talking to us, sweetheart', he breathed against the shell of your ear, sending goose bumps shooting down your neck as his slender fingers reached round to fall delicately over your own. With a nudge of his nose against the back of your head, he intertwined your fingers and led you towards the back of the room. His free arm settled comfortably around your waist, his eyes staying so squarely on your gaze that he almost tripped over the poor old couple from table two, who were staggering up to collect their coats.

Zeff's groan could be heard out on the ships docked in the Baratie's port, even through the slatted fingers that were covering his drooping face.

As soon as the two of you had plonked down on a couple of seats near the kitchen's 'office' table, Zeff pounced on the two of you like a ravished vulture.

'Look', he stamped over, one hand on the side of his hip and the other still holding the spoon he had been whisking up a fresh batch of meringue with. 'I don't care what the two of you get up to during your free time. In fact, if it's anything worse than what you've already been spotted doing on the floor, I don't want to know.' Sanji guffawed, settling his thighs down further into his seat.

'But the two of you are starting to cause trouble for the business', Zeff continued with a earnest glare in Sanji's direction, his words aimed directly at the sous chef. 'For my business.'

'Our business', Sanji retorted, chewing the inside of his cheek and pointing with a circling finger between the three of you.

'In my restaurant.' Zeff leant forward, his nostrils flaring in a manner that you know meant trouble, but to your surprise Sanji dropped the issue; he grinded his teeth, but chose instead to grip onto your hand underneath the table and hold it against his knee. He knew what he owed Zeff. If not for saving his own life, than, more importantly, for saving yours.

'Even our patrons are starting to relay back to me that you, little donkey-', he jabbed the whipped edge of his wooden spoon straight towards your chest, 'and you, little eggplant-', the spoon gets whisked with a firm buttered splat against Sanji's cheek, 'are flaunting around each other, front of house no less, like two preening peacocks!'

Sanji tilted his head in your direction, doing his best to not further anger the already irate chef by pretending he is not very subtly dropping his eyeline down past the bridge of your nose and landing on your cupid's bow.

The side of your irises met his, and he goes breathless.

To no one's surprise, the flirtation doesn't go over Zeff's head, no matter how hard he's rubbing it. With his pointer and middle finger rubbing his temples and half-covering the rimosed dark-circles under his eyes, Sanji took the opportunity to lean over the arm of your chair and leave a sweet kiss against your cheek with puckered lips. You could feel his smile as he pulled away, and in retaliation you pulled your intertwined fingers up to your lips and peppered a few kisses against his knuckles, clasping it against your chin in a tight lock.

He takes it as a challenge: who can shower the other in more affection, and the soft brushes of his nose against the tip of your own is only interrupted by the slam of Zeff's spoon planking down on the table.

'I've had to deal with this for near twenty years now, and I swear-'

'We're not even twenty, Zeff', you chimed in, attention still fully centred on the dazed look clouding Sanji's lovestruck face as he hovered in front of you, nearly out of his chair by the point and falling onto your lap.

'Yeah, stop being dramatic old man.'

Sanji's words are chiding, but the way he watched you - god, the way he always watches you, the way he spends his whole life helplessly contemplating you is so soft. So serene. So overwhelming. Even though his eyes have lidded, falling down to peer almost lasciviously at the seam of your mouth, his distracted eyes are still so filled with wonder. Whether he had been five years old, locked up inside his father's dank, damp old dungeon, wasting away in the corner as the whole of his kingdom celebrated his death. When you had come, slamming the lock open with a stone you had spent a full half an hour tugging out of the circular cobbled wall, he had clambered into your lap and shoved his face straight into your neck. He had refused to move, only interrupting his desperate sniffles by alternating clenching his tiny fists into your shirt, and tilting his head to the side so he could look up at the side of your face with a childlike bewilderment. That first streak of light brightening in his enamoured eyes.

Whether he had been nine years old, laying his head on your lap and waiting anxiously for the sun to bleach his bones up on that rock, he had still looked at you wonder. Had looked up at you as if you reflected all the pockets of starlight in the universe and stored them in his eyes, and he had been ready there and then to decay, as long as he could be weaved within your atoms for all eternity.

Whether he had been nineteen, sitting next to you at the Baratie's kitchen table with all the cosmos now in his eyes, and so, so deliriously in love with you.

'I mean it,' Zeff huffed, head seesawing between the two of you (which wasn't too far, since your faces were resting roughly one inch apart.). 'One more googly eyes look at each other, and you're both scrubbing barnacles off the dock for the next month.'

'That's alright with me old man, as long as we can share a plank seat.' Sanji winked teasingly in your direction, and you're not sure whose face turns more rubescent: your flushing cheeks, or Zeff's ruddy ears as steam starts pouring out of them in rolls.

'Table seven's still waiting for their appetisers. Go. Now. While the two of you are still teetering on my more charitable side.'

The rest of the service goes past in a flash. The sound of your chopping from the far corner of the kitchen is met only with the sound of Sanji's intent whisking from the other, and the occasional 'oi, stop that', from Zeff when he comes marching through and spots you and Sanji eyeing each other up over your respective bowls.

Sanji had to stop looking over at you. If you met his earnest side-eye one more time before you got off for the night, trying to look away from how furiously Zeff's moustache was swinging with each steaming word he muttered out during the rest of the service, you were going to collapse onto the kitchen floor in a fit of giggles.

Evidently, Sanji seemed to be having a similar thought, albeit with one exception: he was making it his life's mission to try and get you to break. That mischievous spirit - that light heartedness and ability to face trouble head on and grin in it's face was exactly the thing that had saved him all those years ago in the Germa Kingdom, back when he was a child. It was one of the things, still, from a list that could reach the bottom of the ocean floor and continue down to the core of the world, that he found endearing about you.

He wanted to hear the sound of your laughter for the rest of his life, for it was the most blissful sound in the world to his eager heart.

He made it his mission to try and distract you: with a flick of his tongue wetting his bottom lip, pretending it was a subconscious action, he let his biceps strain through his dress shirt with the force of his chopping. By the sound of his breathy moans every time he lifted up his sautéing pan to his nose to smell the fresh sprigs of rosemary intermingle with the diced potatoes, you could tell he was toying for your attention.

With the last few orders starting to roll in from the dispersing crowd of diners, Sanji braved out across the kitchen to 'accidentally' bump into you at the sinks. As his hip snapped against yours, he leaned his elbow up on the counter and turned his body fully towards you, until the the front of his apron was shoved up against your belly button and he could go no further. Leaning over you, he pressed the jut of his chin into the top of your head and looked towards the door to make sure the coast was clear.

'You know, sweetheart, if he heard the name you were calling me up in our room last night I swear we could make his stupid moustache fly clean off.'

The corners of your eyes were still tearing up by the time you made it back to your chopping station; the other chefs side-eyed you with merry-meant distaste each time your knife slipped over the outer peel of your garlic as your stomach doubled over in laughter.

You might have made it - you really might have, if you hadn't been able to hear the sweet little huffs emitting from Sanji's side of the kitchen at the same time. Sanji bit his bottom lip and ducked his head back down towards his trout, focusing on his skilful descaling to try and hide his laughter.

The next time he waltzes by with a white chocolate panna cotta, he grazes his hip and elbow in a way that was both a little too tantalisingly close to your side, and creates the perfect opportunity for you to latch onto his elbow and pull him down behind the counter.

'Why are we crouching sweetheart?' He was desperately trying to stifle his smile by catching his teeth against the side of his bottom lip, but he couldn't help the way the corners twitched up at the sight of how flustered you were.

'Because if Zeff catches us again, he'll feed us to the fishes Sanji!'

'Well, it's a good thing that was my last dessert for the night, isn't it my cherie? Because I'm also on clean up duty, and I've just signed you up for it as well.'

Before you could stop him, Sanji has jumped up and is already waltzing back out into the middle of the kitchen.

'Oi, Patty! What do you think you're doing! Y/n and I are on clean up duty tonight, you know - on account of-'

'The two of you being insufferable. Yeah, what's new.' The poor cook just shakes his head and turns his attention back to scouring the grease out of his saucepan.

'Come on', Sanji holds out his arms wide', 'don't you want to help true love's wings blossom? Or at least get some well deserved sleep - tell me the truth, when was the last time you worked less than double shifts. Zeff's wringing you out to dry, and you know it.'

'I don't think so, kid.' Patty's shoulders droop, but he thumps the last few suds out of his pan and hangs it back up on its hook. 'Chef's already warned us about you two, and he's not adding my head to the pile.'

'I don't get it', pipes up the latest addition to the Baratie chef team - a straggler pirate, who had tried his luck sneaking out the door without paying his bill, and had soon found his face sliding across the tile when Zeff's wooden leg had knocked him flying. He shakes out his hands and dries them off with a tea towel, before snorting and rubbing his nose with the linen. 'Why doesn't the guy just split these idiots up?'

'Because the last time he tried it, troublemaker here spilled a fresh pot of béarnaise sauce all over his apron and half of the floor.' Patty's tone is austere, but even as he wipes off the last bits of water from the steel edges of his counter's sink, he can't help but let a fond smile escape across his face. 'Before Zeff could even finish kicking him out, he was already through the door. Poor Chef nearly threw a fit when he went out twenty minutes later to find him, and he was sitting coddling on Y/n's lap behind the bar.'

'Yeah yeah yeah', Sanji laughs, sauntering over to the light switches behind the apron rack and knocking them off with an ostentatious throw of his arm. 'Goodnight, everyone!'

Patty sighs, but obliges. 'If Chef catches you, you're on your own', the man threatens with raised eyebrows as he walks out of the door Sanji props open with the toe of his shoe, but your boyfriend just shrugs light-heartedly.

'Subtle, by the way.'

Sanji pats the man's shoulder and grins. 'I can't help it if three's a crowd now, can I?'

As soon as the door sweeps to a close, your boyfriend's almost flown across the room to spin you around in his arms, your toes barely gracing the floor as he flings you about.

'Finally! Alone at last my love! Do you understand-', he interrupts himself with a kissing peck against your lips, 'how hard-, and another, 'it is to not kiss you every second of service?? I swear, it's torture!' From anyone else the sentiment may have sounded churlishly facetious, but from Sanji the words were so sincere that it almost made your heart melt into a pool of butter by his feet.

'Sanji, we really should get to bed. If Zeff catches us, we're going to be sent out on restroom attendant duty again', you groan, doing your best but hardly succeeding in trying to unlatch Sanji's ravishing hands from off your sides. Instead, his arms wrap tightly around your spine and his palms flatten against your back as he holds you against his thuddering heart.

'My precious life, from what I can remember, you got us back onto the main floor pretty quickly.' His lips land heavily on the top of your head, and you can't help the coarse shockwave of pleasure that floods through your body at the feel. Languidly, he allows his lips to slip down your forehead, softly tilting your head back so he can sweetly lick a wet trail down the side of your cheek.

'That's because Zeff got tired of arguing with me', you huff out, but you don't complain when you feel Sanji's hands roam down to cup the joints between your upper thighs and buttocks. With a hoarse pant against the side of your chin, his fingers dig into the meat and pull your legs up to his waist. You oblige, and allow him to pick you up and delicately place you back down on the sink counter.

'See, no problem!', his lips twitch as he walks between your opening legs, settling himself firmly against your groin as you wrap your ankles in a cross behind his legs. You nip playfully at his earlobe, and he swears he's about to pass out.

With short, panted breaths, he manages to finish his thought. 'Besides, that's why he calls you little donkey, isn't it? Because you always kick back.' His lips ghost a chuckle over the pulse point throbbing on your neck, and you have to do your best to clench your thighs together to stop yourself from whimpering.

'Is this alright, sweetheart?', he asks breathlessly, swiping the flat tip of his tongue out against a sensitive spot, one he knows lies right above your collar bone.

'God- yes', you reply, gripping some curls by the nape of his neck and tugging. 'I've been waiting to do this all bloody day.' He whines, his lips reverberating the sound so its muffled against the side of your neck.

That won't do. That won't do at all. You want to hear all the pretty sounds Sanji can make. Want to make him feel as loved: as wanted, as revered as he's made you feel your whole life.

In reprisal, you snake your hand down, making sure to capture his whimpers with your open, awaiting mouth as your fingers scratch over the taut muscles of his abdomen. When you finally reach down to cup the growing pressure straining against his trousers, he bucks forward against you and nearly knocks your teeth out.

His whimpers are drowned out by muttered, fervent, worried apologies, but you only giggle and silence him with a supplicating kiss.

'But we really should stop and go to bed, Sanj. We make enough trouble around here as it is.' You say the words, but you don't really mean them. Not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh as he folds the bend of your ear over with a crushing kiss, his lips falling open clumsily as his inner mouth drags plumply across your temple, before running down to suck at your neck.

'Stop? I can barely stop thinking about you, every waking and sleeping second of my day. But if you want to stop, I will my sweet. I'd do anything in the world for you.'

You cup his face with your hands, and with a smile bring him down so you can rest the side of your cheek against his own burning one. He can feel his chest flittering at the feel of your stretching smile burning against his skin: at the feel of your legs tightening their vice around his thighs until he had stumbled forward, body fully resting atop your own now.

'Don't you dare stop now', you giggle. 'I kind of want to see Zeff's mustache fly off, now that I think about it.'

The sound of your and Sanji's roaring laughter is interrupted by the crash of the swing door against the wall, and the looming shadow of the Head Chef trembling up the rocking ceiling.

'Right, forget scraping barnacles. The two of you are going to be swimming with them in a minute!'

#one piece #one piece imagine #sanji #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla #opla imagine #zeff

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eldritch-spouse · 2 months

Note

I'd give almost anything to be squished between Vesper and Santi.

[You'll give your holes, that's for sure. Fem reader.]

" Are you sure I'm ready? "

Santi watches you squirm in place, picking and plucking at an outfit that shows more skin than anything you've ever put on before. He assured you, several times, that by the standards of Lust you're being very conservative.

The incubus rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time, but tries to be patient. After all, going to Hell, even if just for a little visit, isn't something all humans treat casually. Especially not his darling match, poor thing that you are, so ignorant of his origins, his nature. Visiting the King of Lust specifically is twofold the stress for your little head, he must imagine.

" And why wouldn't you be, love? "

You huff.

" I... I don't know... What if I get nervous and say something really stupid? This is a -What did you call them?- An Icon of Hell, I can't be making a fool of myself- "

" Dearest. " The dark demonoid interrupts, lifting himself off a lush bed to stand behind your figure in the mirror. " Vesper may be a King, but he's also my friend. I only want him to know about us, you're going to do just fine. "

Averting your gaze from his, your lips are still firmly set in a frown.

Santi whispers sweetly. " Don't you trust me? "

" Y- Yes. "

There's a grin. He plays with the hem of your scarce top enough to let a nipple flash for a lurid second.

" Then do this one favor for me, I promise you'll like him. He's quite the character. " Understatement.

He can hear your heartbeat pound inside the vehicle.

The trip through his birth Ring has been uneventful for the most part. It could only have been that. You may be considered fresh meat by his kin that inhabit this particular zone of Hell, but you're accompanied by a high-ranker and being escorted in a limousine sporting the royal insignia.

No one would dare interfere.

It doesn't stop the curious glances, the oohs and aahs, or the sights Lust often has on display. The streets are an open ground for depravity, it's very standard to watch pairs and groups of demonoids crawling over each other in a cacophony of moans, humans and monsters alike giving into their carnal whims, lewd smiles on their faces as they're paraded in fetish gear and shown off like the prizes many of them are.

Santi watches your scandalized expressions as you nearly fog up the window in morbid curiosity.

" S- Santi! "

" Mm? "

" They're- Oh lord, they're tied to a post Santi! "

He arches a brow, fingers ceasing their casual groping of your thighs to glance out, seeing some poor sod of a human tied to a street post by the wrists. They look disheveled and pant in exertion, sweaty, infernal obscenities scribbled on their skin while gratuitous amounts of seed ooze out of their orifices. They lean on the post for support.

" Oh, the poor thing- " He jests, failing to keep straight-faced at your glare. " They're going to keel over! "

The fiend who had just finished using the community cumdump gives them a loving pat on the head and reaches from a bag to offer the human water. The two appear to be chatting idly. Santi watches confusion etch itself in your pretty complexion at the contrast of the human's bruised, exhausted state and the care they're shown by the one you recognize as an assailant.

The nature of Lust is conflicting.

It's oftentimes hard to tell whether or not someone is here of their own volition, partaking and letting go because they decided to, or because they caved under the Ring's influence and began to enjoy their unfortunate demise.

Some people argue that Lust is the most merciful Ring of Hell for those that get dragged into the annex, because while you may lose yourself, your last lucid moments are spent in utter bliss, and that bliss is what you'll know from henceforth. Others argue that Lust offers the ultimate humiliation of the soul, turning you into a beast of the flesh that craves only to use and be used.

Santi doesn't quite care. The end result is always the same, everyone enjoys themselves here.

Deciding that perhaps it's best not to let you get too into your own head, the incubus looms behind your concentrated figure and plants soft kisses on the back of your neck, gently coaxing you to turn around so he can pull you into his lap and shower you in idle affections.

" Santi... " You start while he kisses the back of your hand.

" Yes, love? "

" How did you and the King meet? "

What a question.

He doesn't want to think too much about those days, that past which seems so distant yet not at all. He was someone else, back then. Someone harsher, someone you wouldn't have fancied, someone who'd make you quake in fear even if your loins sang. He wouldn't have been able to appreciate you for the treasure that you are, during that period. You deserve more than that, you're worth the world and all its pleasures.

" I don't remember all that well anymore, but I know it was during a party, sweetness. " He vaguely replies.

" An orgy. " You correct him, having started to put two and two together about the cultural cues of a concubus' speech.

" Same thing. " Santi counters, knowing very well there's a difference.

A silence settles for a brief couple of moments where the incubus gets to close his eyes and bask in the comfort of your perfect form, feeling your every muscle twitch against him, the hitch of your breath as arousal has yet to fade from your system.

He's doing this intentionally.

For things to go well today, it's ideal for you to always be somewhat stimulated. Plus, he's always loved watching you writhe and try to conceal your own desires. Not as much as Santi adores seeing you boldly demand he do obscenities to you. For you. To please you.

" You used to live here before, right? "

" Mhmm... " He hums smoothly.

" What made you want to leave Hell? "

Santi halts, gathering his thoughts, coming up with a decently abstract yet still valid answer.

" I wasn't happy with myself back then, love. I figured a change of scenery couldn't hurt. "

Half-truths, oh bittersweet as they are, he almost doesn't feel bad when you smile your blind acceptance.

" I'm glad you decided to leave. "

The monster's heart stirs in its confines.

" What, you wouldn't want to move in here? The heart of Lust? " Santi mocks.

" Fuck no- "

And he cackles.

You've entered mansion grounds.

This sly-eyed imp with pointed hair introduced himself as King Vesper's head imp, and has been escorting you two through the halls of the royal mansion so far.

If you had to describe the place, you'd call it deceptive.

Deceptively ornate. Suspiciously calm. Questioningly beautiful.

There's something amiss, is a better way to put the vibe of this location.

Varying shades of pink fade invitingly into purples and reds that seem to comfort and beckon. Many were the gold-swirled corners and turns that you peered into momentarily before returning to following the guide. The furniture and décor is just standardly royal enough to make you wonder if many of the set ups are meant to be as phallic and yonic as they seem. You could swear one of the walls had patterns carved into it that resembled the vulvas of countless individuals. A statue was poised just suggestively enough that it resembled malehood. Many are the paintings and figurines scattered across walls and vases depicting pairs and groups of lovers entangled in dirty yet passionate acts. Are the objects on the shelves meant to be sex toys or just peculiarly shaped abstract figurines?

When passing by what Lacai called the "Hall of His Majesty's Favorite Commissions", Santi covered your eyes occasionally. As far as you could tell, it appeared to be furnished with many differently styled depictions of Vesper's raunchy adventures with a plethora of his attractive playmates. You trust Santi's judgement that maybe some of them are too potent for the human eye.

Since the moment you set foot here, your grip on the dark incubus' hand has been iron-like, trying to siphon some of his calmness. Santi looks absolutely enamored with some of the design choices present, making you wonder if maybe he'll do some tweaking to your living space later.

" And we've arrived. " The imp, previously idly chatting with your lover, exclaims.

Two incredibly tall doors separate you three from whatever lies beyond. Infernal is engraved in them, statements you can't discern, stylized in a type of perfect, gentle cursive and accompanied by sculpted tendrils embracing the torsos of emerging demonoid figures sporting androgynous builds.

You can't help but get lost in the expressions of such visceral bliss captured in their faces. They appear to be molds, almost. Alive. Suffering the torments of eternal pleasures. Grotesque, beautiful. Maybe you really are Santi's match after all... Or maybe that's this sweet smell you've been drowning in for a while getting into your head.

" King Vesper will welcome you shortly, if you need anything, do scream my name. "

A wink, directed at both of you, and the head servant is gone, slinking back into the previous halls without a moment's notice.

Perhaps your gulp was a little too loud.

" Deep breaths, you know what's going to happen- " Santi pulls you into a big-titted hug, rubbing your goosebump-riddled skin. " No need to sweat about it. "

Much more easily said than done.

Chuckling and giggling is heard from the other end of the doors.

" There there, all set to rights, head on out honey. "

One of the massive doors parts forward, and a small hand struggles to find balance upon it. A grayish monster woman emerges, shaky, glazed eyes unaware of either of you. She tries to rearrange her fur and tuck loose tufts into her clumsily worn suit, but only succeeds in nearly wobbling to the floor. The stacks of paper and cases under her right arm tell you that this woman came here for some kind of diplomatic task, and probably didn't get much done...

Santi politely helps the lady step forward, unable to wipe away the only slightly mocking grin on his face.

" Do come again, I believe our business isn't quite complete! "

The same voice calls.

It's hard to describe it. Strong, potent, undeniably demanding of everyone's attention to a scary degree, but also loving, desperate, begging you to listen, to come closer. Velveteen reverence and the authority of someone who can take it away from you in the snap of a finger, a tempter, a lover, a challenger.

You don't need to think too hard to understand whose voice that is.

The poor woman mumbles some kind of exasperated farewell before she too disappears into the same halls Lacai had left through.

You recall a conversation about royal etiquette you had earlier with Santi. When the King of Lust accepts a request for a meeting, even if he's not being summoned, it's considered polite and common sense to also bring him something to eat. This meal could come in the form of a second person, or the requester themself. You suppose you know the choice the monster girl made.

" Next please! "

A shudder wracks its way down your body, but a firm warm hand on the small of your back prevents you from stepping back.

You're guided forward, into what appears to be a lavish lounge room, sharing the same inviting tonalities from before. Big couches and beds and tall mirrors with rails and steps spread across the room, even what you think is meant to be a pretty discreet altar in the middle, disguised as an artistic design choice. A neatly arranged table is set up next to a balcony, half obscured by darkened curtains. A great chaise lounge is clearly meant for your majesty, the other smaller two are meant for guests obviously.

The two of you stand politely at the entrance, waiting for acknowledgment, and the odor permeating this room is so intensely thick it feels like it's dripping into your skull, caressing every inch of you.

Alarmingly, your skin becomes feverish and you gasp for much needed air, feeling the peaks of your tits perk immediately, a rush of blood flying to your nethers. You feel the overwhelming urge to drop your already light clothes and throw yourself into one of the many soft cloths offered.

Santi too sniffs and rumbles at the atmosphere, no doubt incensed by the scent of what might have transpired only moments earlier. Although he's much more in control of himself than you, a gentle touch guiding you back into focusing on the present. You thumb at the bracelet he gave you, the one that presses into the inside of your wrist, dispensing a countering substance into the thin sheet of skin there.

Said substance is the only thing that's keeping you from crawling on the floor like a dog in heat.

A large, flowing tail swishes, and the two of you finally have the composure to glance right, met with the visage of King Vesper, naked as the day he was spat onto Hell, grabbing belongings from a fancy cabinet. When he turns around, your breath catches.

It's not entirely news to you. Santi described him to you, and Vesper has got to be the Icon of Hell who most desires to be seen by everyone, so you knew he was pink, voluptuous and fluffy in a few sections.

But seeing him in person is a whole other matter. It doesn't compare to any detailed descriptions.

Only Santi has managed to captivate you more intensely than the demonlord standing before you. It's... Well, if you had to try to put it into words, when you gaze into those big, predatory magenta eyes, it's like the shock of when you first glanced at Santi- But without the warmth in your chest.

No, this here is just warmth in your loins.

No soul in Heaven or Hell is stopping your eyes from dancing all over Vesper's body. From flowing tendrils to piercing pinks, heart-shaped nipples, golden chains, neatly-arranged fluff and thighs for days, a second mouth grinning at the two of you- There's so much to focus on, so much to ogle, that your sight nearly crosses for a moment.

He's a lot.

It's hard to steady your breathing.

Eventually, you notice those purpled claws are holding onto a spiral-shafted bottle and three miss wine glasses. You don't know what's inside the bottle, but it looks like a regular wine.

" Your Majesty- "

" Vesper, Santi. We've been over this. " The Icon frowns.

" Vesper. Long time no see. " Your incubus smiles, a slight wag of the tail behind him.

In contrast, the Icon's entire head tendril curls with happiness. " Oh say less! Much too long! And after this news, I would drag you here myself if you refused my invite. "

Santi nods with an expression that clearly shows he doesn't doubt the King one bit.

Suddenly, the ruler's gaze snaps to you, like a hawk spotting its lunch a mile away. He bends, much too close, invading, before grabbing smoothly onto your left hand. This close, you can smell the lush, almost floral scent coming from what must be that mane around his neck.

" And where have my manners fled- You must be this harlot's one and only match, the human I've so been aching to meet. " A thumb runs across your knuckles.

" Hhh- Hello- It's a pleasure, your majesty. "

Brilliant. Flawless. You definitely didn't choke up like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. Santi chuckles, introducing your name to the monarch, who licks his lips.

" You may recognize me as a King, but just as I said to Santi, tonight you know me not as a ruler, but a friend. A lover, even. " The last part swooned dreamily, planting facetious suggestions.

Then, he does something you should have seen coming. Should have remembered, actually, but even knowing what was about to transpire, no one could blame you for blanking.

Gleefully, the Icon reaches down across his own figure, hands drifting along his front to grope and paw at his fattened slit. It looks good enough to make you want to shove your whole face in there, and frankly that might be the intended effect. In mere practiced seconds, Vesper's cocks proudly slide out.

To say he's hung is an understatement, but he wouldn't be the King of Lust if he didn't sport a trial of willpower between his legs. Two of them, actually. Ringed and slick, with this restless tentacle poking and prodding between them, occasionally latching onto one of those lengths before switching to the other like its indecisive. You can appreciate the pigment of his cocks, which is a weird thing to say but true nonetheless. It makes you wonder how they'd look stained by the wetness of your puffed cunt.

More than gawk, you huff some kind of bewildered animal noise, hues flickering between the Lord's own and Santi's face. When Santi kneels, so do you, blinking as Vesper grows half-hard in a twitch or two.

The lump in your throat won't go down while you observe Santi lean forward and chastely kiss the tip of Vesper's right cock, before swirling his tongue around the head as best as he can and leaning back. He made that look like the most erotic thing you've ever seen, seemingly unbothered by the effect that view had on you when he expectantly beckons you to tend to the spare member.

Nowhere near as charming as a concubus, your small lips tremble when you close your eyes and lean in to imitate the act, cheeks aflame. This will be the first person you've put your lips upon after having started a relationship with Santi. You decide not to think too hard about it. A small peck is planted against Vesper's length, and the shudder that rocks your body afterwards has you exhaling hard through your nose. Although you glance at Santi for approval, he smiles and arches a brow as if to tell you that you're not quite done yet. The cock hovering in front of you flexes and you understand you're going to have to put some heart into it.

By the time you decide to try and swirl your small tongue around the King's tip, he's already beading in excitement, the view of a still somewhat timid human trying to appease him probably doing something for the demonlord.

It's messy. You have to turn your head and put more effort into it than Santi, ever practiced, did. Unfortunately, Vesper tastes almost as good as the other incubus next to you, so even if you're struggling, it's hard to let go. You could suck at him all day if it meant keeping that taste on your tongue.

Eventually, when you do pull away, a string of precum follows, snapping onto your chin and making you try to clean it away with your fingers. A bad idea, they're sticky now. Thankfully, Santi is there to lick them clean for you, winking to let you know you did a good job.

" I do so love making new acquaintances. " Vesper seems to ebb satisfaction. He doesn't bother with his exposed malehood and motions over to the chaise lounge area. " Please, both of you, sit. Talk with me. "

And you do. Of course you do. Your legs might eventually give out if you don't.

The King gracefully splays himself on his seat, uncorking the bottle with his index claw and placing the three differently sized glasses onto the table. You and Santi sit closely on one of the opposite chaises lounges.

" Can I get you lovebirds some temptation rouge? " He purrs, beginning to pour the drinks anyway.

Santi nods. " I'll have some. None for the lady, please. "

Vesper pauses his pouring, the alluring stream of purplish delight fading enough to allow you to focus.

He frowns. " Oh come now. "

The high-ranker doesn't budge. " Vesper, this isn't something humans should- "

" Mmm really? I recall you offering it quite generously. " The King taps idly at the shaft of the bottle, his tone petty.

The black-horned demon offers a look that begs Vesper not to push on the matter, which is apparently met with mercy.

" But I understand, you're in love, the world has a different hue. "

" Yes... You couldn't guess how distinct. "

Not quite deciphering the exchange the two fiends had, you choose to speak up when Vesper inches Santi's drink his way.

" I can have some. "

Santi shoots you a look. " No. No, that's silly- "

Santi's tense, sighing.

But a large paw has already been raised. " Hush! The lady has spoken, and who are we to deny her? "

" Surely, just one sip is alright. Besides, she's a virgin of Lust, let her enjoy some of my land's exquisite offerings. "

You watch the King pour half a glass for you. You're no virgin, how could you be with Santi by your side? Though saying that someone is a virgin in Lust generally means that it's their first time visiting the Ring.

You spot a muscle on Santi's arm twitch when you cautiously grab the miss wine cup. You know the contents within are likely a very potent aphrodisiac, perhaps a psychostimulant, something that'll make you trip balls essentially. After all, concubi don't drink or eat out of necessity, so this clearly has a use.

" Thank you. " Santi responds, a bit flatter.

Reclining on the seat, the Icon sips out of his glass, the mouth on his stomach licking its chops at the shared taste. A tail flicks, you note that he's been idly stimulated this entire time by the tendrils still squirming between his two dicks.

" So, tell me sweetheart, what do you think of my Ring so far? "

You hope he didn't catch you staring, but that face says it all.

" It's... " You have to think for a second, finding it difficult to articulate a plethora of mixed feelings.

" Freeing, in a strange kind of way. " You trace the rim of the glass. " It's still Hell, still scary, and I don't understand much of what I see out there... But I wish- " Your cheeks grow warmer. " I wish sometimes... That I could join. "

When you look back up, Vesper is grinning, this very amused glint in those magenta pools. " Mhmm, an honest response. I appreciate it. "

You smile politely in return.

Conversation unfurls easily afterwards as both demons partake of the rouge, their faces darken with time and they seem to sway the slightest amount, bodies restless. When you take your first sample of wine, the room is already thick with a scent you've grown to understand means hungry concubi are looming around.

Pungent. Thin but so sweet that it seeps into every pore in a wave of fruity warmth beckoning more and more of its sampler's attention. You'd have this for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner, quickly turning into some shameless alcoholic. It's of little surprise that all of Hell's confectionary is as addictive as it is to humans, that's how fiendkind tends to assert their power over other species. You suppose Lust, as the Ring of desire, has a particular ease creating concoctions of great addictive power.

Your idle reckoning is entirely derailed by the jolt of wetness from your loins, something you expected but couldn't calculate the intensity of, throat burning as you clumsily choke down the whore noise that wanted to flow forth. Maybe you drank too much at a time? How can those two have several glasses of this and look only mildly buzzed?!

Right on cue, Santi reaches to pluck the glass out of your hands. " Aaand that's enough for you. "

" Hah, oh the poor thing! You know that's properly aged, honey, try not to waste it. "

An embarrassing amount of time clearing your throat later, the King pipes up again.

" Ah, I've been meaning to ask, what is it like? " He waves a hand, his head tendril wraps around it fluidly, allowing the demonlord to toy with it.

" The sex? " Santi prods.

" No, the fighting- Of course I'm talking about the sex, you bumbling slut! "

The incubus straightens, eager to talk. " Oh, well- "

" Nuh-uh, quiet. " Vesper's tail nudges Santi into silence. " I know that part. Oh, sex with a perfect match is like pure ambrosia, it's the richest source of energy, a taste so delectable it fries you harder than the cocktail of an orgy of kissless virgins! You can never go back and you'll never have an experience half as pleasurable, it's the greatest gift a concubus can have but also the bane of their search for newer sensuous experiences because it causes obsessive infatuation- Etcetera etcetera... "

The Icon rises much faster than you'd guess his mass could ever allow him to, only to drop to a crawl, gaze piercing into you with an almost violating intensity. " No... " He murmurs sweetly, stopping to squat mere inches from your already overheated body, the chain anchored by his tits swaying hypnotically in front of you. " I want to hear it from you, darling. Regale me! "

Put on the spot like this, you don't actually know what about your perspective can be so appealing to the King, but his tone is authoritative, demanding. You must give an answer.

And so, you allow the hellish alcohol to speak for you, memory drawing upon the moments of your most intimate moments with Santi. The definition of his body, the noises he makes as he partakes of your form, the form you never gave much thought to yet the same one he reveres and coats in his drool. The whispers against your skin that you can never quite make out and the dance of claws on sensitive areas bordering between the sweetest caress and the plunge of a jealous lover.

" I- " You laugh breathlessly. " Well, I didn't know what sex was before I met Santi, real sex, real desire. There isn't a thing he does that I dislike, every time I lay with him, I only wish that it never ended, and I'm thankful he knows when to stop, because I might just tell him to keep going until I draw my last breath. "

You don't know where all of that came from.

The King's wolfish grin now turns shark-like, and he nods ever so fervently, egging you on. Santi has set his own glass down, blinking in bewilderment at your words, until a rumble bursts from his chest, and he seeks to hug you closer to himself.

" I know it sounds cheesy a- and dumb but I always want to try new things in bed with him because I've always felt so appreciated and- Santi makes me feel like I'll always look gorgeous no matter what I have on or what little accidents we have. I never knew sex could be so fun and feel so good... And I guess I only have him to thank for it. "

Santi doesn't say anything, just pulls you into a searing kiss full of tongue and approval. One you get lost in far too quickly, uncaring of your surroundings, or the demonlord ogling the two of you like steaks on a platter.

Maybe the King was looking for something a little more lewd and descriptive, but it seems the drink took you to a more emotional lane. Either way, what you said apparently resonates with the incubus in question, because he beams like a spotlight, eyes bright and smile so full of heated love it might just melt you.

It wasn't always like this. You remember the rocky start of this relationship. It could have turned into something ugly. It could have hurt you badly. Don't think about it.

" Oh- Oh, love does win! " Vesper dramatically rises, pretending to wipe a tear that isn't there. " So romantic, so heartfelt, I could just about write a whole drama from this alone. "

Eyes closed, getting a tongueful from your now overly-excited lover, you feel hands pawing at your body. His, you initially think, squirming playfully as they nudge your barely concealed breasts and squeeze at your tummy, palming at the swell of your ass possessively. Then, what you thought to be two hands become three, become different. It takes you a second of sloppily making out to finally open your eyes and check.

The Icon is now looming above you both, all glowing eyes and slobbering chops, cocks twitching for attention while he hastily reaches to place both hands on each of you. You're barely able to complain before your shorts are pushed aside with your thong and a large hand is palming at you insistently, met with the rush of wetness Santi's saliva has helped create. Speaking of, the high-ranker himself has already parted his legs to allow the King to tease his girth out of his slit, getting leisurely pumped. You watch each other get fondled for a moment, the shock fading into shameless acceptance and a burning need for more. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

" Mm, why'd you stop? Enjoy yourselves. "

The other grins, placing a finger under your chin and guiding you into another embrace. This one is slower, more measured, not just to savor the moment but to make a proper show for the sovereign of carnality. Santi works just well enough in tandem with the King's hand to draw out a wanton moan from you, eating it up with his own. Vesper apparently finds this very appealing, sighing his appreciation and rewarding the two of you with more attentive touches.

Your clit is flicked a certain way that forces your legs to jerk, and the situation is fixed when Santi readjusts to hold your leg slightly upwards, encouraging you to slide down a little. Just so, just so... Until Vesper has a finger in you, his index. Then two- His hands are large, larger than the average demon's, this is a stuffing on its own.

Whatever shred of composure you had left is gone, starting to keen and whimper as the demonlord immediately hammers onto the spot that usually has tears welling in your eyes. You don't know what kind of faces you're making, but they're probably not pretty in the wake of such intense stimulus. It feels as if your entire body is throbbing with sensation, the peak of it making your nethers pulse like an epicenter of delight.

Vaguely, you feel someone tug your top down so your tits can bounce free with every thrust upwards, turning to spot Santi rocking into the fist offered to him while he bites his lip to the debauched sight you make. You didn't think you'd be getting off to something like this, but seeing the desperation to use you in his eyes has you fuming in arousal, and likewise, he's loving your helplessly wanton exhibitionism.

" Ahh, she likes that. " The demonlord keenly observes. " Don't you, princess? Like the sight of your pretty incubus fucking my hand like a needy animal because he can't have you yet? Does it turn you on how lost he is in you? Do you think I should make him cum like this? You're both adorable, I'm loving this so much already! "

His depraved purring is the straw that breaks the camel's back, you can only roll your eyes and choke out some kind of plea for mercy before squeezing like a vise around Vesper's fingers and soaking him for all you've got, barely able to breathe in-between the thunderous pulsing of your orgasm. He rides you through it, nice and hard and milking the entirety of it for his own selfish gain, until you're spasming and gasping erratically.

Unfortunately, you missed Santi's own climax, finding him sagging against the seat in a state similar to yours, while the King whorishly sates himself with the mix of your released fluids, sucking and lapping at his hands for every hint of slick and humming pleasantly at the flavor you make together.

" Not bad... Not bad at all. Again, now, I can't wait to see your bond up close! "

You're a little bit confused when he plops himself back down on his massive lounge chair, then taps his thighs invitingly. Santi gets the idea however, tickling and nudging your clothes off you before settling on the monarch's lap.

Vesper hums, rearranging him so Santi's back is to his front, and then you are invited on. The resulting position has Vesper serving as a kind of living support with you seated atop Santi, giving the King a perfect view. Casually rumbling his glee, the King takes hold of your hips and steals any kind of autonomy from you by leading the pace, grinding you against the delectable ridges of Santi's hardness.

Laps are delivered to the side of Santi's face, and you know the mouth on the demonlord's stomach is also sampling around, tendrils closing in to shift between stimulating him and coiling luridly around your bodies like he just can't get enough.

One moment the two of you are locked in an desperate rut against the slow pace of regal hands, the next, you feel the sting of the demon's exquisite girth as you're swiftly impaled, the pain much too quickly blossoming into momentous relief.

It's a frenzy of movement you can hardly process. Maybe it's the effects of that drink, maybe it's just the cacophony of pheromones that being glued to a high-ranker and an Icon produces -You hardly doubt that bracelet is doing anything to protect your poor mind at this point- But you get well and truly lost in it. The world spins, only flashes of the experience register in your muddled brain, goosebumps, a swaying vision, waves of pleasure heightened to such a degree that you cease hearing anything but the muffled echoes of your lover's moans.

In that moment, there's nothing more to reality than the monster in front of you, looking as depraved as you, and leaning into it. Santi drools onto his own chest openly, pupils dilated, eyes relentlessly hypnotic as he swallows every twitch of your tormented form's muscles. No hint of higher thought lies in those acidic green hues, only the beastly impulse to have you, to reduce you to a spasming mess, to make you lose your mind and grow addicted to him.

Faintly, you can hear low whispers in a foreign, harsh tongue, and it never occurs to you that might be the source of your current trance. You don't know what it's doing to you or Santi, and you don't care.

You don't care about anything expect the constant pistoning driving you to a filthy paradise. If the Icon wasn't the one moving your legs, you'd be mush by now, point proven further when your top half simply flops onto the incubus' body, useless.

It must have been about an hour or more when the two of you are stopped, and no matter how gentle the winding down was, you still grunt and whine wordlessly in frustration, met with laughter from the two of them. Santi recovered faster, because of course he did. Looking down to where your bodies meet, you're disgraced with the sight of a sticky mess coating not just your mons and thighs, but plenty of Santi's lower half. It doesn't even reek of sex, you've gone nose blind at this point. It's almost terrifying, you have no idea how many times you orgasmed, or how many times he did for that matter, but the overwhelming evidence is clearly there, and your throat is quite sore. Whether from gasping, screaming or simply breathing through it, you don't know anymore.

Vesper says something to your partner in clear infernal, met with a reply you cannot hope to interpret either, and you're pulled forward to kiss the King, the three of you exchanging lips in a disheveled mess.

By the time you start giggling and breathing hard, Santi sighs.

" We... We should stop for now, no? " There's a mildly guilty look on his handsome features. Probably because you're going to be feeling this for a week.

The demonlord huffs. " Ugh- Fine fine, but only because you two were such a show, the imps flocked to the doors you know? I can feel them peeping. "

The darker demonoid snickers in amusement, reaching out to pet your face and try to ground you in reality, to no avail. You're eventually lifted to a stand, latching onto his arm for support and starting to somewhat ferally bite him in adoration.

Vesper follows suit, look too predatory to mean anything good, and both hands coiled around vastly neglected lengths. Making quick work of himself to the filthy view you and Santi make. He's the one who gulps now.

" I have been very patient however, the least my adorable guests could do is give me a lasting farewell. "

Santi looks like he's about to try to politely renegotiate.

" Pretty please? "

You clap and cackle in enthusiasm, entirely out of your gourd. More, more!

The incubus watches you jump in place, then turns to his old friend. " You have spare regeneration ointments, don't you? "

#Santi oc #Vesper oc #monsterfucker #demon oc #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terato #terato tag #monster x reader #not sfw #minors dni

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

Note

dbf!König? I feel like there's not enough of it. He'd be such a shameless pervert. His best friend's little girl is home for summer break? He's definitely making dumb reasons to come over more often.

Insisting that him and your dad get drunk and watch the game despite König never giving a shit about sports before. Instead, he'll stare at you walking through the house in your little shorts while he rubs his fat cock through his pants and your dad is none the wiser.

And of course your dad let's König spend the night because it's getting late and what kind of man would he be to make his best friend drive home drunk? (He's not even tipsy).

And of course you leave your bedroom door slightly cracked, just enough for anyone to peek in and see that you're not wearing those little shorts anymore. Plush ass barely covered by your thin sheets as you pretend to be asleep, listening to König's footsteps outside your door.

DAWG THIS IS FOR @xoxunhinged COME GET YO ANON LMAO

god he's so gross. make him even worse, some maidenless bastard who gets hard over reader wearing a ratty pair of tartan pajama pants and some old band tee.

man's over the moon because you're not booking it for the hills (while you are mildly unnerved by him because he's literally gotta bend at the waist to even come inside your home. someone come get groot, he's out his cage again) and if you make eye contact once. once. forget about it.

him drinking o'douls and saying that it's a german brand of beer and your poor old sod of a dad just takes his deceitful word.

truly a rat.

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lamprophonia · 9 months

Text

》 [ yandere!Jock. ] 《

masterlist.

yan!jock x gn!reader: introduction. 1273 words. reader referred to as 'you'. cw for general yandere behavior.

DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE.

elijah steele is the best goddamn actor in your school.

the theatre kids could learn from him, honestly, because there is no way in hell anyone else could have convincingly pulled off what he did: pose as the nicest, most helpful and kind student in the entirety of the sorry shithole that is eastview high for four years straight.

to literally everyone, elijah is so sweet it's almost vomit inducing. the school's golden boy — smart, nice, strong. best player on the football team, co-captain of the swim team, and part of the basketball team for good measure, helpful, always cheery, and he got good grades.

even amongst his peers, he was always considered the most straight-edge one; still, he was pretty much universally liked. he was genuinely friends with everyone, never judging or turning anyone away.

what's not to love?

well, probably the fact that all of that is a lie, an ever on-going act. a carefully crafted persona, custom made to hide the fact elijah steele is a colossal prick.

it's honestly almost too easy for him. help teachers out here and there, talk to the right people, go to the right parties, and play on some teams, and boom, the entirety of eastview wrapped around your finger. he's made high school a game for himself, and he has been winning for four years straight.

elijah's obsession with you didn't kick in right away. he saw you and was... eh, rather neutral. he decided you were pretty enough, and homecoming or some other stupid dance he didn't actually care about was coming up, so he needed a date to look good. you were just a pawn, after all, no different from anyone else. an accessory — good-looking and non-threatening enough.

no, the obsession started when you rejected him.

worse than reject him: you saw through the finely crafted veil he's always putting on — through the smile that's as fake as it is charming, the tone of voice that's almost a bit too nice — you saw through it all, and didn't hesitate to let him know.

and oh.

it hurt.

with a few words and an unimpressed look, without even realizing it, you broke elijah's game. you weren't playing along. and hey, he might be a prick, but he's a prick with feelings. a lot of very conflicting feelings, as it turns out; he's dealt with rejection before, but never when it came to relationships.

he probably should have seen the hurt he felt when you rejected him as a sign of what was coming, that being the growing obsession he can practically feel developing. you made him feel something other than smug superiority and mild annoyance. it wasn't anything pleasant, sure, but it was new. the week after that little encounter of yours, you were literally the only thing he could think about.

at first, it was a mixed bag. elijah was confused, weirdly hurt — he discovered he didn't like feeling either of those much — and angry. mostly angry. that was the only emotion he was really familiar with of those three, so he thought he would be able to use it pretty easily. he does football after all, he'd just tackle whatever poor sods that were unfortunate enough to be going up against him in practice and get it all out of his system. easy, right?

it wasn't easy.

he nearly dislocated a guy's shoulder before realizing that his usual method for dealing with his feelings — channeling them into brute force — wasn't working, which only made him more confused, which in turn only made him angrier. so used to being in control, elijah didn't know what to do with himself for the first few days.

fortunately for him and the rest of the eastview football players, his anger, hurt, and confusion subsided after maybe a week and a half, giving way to another unfamiliar, but much more welcome emotion: fascination.

you still occupied his thoughts constantly, but he finally got a break from the all-consuming contempt he felt. instead, he regarded you with intrigue, a curiosity. it was then he decided he had to learn more; you were an obstacle, a challenge. another part of the game.

he just had to figure out how to beat you.

in some strange way, elijah was excited. this was going to be hard, sure, but his mind was already hard at work, and he was sure it would eventually be rewarding.

and hey, most importantly, this was new! his rage turned to pure goddamn delight at the idea of someone who finally isn't drooling all over him. it's so fun! like a specimen for him to study, aren't you, darling? finally, he has to work for someone's favour.

once elijah comes to this... decision? realization? he gets started pretty much immediately. he knows now that the overly sugarcoated golden boy persona isn't going to work for you. he's going to need a new strategy, and he's giddy to get to work on it.

with negative hesitation, he starts stalking you. honestly, he probably starts stalking you before he actually buckles down and starts trying to win you over; at some point in the bafflement that comes with you not immediately falling for him, he just starts to follow you around from a distance, almost absent-mindedly making notes on your schedule, your friends, class mates, teachers... he decides to double down after that, though, deciding that if he's serious about beating you, he's going to have to up his game.

that's when he starts actually following you home, taking note of your family and your behavior outside of school.

the second thing he starts doing is shadowing you outside of stalking. that meaning, he starts sitting with you at lunch, making friends with your friends, switches classes to have them with you, and joins your extracurriculars; and he does so with the most smug, shit-eating grin on his face.

he starts talking to you as if you were one of his friends, and even though you knew that elijah was probably less nice than he seemed at first glance, you didn't realize just how starkly different his real personality is from the persona he puts on.

elijah starts to treat you more genuinely, in a way. he talks shit about his friends to you, bitches freely about all his classes and coaches. it's a distinction that would feel sweet, if not for the cognitive dissonance that comes with watching him be all smiles with someone right after he told you he hates them.

because here's the thing — now that elijah knows you're not fooled by the overly sweet and helpful guy he pretends to be, that his polite golden boy act won't work on you like it does with everyone else; now, he can stop pretending.

it's freeing. hell, it's almost more fun that way.

he wants to win with all of his cards out on the table. every nice, kind he does to make you like him will be colored by that tension, that dissonance, that confusion.

of course, elijah would never admit it, but slowly, as he makes friends with you, his obsession with you turns romantic. his intrigue turns to sincere care and affection. he doesn't realize it until he sees someone flirting with you — or worse, you flirting with someone — and jealousy hits him like a fucking brick.

he's left to collect himself, once again feeling hurt, angry, and confused at his own thoughts. he didn't even like you. you were supposed to be just a game, a challenge, an obstacle.

what the fuck was happening?

#🏅 // e. steele #writing #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere oc

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